His wrath turned to white fury in the discovery that they had indeed located the enemy’s lair. Jewish vermin had been hidden here! He knew, just like he had two years ago at that place in Wloclawek, that the beds had been warm only a short time before.

In a paroxysm of blinding rage, Korsch sent a spray of gunfire around the small room in which he stood, nearly wounding one of his own men from the ricocheting lumps of lead and sending cloth and feathers and glass flying into the air.

He stormed from the room.

Where was that Schmundt traitor!

He found Gustav at the base of the stairway, still trying to take in the destruction he realized he had himself caused.

Yanking at his collar, Korsch forced him out the door.

“Look, Schmundt,” he said, “if I find that you alerted the swine, that you had second thoughts in respect of the girl, you will be a dead man!”

“I swear, mein Herr, I am as surprised—”

“Silence, you dog!” shouted Korsch, clipping him against the side of the head. “Where might they have hidden the box?”

“What box?”

“The holy box, you imbecile. The rabbi must have been here!”

“Surely they wouldn’t have left it for us—”

“They might have considered it safer to leave than to take. Now where might we look? We don’t have all night!”

“The garden!” said Gustav, with sudden inspiration. “It was always the baron’s favorite place on the estate!”

Within seconds Gustav was running out the back door, followed by Korsch and ten uniformed SS men.

They met three or four men running up the hill from the direction of the barns.

“There are no vehicles!” one of them said to Korsch. “All the buildings are empty.”

A violent string of oaths burst from Korsch’s lips. He motioned Gustav to continue where he had been going.

He led straight to the collection of plants where he had made the discovery that led to his betrayal of the baron. He stopped. Korsch and the others came up to him, carrying lanterns and weapons in readiness of arrest. Gustav glanced hurriedly around at the olive and fig and crown of thorns and other reminders of a mount called Olivet.

“He often comes here,” said Gustav. “This garden is his favorite place to be alone and pray. I thought there might be a clue to his whereabouts, evidence they had buried the box here or something… but I see nothing.”

“Bah! You are a fool!” shouted Korsch. “Where else?”