“I do my best to be a good citizen. And I think of myself as a loyal German,” rejoined Dortmann. “The allegiance of citizenship is one thing, the allegiance of mastery is another.”

“Mastery?”

“The latter is not something that belongs to Caesar, nor that any human caesar may legitimately and legally require.”

“Legally? The ruler of a nation may legally demand whatever is his will.”

“I use the word in its spiritual sense, Herr Korsch. I speak of universal ‘legalities,’ as I call them, that are inherent in the created order of things, by the design and intent of our Maker. I will make no mere mortal my master. Such complete submission I will give to none other than him who is my Lord and Savior.”

Getting the information he needed was going to be easier than he had imagined, thought Korsch to himself, fists still clenched. The imbecile was playing right into his hand! He could have this man arrested on the spot as a madman! If only he could keep his own calm long enough to find out the information he had come for.

He took a breath to still the fury such words aroused in him, then decided he should wait no longer. The time had come to turn the conversation more toward its point.

“Being so outspoken, then, Baron,” said Korsch after a slight pause, “you undoubtedly are acquainted with another man of similar persuasion, who has spent a good deal of time in this region.”

He paused, looking directly into the baron’s face. He would use his full powers of discernment to detect whether the banker’s brother was lying to him.

“A certain fellow by the name of Bonhoeffer.” As he slowly said the word, one of his eyebrows cocked itself up in menacing interrogation.

“Dietrich Bonhoeffer?” said the baron.

“Yes, I do believe that’s his name,” said Korsch with sly innocence.

“Yes, I am acquainted with Dietrich,” said the baron.

“You call him by his given name—the two of you are… friends?”

“Yes, I would perhaps say so. Not intimately, but I have heard him speak a number of times, and I visited him at his seminary when he was down near Stettin.”

“Ah, you must mean at Finkenwalde.”

The baron nodded.

“That was an illegal seminary, Baron. Perhaps you were not aware. It could have been dangerous for you to be seen there. If that information should fall into the wrong hands…”

He let his voice trail off with obvious meaning.

“Hmm, no, I didn’t know it was illegal,” said the baron. “I understood it had been closed by the authorities, but that was all I knew.”