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nothing.
    "It is now"—Schmitt looked at his watch—"five to ten. If he's not here by quarter past ten, you've lost your bet."
    "I've not taken any bet."
    "My God, what a prig you are."
    "I'm an officer," Menges said coldly.
    Schmitt smiled: "A gallant German officer, eh, sans peur et sans reproche— every little shop girl's dream."
    Suddenly he lost his composure. "But Menges, man, don't you realize how little this make-believe suits you? God Almighty! It doesn't seem to worry you that several millions of human beings have been slaughtered these last years, and that more and more are dying every day. Our whole world is going down the drain, and you simply look on and say: 'I'm a German officer!' Don't you realize how absurd it sounds, man?"
    "There are some things. . . ." Menges began stiffly, but again Schmitt did not let him go on. "Who are you telling that to? There are some things, Menges, yes, and thank God there always will be. Things for whose preservation one should let oneself be torn to pieces if need be. But only for those things, not for the people who merely pretend to be fighting for them. And if you haven't yet learned to recognize the difference, then I'm damned sorry for you." He stared through the window, breathing heavily.
    Menges relapsed on to his chair. "Exactly what do you want?" he asked helplessly.
    Schmitt swung around. "I want you to stop fooling yourself now and dying of it later. The muck on our boots still stinks even if we shut our eyes, and we've waded around in more muck than we let ourselves dream of. Every day we . . ." He broke off and looked quickly toward the door. It opened, and Kolodzi appeared in the doorway. Schmitt stared at him. "Leave us alone together," he told Menges, without taking his eyes off Kolodzi. His voice sounded strangely quiet. He went to the table, sat down at it, and pointed with his chin to the second chair. "Why didn't you knock?" he asked.
    Kolodzi sat down. "I did knock, sir."
    "You heard what was said?"
    "Every word," said Kolodzi indifferently. Schmitt leaned back in his chair. "How's your mother?"
    "All right, sir."
    "And the woman with the naked legs behind the door?"
    "I didn't realize it was an informer you sent me," said Kolodzi, unruffled. "My fiancee was with me, sir, if you want to know."
    "Where is she now?"
    '^At her fathers."
    "I see." Schmitt put a map down on the table in front of him, and his voice became business-like. "Partisans have kidnapped the general; we're to hunt for him. This is the district where it happened, can you see?"
    "By the bridge," said Kolodzi.
    Schmitt looked up quickly. "You knew about it already?"
    "Not about the general. I know the district, I was there several times before the war."
    Schmitt nodded. "All right. Well, listen to this." He told Kolodzi briefly what had happened. "And so," he concluded, "we're moving off as soon as the trucks are here. Where would you look for the partisans if you were given the job?"
    Kolodzi reflected and eventually shrugged his shoulders. "Hard to say. There are thousands of places for hide-outs round there."
    "Exactly my own opinion," said Schmitt. "Unless we're damned lucky . . ." He pushed the map away and lowered his voice. "While the major search is going on, I want to start a little minor operation. Have you some reliable men?"
    "How many?"
    "Two or three will be enough."
    "I can think of two, sir."
    "Who are they?"
    "Sergeant Vohringer and Corporal Herbig."
    "Vohringer." Schmitt thought for a moment and then remembered. "Your deputy?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "Now listen carefully: you'll ride with us to a place we've still to decide on, if possible right in the center of the suspect area. There well drop you off and you'll wait till we've searched the houses. Well pretend to the civilians that we're looking for three German deserters. That's you and your two men—get me?"
    "No, sir."
    "You will in a moment. So—we search the houses; naturally we don't find anything, and on we go in the