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hands to Lanny, and they would begin improvising; they had learned to read each other's

signals, and once more, as in the old Dalcroze days, you saw music made visible.

No wonder Marceline could dance rings all around a lad who knew only that somnambulistic

walking in time to jazz thumping which prevailed in fashionable society. Alfy would try his best,

but look and feel like a young giraffe caught in an earthquake. "Loosen up, loosen up!" she would

cry, and he would kick up his heels and toes in a most un-English manner. The girl would give

him just enough encouragement to keep him going, but never enough to let him doubt who

was going to call the tune in their household.

Lanny would see them sitting apart from the others while music was being played in the

evening. Sometimes they would be holding hands, and he would guess that they were working

out their problem in their own way. He recalled the days when he had paid his first visit to The

Reaches, and had sat on the bank of the River Thames, listening to Kurt Meissner playing the

slow movement of Mozart's D-minor concerto. How miraculous life had seemed to him, with

one arm about Rosemary Codwilliger, pronounced Culliver, shivering with delight and

dreaming of a marvelous future. Nothing had worked out as he had planned it; he reflected

upon life, and how seldom it gives us what we expect. The young people come along, and

clamor so loudly for their share, and have so little idea of the pain that awaits them. One's heart

aches at the knowledge, but one cannot tell them; they have to have their own way and pay

their own penalties.

III

The Bessie Budd cruised in waters frequented by vessels of every size, from ocean liners

down to tiny sailboats. One more did not matter, provided you kept a lookout and blew your

whistle now and then. They went up into the Irish Sea; the weather was kind, one day of blue

sky succeeded another, and the air resounded with music and the tapping of feet upon the deck.

Hansi and Bess practiced diligently, Beauty and Irma played bridge with Nina and Rahel,

while Lanny and Rick sat apart and discussed everything that had happened to them during

the past year.

Lanny had visited the great manufacturing-plant of his forefathers, and had been received as

a prince consort in the Newcastle Country Club and in Irma's imitation French chateau on Long

Island. Rick, meanwhile, had written a play about a young married couple who were divided

over the issue of violence in the class struggle. Rick had written several plays about young

people tormented by some aspect of this struggle. In the present opus the talk of his young

idealist sounded much like that of Lanny Budd, while the ultra-Red wife might have had a

private yacht named after her. Rick apologized for this, saying that a dramatist had to use such

material as came to his hand. Lanny said that doubtless there were plenty of futile and

bewildered persons like himself, but not many determined, hard-fighting rebels like Bess among

the parasitic classes.

Rick had talked with editors and journalists in London, with statesmen, writers, and all sorts

of people in his father's home. He knew about the upsurge of the Nazi movement in the

harassed Fatherland. Not long ago he had had a letter from Kurt, who was always hoping to

explain his country to the outside world; he sent newspaper clippings and pamphlets. The

Germans, frantic with a sense of persecution, were tireless propagandists, and would preach to

whoever might be persuaded to listen. But you rarely heard one of them set forth both sides of

the case or admit the slightest wrong on his country's side.

They were put ashore in a small Irish harbor, and the young people took a ride in a jaunting

car, while the ladies dickered with sharp-witted peasant women for quantities of hand-

embroidered linen. They were put ashore in Wales, where the mountains did not seem

imposing to one who had lived so close to the Alps. They visited the Isle of Man, and Lanny

recalled a long novel which he had thought was tremendous in his boyhood, but which he now

guessed to be no great shakes. They put into Liverpool, where they had arranged to receive

mail, and among other things was a telegram from Robbie, who was back in Paris. "Sale

concluded at eighty-three better than expected thanks to you sailing tomorrow good luck to the

ghosts."

At his father's request Lanny had put off making the promised date with Zaharoff. Now he

mailed a note, saying that the yacht was due on the French coast in a few days and he would wire

an appointment. The Bessie Budd idled her way south again, and returned the Pomeroy-Nielsons

to Cowes, from which place Lanny sent a wire to the Chateau de Balincourt, saying that he

would bring his friend to a hotel in Dieppe on the following afternoon. He had explained to

Mama Robin that he wished to meet a friend there, and she was pleased to oblige him. His

mother and his stepfather were told that he desired to make a test with Madame, and to name no

names until after it was over. As for the Polish woman, she was used to being bundled here and

there for demonstrations of her strange gift.

IV

Dieppe is a thousand-year-old town with a church, a castle, and other sights for tourists; also

it is a popular watering-place with a casino, so Lanny didn't have to think that he was

inconveniencing his friends. The yacht was laid alongside a pier, and at the proper time he

called a taxi and took his charge to the hotel. He had received an unsigned telegram informing

him that "Monsieur Jean" would be awaiting him; at the desk he asked for this gentleman, and

was escorted to the suite in which Zaharoff sat waiting, alone.

A comfortable chaise-longue had been provided for the medium and an armchair for each of

the men. Since the old one had been thoroughly instructed, no talk was necessary. Lanny

introduced him by the fictitious name, and he responded: "Bon jour," and no more. Lanny

said: "Asseyez-vous, Madame," and not another word was spoken. The retired munitions king

was inconspicuously dressed, and one who was not familiar with his photograph might have

taken him for a retired business man, a college professor or doctor.

The woman began to shudder and moan; then she became still, and was in her trance. There

was a long wait; Lanny, who kept telling himself that these phenomena were "telepathy,"

concentrated his mind upon the personality of Maria del Pilar Antonia Angela Patro-cino

Simon de Muguiro у Berute, Duquesa de Marqueni у Villa-franca de los Caballeros. It was a

personality which failed to live up to the magnificent-sounding names; a rather small, dark

lady, very

quiet, reserved, but kind. She had fitted the needs of an extremely exacting man of affairs;

guarded him, cared for him, loved him, and, if gossip was correct, borne him two daughters.

Anyhow, he had adored her, and shown his pride in the restrained fashion which circumstances

imposed upon him. For more than thirty-five years they had been inseparable, and a million

memories of her must be buried in the old man's subconscious mind. Would the medium be

able to tap them? If so, it might be embarrassing, and perhaps it would have been more tactful

of Lanny to offer to withdraw. But Zaharoff had placed a chair, possibly with the idea that the

younger man's help might be needed for the guiding of the experiment.

Suddenly came the massive voice of the Iroquois chieftain, speaking English, as always. "Hello,