Chapter 54 Chapter Fifty-Three

Slote and "Fox" Davis were going through newspaper clippings of preliminary reports of the Confederate statement, preparing to write the first report to the Secretary of State on the domestic reaction, when it occurred to Slote that he was going to dinner at Henry's . "I'll take these with me," he said, stuffing the whole stack of clippings into his briefcase, "and finish the draft in the evening." "I don't envy you," said "Fox." "White flower energy." "But we haven't seen the final result yet." As Sloter walked to the corner of the road to hail a cab, he saw a bundle of Time magazines lying on the sidewalk next to the newsstand.A Time reporter had interviewed Fox on the phone for nearly an hour, asking for evidence of the Holocaust, so both Sloter and Fox were eager to see the magazine.He bought a copy.Despite the light drizzle, he eagerly turned it over from beginning to end by the light of the street lamp.Nothing in the news column; nothing in the feature column; nothing at all.What's going on here? The New York Times, though disappointingly with only one column, was obscured by the headline on the right of Rommel's defeat and two columns on gas ration reductions, but at least it was in the first edition.Most of the other big papers squeezed it inside, the Washington Post on page ten, but at least they gave it some space. How could Time magazine say nothing about it?He flipped through the magazine again.

Not a single word. In the People column he came across a photograph of Pamela and her father that he had seen in the Montreal Gazette. Pamela.Tudsbury, Air Force Maj. Gen. Duncan.Lord Burner-Walker's fiancée (in this issue, February 16) will leave London next month for Washington to continue her late father's work as a correspondent for the London Observer.A landmine in Alamein ends Eriste.Prior to Tudsbury's career as a reporter (November 16), the future Lady Burner-Walker was on leave from the Women's Auxiliary RAF to accompany the eloquent, portly Tudsbury on a round-the-world tour, assisting him in his many Reported from the front and narrowly escaped Japanese arrest in Singapore and Java.

He thought it might interest Colonel Henry.A touch of schadenfreude eased his disappointment a little.Slote doesn't like Henry.In his eyes, soldiers are generally just older Boy Scouts; , short-sighted conservatives.Colonel Henry had Rousroot's troubles because he didn't quite fit the box.His thinking is too sharp and quick.That night in the Kremlin is still unforgettable, Henry's exchange with the formidable Stalin was neither humble nor humble, and his trip to the front outside Moscow was also a great achievement.But the man was stern, and always reminded him of his sad failures at Natalie and Pamela.Slote accepted the invitation to dinner simply because he felt in good conscience that he should tell Byron's family what he had learned.

There was hardly a smile on Henry's face when he greeted Slote at the door of his home on Fox Hall Road.Wearing a brown suit and a red bow tie, he looked much older and strangely smaller. "Have you seen this?" Sloter took out the magazine from his coat pocket, and the page with the photo happened to be open. Henry glanced at the magazine while Sloot was about to hang up his wet coat. "No. Too bad for Tarky, isn't it? Come in. You must know Rhoda, this is our daughter, Madeleine." The sitting room is surprisingly large.The whole house looked beyond what a naval officer could afford.Mother and daughter sit on a couch near a manicured Christmas tree and drink cocktails.Colonel Henry handed the magazine to Rhoda. "You've been wondering what Pamela will do in the future."

"My God! Look! Engaged to Burner-Walker!" Mrs. Henry gave Madeline the magazine with a sidelong glance at her husband. "She knows how to organize herself." "God, she looks old and tacky," Madeline said. "I remember when I saw her she was wearing a lavender suspender gown like this"—she swung a small white hand over her breast—"not to mention ugly. A Walker is there too, isn't he? A handsome blond man with a pleasant accent?" "He was a handsome man indeed," Rhoda said. "It was at the banquet I gave for the 'Send a Parcel to Britain' concert."

"Burner-Walker was a great man," said Pug. Slote couldn't hear any overtones in the words, but he was still sure, in Moscow, Pamela.Tudsbury and the gentleman had been on fire.In fact, it was his anger at seeing Pamela liking Henry that prompted him to leak material about the Minsk massacre to a New York Times reporter, in spite of all due care.Since then, he has gone downhill, and he has fallen to where he is today.Pamela's reaction to the news of Henry in London showed that the affair was far from over.Unless Victor.Henry is such a soulless wooden figure, he must be deeply flirtatious.

"Ah, this lord is truly unforgettable," Madeline exclaimed excitedly. "A blue uniform of the Royal Air Force, full of medals on the chest, slender and straight, with blond hair! Serious like a Lislen. Howard. But how can this pair be worthy? He at least has you That's age, Dad. And she's about my age." "Oh, that's more than that," said Rhoda. "I had a quick meeting with her in London," Sloter said. "She was devastated mentally by the death of her father." "Any news about Natalie?" Handsome B asked suddenly. "They're still in Lourdes, they're still safe. That's the general situation. But it's a long story to tell in detail."

"Madeline, honey, let's have dinner." Rhoda stood up holding the wine glass. "Let's talk about it at the dinner table." In the candlelit dining room, several well-painted marine paintings hang on the walls, and a log burns brightly in the fireplace.The mother and daughter served the dishes.The sumptuous roast beef seemed to show off that the owner was rich and didn't care about the ration certificate. The plates and dishes were also luxurious and elegant, which far exceeded Sloter's expectations.During the dinner, he recounted Natalie's thrilling trip, including her earlier letters to him, reports from Switzerland, rumors from Zionists in Geneva, and what Byron told him, all in all. It is a story about Minato, in which there are many conjectures of his own.Slote didn't know Werner at all.How Baker put pressure on Jastrow to deliver a radio address.According to him, a German diplomat had been kind to Natalie and her uncle, so they were able to settle down in Siena.But in July, they suddenly disappeared illegally, fled with some Zionist refugees, and reappeared a few months later in Marseilles - where Byron met them and spent a few hours with them.They had planned to go with him to Lisbon, but the Allied advance into North Africa brought the Germans into Marseilles, and they were unable to leave.They are currently in Lourdes, as are all the American diplomats and journalists stranded in southern Germany.He was careful not to mention Natalie's refusal to run away with her husband, and he thought it best for Byron to tell the family himself.

"Why Lourdes?" asked Colonel Henry. "Why keep them there?" "I really don't know. But it is certain that the Vichy government sent them there at the behest of the Germans." Madeleine said: "Then, if the Germans like it, they will take her away again with her uncle and the children, and send them to some concentration camp? And maybe boil them into oil to make soap?" "Madeline, for God's sake!" Rhoda yelled. "Mom, there are rumors of such scary things everywhere. It's not like you haven't heard of them." Madeline then turned to Sloter and said, "What are these things? My boss said they were all lies." It's a bullshit that the British used in World War I. I don't know which one to believe. What about you?"

Sloter's heavy eyes looked over the half-eaten dishes on the table and a scarlet poinsettia in the center of the table, to the bright and pretty girl.Obviously, for Madeline, these are all things that happened in the land of the Bull Demon King. "Does your boss read the New York Times? There was a front-page story in the New York Times probably the day before yesterday. Eleven Confederate governments declared it true: Germany is exterminating the Jews of Europe." "The New York Times? Are you sure?" Madeline asked. "I've always seen it from beginning to end. I didn't see this piece of news."

"Then you must have missed it." "I usually read the New York Times, but I didn't see that part of the news," Victor said.Henry said. "Neither in the Washington Post." "It's in both papers." Sloter felt hopeless in his heart, even like Victor.People like Henry also turned a blind eye to ignore this piece of news, and didn't care at all when they glanced at those annoying headlines. "Then it will make life difficult for them. From what you've said, their newspapers are bragging," said Madeleine, somewhat stubbornly. "Really, will the French be kind enough to spare them?" "They are still under official French custody, Madeleine, in a different situation than other Jews. You see, they are detained, not detained." "I don't understand you," Madeline said, wrinkling her pretty face. "I don't understand either," Rhoda said. "Forgive me. In Berne it became second nature to us to distinguish the meanings of the two words. If you were stranded in a hostile country because a war had broken out, Mrs. Henry, you were interned. Look, you didn't do anything wrong, you just happened to be a victim at that time. Detained people can be exchanged, such as journalists, diplomats and the like. We hope that now in Lourdes The Americans can do that, and we hope Natalie and her uncle do the same. But if war breaks out and you are detained, that is, you are arrested—there can be various reasons, my child Wearing a red light, as far as being suspected of espionage - that's bad. Then you lose your rights, and the Red Cross can't help you. This is the case with European Jews. The Red Cross can't contact them because the Germans declared them In protective custody. That's detention, not detention." "My God, so many people's lives depend on those two fucking words!" Madeline yelled. "It's disgusting!" The girl's crocodile brain finally figured out this life-threatening technical detail, Sloter thought. "Well, words are tricky, but on the whole I agree with you." "So, when will she come back?" Rhoda asked sadly. "Hard to say. Negotiations for a personnel exchange have been going on for a long time, but—" Doorbell rang.Madeline jumped up all of a sudden and smiled charmingly at Slote. "This is very interesting, but I am going to the National Theater soon, and my friend is calling me. Please excuse me." "You are Welcome." A door outside opened and closed again, and a gust of cold wind swept into the room.Rhoda began to clear the dishes, and Pug led Slote into the study.Brandy in hand, they sat facing each other in armchairs. "My daughter's a stupid girl," said Pug. "On the contrary," Sloter held up a hand in disapproval, "she's smart. You can't blame her for not being as upset about what happened to the Jews as the President was." Victor.Henry frowned. "The president is really upset." "Did he lose sleep for several nights?" "He can't stand insomnia." Slote ran a hand through his hair. "But the evidence the State Department has is appalling. Of course, I don't know what was presented to the President, and I can't figure it out. It's like trying to catch an oiled eel with oily hands in the dark. .” "I'm reporting back to the White House next week. Is there anything I can do about Natalie?" Slote sat up straight. "To the White House? Are you still in touch with Harry Hopkins?" "Well, he still calls me Pug." "That's fine. I didn't want you to be afraid." Slote sat forward and squeezed the brandy glass with both hands. Pug was very worried that he would crush the glass. "Colonel Henry, they will not stay in Lourdes any longer." "why?" "The French are out of the running. We're actually dealing with the Germans, and they've got some American expatriates. They're trying to take advantage of that. Spies. We have already received clear hints from the Swiss that the detainees in Lourdes will soon be sent to Germany in order to put pressure on us in the negotiations. That would greatly increase the danger to Natalie. " "That's obvious, but what can the b house do?" "Get Natalie and Ellen out of Lourdes before they move. With our people in Spain, it can be done. Lourdes is less than forty miles from the Spanish border. Just do it quietly and in private , and sometimes even indirectly with the German secret police. Franz Werfel and Stefan Worwig are the ones who are smuggled across the border. I'm not saying it will work, I mean you might as well give it a try .” "But how to try it?" "I could try it out, too. I know who to talk to at the State Department. I know where to send the wire. Just a call from Hopkins and I'll get to work. Are you on good terms with him?" " Victor.Henry raised his glass and drank without answering. Slote's voice hardened. "I don't want to be alarmist, but I urge you to try this. If this war drags on for another two years, all the Jews in Europe will die. Natalie is not a journalist, and her papers are false. Once they find out, it's over for her, and so is her baby." "Does that statement in the New York Times say that the German government is going to kill every Jew they can get their hands on?" "Oh, it's not clearly stated in the text, but it contains this meaning." "Why didn't such a statement spark a bigger reaction?" Leslie.Slote grinned and smiled triumphantly, almost insanely, and said, "Tell me, Colonel Henry." Henry held his chin with one hand, groped vigorously, and looked at Sloter for a long time with an expression of incomprehension. "How did the Pope react? If something like this happened, he would know for sure." "The Pope! The Pope has been a reactionary politician all his life. I once talked to a decent German priest in Berne. He said that he prayed every night that the Pope fell ill. I am a humanist and I have never held the Pope. Any hope. But this Pope is killing what little Christianity there is left since Galileo - I know you're offended by my words. Please forgive me. I just wanted to make you understand that if the White House If you still have any confidence, you should take advantage of this opportunity immediately. Do your best to get Natalie out of Lourdes." "I'll have to think about it and call you." Sloter stood up nervously. "Very well. I beg you to excuse me if I have been too excited. I will go at once. Will Mrs. Henry think me rude? I have many things to do in the evening." "I'll apologize to her on your behalf. Stand up." By the way, Sloter, when is Pamela going to get married?did she tell you " Sloter held back his smile, and his mood at the moment was like a hunter seeing a fox jumping out of hiding.His overexcitement seemed to him thus to have a comic relief. "Well, you know, Colonel, women change their minds! Pamela once complained to me that this lordship was a foreman of slaves, a snob, a nuisance. Maybe they didn't get married at all." not married." Pug walked him out the front door.He could hear Rhoda scrubbing the dishes in the kitchen.The Time magazine lay on the coffee table in the living room.Pug opened the magazine and sat hunched over looking. He had lost a snapshot of Pamela taken when the Northampton was sinking, but her image at that time was etched in his memory like a posthumous portrait of the affair.Reports of her marriage hit him hard.It's a real pain in the ass to put on an air of innocence.This unexpected photo is not pretty at all: the head is slightly drooping, the nose looks very long, the thin lips are too reserved, and the desert sun is shining directly overhead, leaving shadows around her eyes. .Yet this small, unattractive photograph of a woman, taken four thousand miles away, could stir up a storm in his heart; In the next room, he was unmoved.What a contrast!He walked back to the study with heavy steps.Madeline and Sim as he sat there drinking brandy and reading the Time magazine.Anderson returned from the theater jubilantly. "Is that monster from the State Department gone? Thank goodness!" she said. "Is the play good? Is it worth it for me to take your mother to see it?" "Ah, of course it's worth it, the old lady should have fun too, Daddy. You'll like it yourself, four young girls, sharing a Washington apartment, running in and out of the bathroom in shorts -" Anderson grinned uncomfortably. "Nothing to see, sir." "Kah, stop pretending, Sim, you're laughing like a fool yourself, your eyes are so wide that they're about to fall off." Madeleine suddenly saw Warren's photo album, with an attitude Immediately calm down. "what is this?" "Haven't you read it yet? Your mother posted it into a book." "I haven't seen it," Madeline said. "Come here, Sim." They leaned their heads together and flipped through the photo album together. They were quiet at first, but after a while she started shouting.A gold medal reminded her of Warren winning the high jump at a track meet and being carried out of the field by his classmates on their shoulders. "Oh my God, it's his birthday party in San Francisco! Look at me, with cross-eyed eyes and a paper hat! This is the nasty little boy, hiding under the table, pointing up at girls up their skirts. Warren dragged him out and nearly beat him to death. Really, what a memory it brings back!" "Your mother did a great job," Anderson said. "Oh dear, she's always organized, it's just in her nature. God, God, how handsome he is! Look at that graduation picture again, don't you think, Sim? Look at the others Boy, he's a fool at his age." Her father watched and listened, his expression calm and composed.Madeline turned the pages one by one, but she couldn't hear her comment anymore.Her hands stopped still, her lips trembled, she slammed the photo album shut, and, leaning her head on her arms, began to cry.Anderson awkwardly put his arm around her, and glanced at Pug in embarrassment.After a while, Madeline wiped away her tears and said, "I'm sorry, Sim. You'd better go back." She went out with Sim, and immediately came back and sat down again.She erected her graceful legs and had completely returned to normal.Pug saw her light a cigarette with the skillful and natural movement of a sailor, and he couldn't help but feel another wave of disgust in his heart. "Dad, the Caribbean sun is good for Sim. Anderson, isn't it? You should talk to him. He talks about chasing German submarines very vividly." "I've always liked Sim." "He used to make me think of custard all the time, though. You know? A fluffy, bubbly, yellowish-yellow thing. Now he's matured, and—forget it. I'm glad he came to eat with us at Christmas." She took a deep drag on her cigarette and gave her father a shameful look. "I'll tell you something." shows sort of embarrass me now. We go round from camp to camp, doing childish antics, juggling boys in uniforms, and we make money off of that stuff. And I The clever fellows who wrote the scripts who worked with them were laughing secretly, when the sailors and soldiers they laughed at were better than they were. It just drove me crazy." "Then why don't you quit, Madeline?" "What else is there to do?" "You can get a job in Washington. You're a capable girl. Here's another nice house that's almost empty, and your mother's all alone." Her expression was melancholy, timid, with a hint of careless playfulness, which disturbed him.It was the same look she had shown him when she came home with a bad report card when she was fourteen. "To be honest, the same thought crossed my mind tonight. But the problem is, I'm stuck." "They'll find someone else to work on that nonsense." "Oh, I like my job. I like the income. It makes me happy to see the numbers jumping up in my little brown passbook." "Are you happy?" "Well, I just think it's pretty good, Dad. There's nothing I can't handle." Victor.Henry went home to see her this time, and it had been a year and a half since he left the last time he saw her.He had received a letter at Pearl Harbor warning him of a divorce proceeding that might implicate her, but he hadn't mentioned it since he got home.He knew Madeleine so well, though, that he could totally see signs of annoyance in her. "Maybe, I should talk to that Cleveland guy." "What are you talking about?" "Talking about you." She smiled unnaturally. "Funny, he wants to talk to you too. I've been a little shy about it." She brushed the soot off her skirt. "Tell me how the conscription works? Do you understand? It's queer. I've known a lot of young lads who didn't marry, who were as good as a horse, and still haven't had a draft call, but Hugh. Riverland got it." "Really? That's fine," Pug said. "Then we're going to win this war." "Don't be so gloating. The director of the conscription committee he belongs to is also a nasty villain, and he likes to pick someone with a bit of reputation against him. Hugh thinks he'd better put on a uniform and volunteer for the army, you know what I mean? Keep doing his kind of work. Do you have any contacts in the Navy's public relations department?" Victor.Henry shook his head slowly, without saying a word. "That's fine." Madeline's voice seemed to be relieved. "I have done my duty and asked you. I promised him to ask you. Of course, this is his business. However, it is really not material to shoot a gun as clumsy as he is. Instead of hitting the enemy, he will Doing ourselves a disservice." "Didn't he have a lot of connections in the military?" "It's hard for you to imagine. Once they knew that he had received the application notice, they all hid somewhere." "That's what pleases me. You'd better get out of the way yourself. He can only give you trouble." "There's no trouble between me and Mr. Cleveland." Madeline stood up and tossed her head, exactly as she had when she was five years old.Then she kissed her father, and said, "If there's any trouble, it's someone else's business. Good night, Pa." After she was gone, Pug thought, a real mature woman might lie and tell the truth.Her situation is undoubtedly very bad.But she was young and she should be allowed to make mistakes; besides, there was nothing he could do about it.It's better not to think about it! He picked up the Time magazine again and looked at the little picture of Pamela and her late father. The "future Lady Burner-Walker" was coming to Washington.Another ill-advised thing to do; and at the same time, a perfect reason to skip the landing craft job and go back to the Pacific.On the table, under the yellow light, was the photo album that Madeline had slammed shut, an ingenious arrangement by Rhoda to create a solid foundation that would save their marriage.They are not only connected by the past, but also by Warren's death.At least he shouldn't add to her pain.He probably wouldn't live to see the end of the war, and even if he did, they'd be old by then.They still have five to ten years to live together and spend their dying years quietly.She is pitifully remorseful now, and she will certainly not slip again; besides, she is powerless to undo what has happened.Let time make up for everything.Suppressing a grotesque notion, without tearing up the photograph, he threw the magazine into a leather wastebasket and went into his dressing-room. In her dressing room, she was also pondering.The work in the kitchen had made her so sleepy that she wanted to sleep right away.But should she tell him about her conversation with Pamela?It's an old question in married life: To tell the story, or to let it go?According to the past situation, Rhoda felt that it was better to say less. , but this time, the situation may be an exception, and she is tired of complaining about herself.Do those dastardly anonymous letters still haunt him?However, he was not a saint himself.Maybe the atmosphere would become clearer if she told him the truth.The news of Pamela's engagement was a good one.There might be a big fight too.Fred may be mentioned.Kirby, maybe mention those letters.However, she also thought that even so, it might be better than Pug's long silence and the resulting gloomy atmosphere.Their marriage was fading away, as seen in school experiments, when candles in glass jars died out for lack of air.Even nighttime sex doesn't help.She had a terrible feeling that her husband was only trying to be polite to her in bed.Rhoda put on a long black silk night watch with lace trim. Instead of pinching up her hair before going to bed as usual, she combed it better, and walked out of her dressing room, ready to make peace or quarrel.He was sitting against the head of the bed, holding in his hand the crumpled purplish maroon complete works of Shakespeare that lay beside the bed. "Dark, dear," she said. He put the book on the bedside table. "Look, Rhoda, this guy Sloter has an idea for Natalie." "Oh?" She leaned on the back of the bed after going to bed, frowning and listening to him. Pug was discussing with her sincerely, hoping to restore their previous relationship.She nodded from time to time and listened to him finish without interrupting once. "Why not just do it, Pug? Can it do any harm?" "The White House has enough trouble, and I don't want to add to their trouble." "I don't think so. Harry Hopkins may refuse you for his own reasons. There must be a mountain of requests for his help of this kind. But after all, they are your family, and they are in the same place. In danger. The real question, as I see it, is, what if he's willing to help? Do you really believe Slote that much?" "Why not? That falls within the scope of his job." "But he's, I can't tell, just obsessed. I'm afraid, Pug, that it might capsize. You're so far away it's impossible to keep track of what's going on. Just pick them out— I mean the White House just singled them out - really, wouldn't that make them the center of attention instead? Would it be safe to mix them with all the Americans out there, not look special, and wait until the exchange? Besides, Natalie is a beautiful woman with another child. The worst devil in the world should back down a little when he sees her. If he acts rashly, he may not accomplish much, and may cause more harm than good." He took her hand and squeezed it tightly, "It's still your thoughtfulness." "Oh, I can't say that I'm definitely right, it's better to be cautious." "Rhoda, Madeline is beginning to like Sim Anderson. Has she ever told you about it? Has she gotten into any trouble in New York?" Rhoda couldn't express his suspicions to Pug just now; besides, misbehavior was a subject as off-limits as high-voltage wires. "Madeline's a sane girl, Pug. The radio folks aren't exactly her kind. If she picks Sim, it'll be all right for her." "She said the play was nasty. I want to get some front row tickets." "Ah, that's great." Rhoda smiled hesitantly. "You're a pervert, I've known you for a long time." About Pamela, in her words, let it be. The next day, when she was emptying the wastebasket, she couldn't help turning the Time magazine to Pamela again.The page with Tudsbury photos.The photos are still there, of course.She felt like a fool.After all, there was nothing very attractive about this woman, she was aging so fast and getting uglier; besides, she was engaged to Burner-Walker.Let it go, she thought.Let it go.