“A car rolled in, followed by a truck. Almost before the two Gestapo agents were out of the car, the truck emptied of a dozen or more SS troopers, who immediately began running toward all the buildings, rousting the men from their quarters. The two agents served me papers of termination and eviction. I asked how long we would have. They said, ‘The order is immediate, Herr Bonhoeffer. You have no time for anything but to evacuate the premises!’ The men were already being dragged from their rooms and the chapel, some at gunpoint. Within minutes doors were boarded up, every book any of us owned was put in a big crate, which they took with them, and we were ordered to leave immediately.”

“Were you able to save anything?” asked the baron, incredulous at the sudden turn of events.

“A few personal belongings, but not much. The Nazis hate books and took every one. Especially do they hate religious books. They find the world of truth dreadfully threatening.”

“Your manuscript notes?”

“Unfortunately, they ransacked my office, too, and made off with everything. All my work of the last month is gone.”

“Dietrich!” exclaimed the baron. “I am so sorry.”

Bonhoeffer smiled a wry grin. “I have known for years that to resist them meant danger. It would appear it has finally come.”

“But your book—”

“Not to worry, my friend. It is being printed even as we speak. The Nazis will never silence the voices of truth entirely. My recent notes were only a few modifications.”

The door opened. Marion and Heidi and Carola entered with trays of tea, sliced bread, and some cakes.

“Ah, ever the hostess, aren’t you, Marion!” exclaimed Bonhoeffer. “We are fleeing for our lives, and you serve us cake!”

“Even martyrs and refugees must eat,” rejoined Frau von Dortmann.

“Thankfully we are neither yet. But we will partake of what your hand offers as from our dear sister in the Lord.”

As the women poured tea and served the men, the baron and Bonhoeffer sidled to the corner of the room and continued to speak in low tones.

“Are you, in truth, fleeing for your lives?” Dortmann asked his younger friend.

“It may come to that in time,” replied Bonhoeffer, “but I doubt it is so serious at the moment. Many threats and angry words—you know the Gestapo. But I do not think those young men in the SS uniforms were anxious to use their guns on men of the church.”

“There could be arrests.”

“That is true. I see fear in some of the younger faces.”

“And you?”

“I fear no prison. But the men are my charge, so I must do what I can to keep them safe until we decide what to do. That’s why I called you.”

“I’m glad you did. What will you do?”