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family in Paris about Freddi's disappearance. They could hardly fail to talk about it, and so

imperil the fate of Johannes. It might even be that Hansi or Bess would insist on coming into

Germany—and the least hint of that threw poor Mama into another panic. So Lanny wrote

vague letters to his mother: "Everything is being arranged. The less publicity the better. Tell

our friends to go to Juan and rest; living is cheap there, and I feel sure that times are going to

be hard financially." Little hints like that!

Beauty herself didn't go to Juan. Her next letter was written on stationery of the Chateau de

Balincourt. "Do you remember Lady Caillard? She is the widow of Sir Vincent Caillard, who was

one of Sir Basil's closest associates in Vickers. She is an ardent spiritualist, and has published a

pamphlet of messages received from her husband in the spirit world. She is immensely impressed

by Madame, and wants to borrow her for as long as Sir Basil will spare her. He invited me out

here, and we have had several seances. One thing that came up worries me. Tecumseh said: 'There

is a man who speaks German. Does anyone know German?' Sir Basil said: 'I know a little,' and the

control said: 'Clarinet ist verstimmt.' That was all. Madame began to moan, and when she

came out of the trance she was greatly depressed and could do no more that day. I didn't get

the idea for a while. Now I wonder, can there be anything the matter with your Clarinet? I shall

say nothing to anybody else until I hear from you."

So there it was again; one of those mysterious hints out of the subconscious world. The word

verstimmt can mean either "out of tune" or "out of humor." Beauty had known that "Clarinet"

meant Freddi, and it was easy to imagine Tecumseh getting that out of her subconscious mind;

but Beauty had no reason to imagine that Freddi was in trouble. Was it to be supposed that

when Beauty sat in a "circle," her subconscious mind became merged with her son's, and his

worries passed over into hers? Or was it easier to believe that some Socialist had been kicked

or beaten or shot into the spirit world by the Nazis and was now trying to bring help to his

comrade?

Lanny sent a telegram to his mother: "Clarinet music interesting send more if possible." He

decided that here was a way he could pass some time while waiting upon the convenience of

Minister-Prasident Goring. Like Paris and London, Berlin was full of mediums and fortune

tellers of all varieties; it was reported that the Führer himself consulted an astrologer—oddly

enough, a Jew. Here was Lanny, obliged to sit around indefinitely, and with no heart for social

life, for music or books. Why not take a chance, and see if he could get any further hints from

that underworld which had surprised him so many times?

Irma was interested, and they agreed to go separately to different mediums, thus doubling

their chances. Maybe not all the spirits had been Nazified, and the young couple could get ahead

of Goring in that shadowy realm!

IX

So there was Lanny being ushered into the fashionable apartment of one of the most famous

of Berlin's clairvoyants, Madame Diseuse. (If she had been practicing in Paris she would have

been Frau Wahrsagerin.) You had to be introduced by a friend, and sittings were by

appointment, well in advance; but this was an emergency call, arranged by Frau Ritter von

Fiebewitz, and was to cost a hundred marks. No Arabian costumes, or zodiacal charts, or other

hocus-pocus, but a reception-room with the latest furniture of tubular light metal, and an

elegant French lady with white hair and a St. Germain accent. She sometimes produced physical

phenomena, and spoke with various voices in languages of which she claimed not to know a

word. The seance was held in a tiny interior room which became utterly dark when a soft

fluorescent light was turned off.

There Lanny sat in silence for perhaps twenty minutes, and had about concluded that his

hundred marks had been wasted, when he heard a sort of cooing voice, like a child's, saying in

English: "What is it that you want, sir?" He replied: "I want news about a young friend who

may or may not be in the spirit world." After another wait the voice said: "An old gentleman

comes. He says you do not want him."

Lanny had learned that you must always be polite to any spirit. He said: "I am always glad to

meet an old friend. Who is he?"

So came an experience which a young philosopher would retain as a subject of speculation

for the rest of his life. A deep masculine voice seemed to burst the tiny room, declaring: "Men

have forgotten the Word of God:" Lanny didn't have to ask: "Who are you?" for it was just as

if he were sitting in the study of a rather dreary New England mansion with hundred-year-old

furniture, listening to his Grandfather Samuel expounding Holy Writ. Not the feeble old man

with the quavering voice who had said that he would not be there when Lanny came again,

but the grim gunmaker of the World War days who had talked about sin, knowing that Lanny

was a child of sin—but all of us were that in the sight of the Lord God of Sabaoth.

"All the troubles in the world are caused by men ceasing to hear the Word of God,"

announced this surprising voice in the darkness. "They will continue to suffer until they hear

and obey. So is it, world without end, amen."

"Yes, Grandfather," said Lanny, just as he had said many times in the ancestral study.

Wishing to be especially polite, he asked: "Is this really you, Grandfather?"

"All flesh is grass, and my voice is vain, except that I speak the words which God has given to

men. I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his

seed begging bread."

Either that was the late president of Budd Gunmakers, or else a highly skilled actor! Lanny

waited a respectful time, and then inquired: "What is it you wish of me, Grandfather?"

"You have not heeded the Word!" exploded the voice.

Lanny could think of many Words to which this statement might apply; so he waited, and after

another pause the voice went on: "Swear now therefore unto me by the Lord, that thou wilt

not cut off my seed after me."

Lanny knew only too well what that meant. The old man had objected strenuously to the

practice known as birth control. He had wanted grandchildren, plenty of them, because that was

the Lord's command. Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. It had been one of

Samuel Budd's obsessions, and the first time Irma had been taken to see him he had quoted

the words of old King Saul to David. But Irma had disregarded the injunction; she didn't want

a lot of babies, she wanted to have a good time while she was young. The price which nature

exacts for babies is far too high for fashionable ladies to pay. So now the old man had come

back from the grave!

Or was it just Lanny's subconscious mind? His guilty conscience —plus that of Irma's, since

she was defying not merely Lanny's grandfather in the spirit world, but her own mother in this

world! A strange enough phenomenon in either case.

"I will bear your words in mind, Grandfather," said Lanny, with the tactfulness which had

become his very soul. "How am I to know that this really is you?"

"I have already taken steps to make sure that you know," replied the voice. "But do not try to

put me off with polite phrases."

That was convincing, and Lanny was really quite awestricken. But still, he wasn't going to