A World to Win

by Sinclair, Upton;

  They went on and on, for what were a few more miles to a man who had just driven three thousand in less than a week? They passed through the city of Poughkeepsie and presently were on a wide paved road, lined with old trees now denuded of leaves. “You are coming to Krum Elbow,” Lanny said, and when she asked: “What is that?” he told her: “The summer White House of our country; but it’s not occupied now.”

  There was a sentry box at the entrance, and two army men on duty, for it was wartime, even though not acknowledged. Lanny didn’t say: “I have been in there,” and Laurel didn’t ask. He wondered: Had she guessed who it was that he was serving? He could hear the dogmatic Major Hughes asking: “If there is anything to your telepathy rubbish, how could you sit alongside her, bursting with that secret, and she not getting the faintest hint of it?” How, indeed!

  It was dark before they returned to New York, so they stopped for dinner. When he delivered her, just around the corner from her apartment, she thanked him for a delightful time, and the P.A. went off thinking: That’s the woman I ought to marry! That’s the one who wouldn’t bore me! And then, of course: Where on earth would I hide her? She’s on the way to becoming famous, and the whole town will be after her. Answer that one, too!

  VIII

  A P.A.’s first duty was to report to Baldur Heinsch, and this he did next day. The steamship official was greatly excited, and invited Lanny to his apartment. “We can talk quietly here.”

  The guest wasn’t under any obligation to report the truth to this man of no faith whatever, so he said that the Duce of San Simeon had been enormously interested in what had been proposed, and had said that he would back it, but only on condition that he was never to be named; he would deal only through Lanny, and he would first have to know the names of all the persons who were active in the proposed coup. Lanny had thought over every detail of this story, and weighed and measured every word; he made it circumstantial enough to be convincing, and thereby he was setting a trap for his pro-Nazi victim—a trap baited with a two-hundred-million-dollar fortune.

  Would Heinsch step into the trap and blurt out the names of the conspirators? He was greatly delighted, and for a while Lanny thought he was going to “come clean.” But then he thought it over and said that he would have to consult his friends. Lanny agreed: “Of course; that’s only fair to them.” Inside his mind he wondered: Was there really any conspiracy, or was it just a tale which Hitler’s secret agent had made up with the idea of getting hold of Hearst? And would he now proceed to get together some conspirators to justify the carving off of some chunks from the second-greatest fortune in America? Long ago Lanny had come to realize that dealing with the Nazis you found one conspiracy inside another, like a set of those beautifully lacquered Chinese boxes that surprised and amused children. What the Chinese did with them Lanny had never learned.

  Also the P.A. called on Quadratt, and remarked, casually: “I am expecting to leave for Europe any time now, and I may go in by way of Switzerland and see the Führer. Have you any message you would like me to give him?” Quadratt claimed to have met the Führer personally, but Lanny wasn’t at all sure that it was true; the Herr Doktor Goebbels was the person with whom he would more naturally have dealt. Anyhow, this would be a tactful way of letting him know that Lanny Budd was an important person, and one to whom it was worthwhile telling secrets!

  “A long war, I fear,” said the ex-poet mournfully; “and that is the one thing the Führer was determined to avoid—so he told me.”

  “He told me the same,” replied the son of Budd-Erling.

  IX

  On North Shore Drive, in what had been a remote suburb but now was Chicago, there stood a massive brownstone palace, and for three generations everybody who was anybody in the metropolis of pork packing had known that this was the home of the Stotzlmann family, descendants of the old pirate who had been the richest Middle-Westerner of his time. The building was four stories high, in imitation of a Louis Quatorze château, and the fence around the park was reported to have cost a hundred and fifty thousand dollars—people spent money for such things in those days, and their minds were a catalog of such prices. The more things had cost the better they were and the more they were talked about, which was the best of all. “Three million dollars!” people would say about the palace, and their voices would be lowered as if they were speaking of the dwelling place of deity.

  Broad stairs went up to a great bronze gate and heavy double doors. It was difficult to imagine anyone being bold enough to enter through such doors, and in the times that Lanny had driven by the place he had never chanced to see them opened. But his friend and colleague Zoltan Kertezsi avowed that many years ago he had been admitted to inspect the art works inside. A family was supposed to be living there, but probably, like most rich people, they were away from home most of the time. Lanny had observed that the more money people had, the harder they found it to escape boredom.

  Jim Stotzlmann was one of the heirs of this family, and evidently he had been bored in Chicago, for he was the author of several large books of travel and exploration. In Who’s Who Lanny found his home listed as Palm Beach, Florida, and wrote duplicate letters there and to the family home. He said: “I have a card for you from a very important friend in Washington. It is marked ‘top secret,’ and therefore I prefer to deliver it in person. For your information, I am an American art expert and have lived most of my life in France. I am at the Ritzy-Waldorf, New York, awaiting your reply. In the event that you are away, my permanent address is in care of my father, Robert Budd, who is president of Budd-Erling Aircraft, Newcastle, Conn.”

  These letters were sent by airmail; and then Lanny went to a bookstore and bought all the works of Colonel James Stotzlmann that he could find. He spent the better part of the next three days and nights getting “the low-down” on this new friend who had been vouched for upon such high authority. One of the books was the writer’s life story, and so Lanny could learn about him in advance.

  X

  Jim Stotzlmann was one of those mysteries of nature to which the biologists have given the name of “sport.” For a thousand generations all flies of a certain species will have wings with gray spots; then suddenly one will appear with purple spots. And in the same way, in the palaces of privilege many generations of babies will be born who will eat what is fed to them and believe what is told to them, and grow up to be perfectly conventional members of fashionable society, wearing exactly the right clothes, thinking exactly the right thoughts, and doing exactly what all the other members of their set consider proper. But once in a blue moon will appear a freak, a black sheep, a crackpot—there will be many names for him—a child who will insist upon asking questions, and trying to make sure the answers are right; who will think for himself, and not as all the others think; who will not be sure that God in His Infinite Wisdom has entrusted to him the care of the property interests of the country. (Such were the public words of a great coal magnate during the childhood of Jim Stotzlmann and Lanny Budd.)

  Jim and his sisters had been born and raised in that great brown-stone palace looking out over Lake Michigan, and had been bored to death in two “ideally equipped” schoolrooms in its uppermost floor. They had been taught exactly how to behave at receptions and teas, and how to grade their conversation and tone of voice according to the social importance of the ladies and gentlemen to whom they were introduced. Among these was the then President, Theodore Roosevelt, who sent the ten-year-old boy a formal invitation to have lunch at the White House, and there delivered to him a thirty-minute lecture on the life and ideals of Abraham Lincoln. That was the experience which really impressed the lad, and not the fact that by the time he was sixteen he had lunched and dined with every major crowned head of Europe.

  Jim enlisted in the ranks and contributed his share to the blood and sweat of the war to make the world safe for democracy. When he came home he was not happy with the dancing wastrels of the North Shore and Lake Geneva smart set—any m
ore than Lanny had been with those of Paris and the Côte d’Azur. He wanted to become a writer, and had gone out and got a newspaper job, with the idea that that was the way to learn. Soon afterwards the paper was bought by Frank Munsey, who had made forty million dollars out of the publishing business and told Jim it was just luck. When Jim went to beg him not to dismiss the newspaper staff, the publisher told him to get out and mind his own damn business.

  After that Jim wanted a paper of his own—a penny paper, to defend the rights of the common man. Chicago was the place for it, he decided, and since his family wouldn’t help him, he took the advice of Lord Northcliffe and sold stock to the public. Then he found that it would take a long time to get a press. Being only twenty-five, and naïve and idealistic, he went to call on William Randolph Hearst at San Simeon, to ask permission to use his Chicago presses during the interim. The interview took place at the Ambassador Hotel, and Lanny, needless to say, was interested in the scene with that royal personality.

  What he had said was: “There is no room in Chicago for another newspaper. I am just buying a newspaper in Dallas, Texas, and you may become the editor. You are a novice at the game, but you have a name that is worth money. Thirty thousand a year will do for a start. Go at once to Dallas by plane and report to the managing editor of my paper there. I will send you instructions from time to time. Good morning.”

  When Lanny Budd read that story he thought: My nameless services are worth nearly twice as much as the Stotzlmann name! But then he reflected that this had been seventeen years ago, while America was still on the gold standard, and the value, of money greater. He could just about regard himself as Jim’s social equal!

  XI

  Several days passed, and Lanny had barely opened his eyes in the morning when the phone rang and a gentle voice said: “Is this Mr. Lanny Budd? This is Jim Stotzlmann.” Lanny said: “Oh, good! I was afraid you might be in Florida.” Said the voice: “When can I come to see you?” Lanny thought it was up to him to call, but the other insisted: “I am only a couple of blocks away.”

  The son of Budd-Erling understood this form of self-protection. If a man calls on you it may be hard to get rid of him, but if you call on him, you can leave when you please. So he asked: “Would an hour from now be agreeable?” The answer was: “Fine!”

  This “sport” of the Chicago orchid greenhouse proved to be a large fellow, as tall as Lanny and heavier. He had the face of an idealist who had been made to suffer in a cruel and ugly world. His smile was warm, his manner deprecating and shy; his voice low, a little like a woman’s. A generous and trusting person, not in the least suggestive of a secret agent, which Lanny had guessed from F.D.’s words that he really was. But then it was something Lanny had learned long ago, that spies do not look or act like spies—at least not if they are good ones, as Lanny himself tried to be.

  Lanny presented his card, and the other took one glance at it. His face lighted up, and he exclaimed: “I guessed that was it. I am always happy to meet a friend of F.D.’s.”

  “The same to you, Mr. Stotzlmann.”

  “Honestly, I have a crush on that man like a schoolgirl. I would die for him a hundred times, if such a thing were possible.”

  “Then we shall understand each other. I think the American people are lucky to have such a President in this crisis.”

  “I wish they realized how lucky they are, Mr. Budd.”

  “Indeed you are right; and I am terribly afraid they may desert him before long. That is what I went to him about, and why he wanted me to meet you.”

  “Tell me about it, by all means.”

  Lanny explained how as an art expert he had met Baldur Heinsch, and had thought it the part of wisdom to pretend sympathy with this Nazi agent’s point of view, so as to discover what he was up to. He told about California and the Roosevelt-haters there, and what they were talking and planning. The scion of North Shore Drive listened with attention, never once interrupting, but keeping his eyes on the speaker’s face as if he were trying to read his inmost soul.

  When Lanny finished, the other said: “The thing is all over the country, Mr. Budd, and you don’t exaggerate the danger in the slightest degree. F.D.’s enemies hate him with such fury that they don’t keep silence even in my presence, though most of them know exactly how I feel. I have heard them calling for somebody to shoot him—and not merely in New York and Washington, but in country clubs and nightspots all over. You know I get about a lot—”

  “F.D. told me you were a grasshopper,” smiled Lanny.

  “Mostly it is shellshock from the last war; I have never got over it, and can’t bear to stay in one place very long. Also, I suppose, it was my upbringing; I got my education on the run.”

  “I spent most of the last three days reading your books.”

  “Oh, how kind! Then you know exactly how I feel about our roistering rich. And you won’t need any assurance that I agree with you about Hearst. He is one of the most unscrupulous and most dangerous men in America. He stops at nothing to get his way. And there are many like him. I could compile quite a list from my personal experience.”

  XII

  “I suppose,” said the old pirate’s descendant, “that F.D. intends for me to give you the real dope. You must understand that what I am going to say is the very last word in secrecy.”

  “You may count upon me absolutely, Mr. Stotzlmann.”

  “To begin with, let’s not stand on ceremony. You can understand that I don’t enjoy my family name very much; it’s a sort of gold mace studded with diamonds, and when it’s waved in front of people’s eyes they become dizzy, and I become bored. Call me Jim and let me call you Lanny.”

  “Fine!” said the other. “As F.D. likes to say: Shoot!”

  “Well, the contacts you have made in Hollywood may be the edges of the same conspiracy, but the center of it, and the really dangerous part, is in New York and Chicago, and in Washington. It is spreading through several government organizations, and at the heart of it are three of our top-ranking personalities.”

  “Good God, Jim!”

  “You understand, I am in touch with many of our top-notchers. I play around a lot; I like people, and if I stay alone I get to worrying about the world. I’ve lived with the super-rich since I first opened my eyes, and there are few whom I haven’t met in the course of years. They all know I’m a maverick, and quarrel with me, but they’re not very good at keeping secrets. You know their attitude: ‘What the hell?’”

  “I have met a lot of them,” Lanny mentioned.

  “My knowledge of this conspiracy began last summer, through a fellow I know in the advertising game—which is a small-sized gold mine. He got into a jam about his income taxes—they are complicated, you know, and maybe it wasn’t his fault; anyhow, he had come to Washington and he was damning That Man and his sheeny gang; he was half drunk, and he said, by God he and his friends were going to can the whole lousy lot. I pretended not to believe him, and so he got mad and spilled the story. ‘Go and talk to Harrison Dengue,’ he said. ‘Tell him I sent you and he’ll tell you about it.’ Do you know Dengue?”

  “Only by hearing my father speak of him.”

  “Well, he’s a typical big-money autocrat. They are gods, and they don’t let any stockholders or boards of directors check them.”

  “Only Congress?” put in Lanny.

  “They hate the New Deal congressmen reformers like snakes, and they hold F.D. responsible because he’s one who knows how to get the votes and keep the congressmen in power. They have an utter contempt for the democratic process and for everybody who professes it. Dengue is a man whose favorite diversion is seducing the wives of his fellow-officials—especially those who can’t do anything about it because he is in a position to break them. He looks like a bull and acts like one.”

  “I know the type; and they are not confined to any special group. The big-business world is full of them.”

  “What the American people do not realize is that offici
aldom today is big business. The higher men associate exclusively with the plush-lined set. Imagine any one of them putting his feet under the dinner table of a poor man! They come to my mother’s parties, half a dozen at a time, and believe me, the secretary has to know about precedence. When they open their mouths, it might be Hearst or our own Colonel McCormick.”

  “Don’t forget, Jim, my father sold munitions, and my grandfather and his father made them.”

  “Of course, you know it all. Well, Dengue has tremendous power in the parts of the country where it will be needed. And then there’s Poultiss, and there’s Harrigues—these three are the dynamos, and will be the triumvirate.”

  “What exactly are they planning to do?”

  “They are waiting for some public emergency, riots, or a big strike—there’s a coal strike coming, I believe. They will send a bunch of their men to take charge of the district which includes Hyde Park; they will cut the telephone wires to the place and seize the President. They will use the radio stations to tell the public that there was a plot against the President’s safety and that they are protecting him; they will issue orders in his name.”

  “But, do they imagine Roosevelt will submit?”

  “What can he do, Lanny, a crippled man who can hardly get about? They will make sure that nobody gets near him but their crowd.”

  “They think the country will be fooled by such a trick?”

  “What can the country do? This crowd have the guns—believe me, they have plenty—riot guns, tommy-guns, tear-gas guns, sawed-off shotguns, and poison gas if needed. They know all the strategic spots in the country, and will occupy them.”

  “But will their forces obey them?”

  “Orders will be issued to the army in the President’s name. Some of the officers may suspect that the orders are phony, but how can they be sure? By the time they wake up to what is happening they will be in custody, and somebody will be keeping them quiet.”