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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."

Once more Lanny felt that soft moist hand, once more he looked into those gray-blue eyes set

in a pale, pasty face, rather pudgy now. for Adi was gaining weight, in spite of or possibly

because of his gall-bladder trouble. Looking at him, Lanny thought once more that here was

the world's greatest mystery. You might have searched all Europe and not found a more

commonplace-appearing man; this Führer of the Fatherland had everything it took to make

mediocrity. He was smaller than any of his three guests, and as he was now in a plain business

suit with a white collar and black tie, he might have been a grocery assistant or traveling

salesman for a hair tonic. He took no exercise, and his figure was soft, his shoulders narrow and

hips wide like a woman's. The exponent of Aryan purity was a mongrel if ever there was one; he

had straight thick dark hair and wore one lock of it long, as Lanny had done when a boy.

Apparently the only thing he tended carefully was that absurd little Charlie Chaplin mustache.

Watching him in his Berlin apartment, Lanny had thought: "It is a dream, and the German

people will wake up from it." But now they were more deeply bemused than ever, and Lanny,

trying to solve the riddle, decided that here was the Kleinbürgertum incarnate, the average

German, the little man, the "man in the street." Thwarted and suppressed, millions of such men

found their image in Adi Schicklgruber, understood him and believed his promises. The ways in

which he differed from them—as in not eating meat and not getting drunk when he could—these

made him romantic and inspiring, a great soul.

VI

The hotel attendant was standing in the doorway, with the picture resting on the floor; he

steadied it with his left hand while keeping his right arm and hand extended outward and

upward in a permanent salute. The Führer noticed him and asked: "What is this you have brought

me?"

Lanny told him, and they stood the picture on a chair, with the attendant behind it, out of

sight, holding it firmly. Hitler placed himself at a proper distance, and Lanny ceremoniously

removed the cover. Then everybody stood motionless and silent while the great man did his

looking.

"A beautiful thing!" he exclaimed. "That is my idea of a work of art. A Frenchman, you say?

You may be sure that he had German forefathers. Who is the woman?"

"She is my mother," replied Lanny. He had made that statement hundreds of times in his life

—Munich being the fifth great city in which he had assisted at an exhibition.

"A beautiful woman. You should be proud of her."

"I am," said Lanny, and added: "It is called Sister of Mercy. The painter was badly wounded in

the war, and later killed. You can see that he felt what he was painting."

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Adi. "I too, have been wounded, and know how a soldier feels about the

women who nurse him. It would appear that great art comes only by suffering."

"So your Goethe has told us, Herr Reichskanzler."

A silence, while Hitler studied the painting some more. "A pure Aryan type," he commented;

"the spiritual type which lends itself to idealization." He looked a while longer, and said: "Pity is

one of the Aryan virtues. I doubt if the lesser races are capable of feeling it very deeply."

This went on for quite a while. The Führer looked, and then made a remark, and no one else

ventured to speak unless it was a question. "This sort of art tells us that life is full of suffering.

It should be the great task of mankind to diminish it as far as possible. You agree with that, Herr

Budd?"

"Indeed I do; and I know that it was the leading idea of Marcel's life."

"It is the task of the master race. They alone can fulfill it, because they have both the

intelligence and the good will." Lanny was afraid he was going to repeat the question: "You

agree with that?" and was trying to figure how to reply without starting an argument. But

instead the Führer went on to inform him: "That should be our guiding thought in life. Here in

this room we have three of the world's great nationalities represented: the German, the French,

the American. What a gain if these nations would unite to guard their Aryan purity and

guarantee the reign of law throughout the world! Do you see any hope for that in our time?"

"It is a goal to aim at, Herr Reichskanzler. Each must do what he can."

"You may be sure that I will, Herr Budd. Tell it to everyone you know."

The master of Germany returned to the seat at his desk. "I am obliged to you for bringing me

this portrait. I understand that you are having an exhibition?"

"Yes, Herr Reichskanzler; we should be honored if you would attend; or if you prefer, I will

bring other samples of the work."

"I wish I could arrange it. Also"—turning to Kurt—"I was hoping to have you come to my

apartment, where I have a piano. But I'm afraid I have to leave for Berlin. I was a happier man

when I had only a political party to direct; now, alas, I have a government as well, and

therefore a lover of music and art is compelled to give all his time and attention to the jealousies

and rivalries of small men."

The picture-viewing was over, and the attendant carried it out, backing away and bowing at

every step. The Führer turned to Kurt and asked about his music, and lifted a Komponist to

the skies by saying that Kurt had rendered a real service to the cause. "We have to show the

world that we National Socialists can produce talent and even genius, equal to the best of the

past. Science must be brought to reinforce inspiration so that the Herrenvolk may ascend to

new heights, and, if possible, raise the lesser tribes after them."

He turned to Heinrich. He wanted to hear all that a young official could tell him concerning

the Hitler Jugend and its progress. The efficient head of a great organization was getting data

about personalities and procedures over which he had control. He asked probing questions,

watching the respondent through half-closed eyes. He could be sure that this official was telling

him the truth, but it would be colored by the young man's enthusiastic nature. Heinrich was

hardly the one to report upon backstairs intrigue and treachery. "I wish I had more young men

like you," remarked the Reichskanzler, wistfully.

"You have thousands of them, mein Führer," replied the enraptured ex-forester; "men whom

you have never had an opportunity to meet."

"My staff try to shut me up as though I were an oriental despot," said Adi. "They talk to me

about physical danger—but I know that it is my destiny to live and complete my work."

VII

It was quite an interview, and Lanny was on pins and needles for fear the great man might rise

and say: "I am sorry, but my time is limited." Nobody could imagine anyone in a better humor;

and Lanny looked at Kurt, and would have winked at him, only Kurt was keeping his eyes fixed

upon his master and guide. Lanny tried telepathy, thinking as hard as he could: "Now! Now!"

"Mein Führer," said Kurt, "before we leave there is something which my friend Budd thinks I

ought to tell you."

"What is it?"

"A great misfortune, but not his fault. It happens that his half-sister is married into a Jewish

family."

"Dormerwetter!" exclaimed Adolf. "A shocking piece of news!"

"I should add that the husband is a fine concert violinist."

"We have plenty of Aryan artists, and no need to seek anything from that polluted race. What

is the man's name?"

"Hansi Robin."

"Robin? Robin?" repeated Hitler. "Isn't he the son of that notorious Schieber, Johannes?"

"Yes, mein Führer."

"She should divorce him." The great man turned upon Lanny. "My young friend, you should

not permit such a thing to continue. You should use your authority, you and your father and

the other men of the family."

"It happens that the couple are devoted to each other, Herr Reichskanzler; also, she is his

accompanist, and is now playing with him in a tour of the United States."

"But, Herr Budd, it is sordid and shameful to admit considerations of worldly convenience in

such a matter. Your sister is a Nordic blond like yourself?"

"Even more so."

"Yet she gets upon public platforms and advertises her ignominy! And think of what she is

doing to the future, the crime she commits against her children!"

"They have no children, Herr Reichskanzler. They are devoting their lives to art."

"It is none the less an act of racial pollution. Whether she has children or not, she is defiling

her own body. Are you not aware that the male seminal fluid is absorbed by the female, and thus

her bloodstream is poisoned by the vile Jewish emanations? It is a dreadful thing to

contemplate, and if it were a sister of mine, I would rather see her dead before my eyes; in

fact, I would strike her dead if I knew she intended to commit such an act of treason to her

race."

"I am sorry, Herr Reichskanzler; but in America we leave young women to choose their own