A World to Win

by Sinclair, Upton;

  After that he didn’t have to hurry, but could watch the Virginia “wilderness,” and learn from the tablets by the roadside that he was passing through the battlefields of history’s greatest civil war. When he rolled into Washington at dinnertime he could say that he had really seen his country. He had traveled from its film capital to its political capital in five and a half days, and when he got out of the car he was a bit stiff and shaky in the knees. But a hot bath and a good dinner fixed him up, and then he stretched out on a bed and caught up on his newspaper reading. London was still holding out, though more than fifteen thousand civilians had been killed or wounded by bombs during the previous month. Ships were being sunk, several every day, and docks bombed and burned. How long Britain could stand it was a problem in mathematics with too many unknown factors. Lord Lothian, British Ambassador, arrived in Washington, reporting that his country was in a bad way and would be glad of any help we could give.

  Lanny had known this suave gentleman since the days of the Peace Conference in Paris, when he had been plain Philip Kerr, pronounced Carr, secretary to Lloyd-George. A couple of years ago he had visited Germany; an ardent Christian Scientist, he had believed the best even of Hermann Wilhelm Göring—the best being a pledge of reconcilement with the British Empire on the basis of Germany being permitted to have her way in Central Europe. Lanny had listened to his lordship expounding this familiar cliché in Wickthorpe Castle, and had thought of the Swedish diplomat who had advised his son to learn with how little wisdom the world is governed.

  III

  At a quarter to ten Lanny was picked up at the appointed street corner and taken to the White House in the usual way. He went up the narrow side stairway and into the familiar high-ceilinged room, with large sofas, overstuffed chairs, and a fireplace in front; dark blue paper on the walls, and framed paintings of the old China Clippers which the Chief loved. But it would be better not to mention them, for you might get him started telling stories about his grandfather, who captained one. “I am afraid he was an opium smuggler,” the Chief would say, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. He would talk for so long that you might not get to transact the business for which you had come.

  There was the familiar figure in the old-fashioned mahogany bed; there were the blue-and-white striped pajamas, the blue crew-necked sweater, and the pile of letters and reports. There, also, the familiar smile and the warm resonant voice. “I didn’t think you’d make it, Lanny!” he exclaimed. Lanny said: “I like nothing better than motoring, and I have made the most of my chance over here. In France nowadays you don’t see a car on the roads unless it is driven by a German. All French men and women have taken to bicycles.”

  That, too, was an unfortunate remark; for the Chief said: “In my youth I bicycled all over those roads,” and he started telling about the routes, the scenery, and various adventures. Lanny was on pins and needles, for courtesy required him to listen, but he wanted so much to discuss important matters of state, and he hated to steal this busy man’s sleep time. He thought: Poor fellow, he looks so tired! F.D. had stuck on his man-killing job through a long hot summer, and then had gone out and fought his foes in a bitter political campaign.

  Lanny took the first chance to remark on this; and the reply was: “It was a good fight, and I enjoyed every minute of it.”

  The visitor told how he had heard the returns in San Simeon, and how the host and guests had taken the licking. “That old crocodile!” exclaimed F.D. “There is the man this country will have to deal with some day!” When Lanny mentioned that his bags had been searched the President found it hard to believe, and exclaimed: “You don’t tell me!”—and then: “By golly!” When Lanny told of the test, he threw back his head and gave one of his hearty laughs.

  After that they got down to business. “What are you planning to do?” asked the great man, and Lanny replied: “I am ready to go back to Europe and do whatever I can. Tell me what you want to know.”

  “I think Britain is going to hold out, and we can prepare for a long war. My military advisers tell me that Hitler cannot possibly effect a landing in winter, and by spring the British will be too strong in the air.”

  “I hope so, Governor. But they will need every ounce of help we can give them.”

  “You have read, no doubt, that I ordered the dividing of our military product, half for them and half for us. That is as far as Congress would let me go now. I have authorized Britain to contract for twelve thousand more military planes in this country; that makes more than twenty-six thousand altogether, and it ought to please your father greatly.”

  “It will, Governor; but the question is coming up very soon—how are they going to pay for all this? If you leave them to the mercy of the private banks, they will be plucked to the last feather; and you must realize that there is a very strong group among the British governing class who argue that if Britain has to part with her foreign holdings and become a debtor nation, they can get easier terms from Germany than from America.”

  “Don’t think that I haven’t had it pointed out to me. The big-money fellows are the same all over the world and they speak a universal language. It’s a task I have to work on during this cruise, to find some way of helping our ally so that it won’t be an outright gift but at the same time will give them a chance to breathe, financially speaking. I wish there was some way I could take you along on the cruise, but there inevitably would be publicity.”

  “Oh, of course; that would ruin me.”

  “What I’m going to tell our people is that when your neighbor’s house is on fire, you lend him your hose to put the fire out, and you don’t stop to bargain about what he is going to pay for the use of the hose.”

  “That’s a good enough simile, Governor; but I’m afraid somebody may take it up and point out that if we really are a good neighbor we don’t stop with lending the hose; we help to fight the fire.”

  The Chief made a wry face. “God knows, I hope it doesn’t come to that! I can’t imagine anything that would persuade the American people to come into this war. I would split the country in halves if I were to suggest it.”

  IV

  They talked for a while about France. F.D. said the fear that troubled his sleep was of Hitler getting possession of the French Fleet and using it to break the British hold on the Mediterranean. “They tell me that is absolutely vital; and it’s touch and go every moment.”

  “The miserable Mussolini”—so the President called him—hadn’t been able to sit by while his partner grabbed territory. His fingers itched, and he had defied Hitler’s orders and set out to grab Greece. He had thought that little country was helpless, and had rushed an army up into the mountains; but the British had furnished arms and the Greeks had used them and now the Fascist army was in rout. Also, Il Duce had an army in Africa, and was setting out to take Egypt; F.D. predicted that that army too would be soundly thrashed. But if the Germans got the French Fleet they might be able to break British sea power and take both the Suez Canal and the Strait of Gibraltar.

  The President wanted information dealing with every aspect of that subject. Was Hitler going to send an army through Spain and attack Gibraltar? How was the Laval-Pétain struggle coming out, and what were our chances of dealing with General Weygand in North Africa? F.D. didn’t say outright: “I want to check on our own diplomats in that field.” What he said was: “Everybody has to be watched”—and Lanny grinned and replied: “Even the watchers!” He wondered if Baker had somebody watching P.A. 103.

  The agent continued: “I have a contact with the underground in Vichy France, a man whom I have known for almost twenty years and who proved himself in the defense of Republican Spain. He told me he was going to Toulon, to try to build a movement among the sailors of the Fleet and the workers in the arsenal. There may be a possibility, you know, that the Fleet will some day sail out and join us. Unfortunately, the persons who work at that sort of job are always Socialists or Communists, and our State Department boys become paralyzed
with horror at the thought of them.”

  “Well, you work on your own, Lanny, and see what you can find out. As I’ve told you before, if you need money, it can come out of my secret funds.”

  “I don’t want any money for myself, Governor; but there might be a possibility of using some in the movement, and if so I’ll let you know. You’ll have to arrange some way for me to communicate with you without having to come to London or Paris, because getting about is a difficult business in wartime.”

  “I am in a position to arrange it easily. I am appointing Admiral Leahy as my personal representative to deal with Pétain. Leahy is a grand old boy, one of the officers who brought the battleship Oregon around the Horn during the Spanish-American War. He is a close friend of mine, and a Catholic, so he’ll know how to talk to the Marshal.”

  “Is he another of the appeasers?”

  “Quite the contrary, he’s a man after your own heart; he thinks we are bound to get into the war sooner or later and it had better be at once. He won’t like you in your role of Fascist sympathizer, and he’s a salty old bird who says what he thinks—to Americans. I’ll instruct him that he will receive letters marked ‘Zaharoff,’ and that he is to forward them to me unopened. Good hunting to you, Lanny!”

  V

  It was the time for the P.A. to offer to take his departure, and ordinarily he would have done so. But he had one other matter on his conscience and said: “May I keep you for a minute or two more, Governor?”

  “Certainly. You have never worn out your welcome.”

  “I never mean to, if I can help it. What I want to ask is whether anybody has ever warned you that some of our near-Fascists might try to displace you.”

  “Oh, so you’ve come on that, too! It’s all over the place, they tell me.”

  “But this is really serious, Governor.”

  “Well, tell me what you have heard.”

  The visitor told of his conversation with Baldur Heinsch, and of his trip to California, and what the Roosevelt-haters there were doing and saying. The President listened attentively, and then commented: “As to that Nazi chap, I have reason to think the F.B.I, may nail him down before long. As to the others, I will tell you that I have been informed of half a dozen such juntas within the last few months. It’s amusing to note that they all propose to deal with me gently. It hasn’t seemed to occur to them that I might not give up without a fight.”

  “Hitler didn’t hesitate to murder half a dozen of the leading statesmen of Europe, Governor; and he’s not through yet.”

  “I know it, and I’m being protected—much better than I tell about. This occurs to me, Lanny—did you ever meet Jim Stotzlmann?”

  “I have heard a lot about him, but I don’t think we have met.”

  “He’s been playing around in your parts of the world most of his life. I tell him that I’m his oldest friend—I was present at his christening. You might be interested to meet him and hear what he has to reveal about our homemade insurrectionists.”

  “How should I meet him, Governor?”

  “First you have to find him. He’s a grasshopper, even more so than yourself. The rest will be easy, because he’s a warm-hearted fellow and easy to know. Don’t say what you’re doing for me, and don’t ask what he’s doing—you understand, that isn’t talked about.”

  “Surely not.”

  “Talk about mutual friends, of whom you must have a hundred. He knows everybody.”

  “But how about my supposedly being a near-Fascist?”

  “He is one man who is worthy of your confidence. Pledge him not to mention your name to anybody, and you’ll find his ideas and information helpful.” The Chief thought for a moment, then added: “I’ll give you a card. Get me one out of that desk drawer.” When Lanny had complied, the other scribbled with his pencil: “Top secret! F.D.R.” and said: “Show him that, and then destroy it in his presence, so that both of you will know it won’t go further. After that you will be pals for life.”

  “It sounds exciting,” remarked the son of Budd-Erling. “There are eleven persons in the world who know that I am not a Fascist sympathizer. Stotzlmann will make it an even dozen.”

  “Take care of yourself,” said the Big Boss; and then, with a touch of concern: “Are you planning to go into Germany again?”

  “I’m not sure,” was the answer. “It depends on how events shape up, and whether I can get an invitation from one of the head devils. I won’t take any great risk, because I want to stay alive and see you win this fight.”

  VI

  It was the beginning of December, and the yacht Oriole had fled to southern waters, keeping its owner safe from throat and lung infections, or so he believed. Lanny telephoned and learned that Lizbeth had remained in Baltimore for a second winter. Did this mean she was obliging her mother and giving herself a chance to forget the unappreciative Lanny Budd? Or might it be that she was staying because she knew he was in the country, and hoped he would come again and change his mind? Lanny would have preferred not to call, but there was his duty to Robbie. It would have seemed rude indeed to pass through the city without speaking. The Holdenhursts might not learn about it, but Robbie would!

  Lanny drove, and spent a day and night at Greenbriar, and told about his adventures in California, including the wonders of San Simeon. He was aware that this made him more attractive to the girl, who could have imagined nothing more exciting than to have been taken along on that trip and to have met the semi-divine figures of the screen, also the publisher of the Baltimore American. It was second nature to Lanny to make himself agreeable to people; and what would have been the use of coming, unless he had intended to do so?

  He saw Lizbeth hanging on his words, he saw the lovelight in her eyes. She had been brought up to be proud, and to think that she was important; but she was prepared to be humble to him, and for all her life. There began that old struggle within him. The poet has testified that pity melts the mind to love; and while it is an unsatisfactory basis for marriage, it is one of the baits that nature uses in her trap. The family left the pair ostentatiously alone, and it must have been very annoving to them when they heard him playing the piano for Lizbeth. There has not as yet been any technique invented by which a man can play classical music while his two arms are where a girl wants them to be.

  Lanny kept saying to himself: “She would really admire Hearst! She would admire all the people whom I despise! It would be a crazy thing to do.” But at the same time his blood kept saving that it would be a very pleasant thing to put his arms around Lizbeth; that indeed it was quite cruel not to do so. The rebellious blood kept inquiring: “What the devil are you here for?”—and Lanny had no convincing answer. The ladies had a party scheduled, and Lizbeth wanted him to stay and dance with her. To his mind came words from some old English dramatist: “My dancing days are done.” But he didn’t Speak them to the girl. He told her that he had urgent business for his father, which was her father’s business too.

  Next morning he stepped into his car and headed northward into a cold wind which promised more of the same. On the way he told himself that he would never again go back to Green Spring Valley; and each time his cynical blood said: “Ha, Ha!” In New York he phoned to Newcastle to report, and to make sure that the car wasn’t needed. The tactful father didn’t fail to inquire: “Did you stop at the Holdenhursts’?”—and to add that Reverdy had taken another good-sized block of Budd-Erling stock before sailing. So Lanny knew that both Green Spring Valley and Newcastle were in league, against him!

  VII

  There began another duel in the heart, or mind, or soul, or whatever it is a P.A. carries. He had duties to attend to; but greater than his interest in any of them was his desire to tell Laurel Creston about his recent adventures. She was the person who really ought to hear them, and put them into little acid sketches. Not San Simeon—no, Lanny decided he would have to pledge her not to write about that; but the Hollywood stunt men and riders of the purple sage organize
d into a cavalry troop to put down the Jews of Boyle Heights—that would be real material for “Mary Morrow’s” subtle mockery.

  So Lanny called on the telephone, and took her to lunch in another obscure café, and then for a drive. He put a robe around her small person, and took her up the east side of the Hudson, viewing the Palisades, and describing the two much longer drives he had enjoyed—but not mentioning whom he had taken along in his imagination, with or without clerical blessing. He told about various Hollywood parties; about Louella Parsons trying to be at once regal and girlish; about Major Hughes, partly deaf and entirely humorless, infuriated against the Reds and equally so against the psychic researchers; to Lanny he had denied the reality even of hypnotism, and had said, somewhat rudely, that it was all pure fraud. Also at the party had been Cecil de Mille, who had managed to combine “cheesecake” with early Christian martyrs and the Ten Commandments.

  Laurel was delighted, as he had foreseen. “Do you mind if I make notes?” she asked, and Lanny said: “Of course not.” So she combined business with pleasure, something her escort had been doing ever since he had earned his first thousand dollars serving as secretary-translator to one of the American advisers at the Peace Conference of 1919.