IV
Irma invited Kurt into her boudoir for a private chat. She was in a conspiracy with him against her husband—for her husband’s own good, of course; and Kurt, who had had professional training in intrigue, was amused by this situation. A sensible young wife, and it might be the saving of Lanny if he could be persuaded to follow her advice. Irma explained that Lanny had been behaving rationally on this trip, and was doing very well with his picture business, which seemed to interest him more than anything else; but he still had Freddi on his conscience, and was convinced that Freddi was innocent of any offense. "I can’t get him to talk about it," said Irma, "but I think somebody has told him that Freddi is a prisoner in a concentration camp. It has become a sort of obsession with him."
"He is loyal to his friends," said the Komponist, "and that’s a fine quality. He has, of course, no real understanding of what the Jews have done to Germany, the corrupting influence they have been in our national life."
"What I’m afraid of," explained Irma, "is that he might be tempted to bring up the subject to the Führer. Do you think that would be bad?"
"It might be very unfortunate for me. If the Führer thought that I had brought Lanny for that purpose, it might make it impossible for me ever to see him again."
"That’s what I feared; and perhaps it would be wise if you talked to Lanny about it and warned him not to do it. Of course don’t tell him that I spoke to you on the subject."
"Naturally not. You may always rely on my discretion. It will be easy for me to bring up the subject, because Lanny spoke to me about Freddi in Stubendorf."
So it came about that Lanny had a talk with Kurt without being under the necessity of starting it and having Kurt think that that was why he had been invited to Munich. Lanny assured his old friend that he had no idea of approaching the Führer about the matter; he realized that it would be a grave breach of propriety. But Lanny couldn’t help being worried about his Jewish friend, and Kurt ought to be worried too, having played so many duets with him and knowing what a fine and sensitive musician he was. Lanny said: "I have met one of Freddi’s old associates, and I know that he is under arrest. I could never respect myself if I didn’t try to do something to aid him."
Thus the two resumed their old intimacy; Kurt, one year or so the elder, still acting as mentor, and Lanny, the humble and diffident, taking the role of pupil. Kurt explained the depraved and antisocial nature of Juda, and Lanny let himself be convinced. Kurt explained the basic fallacies of Social-Democracy, one of the Jewish perversions of thought, and how it had let itself be used as a front for Bolshevism—even when, as in the case of Freddi, its devotees were ignorant of what base purposes they were serving. Lanny listened attentively, and became more and more acquiescent, and Kurt became correspondingly affectionate in his mood. At the end of the conversation Kurt promised that if they had the good fortune to be received by the Führer, he would study the great man’s moods, and if it could be done without giving offense, he would bring up the subject of Lanny’s near-relative and ask the Führer to do the favor of ordering his release, upon Lanny’s promise to take him out of Germany and see to it that he didn’t write or speak against the Fatherland.
"But don’t you bring up the subject," warned Kurt. Lanny promised solemnly that he wouldn’t dream of committing such a breach of propriety.
V
They waited in the hotel until the message came. The Führer would be pleased to see them at the Braune Haus next morning; and be sure they would be on hand!
It proved to be one of those early winter days when the sun is bright and the air intoxicating, and they would have liked to walk to the appointment; but they were taking the picture, Sister of Mercy, so Lanny would drive them. Heinrich, who had learned as a youth to labor with his hands, offered to carry the burden into the Braune Haus, but Beauty insisted that things had to be done with propriety, by a uniformed attendant from the hotel. She herself called up the management to arrange matters, and they fell over themselves to oblige. No charge, Frau Budd, and a separate car if you wish—what hotel in all Germany would not be honored to transport a picture to the Führer? The word spread like wildfire through the establishment, and the three young men were the cynosure of all eyes. The Führer, they learned, had been a familiar figure in this fashionable hotel; for many years he had been entertained here by two of his wealthy supporters, one of them a piano manufacturer and the other a Prussian Graf whose wife was conspicuous because of her extreme friendliness with the bellhops. Irma knew all about this, for the reason that she was practicing her German on one of the women employees of the establishment. One would never lack for gossip in a grand hotel of Europe!
The Braune Haus is on the Briennerstrasse, celebrated as one of the most beautiful streets in Germany; a neighborhood reserved for millionaires, princes, and great dignitaries of state and church. In fact, the palace of the Papal Nuncio was directly across the street, and so the representatives of the two rival faiths of Munich could keep watch upon each other from their windows. The princely delegate of the lowly Jewish carpenter looked across to a square-fronted three-story building set far back from the street and protected by high fences; on top of it a large swastika flag waved in the breeze which blew from the snow-clad Alps; in front of its handsome doorway stood day and night two armed Stormtroopers. If the Catholic prelate happened to be on watch that morning he saw a luxurious Mercedes car stop in front of the Nazi building and from it descend a blond and blue-eyed young Nazi official in uniform, a tall Prussian ex-artillery captain with a long and somewhat severe face, and a fashionably attired young American with brown hair and closely trimmed mustache; also a hotel attendant in a gray uniform with brass buttons, carrying a large framed picture wrapped in a cloth.
These four strode up the walk, and all but the burden-bearer gave the Nazi salute. Heinrich’s uniform carried authority, and they came into an entrance hall with swastikas, large and small, on the ceiling, the windows, the doorknobs, the lamp-brackets, the grillework. They were a little ahead of time, so Heinrich led them up the imposing stairway and showed them the Senatorensaal, with memorial tablets for the Nazi martyrs outside the doors. Inside were forty standards having bronze eagles, and handsome red leather armchairs for the "senators," whoever they were—they couldn’t have met very often, for the Führer gave all the orders. "Prachtvoll!" was the comment of Heinrich and Kurt. Lanny had the traitor thought: "This came out of the deal with Thyssen and the other steel kings!"
The offices of Hitler and his staff were on the same floor, and promptly at the appointed hour they were ushered into the simply decorated study of the head Nazi. They gave the salute, and he rose and greeted them cordially. He remembered Lanny and shook hands with him. "Willkommen, Herr Budd. How long has it been since we met—more than three years? How time does fly! I don’t have a chance to notice it, to say nothing of enjoying it."