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the steel spine of Ottomkopf wobbled just a trifle.
    Magda poured oil. “It’s all over now, Rudo. From now on you travel by plane, the best planes. Dinner is prepared. Shall we—”
    “I’m not hungry,” Rudolph said petulantly. He popped his cigarette holder like a water pistol. The stub fell to the carpet. Herr Ottomkopf with no expression picked it up. He passed it to the black suit next to him. That guy passed it on. Johnnie never did see who finally swallowed it. He was looking at Trudy again. Cute as a button, a Sonja Henie button, she was. But she was on pins and needles about something. It was making her blue eyes jump around. It couldn’t be that she was jealous of Magda taking over the great Rudo. Nuts to that.
    Herr Ottomkopf fitted another long white cigarette into the long black holder. He struck a match. Nobody made a false move until the ritual of His Highness’ cigarette was over and the first blast of smoke exhaled.
    Magda smiled. “We have your favorite foods prepared, Rudolph. I remembered each one.” Johnnie wasn’t too dumb to catch that glint on Trudy’s face. She’d done the remembering, not the gorgeous Magda. “Wienerwurst. Head cheese and pickled walnuts. And apple cake and champagne.”
    “I’m not hungry.” Rudolph repeated. “I ate at the station.”
    Everyone glared now at the Number One boy next to Ottomkopf. He snapped his heels and, without relaxing his face, recited, “It is true. His Highness wishes to eat. He eats. I remain with him.”
    “I was hungry then,” Rudolph explained loftily. “I’m not hungry now. I had a bowl of chile con came and a double chocolate malt.”
    Johnnie winced. The junk they called chile in any eating house east of Kansas City was slop for the pigs.
    “Now I’m going to Ruprecht’s party,” Rudolph announced.
    That one really threw them. The big shots actually moved from their invisible chalk marks on the red rug. Big stop signs were written all over their faces but nobody yelled, “No.”
    Magda finally cried, “You can’t do that!”
    Johnnie found out then why everyone had kept quiet. Rudolph’s face turned to a regular neon sign, half green, half red. Furthermore it took on the look of a particularly mean little oaf who had a mud ball in his fist and no one near enough to disarm him. He closed his mouth tight and said nothing.
    Dorp began dripping, “What she means, Your Highness, is that with all the risks we have took, it is not wise you leave mine house until time we go to the Clipper.”
    “I’m going to Ruprecht’s,” Rudolph stated nastily.
    “It’s impossible.” Trudy was tiny but she stepped right up to him. “Ruprecht himself agreed that it was wiser if he didn’t try to see you. We’d have had him here otherwise. But the danger of him being followed—the F. B. I. follows him night and day.”
    “Ruprecht’s at a party,” Rudolph said. “I’m going too. I’m invited.”
    “He doesn’t even know you’re here!” Dorp’s face was full of little rivulets running down into his fat neck.
    “He does too,” Rudolph countered. “I telephoned him.”
    “You telephoned him!” This time they were kicked in the teeth. They turned balefully as one man on the Number One boy.
    He didn’t flinch. He clicked his heels and recited, “It is true. His Highness wishes to phone. I remain outside. He phones.”
    “And did you think of the F. B. I. waiting to apprehend His Highness?” Dorp shouted. “Did you not know you were to come direct to headquarters from the train?”
    Rudolph mused, “When I want to do something, I do it. I want to go to Ruprecht’s party. And nobody’s going to stop me.” He stuck out his chinless chin at the whole roomful.
    That stymied them. All but Trudy. She said, “Don’t be an ass, Rudolph. Ruprecht isn’t alone. He’s a guest of Lessering.”
    “I know it. Ferenz Lessering is my friend.” Rudolph blew smoke. “I owe him one hundred fifty thousand rudls. Or rather the