Again he scrutinized the several buildings across the field from where he sat in his parked car, paying special attention to the Mercedes. The large automobile, though not of new make, was enough out-of-place among all the others to make him wonder if its owner was part of the little community. He had been curious about it ever since his arrival a few minutes ago and had determined to have a closer look as soon as it was dark.

But he was too far away to keep a good eye on the place and see what was going on. He needed a closer vantage point.

A farmhouse sat adjacent to the buildings. He had seen a woman come out and hang laundry on the line, so it could not be part of the compound.

He would take up a position there.

He started his car and drove cautiously forward, parking around the side of the farmhouse, out of sight from the other direction. He got out and approached the back door. He had seen the woman go back inside. There didn’t seem to be a man around, and he saw no other automobile.

He walked inside without a knock.

The woman stood in the kitchen, a basket of laundry in her hands. She looked up, her face filling first with confusion, then greeting.

“Guten—” she began.

“Silence, Frau!” barked Korsch in a low voice.

“Who are you?” she said, angry now, and not one to be intimidated.

“Gestapo,” he answered, walking around the room and looking about.

“What do you want?”

“I need your house,” he said, peering out the windows, then proceeding to walk into an adjacent room.

“My house is not available. Now get out. We have nothing to do with your kind.”

He spun around and approached, leveling upon her a sneer of evil cunning.

“Perhaps you would like that fact reported,” he hissed. “I could arrange a raid by the SS for your treason.”

She stared back with a look equally venomous as his own. These were not days when strangers readily made friends in Germany, as it had been in the old days.

“Please,” she said, “just go away, and do your dirty work someplace else.”

“Dirty work you ugly old hag!” he shouted. “The Gestapo goes where it likes!” he added, suddenly raising his arm and striking her a vicious blow across the cheek with the back of his hand.

She screamed out in pain, staggered back, and tripped on a chair and fell.

Korsch did not even pause to watch, but was already making his way about the small house again. From another room a baby began to cry.

“Make the baby shut up or it will get the same!” he hissed.

The poor woman struggled to her feet, doing her best to keep from crying, and ran into the other room.