Gustav turned and ran off toward the rose garden. The heavy tramping feet followed, treading over Marion’s prized plants, stomping them into the ground. Korsch stopped, then grabbed a machine gun from one of the men, and, as soon as all were out of his way, leveled every remaining reminder of the land of Palestine, which he hated. By the time he caught back up with Gustav, they were standing in the center of the rose garden.

“There is nothing here! What did you expect?” he said to Gustav. Then turning to his men, he added, “Destroy it.”

Gustav led back to the house, while behind them gunfire and heavy boots proceeded to make dust and rubble out of what had been one of the most cherished and loved rose gardens in all of Germany.

Realizing by now that the baron had succeeded in mocking them all, Gustav’s former pangs of conscience had gone soundly back to sleep and given way to a waking of the demon of pride, never far from the surface in most men. No longer having to face the prospect of killing the baron, anger now rose up to replace the fear he had felt earlier. In complete irrationality, he despised the baron now all the more for making him look the idiot, and by the time they reached the house he was bent with equal passion to find a clue to either his or the box’s location.

With the sounds of rampaging destruction crashing and breaking, shattering and clamoring all about them, Gustav led up the stairs two at a time.

“Follow me!” he said to Korsch.

Half a minute later they were standing in the middle of the library.

It took but two or three hasty glances around to reveal that a sizeable gathering had been here, and recently. There were chairs enough for thirty or more. Food still lay about uneaten, two half-glasses of wine, basins of water on the floor, with two or three towels, still damp, draped over the back of a chair. A seven-tiered candle holder was all he recognized.

Jews had been here all right! And in large numbers!

Methodically trying to make sense of it all, Korsch grabbed up one of the glasses, downed the contents of wine in a single gulp, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then went out into the hallway in search of one of his men.

“When you are through on this floor,” he said, “throw as many of the books as you can on the floor. Get all the rest of the men to help you. Then set fire to them.”

He left the library, Gustav on his heels.