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of the guards have been talking about a revolution, I can't make head or tail of it. What revolution? Has there really been any revolution? Has the Army gone and done something stupid?"
    Eicke pulled a face. He removed his helmet, carefully wiped it, put it back on again. The death's head insignia stared straight up at the ceiling.
    "You shouldn't worry yourself with prison gossip," he advised. "You've more important things to think about right now."
    "I just want to know what I'm doing here!" snapped Rohm. "I want to know if the Fuhrer's heard about it."
    "Oh, he's heard all right," said Eicke soothingly. "It was the Fuhrer who told me to come along and see you. He told me to give you this." He pulled out his revolver and laid it carefully on the bench between them. "One thing nobody can deny about the Fuhrer, he's always loyal to his old friends. Even when they're in trouble, like you are, Ernst. Especially when they're in trouble like you are--you know what I mean?" He patted the revolver. "He's giving you a way out, Ernst. Be best if you took it"
    Rohm stared uncomprehendingly at Eicke. Without refocusing, his eyes slipped away from his friend and down to the revolver. A big black revolver glistening with grease. Slowly it grew clear to him; it swam into focus.
    "But that's madness!" he said. His eyes snapped back to Eicke. "That's madness, Theo, and you know it! I've always been one of the Fuhrer's loyalest followers. I've put the Party above everything, above my wife, above my children, above myself--I've sacrificed everything I've got for the Party." He suddenly caught hold of Eicke's shoulders and began shaking him. "Didn't I save the Fuhrer on two occasions when the revolution looked like crushing us? Didn't I? Didn't I save him at Stuttgart? When you and all the others ran off and left him, and Wollweber and his Communists were having it all their own way--wasn't it me who stayed behind and rescued him?"
    "Yes, yes," said Eicke soothingly. He removed the prisoner's frenzied hands from his shoulders and stood up. "Unfortunately, my poor Ernst, you have a tendency to live in the past. The Fuhrer is concerned only with the present. All I know is that you've been expelled from the Party and are no longer regarded as--ah--one of the faithful, as it were." He smiled and smoothed down his uniform. "Out of deference, I shall now retire and leave the final arrangements to you. All I ask is that you don't make things more difficult than you have to--we are, after all, old friends, are we not? And I can promise you that this really is the best way out. Look-- you can see for yourself the way the wind is blowing."
    From his pocket he pulled out a page of the Volkischer Beobachter and handed it to Rohm. In the largest type the printer could provide were the words: STABSCHEF ROHM ARRESTED. FULL SCALE PURGE OF SA ON ORDERS OF FUHRER: ALL TRAITORS MUST DIE!
    Rohm looked across at Eicke, his face white and his eyes blank with disbelief.
    "If this is true--" He waved a despairing hand and for a moment he faltered and seemed unable to go on. "If this is true, then it means the man's nothing but a murderer--it means you're all insane--it means it's all been for nothing."
    "Oh, I wouldn't say that," returned Eicke cheerfully. "Don't be naive, Ernst. You know as well as I that you risk your neck when you start playing politics. You today, me tomorrow--who knows? As far as I'm concerned, we're all playing our luck, and yours has just happened to run out a bit sooner than mine . . ."
    He raised his hand in farewell and went out to the corridor, where Lippert and Schmausser were waiting for him.
    "Well?" said Lippert.
    Eicke shrugged. "Give him time. The idea's hardly sunk in yet."
    They gave him fifteen minutes, but not a sound was heard. It was cheerless and stuffy in the prison corridor and the three SS men began to lose patience. Eicke went back into the cell and frowned with annoyance; Rohm was still sitting on his bench, and the