“Well, this is one time it may happen — if you say the word.”
“How much will it be?”
“The first payment will be ten thousand francs, in bank notes of small denominations.”
“Jesus Christ!” said Uncle Jesse. Lanny had heard that these Reds were nearly all hostile to the accepted religion, but they still had one use for its founder.
“You have to pledge your word to spend it in the quickest and most effective way to promote a popular demand for the lifting of the blockade throughout Europe. If there are signs that you are spending it effectively, more will come — as much as you can handle.”
“How will I get it?”
“Someone will knock on your door at midnight tonight. When you open the door the person will say 'Jesse,' and you will answer 'Uncle,' and a package will be put into your hands.”
The painter sat eying his young nephew. “Look here, Lanny,” said he. “The police and military are busy setting traps for people like me. Are you sure this isn't a scheme of some of the Crillon crowd?”
“I can't tell you whose scheme it is, but I assure you that the Crillon knows nothing about it, and neither do the police. They'll probably take notice as soon as you begin spending the money. That's a risk you have to run.”
“Naturally,” said Uncle Jesse, and pondered again. “I suppose,” he remarked, “this is some of the 'German gold we read about in the reptile press.”