1

"Jonas, time to go home!"
Fraulein Marlow, dressed in her starched blue uniform, a white collar around her slender neck, called after the small boy.
Jonas was bent over a circular pond, prodding a small sailboat to reach the other shore. He rose from his crouched position, deftly pulled the boat towards him, raised the dripping keel, gently placed it on the parapet of the circular concrete pond and ran to her obediently.
The late autumn afternoon air was chilly as the sun began to set over Danzig, leaving a red blood glow on the Baltic Sea. Fraulein Marlow felt a slight shiver and pulled her her blue frock securely around her young slender body. The little boy, shivering, held onto her hand as they briskly strolled on the white pebbled path through the park which led to their home. She knew all about nobility, being a descendant of Prince Lefevre, once the Duke of Danzig. But the end of World War I had also brought an end to the nobility of Danzig, except for a few. She was young, beautiful, well-bred and poor, and the position as governess in the rich Kruger household was ideal. All in all, life with the Kruger family was decent enough. Her living quarters on the top floor of the house gave her a marvelous view of the harbor of Danzig, Steffan's Park and the tall spires of the medieval Marin Church in the old city. Below her window were the manicured gardens of the estate. She was treated as part of the family, not just as a servant. And little Jonas was very special to her. She was going to make him a Prussian prince, a gentleman in spite of his birth as a Jew.
An asphalt staircase, flanked by two marble lions, led to a large terrace, the main entrance to the house. Jonas raced ahead and kicked on the heavy carved door because the bell was too high for him to reach. His cheeks were like red apples from the cold air.
"Who is banging at my door?" a sweet voice came from the other side. Slowly the door was opened by his mother.
"Why it is my little Jonas!" Lucia Kruger said, wrapping her small arms around her son. "And what sea battles did we win today?"
"No battles today," Jonas answered. "I sailed to India, and my hands are frozen!"
"We will give you a warm bath and a nice supper, and Fraulein can be free for the night."
As they stood in the spacious entrance hall, Prince Eric Brandenberg came trailing in, wearing a magnificent green riding outfit and smoking a pipe.
"Fraulein!"
He bowed to her and then took Jonas's small hand and shook it. "I am pleased to see you again, young man." With his long manicured fingernails the young prince gently pushed on the small boy's belly, making Jonas giggle.
"Ah, I almost forgot, I read in the newspaper someone has a birthday tomorrow, and you know who that is! So I brought you a little present, a pre-birthday gift.”
From behind his back he brought forward a little Hessian soldier riding a horse. "For your collection, which is getting bigger and bigger, as large as the Prussian Army once was!"
Jonas clicked his heels, bowed and took the soldier with delight. "Thank you, sir."
"Do I at least get a little kiss?"
The Prince bent down as Jonas planted a delicate kiss on his smooth cheek.
"I really must be going, Frau Kruger. It has been a charming afternoon."
The Prince bowed again and kissed Lucia Kruger's hand. He gave her a surreptitious glance as he departed.
"About eight o'clock tonight, Eric," she said. "I do want so much for you to be here."
"Eight, indeed, and not one moment later. I don't want to miss one minute of the gracious Kruger dinner."
"He is such a dear friend to all of us," she sighed and took Jonas by the hand, singing as they ascended the spiral staircase to the nursery.
The nursery was as large as the downstairs hall, lined with long windows reaching to the floor. Adjacent to the nursery was a marbled bathroom decorated with painted figures of Rumplestilskin, Hansel and Gretel, the Katzenjammer Kids and the Seven Dwarfs. A small bathtub supported by gold legs stood in the center of the bathroom, flanked by tall radiators with rounded pipes which heated three white bath towels.
She undressed the boy, swinging him in the air. "And now the Zeppelin is slowly coming down for a landing, and Jonas is the captain!"
He liked his mother undressing him and then giving him a bath that smelled like the pine forest in Zoppot. It was a special treat because of his birthday, he thought. The tepid green pine water and the oder of a pine forest soothed him from the cold air outside.
Brand Kruger arrived home earlier than usual, carrying a German shepherd puppy under his arm. "Where is my son, the birthday boy?" he shouted.
"Your son," Fraulein Marlow said, "is having his bath."
Brand raced up the stairs into the bathroom, tip-toed inside, carrying the puppy in his arms, and then allowed the puppy dog to roam freely.
"Mommy, there is a dog here!" Jonas squealed.
His father picked up the dog and placed it next to his son's face.
"For you!"
Jonas climbed out of the bathtub and hugged his new playmate.
"Every boy should have a dog," his father said. "And how is my darling wife today?"
"You are in a cheery mood!"
She grabbed the warmed towels from the pipes and tried to encircle Jonas's small body as he ran naked after the dog out of the playroom and into the hall.
Hearing all the noise, the governess came upstairs, nodding her head in disapproval.
"Fraulein, you have a new charge,” Brand announced.
"So I see. Of course, he isn't housebroken."
"A German shepherd has excellent manners, Fraulein. In a few days, with your superb perseverance, he will know his place."
"As you say, sir."
Lucia was about to become angry, but when the small dog ran to her and licked her face she broke out in a radiant smile. "What a nice dog!" We will love him forever," she said. "A wonderful present for our Jonas."
“What is his name?" Jonas asked, running back into the bathroom.
"What do you want to call him?" Lucia asked.
The boy had a perplexed look on his face.
"We'll call him Astor," Brand said. "That was the name of my dog." "Then you should call him Astor the II," Fraulein Marlow said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"Astor the II it shall be."
"I like Astor only," Jonas said.
"Well now, dear wife, and who is coming to dinner tonight?"
"I invited Uncle Herman and his girlfriend. I haven't seen my brother in weeks. And the Prince is coming, of course."
"Does the Prince have to be at all our dinner parties?" Brand said.
"He is a good friend, and he is our neighbor. He adds so much class to our table."
"He reminds me of one of your Lalique vase. And I think he has a crush on you."
"Well, what of it? I thought men got a certain pleasure from their women being admired? Besides, everyone knows he's a mignon!"
"What is a mignon" Jonas asked.
Mignon was French slang for homosexual. "That is the name of a prince in a fairy story," Brand answered, gesticulating with his arms in the manner of a ballet dancer.
Lucia was not laughing."I also invited Grecia."
"That anarchist!"
"And Grecia's beautiful wife. With her gorgeous boobs that topple out like ripe apples!"
"Lotte is a beautiful woman," Brand agreed in an almost reverent tone. "The second most beautiful woman in all of Danzig, right darling?"
Jonas was sitting on the floor playing with Astor. "What are boobs, Mommy?" "Go ahead and tell him," Brand said.
"That is just a funny name for women's breasts, sweetheart," Lucia answered in a serious voice. "I invited Grecia because it is his birthday. What do you say, Jonas?" Lucia then asked.
"I'm going to have a birthday too!" Jonas shouted. "I'm going to be six! How old is Grecia going to be?"
"Much older than six! Come along now, it's time for bed. Hurry on up and maybe Fraulein will tell you a story."
"But I want to hear about the party!"
"And I've invited someone else, whom you don't know," Lucia said, turning back to her husband.
"Oh?"
"A young man I met a few days ago at the Beaux Arts. An American. He came to Danzig to study the architecture. We could learn English from him. We must all learn English. It's the language of the future."
"I don't need to know the language of the barbarians. They eat beef with jam, I am told. Why should I spend an evening with a cowboy?"
"What is a cowboy, Papa?" Jonas asked.
"A cowboy is a man who rides horses and drinks beer."
"Papa, you ride horses and drink vodka."
"Jonas, that is enough! Go upstairs," his father said. "Fraulein Marlow," Brand then yelled. "Time for Jonas's bed."
Lucia kissed her son on the cheek as the governess returned, and Fraulein Marlow imperiously escorted Jonas and his new friend to his bedroom without a whimper from Astor, which surprised both of his parents.










2

Dressed in baggy pants, a striped yellow sports jacket, and a blue vest which covered his protruding belly, Uncle Herman was the first to arrive for the dinner party. He was short, fat and round as a gourd. He always wore a broad grin partially hidden by a fat cigar. His grin and twinkling eyes gave one the feeling he had just pulled off another clever scheme. At his side was his new girlfriend, Frieda, who played Brunhilda at the Danzig Wagnerian Opera Festival. She towered over him like an Amazon. Uncle Herman liked big buxom women with long blond hair, long legs, large mouths and full lips.
Gerta, the Krugers' chambermaid, was the counterpart to Frieda, fragile and thin. She greeted Uncle Herman as he let himself in through the large oak doors of the mansion.
"Good evening, sir."
"Gerta, you are looking slick tonight. Do you have a little date later?"
"No, sir," she giggled.
"Where is my nephew, that little momsse?"
"Upstairs asleep, sir. You better not wake him. Fraulein will be furious."
"The hell with Fraulein. Frieda, you stay here, my little Brunhilda. Look at the paintings and porcelain."
He handed his gray Fedora to Gerta and dashed up the stairs, bouncing like a pleased hippopotamus. Jonas was soundly asleep and Astor was at his side, propped on a woolen blanket and pillow. Uncle Herman picked Jonas off the bed and hugged him.
Jonas awoke smiling. "Uncle Herman! This is Astor."
"Welcome to the house, Astor," Uncle Herman said, petting the dog. "I have a present for you, Jonas, right from Budapest." And he handed the little boy a brown teddy bear.
Jonas took the stuffed animal, placed it carefully on the other side of his pillow, and closed his eyes, a smile on his sweet face.
Fraulein Marlow, hearing the commotion, entered the bedroom. "Please, Uncle Herman, the boy needs his sleep."
"At eight o'clock? It is much too early to go to bed!"
The governess did not like Uncle Herman. To her he was a wise-cracking, lecherous merchant who kept company only with Gentile women, or "shiksas," as he liked to say. She felt especially resentful whenever he arrived with German women.
"I know you don't like me, Fraulein," he said, as if reading her mind. "Well, I don't like you either, so there. But my nephew comes first, and if I were head of this household you would have been sent to some milk farm, no less invited to my sister's table!"
"As you wish, sir." She curtsied and gave him a disdainful look. There was more she wanted to say, much more. The time will come, she thought to herself.
Jonas, watching from the corner of his eye, wondered why Uncle Herman didn't like his governess.
Uncle Herman, momentarily flustered, regained his jovial sense as he returned downstairs. The Prince had arrived. He was dressed in a tuxedo, his chest festooned with medals and decorated ribbons. "Prince Brandenberg, I feel I should bow to you. You are, as usual, the paragon of elegance!"
"Dear man, you never tire me with your compliments."
"You know, Prince, if those are pure gold, you better not wear them so openly. The price of gold is going up as our guldens are losing their worth."
"Who would dare to steal a medal from a Prussian officer?"
"If the Prussian officer is drunk enough he won't know they're gone," Herman said with a short laugh. "Let me introduce you to Frieda. She never met a real Prince before."
The prince bowed and kissed Frieda's hand. "Charming, charming," he said in German.
"She is Hungarian, your highness, not German."
"She is still charming!"
Lucia entered, looking stunning. She wore a black off-the-shoulder dress with a beautiful chain of diamonds around her neck. Her brown auburn hair was gathered in an upward sweep. Her silken white face shone with happiness and confidence. Her natural elegance would have been welcomed in any royal court.
"All my favorite men!"
She embraced her brother, who said, "You are some gorgeous woman! If you weren't my sister. . . "
"You are a lewd brother, dear, and I wish you would get rid of that disgusting cigar. Please don't smoke at dinner. Prince, how marvelous you look!"
Prince Brandenberg took her hand and kissed it, and she in turn gave him an affectionate kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.
"Lucia, I want you to meet Frieda, the opera singer," Uncle Herman said. "She is Hungarian, and understands little German or Polish. So you can say what you wish. She will smile politely."
Lucia took both of the opera singer's hands and warmly greeted her. "Why does my brother always go out with women who can't speak the language?"
"I'll give you three guesses, my baby sister!"
"Why don't you settle down with a nice Jewish girl? Next you will be telling me you are going out with Americans. Last month it was a Moroccan, but I know darn well she was Africano, a schwartze."
"I like exotic women. But what is the occasion of a dinner party midweek?" he asked, anxious to change the subject. "As if you ever need a reason to throw a party."
"It is Grecia's birthday, and your little angel nephew will soon have his." "How is that little devil doing these days?"
"Not to be trusted for one second. That little devil ran off and hid for one hour yesterday while Fraulein and I went searching frantically for him. He was hiding behind a rock with the little girl from next door!"
"Good for him. Why waste all those days waiting for the sperm to flow?"
"I knew brother Herman would approve."
"As soon as he gets old enough I am taking him to a brothel!"
The doorbell chimed and Lotte and Grecia made their grand entrance. Grecia, the anarchist, six feet tall, had a sharp Roman nose and dark, threatening eyes. His wife, Lotte, a magnificent looking woman, wore a simple black dress, and no jewelry or makeup. She held her head proudly, elegant as a Russian princess. Indeed, she was a Romanoff who had escaped to Danzig after the Revolution. Grecia had fought in the White Army under Kochek's command, and when Trotsky's Red Army prevailed, they had both fled. Now, in Danzig, he was employed by Burkhardt, the gauleiter appointed by the League of Nations under the Versailles Treaty.
"Grecia, you scoundrel, I am glad you're here to provoke us, not of course like your beautiful Lotte."
Uncle Herman's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked at Lotte. "Where is our elegant host?" Lotte asked.
"As usual, he is up to something. He is in conference with Max Schiller in the library. But once he knows you're here, Lotte..."
Brand appeared just at that moment, dressed in a blue pin-striped suit, white shirt and blue tie. His full head of black hair was pasted down and shimmering. Max Schiller accompanied him. A medium-sized man with gray hair and dangerous-looking eyes, Max was the chairman of the board of the Luirgi firm. They had discovered an efficient method for converting coal into ammonia and oil, two ingredients needed by the Germans to make ammunition.
"Two industrial giants in one room can be dangerous!" Grecia the anarchist said.
"Not as dangerous as three beautiful women!" Max quickly retorted.
"Max, my good Prussian friend, it's the men that make the women dangerous!" Brand slyly added.
By now all the guests were holding champagne glasses in their hands, and the Prince raised his. "Our first toast, then, to the men and the dangerous women. Brost!"
The dinning room could have been borrowed from the court of Louis XVI with its long magnificent table sparkling with four pairs of silver candlesticks, Baccarat wine glasses, French silver, and embroidered napkins. Hunting scenes adorned the walls, and a glittering chandelier hung over the table.
The evening flowed as easily as the champagne. The traditional goose was sumptuous, and the dessert--a chocolate souffle drowned in Drambuie--was a marvelous delight. Throughout the evening Lucia felt unusually gay and flirtatious. The Prince, seated on her left, grasped her hand and kissed it at every opportunity.
"Madam, you are as delicious as the souffle!"
Even if he might be mignon, Lucia thought, he is charming and sexy. There are some mignons who like women equally, she then considered.
"You are such a dear friend," she told the Prince, touching his signet ring.
Brand sat next to Lotte, who didn't object when he casually brushed her thigh. Uncle Herman, his appetite not limited to Amazons, was on his second helping of souffle.
"Don't be a pig, Herman!" Frieda whispered in broken German.
Lucia gently shook the Lalique bell and another souffle was brought into the dining room and placed in front of Uncle Herman with a bottle of Grand Marnier. With a large silver spoon with the letter L engraved on the handle, Herman gouged out the center of the souffle and poured the Grand Marnier into its depths. A round of applause followed as the dessert was passed from seat to seat.
Fraulein Marlow, dressed in a simple blue dress that accentuated her milk-white skin, sat between Grecia and Max Schiller. When she had first joined the household she had been served separately. Then Lucia decided that, "The Fraulein needs some relaxation after being alone with that little comet all day," and invited her to their table.
Brand raised his glass and struck another glass with a spoon, making the crystal ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, and others--" as he looked at uncle Herman, "a toast. A toast to my son's birthday, who will be six years old tomorrow, and to Grecia, whose age is more secret than Max's method of converting coal to oil!"
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"And to peace, to peace," Grecia said. "Because it is not here for long."
Lotte looked towards her husband with daggers in her eyes. "Please, Grecia, not tonight. It is your birthday. Have some more champagne, leave your lectures for another night," she pleaded with her husband. Her voice was soft and gentle, almost pitiful. Her eyes circled the palatial dinning room, reminding her of her childhood palace, and their squalid apartment in Danzig.
Grecia stood up, towering over the glistering table. "But I must say what I have to say!"
"Come on, Grecia," Uncle Herman said, "don't you know it is impolite at dinner to speak of anything but food and wine? It is very bad for the digestion!" And he stroked his protruding stomach.
"Wait," Max Schiller said, looking curiously at the tall lanky man towering over him. "I know I am out of order, but it is his birthday. He should have the right to make a speech, unless, of course, our gracious hostess objects."
"Herr Schiller is right," Lucia agreed. "You may of course have your say."
"Thank you my dear host and hostess."
Brand sat quietly. He knew what was coming. So did Uncle Herman, who reached again for the souffle.
"Germany wants Danzig back. Right now, in Berlin, the National Socialistic Democratic Party is gaining seats, and soon they will be elected by the German people. The party is headed by a very convincing man who was just released from prison. Hitler is a real threat whom most intelligent people think is a maniac. But his following has increased. Hitler and his brown shirt hoodlums are screaming to have Danzig returned to Germany."
"Why shouldn't Danzig again become a part of Germany?" Max Schiller asked. "For three hundred years it was part of Germany. German is our official language. All the street signs, all the legal documents are in German. The students read and write in German, the menus in the cafes and restaurants are in German. The Danzigers are German."
"The League of Nations would never allow Germany to annex Danzig," the Prince argued.
"The League of Nations is a ridiculous pipe dream invented by the American President Woodrow Wilson. They are impotent, powerless, a big joke. Thank you for letting me speak, and I apologize for taking some of the fun out of this evening."
He sat down and sipped his champagne, as Lotte patted his hand.
Max Schiller knew Grecia had told the truth, but he kept silent. His industrial colleagues, Farben, Benz, Krupp and even some Americans, were going to support the new party--with Adolf Hitler at the helm. Uncle Herman also knew Danzig was on the brink of economic chaos. He was in the money business and was buying gold and American dollars. He had already convinced his brother-in-law to get rid of some of his guldens.
"I, for one, care little for politics," the Prince said. "Politics belongs to the proletariat. My politics are contained in this beautiful, luscious, soft souffle. To be devoured, beginning with its crowning peak, until I am bursting!"
"That sounds so sensual, dear Prince, that it makes me tingle!" Lucia said. By now the champagne had reached her head.
"And fine music and beautiful women," he continued. "Brand, how about a little Mozart or Chopin to mellow Grecia? Or should we prepare our ears for the ride of the Valkyrie?"
"Wagner is so coarse," Lotte said softly.
"Why not sing for us, Lotte? A little Schubert."
"Not tonight. I have to be sad to sing Schubert," she said.
"Well, then, if our guests desire music, then you shall have it," Lucia announced. "I have a little surprise for you all in the library. So come, children, the entertainment is about to begin!"
Flemish tapestries covered the windows in the spacious library to protect the rare books enclosed in the glass cases from sunlight. Biedermeier furniture crowded the room, a large Tabriz Persian rug covered the parquet floor, and a Dürer painting hung on the far wall, beside a newly acquired Kokoschka portrait of a woman.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Lucia spoke in an intoxicated voice, pointing to the portrait, "this is Kokoschka's mistress. He painted dozens and dozens portraits of her. It is rumored she is married, but he still goes on painting her. Now that is love!" she hiccoughed and, spreading out her arms like a flamingo, sank into one of the wide arm chairs.
Standing in the corner of the room were four musicians wearing dark suits. "Les Quatre Ensemble de Genz," Max said. "The four musicians of Genz." And everyone applauded.
A roaring fire warmed the room as the quartet played Mozart and Hindemith. Fraulein Marlow, accustomed to these evenings, sat languidly on the armrest of a Directoire blue velvet couch.
During the concert, a tall handsome young man stole into the room and quietly sat down next to Lucia. He wore a blue tie, shabby gray pants and a heavy tweed jacket. After the applause had died down, Lucia said excitedly, "Everyone, this is William Harrington, an architecture student from Columbus, Ohio."
"Sorry I'm late," he said in halting German. "I'm not familiar with the city and I got lost."
Uncle Herman staggered over to him. "I speak a little English. Nobody else can."
The American smiled.
"No so. I speak English too," Grecia said.
Everyone applauded and howled.
"Where did you learn English, sir?" Bill asked.
"Grecia Greenspun is my name, and I learn English from Americans in Russia. The expeditionary American force came to help Kolchek's army, and I was their guide."
Uncle Herman said in Polish, "Another one of Woodrow Wilson's idiocies. The Red Army slaughtered three thousand American soldiers and Trotsky won Russia."
Lucia whispered to Herman, "You know, we are the first Jews Bill ever met."
"I don't believe it! There are so many Jews in America!"
"Not in Columbus, Ohio. He told me so. They are all in New York. He is much older than he looks. Isn't he beautiful?"
Lucia went through the formality of introducing each one in the room. The Prince straightened his body, clicked his heels and bowed slightly.
"This is Prince Brandenberg," Lucia announced in French.
Fraulein Marlow was the only one who noticed the excitement in the Prince's eyes.
Lucia said, "Bill speaks French, so we can all talk to him."
"Maybe Bill wants to learn German," the Prince said.
"Would you like to learn German?" Lucia asked him in French.
"I would like that very much, and I will teach you English," Bill said.
The little group settled around Bill, except for Brand, who approached Max Schiller.
"Let's finish our talk in the billiard room, Max. They won't miss us. Leave your glass here. I have a special brandy."

































3

Two rolling doors opened to a paneled room with cushioned velvet sidings. The billiard table was handcrafted by British carpenters who copied the style from Mariot, dating back to 1450, from the Chateau d'Blois in France. On the fireplace mantel were trophies Brand had won in tennis, bowling and billiards.
"Take off your jacket, Max. A little billiards while we talk?"
He served Max brandy in a Baccarat glass. "Napoleon, 1893. I found two bottles."
"Superb!" Max said, sipping the marvelous aromatic drink. "Farben is expanding its dye plant," he then stated. "It is no secret. Our conversion process will only work if we have coal. We need oil to put German industry on its feet. You can supply us with the shipping and divert the coal you have been sending to England to us. We will pay you more, of course."
Max Schiller, an elegant Prussian aristocrat, was the second cousin of Bleichroder. All the business world knew of Bleichroder, whom the late Bismark had consulted on his financial dealings. But few knew that Bleichroder, or his cousin, Max Schiller, was Jewish.
"When the new port being built by the Poles at Gydnia is finished, we will be able to float our barges during the wintertime. The new port is situated in a peninsula and never freezes. Ships can enter in the heart of the Baltic Sea winter." He leaned toward Brand. "We must cast our lot with the Germans, my friend. They are the future. The League of Nations is tired. Its members are old men. It was a noble idea of Wilson's, but it will soon be totally ineffective. Danzig will be in the hands of the Fatherland, where it belongs. You are a businessman, Brand. Business is always above politics. Governments change; ideals are a luxury for the philosophers. Guns and butter make a country run. No matter who runs the show, there will always be the rich and the less fortunate. Europe has thousands of years of history. Governments change like the weather. But businessmen endure."
"You will have your coal," Brand said in a strong, confident voice. A handshake was all that was necessary to bind the deal.

When they returned to the library, Uncle Herman, beaming with joy, feeling tipsy, was sitting at the piano surrounded by the guests, conducting the singing of old Russian and German folk songs. Lucia was singing at the top of her voice, surrounded by the Prince on one side and the young American towering over her on the other. Together, they sounded like a chorus of ally cats at midnight.
"Are all Americans so tall?" Lucia whispered to to the American between songs.
"Only those from Columbus, Ohio!" He laughed, making him appear more endearing to her.
"How do you like Danzig?"
"It's one of the most ancient, elegant, charming cities I have ever seen, and after tonight I never want to leave!"
Uncle Herman tried to coax Frieda into participating, but she was saving her voice for the opera. He had picked her up on Motz Street in Berlin, at a nightclub called El Dorado. The club was known for its famous and infamous clientele. Prostitutes, transvestites and cocaine dealers mingled with the high society of Europe. Each table had its own telephone for making rendezvous. Cocaine was sniffed as freely as champagne was sipped.
Uncle Herman led the last song of the evening. "Berliners are singing this inflation song," he said. And in a high-pitched, slurred voice, he began: "Broke, broke, the whole world is broke. And how about selling Granny's house to buy booze? And if America had their way, 'yes we have no bananas.' Everyone sing together," Herman yelled. "Yes, we have no bananas, and my parrot won't eat no hardboiled eggs."
Jonas, awakened by the loud singing, crawled out of bed with Astor at his side. He lay on the floor like one of his soldiers at the top of the staircase.
He saw the Prince in the foyer place a small gold engraved card in Bill's hand. "English learning. Yes?"
Jonas watched wide-eyed. A secret message, a code to the American! He imagined the entire scenario. The American was a foreign agent come to Danzig to spy on the Kruger coal empire. The Crane Gate was to be destroyed at ten in the morning by an invading fleet from Norway. The American agreed to carry out the plans of the Prince. Jonas must inform his best friend, Gerhardt, and try to stop the battle.
"Oh, yes," Bill said.
The Prince bowed and clicked his heels.
Jonas raised himself up from his lying position and imitated the Prince, clicking his heels and bowing his head.
"Jonas, get back into bed immediately!" Lucia yelled, emerging from the library.
"Only after he hugs his uncle good night!"
Jonas slid down the banister into Uncle Herman's arms.
"Where did you learn that, from your Fraulein?"
"From an American movie!"
Uncle Herman then hugged his sister, whispering, "Brunehilde is anxious to go home!"
Lucia burst out laughing. "Herman, you are a disgrace to our family! If mother and father knew about your disgusting behavior, they would disown you!" And she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "But I love you anyway!"