On the drive through Italy, safe from possible eavesdropping, they discussed the various possibilities of this campaign. Should they try to appeal to what sense of honor the Commander of the German Air Force might have? Should they try to make friends with him, and to extract a favor from him, sometime when they had him well loaded up with good liquor? Should they make him a straight-out cash proposition? Or should they try to get next to the Führer, and persuade him that they were the victims of a breach of faith? Should they play the Goebbels faction, or find somebody in power who needed cash and could pull hidden wires? Should they try for a secret contact with some of the young Socialists, and perhaps plan a jailbreak? These and many more schemes they threshed out, and would keep them in mind as they groped their way into the Nazi jungle. One thing alone was certain; whatever plan they decided upon they could carry out more safely if they were established in Berlin as socially prominent and artistically distinguished, the heirs and interpreters of a great French painter, the patrons and friends of a German Komponist, and so on through various kinds of glamour they might manage to wrap about themselves.
In Vienna it wasn’t at all difficult for Lanny to resume the role of art expert. In one of those half-dead palaces on the Ringstrasse he came upon a man’s head by Hobbema which filled him with enthusiasm; he cabled to a collector in Tuxedo Park, the sale was completed in two days, and thus he had earned the cost of a long stay in Berlin before he got there. Irma was impressed, and said: "Perhaps Göring might let you sell for him those paintings in the Robin palace. Johannes would be getting his son in exchange for his art works!"
VIII
A detour in order to spend a couple of days at Stubendorf; for Kurt Meissner was like a fortress which had to be reduced before an army could march beyond it. No doubt Heinrich had already written something about Lanny’s becoming sympathetic to National Socialism, and it wouldn’t do to have Kurt writing back: "Watch out for him, he doesn’t really mean it." If Lanny was to succeed as a spy, here was where he had to begin, and the first step would be the hardest.
A strange thing to be renewing old friendships and at the same time turning them into something else! To be listening to Kurt’s new piano concerto with one half your mind, and with the other half thinking: "What shall I say that will be just right, and how shall I lead up to what I want to tell him about the Robins?"
Was it because of this that Kurt’s music seemed to have lost its vitality? In the old days Lanny’s enthusiasm had been unrestrained; all his being had flowed along with those sweeping melodies, his feet had marched with those thundering chords, he had been absolutely certain that this was the finest music of the present day. But now he thought: "Kurt has committed himself to these political fanatics, and all his thinking is adjusted to their formulas. He is trying to pump himself up and sound impressive, but really it’s old stuff. He has got to the stage where he is repeating himself."
But Lanny mustn’t give the least hint of that. He was an intriguer, a double-dealer, using art and art criticism as camouflage for his kind of ideology, his set of formulas. He had to say: "Kurt, that’s extraordinary; that finale represents the highest point you have ever attained; the adagio weeps with all the woe of the world." How silly these phrases of musical rapture sounded; saying them made a mockery of friendship, took all the charm out of hospitality, even spoiled the taste of the food which the gute verständige Mutter, Frau Meissner, prepared for her guests.
But it worked. Kurt’s heart was warmed to his old friend, and he decided that political differences must not be allowed to blind one to what was fine in an opponent. Later on, Lanny went for a walk in the forest, leaving Irma to have a heart-to-heart talk with Kurt, and tackle a job which would have been difficult for Lanny. For, strangely enough, Irma was play-acting only in part. She said things to this German musician which she hadn’t said to anybody else, and hadn’t thought she would ever say; so she assured him, and of course it touched him. She explained that Lanny was honest, and had dealt with her fairly, telling her his political convictions before he had let her become interested in him. But she had been ignorant of the world, and hadn’t realized what it would mean to be a Socialist, or one sympathetic to their ideas. It meant meeting the most dreadful people, and having them interfere in your affairs, and your being drawn into theirs. Not merely the sincere ones, but the tricksters and adventurers who had learned to parrot the phrases! Lanny could never tell the difference—indeed, how could anybody tell? It was like going out into the world with your skin off, and any insect that came along could take a bite out of you.
"And not only Socialists," said the young wife, "but Communists, all sorts of trouble-makers. You know Uncle Jesse, how bitter he is, and what terrible speeches he makes."
"We had millions like him in Germany," replied Kurt. "Thank God that danger is no more."
"I’ve been pleading and arguing with Lanny for more than four years. At one time I was ready to give up in despair; but now I really begin to believe I am making some headway. You know how Lanny is, he believes what people tell him; but of late he seems to be realizing the true nature of some of the people he’s been helping. That’s why I wanted to ask you to talk to him. He has such a deep affection for you, and you may be able to explain what is going on in Germany, and help him to see things in their true light."
"I’ve tried many times," said Kurt; "but I never seemed to get anywhere."
"Try once more. Lanny is impressionable, and seeing your movement going to work has given a jolt to his ideas. What he wants more than anything is to see the problem of unemployment solved. Do you think the Führer will really be able to do it?"
"I have talked with him, and I know that he has practical plans and is actually getting them under way."
"Explain that to Lanny, so that while he’s here with Marcel’s pictures he’ll watch and understand. It may seem strange to you that I’m letting him sell pictures when I have so much money of my own; but I’ve made up my mind that he ought to have something to do, and not have the humiliation of living on his wife’s money."
"You’re absolutely right," declared the musician, much impressed by the sound judgment of this young woman, whom he had imagined to be a social butterfly. "Lanny is lucky to have a wife who understands his weaknesses so well. Make him stick at some one thing, Irma, and keep him from chasing every will-o'-the-wisp that crosses his path."