Since before dawn no one in the monastery had slept or been able to rest comfortably. At mass, and later at breakfast, there had been a palpable tension in the air and few of the monks or their guests had been able to look each other directly in the face. Conversation had been kept to quiet murmurs in the background, all the usual tasks had been neglected or ignored and even the porter at the gate, the most placid and imperturbable soul, had been on edge and shouted at the driver of the milk cart.

Concern was clearly a major emotion in Mendel's rooms. Earlier that morning, both monks had stood in the window waiting for the dawn to break. The moment it was light enough to see they had fixed their eyes on the heavens and watched the sky intently. As the first fingers light came over the horizon they got their answer. "It's going to be a great day!" Brother Joseph said with considerable relief, and the first of their concerns was lessened.

"Now all we need is that message from Vienna," he said for the fiftieth time. "What are they doing?"

"Preparing for war, I would imagine," said Brother Gregory as reasonably as he could. Like his friend, he was feeling the tension and the stress level was going up rapidly. They needed a critical piece of information from the War Ministry in Vienna, but he could easily see why their request was taking a low priority as their country prepared for war against Bismarck.

They had almost given up, when the porter was seen came crossing the garden carrying a brown envelope. "It's here," shouted Lindenthal, who had seen it first. Before the porter reached the outer buildings, Brother Joseph was down the stairs and greeting the messenger.

"An electric telegraphic message from Vienna?" he asked the porter, and on getting an affirmative reply went on, "I'll take it to the Oberstleutnant," and he reached out his hand. Without thinking to question the offer, the porter gave him the envelope and turned away, at least now he wouldn't have to walk up all those stairs.

Back in Mendel's rooms the pair ripped open the envelop addressed to the commanding officer and tipped out the message. It took them a few moments to understand the less than obvious way in which the document had been prepared, but eventually Mendel was able to decipher the set of lists and point to one entry. "Here it is!" he said in triumph, "just as I predicted. My hypothesis has been confirmed by yet another experiment."

"Let's hope that Reishach never finds out we impersonated him," Brother Joseph said, when the pair had calmed down. In order to get the information they needed from the war ministry, the monks had sent a message purporting to come from the battalion commander.

"Don't worry," Mendel said, "our army does not trust technology. It only started to use the railways to dispatch soldiers and supplies this year, and there are still many officers around who don't think breechloading rifles are good idea. It will take them decades to get round to understanding the electric telegraph." They both laughed. The backwardness of the Austrian army and its military command was legendary.

"Come on then, let's get started," Brother Joseph said, taking out a pen, ink and the paper Mendel had illegally acquired. Carefully, Mendel used his clear handwriting to transfer some of the information from the telegraph message to a set of lists on the cream paper. He did not write for long, then he blotted the ink, waved the paper until it was dry and then ripped off the bottom of the paper leaving only what looked like a partial list.

"We're ready," he said, his voice shaking slightly, and Phase three fell into place. All that was left now was to carry out the performance.