II
Frances was sixteen and had magically become a young woman. She had her mother’s well-developed figure and dark brown hair and eyes. From her father she had got a lively disposition and an inquiring mind. She was back on the regime of tutors and didn’t find it nearly so much fun as going to school in Connecticut; a castle and a great estate couldn’t take the place of the world. Irma’s possessiveness had something pathological about it, so it seemed to Lanny; Frances to her was not merely a daughter but also an heiress. The fortune had been growing like Jonah’s gourd all through the war—the lawyers had found some way to turn it into a “foundation” and have it settled in Canada, so that it didn’t have to pay the awful income taxes of Irma’s native land. Such a fortune—Lanny hadn’t been told the figure—dominates the life of its possessor; impossible not to think of such a person as something beyond the human.
Lanny took the valuable possession for a long walk, through lanes and paths where English poets had composed their verses and English gamekeepers had kept watch for poachers through several centuries. There they could talk frankly, away from an observant large household. Frances said that she hoped to spend the summer in Newcastle, and was her father going to be there, and would she see much of him? She laughed as she said, “What mother is afraid of, I might fall in love with an American.”
“She did,” replied Lanny, “and so did her mother.”
“But she thinks I’m too emotional and don’t appreciate the importance of her money. She has never told me how much of it I am to have, and I think I’m to understand that it depends upon the sort of marriage I make.”
“It is something you will observe,” said the unorthodox father. “The more money people have, the more they want.”
He didn’t need to question either mother or daughter; he could understand that Irma wouldn’t think any American good enough for Frances. What could you do with money in America? In England you could marry into a great family and have real distinction for the rest of your days. Irma and Ceddy would have been canvassing the dukedoms to pick out the most eligible heir; and if the man had been living with chorus girls for ten or twenty years that wouldn’t trouble them in the least. The thing was to have entree to the Court.
There had been no way to keep Frances from knowing the part her father had played in Nürnberg, and there was no way to keep her from being excited over the idea of a presidential agent. She plied him with questions about what he had done and then about what he was going to do. When he told her about the Peace Program she was thrilled; and little by little he realized that that truce which had been declared with Irma when they had parted company—on the platform of a railroad station in Austria in the year 1937—that truce was about to come to an end. Frances Barnes Budd had come of age mentally and was getting ready to make her own choices.
He couldn’t help being thrilled by the discovery that she was going to choose his side. She would come to Newcastle this summer—being well able to travel in a plane by herself, she insisted. Then she would want to visit Lanny and Laurel. She would see that exciting work going on, the weekly radio session, the famous guests coming to speak, and all the fun of getting out a paper. And then the syndicate, and the authors who came to dinner; she would read the articles that went the rounds and listen to the talk.
“Couldn’t I have a recording of some of the broadcasts?” she inquired; and of course she could. He had some in a suitcase and was going to discuss them with the BBC. If the BBC would put them on, Frances would hear them, and it would be a sort of crucifixion for the daughter and heiress of J. Paramount Barnes. She wouldn’t approve of a single word; they were the ideas that were ruining Britain and that she had been striving so earnestly to keep out of her little one’s mind. But the little one would soon be as big as herself and would repeat the ancient and bitter pattern of the young who refuse to think as their elders do.
If Irma had been legally able to say no she would have said it; but she couldn’t. She had to assent to the second visit to Newcastle; and in her mind would be the horrid idea that her precious daughter would meet a lot of Reds and Pinks and miscellaneous rabble—her father was just as bad as he had been the day that Irma had left him! He had been lying to her all the time since, and keeping the very worst company, having the most dangerous thoughts in his mind. Frances would meet some long-haired poet, a free lover, no doubt, and be seduced by him, and Irma would have to cut her off with a few thousand a month and leave the bulk of her fortune to her two sons, who, thank God, had the right sort of father and would never be exposed to contamination.
III
Lanny telephoned and made an engagement with Captain Alfred Pomeroy-Nielson, M. P., and went up to town and met him. The American was taken into the gallery of the House; the chamber of the Commons had been smashed by a bomb, and its members had taken over the chamber of the Lords. Lanny listened to a debate on the conduct of the coal industry; the arguments of His Majesty’s Loyal Opposition made him mad, but he couldn’t say a word. The British had their ancient ways of doing things, and no matter how much they changed they never admitted the change but went on pretending that it was exactly as it had been for several centuries. The speaker wore a heavy wig and embroidered robes, which meant pretending that it was at least five hundred years ago, and in front of him lay the five-foot mace which symbolized his authority and which had been made and decorated with regal symbols some three hundred years ago.
Alfy told his old friend everything he needed to know in order to go back and report the new British government to an American radio audience. He went with his friend to the offices of the British Broadcasting Corporation, a big eight-story structure built on a rounded point, so that it looked like an enormous barge forcing its way through the city. Alfy’s purpose, he had told Lanny, was to remind those gentlemen, youngish in years but elderly in mind, that there really had been a change in Britain. They took Lanny’s platters and promised to consider them for presentation to the British people; when Alfy, decorated flying officer and heir to a baronetcy, reminded them that Mr. Budd of Budd-Erling was that presidential agent who had just come back from testifying at Nürnberg, the BBC interrupted its printed schedule and invited him to tell his story to a British audience the following evening. So it came about that Lanny Budd’s debut as a radio performer in his own name took place in England, and his little daughter in Wickthorpe Castle, Buckinghamshire, was so proud of him that it made her mother and her grandmother two very unhappy great ladies.
There was even worse to come. Alfy’s younger brother, Scrubbie, returned from the wars; he was still in uniform, with his decorations on. He came to the studio, heard the broadcast, and exclaimed, “Oh, wizard!” When he heard about the recordings from America he wanted the worst way to hear them. “Oh, I’ve got to hear the Pater!” And how could the gentlemen of the BBC refuse such a request from a war hero? They said “Righto!” and they all sat and listened to the Pater; and of course what he had said about England was right, and they said “Righto!” again. One of the platters had come by airmail to Lanny in care of Alfy and contained Professor Einstein’s talk; Scrubbie exclaimed, “Oh, Einstein! Wizard!” He wanted to hear that, and then he said, “Wizard!” And what could the BBC gentlemen do but agree?
Neither Alfy or Scrubbie was the least bit naïve, they both knew that Lanny wanted these voices heard by the British people and by Britons who listened all over Europe; they also knew that many of these gentlemen in authority were of the old, the Conservative, way of thinking. The two brothers knew that uniforms counted, and titles, and that praise in British accents would count where a polite suggestion in an American accent wouldn’t. They kept on until the BBC had agreed to broadcast several of the talks. Alfy undertook to call the attention of the House of Commons to the broadcasts and to help in getting publicity from the press. Rick had been doing that sort of thing for more than a quarter of a century and hadn’t failed to teach the tricks to his sons.
IV
It didn’t take Lanny long to get his wife on the transatlantic telephone and tell her all that good news. Then he had another bright idea; he couldn’t have been Beauty Budd’s son without being something of a matchmaker, and he called the Castle and arranged for Frances to come to town by a certain train. He would meet her at the station and take her to a hotel where she could dress for the evening; he would take her to dinner, and then to a theater, and perhaps to supper; she would have a time and see a little more of her father, and he would put her on the train in the latter part of the next afternoon.
There was no objection that Irma could make; and Scrubbie was there, tall and thin, with wavy dark hair, pink cheeks, and an amiable naïve expression; his uniform spick and span and his decorations in plain view. Such objects were no more than a shilling a dozen in London just then, but this was a special young captain, from a family that Frances had heard her father talk about, an old family that lived not far from the Castle and had been friendly until the issue of Nazi-Fascism had arisen to divide them. Scrubbie had been in one of the big shows of the war, the bombing of the Ploesti oil fields in Rumania; he had helped to drive Rommel all the way back from Alamein to Tunis, and had made his limit of flights when he was nineteen. The stories he had to tell were wonderful, and he didn’t mind telling them; he wasn’t the old-style reserved Englishman, but enthusiastic and explosive, and hadn’t been repressed by his parents the way Frances had been. She, for her part, was fascinated by his airman’s language. How could there be a more delightful way to express pleasure or approval or indeed anything whatever than to exclaim, “Wizard!”
These two could hardly take their eyes off each other, and there was no reason why they should. When that delightful evening was over Scrubbie asked if he might be allowed to take Frances to the Zoo in the morning, and the permission was granted. When he and Lanny were alone the older man said, “You may have her if you can win her.” The other blushed and said, “Oh, thank you, sir!”
That meant that he would call at the Castle, and they couldn’t very well turn him away. Younger sons have always had a low rating in England, but still they rate, and when they have done their military duty you at least have to be polite to them. Scrubbie had already indicated to Lanny his interest in the Peace Program and asked if he might come and work for it for his keep. Lanny had said, “Sure.” So the boy would be there when Frances arrived; he would be welcomed at Robbie’s home, and now and then Frances would come to visit Edgemere. Altogether, Lanny could guess, there wouldn’t be much left of Irma’s dream of a dukedom. It might even come about that a good part of the Chicago traction king’s fortune would be spent for the cause of world peace and co-operation!
V
The traveler was flown to Lisbon, white city on the River Tagus. It had been one of the world’s spy centers all through the war, and he had come to know it well; but this time the plane stopped only for fuel, and then flew on to Bermuda, now a great American air and naval base. “The still-vexed Bermoothes,” Shakespeare had called them, but this day the wind was quiet, and Lanny looked down on white-and pink-dotted rocky islands, surrounded by a sea that was indigo in the depths and emerald in the shallows. More fuel, and they rose magically into the air again and sped on for three or four hours, and were set gently down at the great Boiling Field, near Washington.
There Lanny got one of the shocks of his life; the press was waiting. He learned afterward that Laurel had arranged it, not asking his permission for fear he might worry about it too much; it would be better if he showed his surprise. If he was going on the radio for his cause he would have to grit his teeth and bear it. Returning from his mission made him important and provided an occasion for publicity. So here were half a dozen eager young men with pencil in one hand and a wad of copy paper in the other, and here were photographers telling him to turn this way and that and to “hold it.” That is the way you get things done in the modern world, for you can’t expect people to be interested in your work unless they know what you look like.
The son of Budd-Erling always looked right, having been brought up that way. The public would see a middle-aged gentleman stepping off the plane with his overcoat over his arm; he looked the way people imagine a diplomat ought to look, and he had not let himself develop a paunch. They would read his admission: Yes, he had been President Roosevelt’s secret agent for a matter of eight years, and he had managed to fool Hitler and Göring and the other Nazis, with the possible exception of Himmler. He had had an uncomfortable time getting out of Germany late in the year 1943, traveling with false papers, playing the role of an office clerk searching for his bombed-out family; he had had to walk a good part of the way. Previously he had traveled over Europe incessantly and had helped to prepare for the landing in North Africa and then for Normandy. Now he was interested in the Peace Program; he told about it, and most of the papers printed what he said. They had ignored it so far, but now it was a story; it was what you had to have in order to make the headlines in America.
VI
The traveler went to Edgemere, and of course they were glad to see him; they would have been glad anyhow, but since he was a celebrity they were more so. All the girls in the office beamed and went home and told their families about him, and when he walked down the street people turned to look. The son of Budd-Erling! The man who fooled the Nazis! The man who told on Göring—the dirty dog—I hope they hang him! The day was Monday, and there was time to arrange for double time on Thursday. They would put off another speaker until the following week, and the man who had fooled the Nazis would tell all that he had seen at the Nürnberg trial, and how he thought it was going to turn out, and what he thought of our policy toward Germany, and of the chances for permanent peace.
Lanny was surprised by his wife and his English friends. They had been reserved and rather fastidious persons; radical in ideas but aristocratic in their personal attitudes. But now they were as excited as the girls and busily figuring out how to make the most of the opportunity. Lanny took it as a confirmation of the Marxist formula that economic forces mold character and opinions and determine political events. The Peace Group had staked their labors and their hopes upon this new kind of activity, and now it had taken control of them; they wanted to succeed—and this publicity was success. A new flood of letters poured in, and they had to get several more girls and arrange to enlarge their office. Laurel said, “We’re almost meeting expenses, Lanny. We may be able to keep going for more than five years.”
He answered, “I doubt if we have more than five years to decide the issue of peace or war for our time. What we had better do is to get more radio stations and make the half-hour period permanent.”
Expand! Expand! That was the voice of America. Spend more money, hire more help, build more rooms—and get more publicity, attract more attention! Work harder, carry more responsibilities, and increase your blood pressure! Subject your mind and character more and more to the influence of these terrific economic forces! Don’t have time to play the piano, or to read poetry, but occupy your mind with the hourly problems of your business—who is coming next on your program, what he or she is going to say, what his or her pulling power will be! What is going into the paper, and what was the subscription total last week, and so on and on—the world will see to it that you never have any rest, that you have too many visitors, too much fan mail, too many problems to solve! Unless you are very wise and careful you will be chain-smoking, taking a nip now and then, and developing that most fashionable of complaints, a stomach ulcer.
VII
Lanny had to take a walk and think about what he was going to say on his first appearance on the air at home. No doubt many of the fans would recognize the voice of Billy Burns, but that wouldn’t do any harm; it would bring more mail, and lovelorn ladies would transfer their affections and imagine themselves with a new name, not so different. Lanny must remember that the listeners would want, above all else, a story; they would want to see Göring, that terrible
creature, mad with greed, yet at the same time human, with impulses of friendship, of humor; in short, a child, untrained, able to take a kingdom but not to rule his spirit. They would want to see him in his magnificent palace, planned to become an art museum for all time; they would want a picture of him dressing up in stage costumes, running his elaborate toy trains, and worshiping at the shrine of his former wife, the Swedish countess.
And then his downfall, his surrender, his dream of seeing General Eisenhower, and the problem of whether or not he should carry his jeweled baton! His arrival at Mondorf, his knees shaking so that he could hardly walk, certain that he was going to be shot in the courtyard, as he had caused so many thousands of other men to be shot. And then, at the last, in the prisoners’ dock, wearing his faded gray uniform, many sizes too big for him now, and without any of its decorations. And what was in his face when he sat there, and heard Lanny tell about his monstrous crimes, and realized that he had been made a fool of, not once, not twice, but continuously from 1933 to 1945? A strange thing when their eyes met, and Lanny saw the horror and the hate. He couldn’t help feeling bad, because friendship is something important between men, and Göring had really had impulses of friendship toward Lanny even when he was trying to make use of him for nefarious purposes.
O Shepherd, Speak! Page 64
