Upton Sinclair - Dragons’s teeth

The adult members of the family had no sleep that night. The six sat in conference, going over and over what meager data they had, trying to anticipate the future and to plan their moves. A distressing thing, to have their happiness for a year upset, and to be "stranded" here in Calais; but they were well-bred persons and concealed their annoyance. Beauty couldn’t bear letting her darling go into danger, and for a while insisted that she must go along and put her social powers to work. But Lanny argued no—he wasn’t in the least worried for himself, and in a few days the yacht might be freed and their plans resumed. Let the family stay here for a few days, and serve as a clearing house for communicating with their friends in the outside world. If the worst proved true, and a long siege was to be expected, Marceline and Frances could be taken back to Juan, and the Dingles and Hansi Robins could go to Paris—or perhaps Emily would shelter them at Sept Chênes.

Lanny got Jerry Pendleton on the phone in the middle of the night. Jerry was still in Paris, having bills to pay and other matters to settle. The plan had been for him to drive his car home, and the chauffeur to drive the Mercedes, the car of Irma and Lanny. But now Lanny ordered Jerry to remain in Paris, and the chauffeur to leave at once for Calais; with fast driving he could arrive before noon, and Lanny and Irma would take the car and set out for Berlin. They were going alone, since neither the chauffeur, Bub Smith, nor Feathers was any good for Germany, not knowing the language. "If you were worth your keep you would have learned it," said Irma to the secretary, taking out her irritation on this unfortunate soul.

Lanny sent cables to his father and to Rick, telling them what had happened. He guessed that in times such as these a foreign journalist might prove a powerful person, more so than an industrialist or an heiress. Lanny saw himself in a campaign to arouse the civilized world on behalf of a Jewish Scbieber and his family. His head was boiling with letters and telegrams, manifestoes and appeals. Robbie would arouse the businessmen, Uncle Jesse the Communists, Longuet and Blum the Socialists, Hansi and Bess the musical world, Zoltan the art lovers, Parsifal the religious, Beauty and Emily and Sophie and Margy the fashionable, Rick the English press, Corsatti the American—what a clamor there would be when they all got going!

Taking a leaf from his father’s notebook, Lanny arranged a code so that he could communicate with his mother confidentially. His letters and telegrams would be addressed to Mrs. Dingle, that being an inconspicuous name. Papa Robin would be "money" and Mama "corsets"—she wore them. Freddi would be "clarinet," and Rahel "mezzo." Lanny said it was to be assumed that all letters and telegrams addressed to him might be read by the Nazis, and all phone calls listened to; later he might arrange a secret way of communication, but nothing of the sort could come to the Hotel Adlon. If he had any thing, private to impart, he would type it on his little portable machine and mail it without signature in some out-of-the-way part of Berlin. Beauty would open all mail that came addressed to Lanny, and forward nothing that was compromising. All signed letters, both going and coming, would contain phrases expressing admiration for the achievements of National Socialism.

"Don’t be surprised if you hear that they have converted me," said the playboy turned serious.

"Don’t go too far," warned his mother. "You could never fool Kurt, and he’s bound to hear about it."

"I can let him convert me, little by little."

Beauty shook her lovely blond head. She had done no little deceiving in her own time, and had no faith in Lanny’s ability along that line. "Kurt will know exactly what you’re there for," she declared. "Your best chance is to put it to him frankly. You saved his life in Paris, and you have a right to ask his help now."

"Kurt is a Nazi," said Lanny. "He will help no one but his party."

Irma listened to this conversation, and thought: "This can’t be real; this is a melodrama!" She was frightened, but at the same time began to experience strange thrills. She wondered: "Could I pretend to be a Nazi? Could I fool them?" Her mind went on even bolder flights. "Could I be a vamp, like those I’ve seen on the screen? How would I set about it? And what would I find out?"

They got the morning newspapers. Hard to imagine a millionaire’s yacht and palace being seized, and no word of it getting to the outside world; but the rules were being changed in Naziland, and you didn’t know what was possible until you saw it. They searched the French papers and found much news from Germany, having to do with the Conference on Arms Limitation at Geneva, and Germany’s threats to withdraw from it. Hitler had unexpectedly summoned the Reichstag to meet, and the correspondents assumed that it was to give him a platform from which to address the world. All France was agog to know what he was going to say, and apparently that left the papers no space for the troubles of a Jewish Schieber.

The next chance was the mail. A letter mailed in Bremerhaven or Berlin on the day before yesterday might have arrived yesterday afternoon or it might not, but surely it would arrive this morning. Hansi was waiting downstairs at the hotel office; he couldn’t think about anything else, not even Lanny’s plans. He came rushing into the room, out of breath from running and from anxiety. "A letter in Mama’s handwriting!" He handed it to Lanny, to whom it was addressed; his own sense of propriety had not permitted him to open it.

The letter had been scrawled in haste on a scrap of paper and mailed in a plain cheap envelope. Lanny tore it open, and his eyes took it in at a glance. He hated to read such words aloud, but there were five persons waiting in suspense. The letter was in German, and he translated it:

"Oh, Lanny, the Nazis have seized the boat. They have arrested Papa. They would not tell us a word what they will do. They will arrest us if we go near them, but they will not arrest you. We are going to Berlin. We will try to stay there and wait for you. Come to the Adlon, and put it in the papers, we will watch there. We are so frightened. Dear Lanny, do not fail poor Papa. What will they do to him? I am alone. I made the children go. They must not find us all together. God help us all. Mama."

So there it was! Those poor souls traveling separately, and doomed to spend their days and nights in terror for themselves and grief for what might be happening to the father of the family! Hansi broke down and cried like a child, and Beauty did the same. Bess sat twisting her hands together. The others found it difficult to speak.

Somebody had to take command of that situation, and Lanny thought it was up to him. "At least we know the worst," he said, "and we have something to act on. As soon as the car comes, Irma and I will drive to Berlin, not stopping for anything."

"Don’t you think you ought to fly?" broke in Bess.

"It will make only a few hours' difference, and we shall need the car; it’s the right sort, and will impress the Nazis. This job is not going to be one of a few hours, I’m afraid."

"But think what they may be doing to him, Lanny!"

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I doubt if they’ll do him serious harm. It must be money they’re after, and the job will be one of bargaining."

"He’s a Jew, Lanny."

"I know; but he has a great many friends at home and abroad, and the Nazis know it, and I don’t believe they want any needless scandals. It’s up to Irma and me to serve as mediators, as friends to both sides; to meet the right people and find out what it’s going to cost."