“Two possibilities. The town archives, for one. Also the library, or muniment room of the Schloss. There may be other letters or useful documents there too.”

“Okay,” I said grumpily. “If you’re going to be the honest, candid little fellow, I can do no less. You take the archives, I’ll take the library. We share any information we find.”

“Agreed.”

When we reached the courtyard, we found an unexpected duo sitting at one of the tables in the garden. George Nolan and Professor Schmidt were deep in conversation — or rather, Schmidt was talking and George was listening. I thought he looked bored. He brightened when he saw us.

“Exploring, on a hot day like this?” he inquired.

“You know us.” I dropped into a chair and smiled affably at him. “Nothing in the Wachtturm but dust and decay.”

“But I thought Americans admired the old and decayed,” said Schmidt.

I was getting a little tired of hearing that sentiment expressed, but I said only, “That place is too old.”

“You should see the town. It is not too old. It is very nice.”

“I’ve been here before,” I said.

“But not with me,” George said. “Let’s go sightseeing. Harmless occupation,” he added.

“Gut, gut,” said Schmidt eagerly. “I know Rothenburg well. There is a Gasthaus where we will lunch.”

“We have to be back here by four,” Tony said, regarding Schmidt unfavorably. “The countess has invited us—”

“But I also! I also have tea with the Gräfin. We can easily return by four.”

There was no way of ditching him, short of deliberate rudeness. He turned out to be a rather pleasant companion, and an absolute mine of useless information. My half-formed doubts about him faded as the morning passed; he seemed harmless and rather endearing.

Looking like innocent tourists—which three of us certainly were not—we wandered clear across town to the old hospital area, while Schmidt spouted statistics about every building we passed. There are some lovely old buildings in the big hospital court; some of them are now used as a youth hostel. After the rather oppressive antiquity of the Schloss and its somber inhabitants, I enjoyed seeing the kids swarming around, weighted down by their backpacks but having a marvelous time anyhow. Sure, most of them were pretty dirty by the time they got halfway across Europe; cleanliness is a luxury when you are short on money and even shorter on time. Like any other mixed group, they had their share of no-goods, but most of them were nice kids seeing the world—pilgrims, of a kind. As we stood there, a pair of them emerged from the unadorned facade of the early Gothic church. I admit it was hard to determine their sex; but with their long locks and faded clothes they didn’t look as incongruous as one might have expected.