Abbot Napp also felt guilty. He knew he should be supporting his accused monk with more vigor, but, deep in his heart, he also thought that Brother Matthew was guilty. Brother Gregory's offer to help investigate gave the Abbot an opportunity to relieve himself of some of that guilt.

"What do you think you can do?" he asked the bespeckled monk, "Darmstaedter's investigators have questioned almost everyone involved and the Prior reports that the statements are very thorough and complete."

"Can I look in the guest room?" Mendel asked after a moments thought. "Has anything been touched since the fire?"

Napp was puzzled for a moment. Why would Brother Gregory want to start by looking in the guest room? Statements taken from all those present, including himself, had described in some detail what they had seen and what had gone on. But then Napp reminded himself that Brother Gregory was often at his best when confronted with a physical rather than an emotional puzzle.

"Of course," Napp said, "I'll arrange with Hauptmann Steefel to let you in at once. As far as I know that room has been guarded ever since the fire, and no one has gone in or out."

So it was arranged, and shortly thereafter Mendel found himself standing with the Hauptmann in the doorway of the guarded guest room. The smell of the fire still hung everywhere, and his nose wrinkled as he carefully asked a large soldier to move away so he could examine the broken lock on the door.

This was the part of the monastery where the Abbot lived and his frequent guests stayed during their visits. The furnishings of the room were semi-luxurious, there were gas lights on the walls, and the door was the best kind of hardwood. Bending down, he saw that the brass lock was still in the 'locked' position, but when the Feldweber had smashed in the door, he had ripped the whole strike plate from the frame and splintered the wood.

"Who had the extra keys to this door?" Mendel asked his companion, looking up from his examination and turning to the Hauptmann.

He was answered with a nervous jerk. "I would not know," Steefel replied. "The Oberst was given one by the Abbot. That is the only key I know about." His voice was hesitant and his face twitched as he spoke. Mendel looked at him more carefully.

He saw a young man, too young in Mendel's opinion, with exaggerated moustaches that tried to hide a soft, fresh face and chin that was not too strong. But it was the deep set, dark eyes that he found most disturbing; they were hollow and vailed, and seemed to reflect deep inner doubts and a strange sense of insecurity for someone in his profession. Even Mendel, not the most sensitive sole, felt that the young adjutant was out of his depth.

Moving into the room, Brother Gregory saw a bed, a chest of drawers, now empty of the Oberst's clothes, the table, chair and the fireplace on which the Beaker had once stood.

"Has anything been moved since the fire," he asked again, this time of Steefel.

"Nothing," was the reply. "Apart from removing the Oberst's clothes and taking the remaining lists, of course, the room is exactly as we left it."

"Thank you," said Brother Gregory, and he walked carefully across the carpet to the desk. Flakes of burnt paper still could be seen scattered on the floor and on the desk top, which now had a circular burn on it's polished surface. He rubbed a finger across the burn and most of the blacking came off on his skin.

"How much damage was done?" he asked.

Hauptmann Steefel reacted in an agitated way. "Too much," he stammered.

"How much is too much?" Mendel wanted to know. "How many pages of the conscription lists were actually destroyed?" He bent down and picked up some of the half burnt pages that were still floating around. Gently, for the charred paper was crisp and easily disintegrated into powder, he read in good German a series of columns of names, dates, locations and reporting sites. He could only make out one name; 'Schildkrote'.

"Any damage is too much," Steefel said defensively. "I have not counted how many pages were destroyed."

"Strange," said Mendel, meditatively, "I would have thought that you would have checked such a thing first." He looked directly at the Hauptmann who evaded his glance. "Was this the only copy of the lists?"

"Yes," the young man hesitated again, "I did quickly look to see what had gone. It was about four full pages."

Something he could not identify prompted Brother Gregory to ask the next question. There was a catch in Steefel's voice that did not ring quite true. "Were the lists alphabetical?" He thought the young office was about to choke.

"Yes," he groaned.

"Which names were destroyed in the fire?"

"A few of the 'R's' and most of the 'S's'," was the eventual answer, but it had clearly cost Steefel something deeply emotional to answer at all. For the life of him, Brother Gregory could not think why Steefel was behaving this way. What was upsetting him about the destroyed pages? Perhaps he had been blamed by the Oberst for not taking enough security precautions and was worried that Brother Gregory's questions were leading in the direction of yet more trouble.

He decided to calm the young man. "Don't worry," he said, "no one is blaming you. You were not even here when the fire started, were you?"

"NO," the Hauptmann almost shouted. "I was at the camp helping the Oberst entertain his guests."

"So I thought," Brother Gregory reassured him. Then something in the Captain's accent as he said the word 'NO' prompted him to ask, "Is your family from around here?"

At first Mendel thought that the officer was not about to answer, but eventually the reply came, "Yes, from Ivancice."

"I know that place," Brother Gregory said, "it's just a bit southwest of here. I've sometimes visited that village. Does your family still live there?" But he never got an answer. Marching feet announced the arrival of a Zugsfuhrer who had orders to take Steefel away to his next duty.

"Don't worry," Brother Gregory told him, seeing the dilemma. "I don't need you any more, thank you, I'll just finish looking around here on my own. Off you go, and thank you for your help. If I have any more questions, I know where to find you."

Clearly torn between two conflicting duties, Steefel hesitated for a moment, then, glancing round the room, gave a stiff bow, followed the escort out of the room and vanished down the corridor. When he had gone, Mendel looked where the nervous officer had last cast his eyes, but all he could see was the fireplace and the mantel.