No, it seemed wiser to do his traveling under the protection of night, keeping watch ahead for flashlights and avoiding the towns. With the help of the friendly farm people he had got himself a sound stick and no longer feared the dogs. He was coming into the mountains, and it would be cold, and impossible to sleep outdoors at night without a blanket; but by day he would find a place in the sun, or if it rained he might find a cave, or a hollow tree, or perhaps he could tell his touching story and get permission to sleep in a barn.
To Hilde’s place was a little more than fifty miles, and from there between fifty and a hundred to the Italian border, depending upon where he approached it. He had no map, but had motored over this region for the past twenty years. Traveling by country roads increased the distance, but it was better to take longer and be sure of getting there. By now he had a thick brown growth on the lower half of his face, and when he bent over a stream to get a drink he hardly recognized what he saw; so much the better, for if he didn’t, the Gestapo surely wouldn’t. He still had his pleasant smile and persuasive tongue; he didn’t meet a single farmer’s wife or daughter who wasn’t touched by his sad story of a home bombed to rubble and a wife and children being sought by a loving husband and father. To people in these foothills of the Bavarian Alps bombings were “old, far-off unhappy things,” and they would have been glad to have him stay and sit by their large wood stove and tell them tales all evening.
14
In Worst Extremes
I
Hilde’s chalet on the Obersalzberg was one of those elaborate affairs which wealthy people build themselves in order to enjoy wild scenery without sacrificing the comforts of city life. It stood on the slope of a pine- and fir-clad mountain, looking directly across toward the slope where Hitler had his Berghof; on a clear day you could sit in the Fürstin’s summerhouse with a pair of opera glasses and see the Führer come out of his hiding place, clad in the costume of the country—short black leather breeches, an embroidered green jacket, and a hat with a Spielhahn feather in it. In the old happy days he had delighted to walk on the mountain paths of his estate; now he came rarely, and if you had been observed spying upon him you would have got into very serious trouble.
Lanny had been there in the days when the Munich Conference was being planned. He had stayed at the Berghof, and walked to Hilde’s chalet, and also to Göring’s, for Der Dicke had an elaborate place, with a forest fenced in and inhabited by wild boars which he delighted to chase and stick with spears from a safe seat on a horse. But not too safe, for he had fallen off several times, and once had been laid up for a couple of weeks. The son of Budd-Erling had had to plead ignorance of this noble sport, and content himself with the safer one of shooting stags from a high platform at Rominten.
Lanny knew the household at Hilde’s, and knew that he had to be careful in approaching it. There was an older sister, a widow like Hilde, and by no means cordially disposed. There had been in the Berlin palace two elderly family servants who were loyal to the great and noble Führer of their Fatherland and were probably too ignorant to be changed by the events of the war. A most unpromising layout, and Lanny didn’t expect to be a guest there, or even to make himself known.
Because other people in the neighborhood knew him, he waited until after dark to come near the estate. He saw that there were lights in two of the second-story windows, and he guessed that Hilde had taken his advice and made some of the smaller rooms tight and habitable for winter. She had lost most of her income, she had told him, and would be content to keep alive, and not too much interested in that. He knew that she had never been a dog lover, and he was relieved to discover that his prowling was not greeted by any barking. He spent the night in a shed on her estate, wrapped in some potato sacks.
At dawn he was out and in the forest. Hilde’s summerhouse stood on a conspicuous point of rock, and it had been her pleasure to sit there and read on sunny days. Fortunately this was one, and he posted himself where he could be hidden by bushes and keep watch; there he sat and dozed, and toward the middle of the morning, here she came, wearing a black dress, something that had been forbidden in Berlin. He was near enough to see that her beauty was gone, and her wrinkles impossible to hide, especially in sunlight. She had been a social butterfly, full of gay and somewhat malicious gossip; she had flitted about the Continent, spending her husband’s money in half a dozen capitals and speaking a smart jargon made up of German, French, English, and now and then Italian and Spanish words. Now her husband and her two sons were dead, her bright and clever world was dead, and so was her heart, she had told her old friend Lanny Budd.
II
The visitor moved carefully from tree to tree, keeping out of sight from the house. When he was near he stood behind a tree and said, not too loudly, “Hello, Hilde.” He could not see her startled look, but got the impression from her voice. “Wer ist da?” she said. He answered quickly, “Lanny Budd.” She exclaimed, “Um Gottes Willen!” and he stopped her with the words, “Come for a walk. I must talk to you alone.”
She got up and followed him into the forest; when they were a safe distance away from everything he stopped and confronted her. He was prepared to see dismay in her face, for she had never seen this darling of fortune in anything but the right costume, and surely never without having washed his face or shaved for two weeks. “Don’t be frightened,” he told her. “I am in trouble, but I promise not to involve you.”
“For God’s sake, what has happened, Lanny?” she whispered, having made up her mind that it was really he and none other.
“I came into Germany to buy some paintings from Göring, and one of his so-called art experts got into a rage because I exposed his having purchased some fraudulent stuff. He started the story that I was a spy, and a friend tipped me off that the Gestapo was going to put me through one of their inquisitions. I decided to get out, and I’m on my way to Italy.”
“But, Lanny, wie schrecklich! You look dreadful!”
“Well, don’t worry, a part of that is camouflage. I have been walking at night and sleeping in the woods by day, and I’m a little short on food. The main trouble is, I wanted somebody to talk to, and I couldn’t bear to go by without saying hello.” He said this with his amiable smile, and there could be no doubt that it was the same old Lanny.
“Aber—you know how it is!” she exclaimed. “My family—c’est embarrassant!”
“Of course!” he replied. “I have no idea of imposing on you. I just wanted to have a chat. Are we safe here?”
“Let us go a little farther, if you are not tired.”
“I had a grand sleep in a shed on your place last night.”
“Lanny, how perfectly appalling!”
“C’est la guerre,” he said, falling into her international mode of speech. “Nobody has much fun nowadays, and I thought you might be bored and glad to hear the news.”
“How perfectly darling of you! Of course I’m starving for news! Erzähl’ doch!”
III
They went deeper into the dark forest. Partridges flew up with a roar in front of them, and great hares scampered away. Hilde led him off the beaten path until she was sure there could be no eavesdroppers; then they took seats upon a fallen log, and Lanny opened his delightful budget of gossip. Since he had last seen this fashionable friend he had been to Sweden, London, Washington, New York, Newcastle, Florida, then. Marrakech and Algiers, Rome and Berlin, and in nearly all these places he had met persons whom Hilde knew and wanted to hear about. What was Irma doing and was she really happy as a countess, and had the war taken all her money? And the little girl who had flown to America, which of her parents did she favor and how did she behave? And Robbie and all that family and then Beauty among the blackamoors and Kurt Meissner and his tragic injury and that dreadful crude fat man—even out here in the forest Hilde was afraid to speak his name, and she looked about her as she listened to the story of his new lot of paintings, and his drug addiction, and his unhappy wife who was compe
lled to worship at the shrine of her predecessor.
This went on for an hour or so; then suddenly this fashionable lady stopped and stared at her friend, so disturbingly altered. “Here I am chattering on!” she exclaimed. “And you in such trouble! How can I help you, Lanny?”
“It is a help to see you,” he replied gallantly, “and to be reminded of old times. I mustn’t stay any longer.”
“Lanny, it is perfectly putrid that I don’t ask you into the house and take care of you, but you know my family situation. There would be gossip and it would spread fast.”
“Certainly; and I wouldn’t dream of involving you in my troubles. It wouldn’t do me any good and it might do you serious harm.”
“At least I can bring you food. There is an old woman near here to whom I sometimes take some, so it won’t look suspicious if I bring out a basket.”
“No basket; old dear. Small packages that I can stuff into my pockets. Wrap them in paper, and be sure there is no writing or printed labels on the paper.”
“What a way to be living—and you of all people! Where are you going?”
“I need a little advice about that. I want to get into Austria. Do you know any trick for getting there?”
“How should I, Lanny? The roads are especially well guarded in this neighborhood because of being near the Berghof.”
“I was a guest there a couple of months ago,” he told her. “I wanted to come to see you, but I had no chance. I was flown there and flown away again.”
“We heard that you were there. There is no end of gossip about the place. The servants talk about what goes on. They say the Number One has a new girl, but nobody knows her name.”
“Not so new, only the news is new. Her name is Eva Braun and he calls her Evi. She comes from Munich, and was an assistant to Hoffman, that funny little man who follows his master around all day and takes snapshots of everything he does. Posterity will know all about this pretty but rather commonplace Freundin.”
“Oh, Lanny, quel morceau! What a tidbit, as you say! Our Sir Launcelot! Our holy one! That ought to be worth a dozen food packages.”
“Be careful how you pass it on! You might have the Gestapo calling to find out where you get your tidbits.”
“We have a maidservant who lives in Berchtesgaden and brings us the latest. She—” The Fürstin stopped without finishing the sentence. “Wait a moment, Lanny. I believe I have a way for you to go south. This girl has a fellow who lives in the mountains and may be the sort of man you need. We have been worried about him because he comes here sometimes at night, and we are sure that he’s a draft dodger, and perhaps something worse; a smuggler or even a saboteur.”
“Now you are talking, Hilde! For a little money such a man might be willing to smuggle me into Austria, and perhaps farther. Is there any way I could get his ear?”
“The girl would know how to reach him, I have no doubt.”
“And is there some job that you could think of for him to do?”
“Yes, there is always wood to be cut.”
“Well, now, old darling, do me a real favor. Get this dubious Bursch into your forest, and I will hang around until I see him. I’ll find a way to approach him, and of course won’t give him any hint that I’m a friend of yours. I’ll be just another draft dodger, and he won’t have any trouble in understanding me.”
“But Lanny! It may take a while, and how will you live?”
“I won’t live in luxury, but I’ll get along. There’s a shed on the edge of these woods, and it seems to be deserted. I slept in one corner a part of last night and only a hedgehog came to bother me.”
“My husband used to store hay there in the days when he took care of the deer and had shooting parties. No one will come there. But you will freeze, Lanny!”
“I didn’t freeze last night. I admit that if I were to find an old horse blanket hanging on a nail I could use it; not a good blanket, you understand, for that wouldn’t look natural. Besides that, all I want is food, and I’ll get along beautifully. I’ll wait until I see the man, or until you tip me off that it’s no go. Send the girl at once if you can, because there’s always a chance that someone may see me.”
“Tout suite!” said the Fürstin, speaking New York French instead of Parisian; and then, “So long!” She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and then fled to her house.
IV
The fugitive spent the rest of that day in the forest, cultivating the friendship of the chattering squirrels and the timid hares. He found wire snares set in their runways, for in these disturbed times there was a great deal of poaching. In one of the snares was a hare, strangled to death, and Lanny did not scruple to take it out and set the snare again, so as to avoid making enemies. He carried his treasure to a small stream, skinned it, opened it up with a sharp stick, and cleaned it in the water. He had two or three precious matches and needed only one to start a small fire of dry leaves and twigs. There he sat and patiently toasted one chunk of hare after another. It made a huge meal, even for a half-starved man; he wrapped the two hind legs in clean leaves and tucked them carefully into pockets, for he wouldn’t trust the squirrels while he went to sleep. He found a tiny clearing in warm sunlight and there slept peacefully. How delightful the earth could be if it weren’t for the people on it!
When darkness approached he made his way to the shed. Food packages had been set on an empty box in one corner, and he made a supper of a Schweitzerkäse sandwich and two cold broiled Hasenläufe—ja, recht gut! He groped and found a blanket miraculously hanging from a nail, and wrapped in this he made up for more lost sleep. At dawn he was out and gone, leaving the blanket on the nail, but taking the food packages in his various pockets.
He found a thicket from which he could keep watch, and a couple of hours after sunrise he saw a youngish fellow, in a country costume well-worn and patched, come from one of the outbuildings of the estate with an ax over his shoulder. Lanny followed, not too close, for it would be easy to find him. Pretty soon there came the ringing sound of an ax on a fallen tree, and Lanny came up to the chopper and greeted him in the best Bavarian dialect he could muster, “Allo, wie geht’s, wie steht’s?”
The Bursch stopped his work and stared, none too cordially; he saw a tramp, as unprepossessing as art had been able to produce at three week’s notice. “Was wollen’s?” he demanded.
Lanny came near and spoke low, lest even the squirrels and the hares might overhear. “Would you like to earn a bit of money, say, forty marks?”
“I could use it,” was the skeptical reply.
Lanny wasted no time, but took from his pocket two small coins and two pieces of paper. He handed the coins to the fellow and held the notes up before him. “Two marks now; twenty when we come to the old Austrian border, and twenty when you have got me well into the country.”
“Aha!” said the Bursch. “Das kann i verstehn.” He thought for a while, then asked, “Would Hallein suit you?”
“Hallein is all right,” said Lanny. “You would take me a bit beyond and get me started off?”
“It’s a deal. I’ll take you through the salt mines.”
“You mean the one at Berchtesgaden?”
“No, the Wolf Dietrich, at Hallein. It has tunnels that go for miles and some of them are under German soil. There are ways to get in, if you know the trick.”
“That sounds all right. But won’t they be guarded at the Hallein end?”
“There are hundreds of workers, and they come and go. You can pass for one. I have friends there.”
“Das klingt gut,” said the Landstreicher—tramp. “How soon can we start?”
“The best time to come out in Hallein is when the work stops, at eighteen hundred. Then it will be dark. If we leave here at noon, we should make it.”
“I don’t want to be seen on the highways. I have my reasons.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have mine too. You stick around till noon. I’ll have to take this ax to the chalet, then I’ll m
eet you here. I’ll tell them I sprained my wrist and have to let it rest for a day or two. My name is Willi. Do you happen to have a smoke on you, Kamerad?”
V
Lanny found a quiet nest in the forest, and listened to the cheerful sound of the ax, and thought about Hallein. A small, dingy town in Austria, just below Salzburg and close to the old border, it was a place marked on Lanny Budd’s mental map, for it was here that his marriage to Irma Barnes had come to an end. They had helped Trudi Schultz to escape from Berlin, and Irma had been in a fury with her husband, not merely for having exposed her to such peril, but because he kept such evil company; it was “Red” company to Irma, and no use for him to plead that it was merely “Pink.” Socialists, Communists, and bomb-throwing Anarchists were all the same to the daughter of J. Paramount Barnes, railroad king from Chicago. That had been six years ago, years laden with great events in the life of Lanny Budd and his world; but nothing would ever wipe out of his mind the night scene when Irma had told him that she was going back to her mother in New York. They had parted at the railroad station, and Lanny had gone to Salzburg to try to enjoy the music festival, but not with much success.
Now he would see this little salt-mining town again. He had known about the mines, and that they had a vast network of tunnels and passages underground, but it had never occurred to him that they might be used by smugglers and other law evaders. Now he was going to entrust his life to one of these men; he had thought it over carefully and decided that Willi could not afford to turn him over to the police, because the fellow himself was a draft dodger, and while he might collect a reward, he would inevitably be forced into the Army, and the money wouldn’t be of much use to him. Lanny’s money would be better! To be sure, he might have a notion to hit Lanny over the head in the salt mine and get more money; but Lanny would try to keep behind him at all times.
One Clear Call I Page 39
