"But I have them," I repeated.

"You intend to publish them?" he asked, a cunning look appearing in his eyes.

His eagerness to discover who had given me affidavits was funny and I laughed. "I'll publish the information contained in them," I explained. "The names of the signers will be given only to an American governmental or judicial body which may look into your 'patriotic'

activities. But let's get on. Do you know the n.a.z.i Consul in Los Angeles--Dr. George Gyssling?"

He sat silently for a moment as if hesitating whether to speak.

"Don't be afraid to talk," I said. "The Consul isn't. You know, of course, that he does not like you?"

A deep red flush suffused his face. "It's mutual!" he said. "I know he talks--"

Throughout the interview Schwinn tried almost pathetically, despite his obvious dislike of Gyssling, to cover up the Consul's interference in American affairs. When I told Schwinn I had affidavits showing that Rafael Demmler, President of the Steuben Society of Los Angeles, got two hundred dollars in April, 1936, from the n.a.z.i Consul to help maintain the _Deutsches Haus_ as a center of n.a.z.i propaganda, he shook his head bewilderedly; and when I pointed out that he himself got one hundred and forty-five dollars in cash from the n.a.z.i Consul on Tuesday, April 28, 1936, to cover expenses incurred by Schwinn in the effort to bring the German-American groups together for the better dissemination of n.a.z.i propaganda, his face turned alternately white and red and finally he exploded:

"Did Gyssling tell you that?"

"I'm not saying who told it to me. But let's get on with some of your other 'patriotic' activities. On Thursday, June 18, 1936, you visited Captain Trauernicht in company with Count von Bulow--"

For the first time since the interview began Schwinn sat upright in his chair as if I had struck him. All the other subjects had left him slightly disturbed but still with an obvious sense that he was not on particularly dangerous ground. But at the mention of Von Bulow's name a look of actual fear spread over his face.

"On that day," I continued, "you and the Count went directly to the Captain's cabin where you handed over your reports--"

"What are you getting at?" Schwinn demanded sharply.

"I'm getting at the Count. What do you know about him?"

"Nothing. I know nothing about him. I've met him, that's all."

"Have you ever visited his home at Point Loma,[15] San Diego?"

Schwinn stared at me without answering.

"Have you ever been there?" I repeated.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Did you ever observe how, through his study windows, you could see almost everything going on at the American naval base--"

"I have nothing to say," Schwinn interrupted excitedly.

Among the men sent here directly by Rudolf Hess, Hitler's right-hand man, is a former German-American businessman named Meyerhofer. This n.a.z.i came here with special instructions from Hess, a personal friend of his, to reorganize the n.a.z.i machine in the United States. He arrived early in 1935 posing as a businessman. After consultations with n.a.z.i leaders in New York, including the n.a.z.i Consul General, he went to Detroit to confer with Fritz Kuhn,[16] national head of the German-American Bund. From Detroit he went to Chicago where he held more conferences with n.a.z.i agents and then went directly to Los Angeles for conferences with Schwinn, Von Bulow and other secret agents operating in the United States. Meyerhofer's mission was not only to reorganize the propaganda machine but to try to place it on a self-supporting basis so that in the event of war when funds from Germany would be cut off, an efficient n.a.z.i machine could continue functioning.

It was with this knowledge in mind that I asked Schwinn what he knew about Meyerhofer. At the mention of his name the n.a.z.i leader for the West Coast again showed a flash of fear. He hesitated a little longer than usual and then said in a low voice, "He is a member of our organization. He came from Germany about thirty or forty years ago."

Suddenly he added, "He's an American citizen."

"I know he's an American citizen. But are you sure he didn't come from Germany--on his latest trip--in January of last year?"

Schwinn smiled a little wryly. "He might have," he said in the same low tone.

"He's a personal friend of Rudolf Hess--"

"Listen!" Schwinn exclaimed. "You're on the wrong track!"

"Maybe; but what's his business here?"

"He's a businessman!"

"What's his business?"

Schwinn shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said and then with growing excitement, "I tell you you're on the wrong track!"

"Then what are you so excited about?"

"Because you're on the wrong track--"

"Okay. I'm on the wrong track and you know nothing about n.a.z.i spies.

Do you know of the visits paid by the j.a.panese Consul in Los Angeles to n.a.z.i ships when they come into port and of his conferences with n.a.z.i captains--"

"The j.a.panese! We have nothing to do with the j.a.panese. We are a patriotic group--"

"Yes, I know. What do you know about Schneeberger?"

Schwinn answered with an "M-m-m-m." His jaw bones showed against the ruddy flesh of his cheeks. He stared up at the ceiling. "He was a Tyrolian peasant boy," he said without looking at me. "A boy traveling around the world; you know, just chiseling his way around--"

"Just a b.u.m, eh?"

"That's it," he agreed quickly. "Just a b.u.m."

"What would your connections be with b.u.ms? Do you usually a.s.sociate with Tyrolian b.u.ms who are chiseling their way around the world?"

"Oh, he just came here like so many other people. He wanted money; so I gave him a little help and he went to San Francisco and Oakland. He vanished. I haven't any idea where he might be now. Maybe he's in Chicago now."

"He couldn't possibly be in j.a.pan now, could he?"

"He spoke of going to j.a.pan," Schwinn admitted.

"You saw him off on a j.a.panese training ship which the j.a.panese Government sent here from the Ca.n.a.l Zone, didn't you?"

"I don't know," he said defiantly. "I know nothing about him."

"The treaty between j.a.pan and Germany providing for exchange of information about Communists was signed November 25, 1936. But in September, 1936, Schneeberger told you he was leaving on a j.a.panese training ship for j.a.pan. No training ship was expected on the West Coast at that time by the United States port authorities, and yet a j.a.panese training ship appeared--ordered here from the Ca.n.a.l Zone. It was on this ship that Schneeberger left. Apparently, then, the n.a.z.is and the j.a.panese had already been working together--and you were cooperating because you took Schneeberger around. You took him to Count von Bulow's home at Point Loma, overlooking the American naval base. You know that Schneeberger was not broke because he was spending money freely--"

"He was broke," Schwinn interrupted weakly.

"If he was so broke, how do you account for his carrying around an expensive camera and always having plenty of film with which to photograph American naval and military spots?"

"I don't know. Maybe he carried the camera around to hock in case he went broke."