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They spent the night in the city of Liege, where Lanny’s first duty was to send telegrams to his mother and father, to Hansi, to Zoltan and Emily and Rick. In the morning they drove on to Paris; and from there he telephoned to his friend Oberleutnant Furtwaengler in Berlin. What news was there about Freddi Robin? The officer reported that the young man was nowhere in the hands of the German authorities; unless by chance he had given a false name when arrested, something which was often attempted but rarely successful. Lanny said he was quite certain that Freddi would have no motive for doing this. The Oberleutnant promised to continue the search, and if anything came of it he would send a telegram to Lanny at his permanent address, Juan-les-Pins, Cap d’Antibes, Frankreich.

Lanny hung up and reported what he had heard. It meant little, of course. Long ago Lanny had learned that diplomats lie when it suits their country’s purposes, and police and other officials do the same; among the Nazis, lying in the interest of party and Regierung was an heroic action. The statement of Göring’s aide meant simply that if Göring had Freddi he meant to keep him. If and when he released him, he would doubtless say that an unfortunate mistake had been made.

Beauty had gone to London with her husband, as guests of Lady Caillard. She now wired Lanny to come and see if he could get any hints through Madame. Since it was as easy to go to New York from England as from France, they decided upon this plan. But first they must run down to Juan, because Irma couldn’t cross the ocean without having at least a glimpse of her little daughter. Also it would be "nice" for Johannes to see Hansi and Bess. In general it was "nice" for people to dart here and there like humming-birds, sipping the honey of delight from whatever flower caught the eye. So next morning the four Robins were again loaded into the back seat, and in the evening they rolled through the gates of Bienvenu amid a chorus of delighted cries in English, German, and Yiddish; cries mostly in the treble clef, but with an undertone in the bass, because of the one sheep which had strayed and might already have been devoured by the wolves.

VI

Once again the young couple had a debauch of parental emotions; Irma hugged little Frances against all rules, talked baby-talk which interfered with the maturing of her speech, gave her foods which were unwholesome, let her stay up too late—in short disarranged all schedules and spread demoralization. She even talked about taking the whole entourage to Long Island—it would give such pleasure to the grandmother. Lanny argued against it—the child had everything that a three-year-old could really appreciate, and now was enjoying the companionship of a young Robin. Lanny and Irma were planning only a short stay, and why incur all the added expense, at a time when everything was so uncertain? Lanny was always trying to economize with the Barnes fortune—overlooking the fact that the only fun in having a fortune is if you don’t economize. Just now he had the idea that they might have to buy Freddi out of Germany; and who could guess the price?

All right, Irma would stay another day, and then tear herself loose. She would lay many injunctions upon Bub Smith, the dependable bodyguard, and extract promises from Miss Severne to cable her at the smallest symptom of malaise. "Do you realize how many millions this tiny being represents?" Irma didn’t say those crude words, but it was the clear implication of every command, and of the circumstances surrounding Frances Barnes Budd. "The twenty-three-million-dollar baby" was her newspaper name. The twenty-three-million-dollar baby had set out on a yachting cruise, and the twenty-three-million-dollar baby had unexpectedly returned to Bienvenu. All the expenses of maintaining the twenty-three-million-dollar baby might have been collected in admission fees from tourists who would have flocked to see her if arrangements had been made.

The men of the family had a conference in Lanny’s studio. Johannes hadn’t been willing to tell the ladies what had happened to him in Germany, but he told Hansi and Lanny how he had been taken to the S.A. barracks in Bremerhaven and there subjected to a long series of indignities, obviously intended to break his spirit. They had given him strong purgatives, and amused themselves by forcing him to paddle other prisoners in the same plight, and to be paddled by them in turn, until all of them were a mess of one another’s filth. While they did this they had to shout: "Heil lieber Reichskanzler!" As a climax they had been forced to dig a long trench, and were lined up to be shot and dumped into it—so they were told. It was only a mock execution, but they had died psychologically, and Johannes had by then become so sick with horror and pain that he had welcomed the end. He said now that he would never be the same man again; he would go on living because of his family and friends, but the game of making money would never hold the same zest. He said that, but then, being a clear-sighted man, he added: "It’s a habit, and I suppose I’ll go on reacting in the old way; but I can’t imagine I’ll ever be happy."

They talked about the problem of the missing one, and what was to be done. Lanny had promised not to name Hugo Behr, and he didn’t, but said that he had a confidential agent at work, and had given him the Juan address. Hansi was to open all mail that might come from Germany, and if it contained anything significant, he was to cable it. Johannes said that Hansi and Bess would have to give up the pleasure of playing music at Red meetings, or doing anything to advertise their anti-Nazi views. They were still Göring’s prisoners; and that was, no doubt, the way Göring intended it to be.

Hansi was "broke" because he and Bess had been spending all their money on refugees. That, too, would have to stop. Since it would do no good to sit around and mourn, Hansi decided to cable his New York agent to arrange a concert tour of the United States in the fall. Meantime, Irma would open an account for him at her bank in Cannes. "But remember," she said, "no more Reds and no Red talk!" Irma laying down the law!

All problems thus settled, one bright morning Irma and Lanny, with Papa in the back seat, set out amid more cries in English, German, and Yiddish—this time not so happy. They arrived in Paris and had dinner with Zoltan Kertezsi, and in the morning drove to Les Forêts, and told Emily Chattersworth as much of their story as was permitted. In the afternoon they set out for Calais, place of bitter memories forevermore. They took the night ferry, drove through England in the loveliest of all months, and arrived at the Dorchester Hotel amid the gayest of all seasons.

VII

Sir Vincent Caillard, pronounced French-fashion, Ky-yahr, had been one of Zaharoff’s associates from the early days when they had bought Vickers; in the course of the years he had become one of the richest men in England. Also, strangely enough, he had been a poet, and had set Blake’s Songs of Innocence to music; he had bequeathed these interests to his wife, along with a huge block of Vickers shares. So it had come about that an elderly, gray-haired lady, rather small, pale, and insignificant-looking, wielded power in London, and concentrated upon herself the attention of a swarm of eccentric persons, some of them genuine idealists, more of them genuine crooks.