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Reichsminister now." She rose, and Heinrich rose, and Irma and Lanny followed suit; for when

you are in Berlin you must do as Berliners do, especially when you are suing for favors from a

Cabinet Minister who is more than royalty in these modern days.

"Juppchen" Goebbels appeared in the doorway of the drawing-room. He was small indeed,

but not so small as he had seemed when Lanny had seen him standing on the platform at one

of those colossal meetings. He had a clubfoot and walked with a limp which could not be

concealed. He had a thin face built to a point in a sharp nose. He had a wide, tightly-drawn

mouth which became like a Greek comic mask when he opened it for a speech. He had

prominent eyes, black hair combed back from a receding forehead, and rather wide ears slightly

hanging over at the top.

Also he had a brain and a tongue. The brain was superficial, but possessed of everything that

was needed to delight a hundred thousand German Kleinburger packed into a swastika-bedecked

stadium. The tongue was as sharp as a snake's, and unlike a snake's it exuded venom. The

Goebbels mind was packed with discreditable facts concerning every person and group and

nation which offered opposition to National Socialism, and his eager imagination could make

up as many new facts as any poet or novelist who had ever lived. The difference between fiction

and fact no longer existed for Dr. Juppchen. Inside the German realm this grotesque little man

had complete and unquestioned charge of newspapers, films, and radio, the stage, literature,

and the arts, all exhibitions and celebrations, parades and meetings, lectures on whatever subject,

school books, advertising, and cultural relations of whatever sort that went on between Germany

and the outside world, including those organizations and publications which were carrying on

Nazi propaganda in several score of nations. This ugly, dark, and pitiful deformity had a budget

of a hundred million dollars a year to sing the praises of the beautiful, blond, and perfect Aryan.

In private life he was genial and witty, resourceful and quick in argument, and completely

cynical about his job; you could chaff him about what he was doing, and he would even chaff

himself. All the world's a stage and all the men and women on it merely players; how did you like

my performance tonight? Like all truly great actors, Herr Reichsminister Doktor Goebbels

worked terrifically hard, driven by an iron determination to get to the top of his pro fession and

stay there in spite of all his rivals. At the beginning of his career he had been a violent

opponent of the N.S.D.A.P., but the party had offered him a higher salary and he had at once

become a convert. Now, besides being Minister of Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda, he

was the party's Gauleiter of Berlin and director of Der Angriff, the powerful Nazi newspaper

of the city.

He was pleased to find two rich and influential Americans in his home. One of his duties was to

receive such persons and explain National Socialism to them! He was quick in reading their

characters and in suiting what he told them to their positions and preju dices. For the third

time that evening Lanny told his story, and the Reichsminister Doktor listened attentively.

When he had heard to the end he turned to his wife. "Na, Magda, there you have it!" he said.

"That pothouse brawler, that Saalschlacht hero, Ley! Such a Grobian to represent us to the

outside world and involve us in his gangsterism!"

"Vorsicht, Jockl!" warned Magda.

But masterful Nazis are above heeding the warnings of their wives. Goebbels persisted: "A

drunken rowdy, who wishes to control all German labor but cannot control himself! Have you

seen that great organizer of ours, Mr. Budd?"

"Not that I know of, Herr Reichsminister."

"A pot-bellied, roaring braggart who cannot live without his flagon at his side. He likes to tell

jokes, and he explodes with laughter and a fine spray flies over the surrounding company. You

know that he is building the new Labor Front, and it must be done with melodrama—he

personally must raid the union headquarters here in Berlin. Revolvers and hand grenades are

not enough, he has to have machine guns mounted in front of the doors—for the arresting of

cowardly fat labor parasites who find it difficult to rise out of their swivel-chairs without

assistance! That is the way it goes in our land of Zucht und Ordnung— we are going to turn

Berlin into another Chicago, and have bandits and kidnapers operating freely in our streets! I

hope I do not offend you by the comparison, Mr. Budd."

"Not at all," laughed Lanny. "The home of my forefathers is a thousand miles from Chicago—

and we, too, have sometimes observed the imperfections of human nature manifesting

themselves in our perfect political system."

"Na!" said the Reichsminister Doktor. Then, becoming serious: "I leave the administration of

justice to the proper authorities; but where the matter concerns a person with international