FRIDAY, JUNE 23, 1922
Although he was doing his best not to show it, Herr Oberverwaltungsgerichtsrat Dr. Friedrich-Karl von Winterfeldt was disturbed by the story he had just heard. It didn't show in his face, the kind of face Americans think all German bureaucrats have, right down to the monocle and the little white dueling scar on his left cheek. It showed first in the way he began to tap his fingertips together, then in the way he rose abruptly from behind his enormous oak desk to pace around his book-lined study.
"This is a serious matter, Helena! Very serious. This could bring unfavorable attention, public criticism - who knows what else? upon the entire family!" He meant his own family.
"That is why we came to see you, Dr. Winterfeldt."
(I was beginning to understand all these little nuances: he calls her "Helena" because he has known her from childhood; she calls him "Dr. Winterfeldt" instead of "Herr Oberverwaltungsgerichtsrat" for the same reason.)
When I said that we should consult a lawyer, Helena had turned quickly to look at me, had opened her purse, blown her nose into a lace handkerchief, opened a silver compact, studied herself critically in the mirror, powdered her face carefully, produced a tiny comb with which she subdued the few strands of loose hair - and turned to look at me again.
"I think you have the answer, Peter. We need a lawyer. And not just a lawyer - a judge. Gerichtsrat Dr. Winterfeldt, of the Oberverwaltungsgericht- Oh, I can't explain it exactly, the supreme court for government matters, the highest court for the government ministries? It doesn't matter, they are very important, and Dr. von Winterfeldt is a famous jurist, a classmate of my father, a man who knows everybody at the Ministry of Justice, everybody in the Prussian state administration -"
"Now wait a minute, Helena. You're going to see a judge about this thing? Isn't that the same as going to the police?"
"Not quite the same," said Helena, in full control again, biting her lips to make them red, putting the handkerchief and the compact and the comb and the cigarette case back into her purse. "This particular judge is the brother of Frau Keith - and therefore the uncle of Christoph and of Kaspar!"
But you don't just run across town and drop in on a judge of the Oberverwaltungsgericht, we discovered. Helena decided to telephone for an appointment but we agreed that she had better not call from the Villa Keith, because the Meiers would tell Christoph, so she left and went back to her apartment. I didn't hear from her until the middle of the afternoon. The court was adjourned for the summer. Gerichtsrat von Winterfeldt was at his summer house in Wannsee.
- Well, let's go out there and see him.
- No, we can't, because his wife will find out. She's a frightful Nationalist, a cousin of General Ludendorff, she'd happily shoot the whole cabinet herself.
But her husband is all right?
Yes. He's stuffy but he's all right. People don't marry women because of their political opinions, you will discover.
- Well then, what are we going to do?
- It so happens that he's coming into town for lunch on Friday, he plans to work with his law secretary in the office on Friday afternoon, and he has agreed to see us at four o'clock. Will you be able to leave the house? Can we meet at my apartment?
-Now wait a minute, Helena, you really want me along on this? A stranger, and a foreigner? What's he going -
- Oh yes, yes, Peter, please! I cannot do this behind Christoph's back all alone, and you know the whole story, and the names that Kaspar has told you, and where the Austro-Daimler is, and everything, and also you are American, you have no personal involvement, you did it only as a friend, it makes a completely different impression than if I come alone, he is an old friend of my father but he thinks of me ... Oh, I can't explain it, Peter, I am an actress, and I have been the friend of his nephew for many years -but not the wife - and during the War I did go out with other men -
-It's all right, Helena, I understand. What time shall I be at your apartment on Friday?
"One thing is certain", announced Dr. von Winterfeldt. He had finally stopped pacing and was staring out of the window. "If a crime is actually committed, persons who had advance information about such a crime, and withheld such information from the authorities, have committed a crime themselves. That is the law. It has always been the law. And it is my sworn duty to uphold the law, and I cannot permit any member of my family to involve himself in a criminal offence."
Pause. Dr. von Winterfeldt neatly dropped his monocle into the palm of his hand and began to polish it with his handkerchief, still staring out of the window. "However! Do we have advance information about a crime? What information? What crime? A brother of the man who killed Erzberger appears in Berlin. He obtains an automobile. He seeks living quarters for two friends. All three of them belonged to Ehrhardt's Marine Brigade, which was dissolved two years ago. Kaspar Keith is told about a secret mission." He turned to face us, neatly replacing the monocle. "Are those the hard facts we know?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"And what's the rest of it?" asked Dr. von Winterfeldt. "The rest of it is Christoph's conjecture, is it not? Organization Consul? In well-informed circles we hear a lot of talk about the O.C. But is there anything more than talk? Any arrests? Any documents? Any court determinations?"
"Just a lot of corpses," said Helena.
"But that is not enough, my dear girl. The question really is: can the police arrest this Lieutenant Tillessen and his friends on the basis of the information you have given me? And the answer is No."
He began to pace again, hands folded behind his back. When Helena introduced me he had been polite but very chilly, what the Germans call "correct." Another one of her men was the first reaction I read in his expression. Why else would an American involve himself in this situation? After that, for a moment, he may have shared the suspicion of Lieutenant Tillessen, but by the time we finished our story he had reached a different, right, conclusion: an innocent abroad, a stranger in a strange land, getting in over his head.
"Despite the fact that there are no grounds for arrest - at least we are not aware of grounds sufficient for arrest - it would seem the better part of wisdom to notify someone. Yes, we must notify someone," said Dr. von Winterfeldt.
"You don't need to notify the victim," said Helena. "That's been done."
Both of us turned. "What did you say?" whispered Dr. von Winterfeldt.
"I have told Walther Rathenau everything we just told you. I went to his house in Grunewald last night. You cannot guess whom he was entertaining for dinner: Dr. Helfferich, and another man from the Nationalist party. I think my appearance rather surprised them."
Dr. von Winterfeldt was incredulous. "Rathenau was having dinner with Helfferich? Helena, I find that a little hard -"
"I saw it with my own eyes. It seems they have known each other for years, the Rathenau parents befriended Helfferich when he was an apprentice at the Deutsche Bank. They are political enemies, the bitterest enemies, but they've maintained contact, and when Walther Rathenau asked Helfferich for dinner, he came. With an aide."
"But why -"
"Because Walther Rathenau has so much faith in the logic of his ideas, he thinks he can persuade the devil himself. He just tried to reason with Helfferich, to explain that these endless attacks from the Right are making it impossible to conduct Germany's foreign policy, that Helfferich is actually hurting the nation by his tactics -"
"And he expects Helfferich to listen?"
"Yes, he says Helfferich did listen, did agree to stop these personal attacks -"
I interrupted her: "But what about these O.C. people? Did you tell him all that? In front of this ... Helfferich? "
"Of course not. I apologized for bursting in on them, I asked to see Dr. Rathenau alone for just a minute, and of course he had to get up from the table and take me into his library. And I just told him."
"And what did he do?" asked Dr. von Winterfeldt.
"He shrugged his shoulders," said Helena.
We stared at her.
"That's right. Shrugged his shoulders. 'My dear,' he said, 'I'm told these stories every day now. What should I do? Go to the Ministry in a steel helmet? Borrow an armored car from the Reichswehr? I love my country more than anything in the world. If I have to give my life in Germany's service - well, I won't be the first, will I?' " Helena choked on the last words and took her handkerchief out of her purse.
"I think that's a little exaggerated," said Dr. von Winterfeldt. "He need not always drive about Berlin in an open car. So he's not going to take any precautions?"
Helena shook her head. "He only asked if I could go to dinner with him tomorrow - that is tonight - at the American Embassy."
"Very gallant," said Dr. von Winterfeldt dryly. "You warn him that he is to be shot and he invites you to join him for dinner!"
"Dr. von Winterfeldt! That never entered his mind -"
"I'm sure it will enter Christoph's mind," I said.
"We are not going to tell him," she said.
"Maybe we aren't, but I'm certainly going to tell him."
"Peter, I forbid you -"
Dr. von Winterfeldt silenced us by clearing his throat. "I believe you came here to seek my advice, Helena."
"Yes, of course, I'm terribly sorry -"
"I think we had better take some action in this situation. For the sake of record, just in case - ah ... something happens, we will make a report of these admittedly meager facts, but make this report at the highest level. At the same time we will see if the Prussian State Police can locate these gentlemen and keep them under observation." He turned to me: "May I have those names again? "
I gave him the only names I knew: Karl Tillessen, Hermann Fischer, and Kern.
Back behind his desk, Dr. von Winterfeldt wrote down the names and picked up the telephone. "Schulenburg? Please connect me with the Minister of the Interior."
Long ago and far away the doctors always told me, "Don't ever take a drink if you feel you've got to have one," but when Helena offered tea I diffidently asked if she had any gin.
"Of course I have gin! What an excellent idea.... Clara, the English bottle at the very back, please, and the green bottle of Martini &Rossi, and a glass pitcher with only pieces of ice.
You understand? No water in the pitcher, only ice. And a long spoon, please. And you can use the sherry glasses, I think."
The maid went out and left us alone in the big sunny living room of Helena's apartment: yellow wallpaper, fresh flowers on every table, tall french windows leading to a little balcony, a view of treetops along the Lützowufer, the Landwehr-Canal, and the old townhouses on the other side. The french windows were open, and we could hear the traffic in the street below.
It was a beautiful room, filled with elegant and expensive things from different periods: Biedermeier furniture and Oriental carpets she must have inherited, a few small paintings - a Degas figure study, a brown girl by Gauguin, a Pascin watercolor of two women on a bed, a large formal portrait of a statuesque blonde woman in the black robes of Mozart's Queen of the Night -- presumably Helena's mother -- and a great many photographs of Helena in stage costumes, Helena with other actors, with theatre directors, with bemedaled officers. There was a grand piano, and more silver framed photographs on top of the piano: Helena's father, much younger, sitting on a beautiful horse with a blonde little girl up front; Helena in her wedding veil beside a boy in a splendid white uniform; Walther Rathenau, black eyes, black goatee, white tie and tails, scowling above the bold inscription to "DieSchönste Helena!" and Christoph Keith, bareheaded, grinning, his fur-lined flight jacket unbuttoned to reveal the new Iron Cross dangling just below his collar button.... I turned around. Helena was looking out over the canal.
"I just don't know what to tell him," I said.
"Tell him the truth."
"But he'll be furious! He'll say we've betrayed him."
"Just blame it on me."
"Are you really going to dinner with Rathenau tonight?"
"Yes, why not?"
"But what will Christoph say?"
"He's busy guarding Kaspar. Why shouldn't I do something else?"
"Does he like you going out with other men?"
"With other men?"
"Well, Dr. Rathenau is certainly another man
"Oh, I understand your question." She smiled. The maid came in with a tray. "Just put it on the coffee table, please. Mister Ellis will mix the cocktails."
I poured the gin and a little vermouth over the few pieces of ice in the pitcher, stirred gently, filled the two little sherry glasses, and handed her one of them.
She raised it and looked at me. "Thank you for coming with me. And thank you for being such a good friend."
The first martini in a long time. Although it wasn't cold enough it warmed my heart a little.
"Christoph is not jealous of Dr. Rathenau," said Helena. She sipped her drink, then looked into the glass. "A little hard to tell you ... Dr. Rathenau has many close friendships with women. Women like him, they admire him for his imagination, for his brilliant intellect, perhaps even for his fortune and his position, but these relationships are not---" Helena suddenly swallowed all of her drink, put her glass back on the tray, folded her hands and looked into my eyes. "His relationships with women are not... physical relationships." Her cheeks were turning red.
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. People in our circles know about it, it's not such a terrible thing, though sad for him, and lonely."
Silence, broken by the ringing of the telephone in the hall.
The maid appeared: "Herr Oberleutnant, Your Highness."
Helena stood up and walked out into the hall, leaving the door open.
"He's right here with me.... Because we have just made a visit - to your uncle .... Which one do you think? Dr. von Winterfeldt.... Yes....Yes .... More or less the whole story ... Yes. I said Yes! ... Tillessen, and I think two other names that Kaspar has told to Peter ... ... ......
- Are you finished now?
...........
I know.... I know, yes.
...........
May I say something now?
............
Oh my dear, how can you talk that way? I do understand, I understand only too well!
- Christoph, I'm sorry, I don't agree with you. And Peter does not agree with you.... Your uncle telephoned the Minister of the Interior.... Yes, the Minister himself ... Yes.... Yes.... Apparently the state police are going to look for Tillessen and the other.
.............
I did not call them, your uncle called them. That's his opinion about how to protect your precious name. And he is a judge! So will you please stop shouting at me? ...
-How is Kaspar? ... All right, yes, I will send Peter home now ....No, you will not! I will not be here, I'm going out to dinner .... Mr. Houghton, the American Ambassador ... No, with Walther Rathenau ... Because he invited me. You are busy on your watch duty, aren't you? ... Last night... At his house ... Rathenau's, of course ... Because I went over thereto warn him again, and you know what? You know who was there for dinner? Dr. Helfferich. I swear it! I was in the same room.... To ask Helfferich to stop these endless attacks, to persuade him that they cannot conduct our foreign policy under this pressure from the Right, and Helfferich agreed, although he is sure that Rathenau is wrong he promised to stop these attacks-
............
- What?
.............
- Oh my God, Christoph ! It's in the papers? Oh that swine! The very next day
I ran down to the corner, bought the night edition of the Berliner Tageblatt and carried it back to Helena's apartment. She read the story to me while I drank another martini.
Just after lunch Dr. Karl. Helfferich, leader of the Nationalist party, had addressed a crowded session of the Reichstag and delivered what was so far the most savage attack against the Wirth cabinet, its foreign policy ,and the architect of that policy:
The people of the occupied Saarland are supposed to depend upon their German culture? What a helpful suggestion! What about their German government? After what this German government has done (or not done) for the Germans of Silesia, there's nothing left for the Germans of the Rheinland and the Saar except absolute despair!
The whole world - not just the people of our occupied provinces - must have the feeling that this government has abjectly surrendered to the League of Nations - that is, to the Allies. Herr Dr. Rathenau's policy of fulfillment has caused the appalling depreciation of our German currency.,
it has utterly crushed the German middle class;
it has brought poverty and misery upon countless families;
it has driven countless men and women to despair, to suicide;
it has sent abroad enormous portions of our nation's capital;
and it has shaken our industrial and social order to its very foundations!
Roars of applause in the Reichstag.
Helena dropped the newspaper to the carpet. "Oh, the swine! Hypocritical swine! Everything that's been done to Germany is the fault of Walther Rathenau. Isn't it convenient for them!"
She rubbed her eyes and slumped back in the sofa. "You'd better go now, Peter. I must dress for dinner, and I don't want you here when he arrives. He will be in a terrible mood."
"I really don't think you ought to be with him tonight, Helena."
"On the contrary, I must be with him! You understand that, don't you, Peter? Do what you can to quiet my angry friend, will you please? He's going to the Bank in the morning, isn't he? Tell him I expect him here for lunch. Good night, Peter - and thank you."
PROLOGUE - THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
I. HOW I GOT THERE
1. PARIS 1922
2. VERDUN 1916
3. IT'S STEALING MONEY, ISN'T IT
4. WHERE WERE YOU IN 1919?
5. RELIABLE TROOPS
6. AN ISLAND
7. BISMARCK FOUND THEM USEFUL
8. INTRODUCTIONS
9. THE LITTLE HOUSE
10. INDIAN CROSSES
11. ANOTHER PART OF TOWN
12. A VIEW OF THE GENDARMENMARKT
13. TWO FOR TEA
14. ON THE TOWN
15. A VIEW OF THE HAVEL
16. REIGEN
II. WHAT HAPPENED
17. THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
18. MONDAY, JUNE 19, 1922
19. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21, 1922
>20. FRIDAY, JUNE 23, 1922
21. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1922
22. WHAT HAPPENED?
III. THE WITCHES' SABBATH
23. SILENCE WITH VOICES
24. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS
25. SAME SONGS, DIFFERENT SINGERS
26. THEY'RE ONLY GOING TO HIRE HIS VOICE
27. INFLATION WORKS IN DIFFERENT WAYS
28. SMALL CHANGE
29. WHY NOT PAINT LILI?
30. COLD WIND IN MAY
31. ROLLING THUNDER
32. WALDSTEIN'S VOICE
33. THE MATTER OF A DOWRY
34. A RUSSIAN WORD AND A GERMAN WORD
35. THE MARCH ON BERLIN
36. A PIG LOSES MONEY ALL THE TIME
37. THE ARTISTS' BALL
IV. STRIKE TWELVE ZEROs
38. AMYTAL DREAMS
39. LETTERS
40. PROFESSOR JAFFA'S PROGNOSIS
41. THE OTHER SUBJECT
42. ROLLING HOME