This time he begged permission to come in and talk to the janitor’s wife, and it was grudgingly granted. Seated on a wooden stool in a kitchen very clean, but with a strong smell of pork and cabbage, he laid himself out to make friends with a suspicious woman of the people. He explained that he was an American art dealer who had met an artist of talent and had taken some of her work and sold it, and now he owed her money and was troubled because he was unable to find her. He knew that Trudi Schultz had been an active Socialist, and perhaps for that reason did not wish to be known; but he was an entirely non-political person, and neither Trudi nor her friends had anything to fear from him. He applied what psychology he possessed in an effort to win the woman’s confidence, but it was in vain. She didn’t know where the Schultzes had gone; she didn’t know anybody who might know. The apartment was now occupied by a laborer with a family of several children. "Nein," and then again "Nein, mein Herr."
Lanny gave up, and heard the door of the Pfortnerin close behind him. Then he saw coming down the stairway of the tenement a girl of eight or ten, in a much patched dress and a black woolen shawl about her head and shoulders. On an impulse he said, quickly: "Bitte, wo wohnt Frau Trudi Schultz?"
The child halted and stared. She had large dark eyes and a pale undernourished face; he thought she was Jewish, and perhaps that accounted for her startled look. Or perhaps it was because she had never seen his kind of person in or near her home. "I am an old friend of Frau Schultz," he continued, following up his attack.
"I don’t know where she lives," murmured the child.
"Can you think of anybody who would know? I owe her some money and she would be glad to have it." He added, on an inspiration: "I am a comrade."
"I know where she goes," replied the little one. "It is the tailor-shop of Aronson, down that way, in the next block."
"Danke schön" said Lanny, and put a small coin into the frail hand of the hungry-looking little one.
He left his car where it stood and found the tailorshop, which had a sign in Yiddish as well as German. He walked by on the other side of the street, and again regretted his clothes, so conspicuous in this neighborhood. "Aronson" would probably be a Socialist; but maybe he wasn’t, and for Lanny to stroll in and ask for Trudi might set going some train of events which he could not imagine. On the other hand, he couldn’t walk up and down in front of the place without being noticed—and those inside the shop no doubt had reasons for keeping watch.
What he did was to walk down to the corner and buy a Bonbon-Tüte and come back and sit on a step across the street from the shop but farther on so that he was partly hidden by a railing. Sitting down made him less tall, and holding a bag of candy and nibbling it certainly made him less fashionable. Also it made him interesting to three children of the tenement; when he shared his treasure, which they called Bom-bom, they were glad to have him there, and when he asked their names, where they went to school, what games they played, they made shy answers. Meanwhile he kept his eyes on the door of Aronson’s tailorshop.
Presently he ventured to ask his three proletarian friends if they knew Trudi Schultz. They had never heard of her, and he wondered if he was on a wild-goose chase. Perhaps it would be more sensible to go away and write a note; not giving his name, just a hint: "The friend who sold your drawings in Paris." He would add: "Take a walk in front of the enormous white marble Karl der Dicke (the Stout), in the Siegesallee at twenty-two o’clock Sunday." With one-third of his mind he debated this program, with another he distributed Leckereien to a growing throng, and with the remaining third he watched the door of "Aronson: Schneiderei, Reparatur."
VII
The door opened suddenly, and there stepped forth a young woman carrying a large paper bundle. Lanny’s heart gave a jump, and he handed the almost empty Tute to one of his little friends, and started in the same direction as the woman. She was slender, not so tall as Lanny, and dressed in a poor-looking, badly-faded brown coat, with a shawl over her head and shoulders. He couldn’t see her hair, and being somewhat behind her he couldn’t see her face, but he thought he knew her walk. He followed for a block or so, then crossed over and came up behind her and to her side. Her face was paler and thinner than when he had last seen her; she appeared an older woman; but there was no mistaking the finely chiseled, sensitive features, which had so impressed him as revealing intelligence and character. "Wie geht’s, Trudi?" he said.
She started violently, then glanced at him; one glance, and she turned her face to the front and walked steadily on. "I am sorry, mein Herr. You are making a mistake."
"But Trudi!" he exclaimed. "I am Lanny Budd." "My name is not Trudi and I do not know you, sir." If Lanny had had any doubt as to her face, he would have been sure of her voice. It had rather deep tones, and gave an impression of intense feelings which the calm features seemed trying to repress. Of course it was Trudi Schultz. But she didn’t want to know him, or be known.
It was the first time Lanny had met a Socialist since he set out to save the Robin family. He had kept away from them on purpose; Rick had warned him what he might be doing to his own reputation, and now here he saw it! He walked by this devoted comrade’s side, and spoke quickly—for she might come to her destination and slam a door in his face, or turn away and forbid him to follow her. "Trudi, please hear what I have to say. I came to Germany to try to save the Robins. First I got Johannes out of jail, and I took him and his wife with Rahel and the baby, out to France. Now I have come back to try to find Freddi and get him free."
"You are mistaken, sir," repeated the young woman. "I am not the person you think."
"You must understand that I have had to deal with people in authority here, and I couldn’t do it unless I took an attitude acceptable to them. I have no right to speak of that, but I know I can trust you, and you ought to trust me, because I may need your help—I am a long way from succeeding with poor Freddi. I have tried my best to find some of his old friends, but I can’t get a contact anywhere. Surely you must realize that I wouldn’t be dropping my own affairs and coming here unless I was loyal to him and to his cause. I have to trust somebody, and I put you on your honor not to mention what I am telling you. I have just learned that Freddi is in Dachau—"
She stopped in her tracks and gasped: "In Dachau!"
"He has been there for several months."
"How do you know it?"
"I am not free to say. But I am fairly certain."
She started to walk again, but he thought she was unsteady on her feet. "It means so much to me," she said, "because Ludi and Freddi were arrested together."
"I didn’t know that Ludi had been arrested. What has happened to him?"
"I have heard nothing from him or concerning him since the Nazis came and dragged them both away from our home."
"What was Freddi doing there?"
"He came because he had been taken ill, and had to have some place to lie down. I knew it was dangerous for him, but I couldn’t send him away."