The Watcher


The day was dragging on, but so it often did with investigations, especially the ones where there was little to no evidence to act upon. The first thing for the Kriminal Komissar Quoß and Kriminal Secretär Rosse had to do was to establish, as best they could the movements of Hildegard Zäpernick, the eleven year old girl who had disappeared from in front of her parents home at Westendallee 89 the day after her eleventh birthday on the 12th of August in the year 1929. After which the greater task was to establish the whereabouts of the over one hundred workers of the Gillesbau whilst investigating and interviewing all those who were reporting sightings that vaguely matched the description of the young girl Hilde.

On the Wednesday Quoß and Rosse along with all the available officers they were allowed to command searched the area and had searched her bedroom at number 89. Once the search of the bedroom was complete Quoß had ordered the officers to continue an examination of the area with help of the local residents. His job now was one that most would not wish on anyone, he had to sit with the worried parents, who riddled with stress and anxiety had to recant to him the last hours and minutes that they had with their daughter before she mysteriously disappeared.

Quoß sat with Herr and Frau Zäpernick at the table in the families kitchen. The Zäpernicks obviously tired and their minds exhausted from the search and playing over the thousands of scenarios as to what could have happened to their daughter. From the kitchen table, where Quoß sat with the Zäpernicks, he could see through the window into the garden where his officers were now searching, where just two days prior Hilde had been seen and scolded by her mother after being caught climbing the wall trellis. The possibility, due to the so far lack of evidence to a violent crime having been committed brought Kriminal Kommissar Quoß to ask Herr Zäpernick to describe his child.
“She’s in line with her age, in intelligence,” Herr Zäpernick said and Quoß scribbled down on his paper, good average intelligence.
“Would she go off with a stranger?” Quoß asked.
“She’s trusting, and she has an open heart,” Herr Zäpernick replied.
“If a stranger were to ask her to go with them, would she?”
“I couldn’t rightly say,” Herr Zäpernick continued, “I couldn’t say it would be impossible.”
“Could she have run away? Was there any unhappiness at her birthday, any disappointment with her presents perhaps?” Herr Zäpernick shook his head. “Is there anyone she could have left with, a familiar face?” Again a shake of the head. “Frau Zäpernick, I know this may be hard to hear, but I need you to answer, is there any possibility Hilde may have committed suicide?”
“No, no, not at all!” Frau Zäpernick answered and Quoß noted.
“Could she have run away, due to any disagreements in the home or at school?”
“Also no. We have created a happy home within which we have filled with love, there is no reason for her to have runaway.”
“Are you a religious home?” Quoß inquired.
“Hilde was more religious than ourselves,” Frau Zäpernick answered the Kommissar’s question, “she liked to attend service often.”
“Herr Kommissar,” Herr Zäpernick looked earnestly at Kommissar Quoß with a look that left an impression of desperation on the Kommissar, “I just want my daughter back.”

After the day’s searches had come to an end with little to show, if anything but the scribbled notes in the Kommissar notebook, Kriminal Kommissar Quoß returned to his office, where he sat in front of his police issue typewriter and began transcribing his short hand notes, the first of his investigation, and such was the impression that Herr Zäpernick had left upon him the first letters painted upon the metal keys of the police issued typewriter came to spell out, “He misses his daughter” and were the first words of the typed investigation.

The next morning the skies were overcast, one of Berlin’s grey days, when the sky feels heavy and weighs down on those below it. However, despite the heavy air and chill that was carried by the early morning wind there was a strange feeling to the city. People walked in a funny manor. As they moved forwards they kept casting glances over their shoulders and moved their heads to the sky, searching desperately amongst the grey for something that remained unseen. Even drivers in their automobiles leaned forwards over the steering wheels trying to look up when the opportunities, between signals, crossings, and the endless stream of one or two carriage trams, presented themselves.

For Inspektor George Rosse who in reporting to Quoß had to travel from Pankow, one of the city of Berlin’s recently acquired areas, like Charlottenburg, of the Greater Berlin act of 1920, through the streets of the city, by car or by use of the dogs head S-bahn, the nickname given by the Berliner’s since the plan of the S-bahn was first released many decades prior, for the joining of the once small villages that had now been swallowed by the advancing city had taken on the shape of said animal’s head, not of a circular, or oval ring like the official name might suggest, the city buzzed with anticipation. People stood together staring, they spoke, not in whispers but in voices that were easy for the passing ear to hear, something great was coming.

At 09:30 the city almost came to a stop. Four and a half million people laying down tools and school books. The drivers of automobile private and public pulling over to the side, to leave their cars and lean on the bonnets. The playgrounds that should have been quiet with the children in lessons filled with child and teacher alike and all began to slowly adopt the familiar position of the raising of a hand to the forehead to block the diffused light of the sun that was trapped in the high grey cloud. Time drew on, and hands that shielded eyes grew tired. Automobile drivers returned to their seats and drove on, disappointed. That was until a grey hum echoed within the city. Never before had a sound reached Berlin that had spread so wide, a blanket of noise that enveloped the entire city at once, and quickly those who had wavered from their gazes before came to hurried halts. It was the sound that alerted all, even the members of the advertising congress at the Central Hotel who left their debates to stand in the streets, their eyes being guided by their ears that had focused on the omnipresent drone of Maybach engines, each spewing out 550 horsepower as they spun propellers. Suddenly in the west the first cries began. Fingers point to the sky and voices shout “there it is!” Others followed, and soon the whole of Berlin West was gazing at the silvery object that floated in gracefully and majestically, carrying aboard not only celebrity and pioneer, but the heroes of the crew and their commander Hugo Eckener, who had brought the rigid dirigible, its designation D-LZ 127 in tall script on its side alongside the name it had been christened “Graf Zeppelin.”

Carrying not only passengers, letters, and postcards, this great ship of the skies also carried the imagination of millions of people with it, and even though it was not the first time an airship had been spotted over Berlin, Berlin in prewar days and in 1919 having a regular airship service and the Graf Zeppelin itself having already flown over the city, it never ceased to amaze. The people of Berlin looked to the sky and witnessed the dances of the more nimble heavier than air biplanes pirouette the great silver lighter than air Graf Zeppelin. Its appearance washed not only any news that had been in the heads of the onlookers away but also sensibilities for at least a few people, caught by the appearance of the spectacle, had wandered to their roof tops and taken one step to far and fallen from great heights to the ground. The airship, Graf Zeppelin, was on its around the world flight, having begun in Lakehurst, New Jersey, or in Friedrichshagen, depending on ones view, and made swift progress in its flight over the Welthauptstadt, flying over the Roteburg the Police Presidium where a police band struck up the notes of the Deutschlandlied as it soared over ahead and disappeared from sight of the city in the east.

For Quoß and Rosse the appearance of the airship could not deter from the continuation of their investigation, but it would not allow for the day to begin at the Lyceum of Hilde where the children had gathered to witness the Graf Zeppelin, however, they were certain there would be two people in Berlin who would not be buoyed by the joy the airship had brought to most.

The Zäpernick’s had provided the Kriminal Kommissar with many movements of young Hilde. With Frau Zäpernick being at home she had been able to inform the Kommissar of the times, from when she awoke, to when she went to school and tell through teary eyes of the last time that she was able to speak with her cheeky and spirited daughter. Now it was time to start asking the residents what they knew, and to start building the pieces that he hoped would eventually come together to form the puzzle they had to solve.

First was a visit to the Firma Kolonialwarenhandlung Nietschke, where Quoß stood on the shop floor and spoke with the eighteen year old Herta Hofman.
“Around 6pm? You’re certain of the time?”
“Yes, I am, I remember because it was the day Hilde disappeared. Hilde was always polite and I thought it unusual that she was buying cigarettes so I asked who they were for” Quoß listened and jotted on his pad as she spoke. “She said she was buying cigarettes for the stone unloader Schulz, I said I only knew of the guard by the name Schulz.” Quoß noted the name Schulz and stone unloader. “It’s possible, that the stones and bricks were still being unloaded after 4, after the workers finished on the site.”
“How did she pay?”
“With a 50 pfennig piece.”
“Would you still have it?” He enquired.
“I’m afraid many more have come and gone since then, it would be impossible.”

Next, Quoß and his investigators decided, with normality resuming, that it would be beneficial to approach Hilde’s teachers at the Lyceum on Preußen Allee. The teachers could be helpful in descibring a child without the mists of parentship clouding an objectivity that would be required to help build a further profile of a child, a girl they had never met but needed to know. Frieda Ramm, Hilde’s German and French teacher, was glad to make herself available to the investigators. Frieda Ramm told them much of what her parents had already explained of her character, sunny and spirited but it was not the information they were searching for, and to get to the answers they needed, as to explain how a girl had disappeared and as to whom may have taken Quoß had to resign himself to asking the difficult questions that a Kriminal Kommissar has to ask.
“Frau Ramm, do you believe that Hildegard may have been of interest to people of a certain persuasion?” Quoß asked as delicately as he could.
“Well, I can imagine” Frieda Ramm began to form her answer as matter-of-factly as she was able, “that the child could make an impression in an erotic relationship on someone who is appropriately predisposed, but I have not experienced or observed any tendencies towards any erotic thing from her, on the contrary, I also hold her still particularly childlike.”
“And, do you have any theories on her disappearance,” Quoß pressed on with his questioning.
“If asked for a reason for her disappearance, I can only imagine that some direct foolish curiosity, a purely childish phenomenon, could be a motive. I know of nothing from this school that could have promoted a cause to voluntarily flee her parents house.”
“Thank you Frau Ramm, I’ll have a secretary type out your statement for you to review and sign.”

Quoß and Rosse left the building of the Lyceum at the same time as many of the children were leaving, a large portion of which were milling around and in a childish curiosity approached the officers of the Sonderkommission Zäpernick. They were not dressed like the regular Schupo in uniform, but rather in cloth suits, spun of wool, white shirts and ties tied close to their necks, they really could have been in any profession, but children have keen eyes. They of course were well aware of the disappearance of their School kamaraden Hilde, and had recognised those who were not of the area who now wandered the streets asking questions of the residents and upon seeing them leaving the school they had rushed over, both boys and girls to ask their own questions of the men of the commission. One responded to their questions whilst the others looked on. Whilst it was important to speak to children, the Lyceum had a wide catchment area and they needed to focus their attention on those of the immediate vicinity of Hilde’s home and so sought to reassure the children gathered. As they spoke an opportunist photographer for one of the Berlin newspapers approached and with a flash captured the officers as they spoke.

The foreman was very helpful in pointing Quoß and his investigators to the man they wished to speak to. He had already heard rumours of the guard Schulz but it was the purchaser of the cigarettes they wish to speak with. Herta Hoffman of Nietschke’s Kolonialwarenhandlung was adamant that Hilde had insisted that it was not the guard Schulz that had asked for the cigarettes but rather a brick or stone unloader, and with the time being so close to the final sighting of Hilde whomever this Schulz was, was of course, of great interest to the investigation, being perhaps amongst the last to see Hilde before she disappeared.

Wilhelm Schulz wasn’t on the books, that had presented the first problem. The investigators and scoured through the list of employees, of the carpenters, brick layers, electricians and plumbers but found no one of that name employed. It transpired that the name was not on the books not due to reasons of illicit trade but because he wasn’t employed by the Gillesbau directly, rather he, or his company, was contracted by the Gillesbau to manufacture and bring the bricks to the construction site. However, with delivering such an important building material to the site the foreman knew him well and he happened to be at the sight unloading another day’s supply of materials.
“Wilhelm Schulz?” Quoß said to the man busy with unloading bricks. The man stopped and turned to the investigators.
“I am.” Wilhelm Schulz replied stopping what he was doing in order to speak with the men who had approached him.
“Kriminal Kommissar Quoß,” Quoß introduced himself.
“How can I help you Kommissar?”
“Did you send a little girl to purchase cigarettes from the Kolonialwarenhandlung on this past Monday the 12th?”
“I can’t say I did.” Schulz answered assuredly.
“That would have been me,” spoke another man. “Erich Scheffler.”
“You sent Hilde Zäpernick to buy cigarettes?”
“I did, gave her 50 pfennigs to buy ten Juno, which she did and gave me the 10 pfennigs spare as well. I didn’t know her last name, just knew that she was called Hilde, and she called me Erich, and Arthur she called Arthur no formalities.” Quoß looked from the truck to Erich and at this point must have realised that whilst she referred to Erich by first name, she must have found her self using the formal whilst in the Kolonialwarenhandlung Nietschke, and used the surname that was inscribed on the wooden siding of the truck, that of Erich’s employer, Wilhelm Schulz.
“Did you see anything suspicious?” Petitioned Quoß.
“I didn’t see anything that could be said to be linked with her disappearance no.”
“Did you see any an unknown man hanging around the children’s playground perhaps?”
“I did not. I didn’t see anything like that.”
“Very well,” it still remained to Quoß that nobody had seen anything at all, making the mystery of the missing girl more infuriating, “could you tell me Herr. Scheffler what your movements were after you unloaded and last saw the girl?”
“Finished work here, then went to an inn opposite the tram station on Spandauerstraße called “zum Eisbeinwirt” and went to my brother’s apartment, around 16:30, but it could have been later, I don’t know.”

As Quoß continued his lines of questioning slowly building the picture of the last movements of Hildegard Zäpernick the uniformed police had begun to instigate road blocks in areas of the city. But with two full days having passed and a third was about to draw to a close since the disappearance of Hildegard Zäpernick, the chances of discovering a girl in a car fleeing the city now were minute.

The city was also scared with the increase in space being given by the newspapers and fingers were beginning to point. Quoß had, that evening, attend to the matter of a certain Fritz Kuhn in the Sportklause on Reichskanzlerplatz who had been telling all those who would listen that the girl had been found in the office of a lawyer on Reichsstraße. A tiring end to a day that still required the notes to be typed up, twice, one for the current case file and one to be deposited in the main file. As Quoß returned to his office he passed the newspaper stands and sellers of Berlin, who were now at the late hour selling the evening editions of the city’s press, and if he had taken a moment to gaze at the front covers, it would not take him long to find that his current case was headline news, and his face was also occupying a story that a quarter of the cover of the Volks Zeitung had dedicated to the missing child. Soon the people above him would be wanting answers, the press added pressure, a press that believed they spoke for the people of the city whether the people liked it or not, and the more headlines, the more columns that the story came to occupy the more he would be expected to produce results, especially seeing as the detectives of the Prussian police were a model of modernity for a new idea of policing not just within Prussia but across the world.

It was with increasing regularity that the Police Presidium under Karl Zörgiebel found itself under the scrutiny not only of the government but of the press. Often, to those of the higher echelons of the Prussian Police structure it felt that the press were becoming the body that controlled the actions of the government. The press not needing a mandate of the Berlin people to print the voices of the Berlin people, which often came from behind the plate glass windows of a building on Bülowplatz. Zörgiebel, known as being the more ruthless had felt the full brunt of the paper’s ire after his disastrous decisions of Mai that year, the fated year of 1929, that had led to the red rivers of Bludmai. A disaster to which Zörgiebel had placed responsibility upon the communist paper Die Rote Fahne and its supporters, leading to his banning of its publication which only sought to incentivise not only the communist supporters further, but also to help banned together the more liberal of the Berlin newspapers in their support of one another, and to transfer blame for Bludmai from the communist strongholds and lay it rather in the hands of the Police President Zörgiebel himself. Beneath the bald head, stern thick eyebrows and face that appeared as if it belonged to a retired bar brawler rather than the Police Präsident of Zörgiebel was the more affable Dr. Bernhard Weiss. A Jewish lawyer who had risen to be a leading figure of the Kriminal Polizei, or KRIPO, by 1918, and its head by 1925, finally, in 1927 coming to hold the office of vizepräsident. Not the reactionary that Zörgiebel was, Weiß was calculated and supportive of the efforts of the departments, especially KRIPO and the Mordkommission to advance their work, but had drawn indignation from the far right of the political spectrum after banning the brown shirted thugs and party of the Austrian Corporal in Berlin as one of his first acts as vizepräsident on the 6th of May 1927. All were feeling the squeeze of the politicians who themselves were being turned by the press.

On the ground that was littered with the waste of a building site, from shards of brick and splintered wood, that littered the sandy waste land that Berlin rose from, Dr. Heinrich Kopp stood, surrounded by the detectives under his command as Chief Criminal Inspector of Abteilung IV of the Prussian Police. He had to take to the ground of the Gillesbau that, despite a total lack of evidence to the contrary was being treated as the centre of investigation, suspicion and personification of the crime that was as yet unclassified beyond a missing persons case but commanded its own sonderkommission, as the head of the kriminal police. To whom he must speak were to the people whom he must answer, the press. They had gathered on the Friday morning around the skeletal building that was awaiting its roof and windows to be finished in the hope of the owners that the building might be open to tenants by October. Earlier in the day, before the gathering had begun, Quoß, Dr. Kopp and Quoß’s equal with Sonderkommission Zäpernick Kriminal Kommissar Werneburg had walked the ground to familiarise the Chief with the lay of the land. Repeating the facts he had so far gathered Kriminal Kommissar Quoß recalled the details, movements and scraps of information that so far had been pieced together in the main file, Dr. Kopp listened attentively. It was little to go on. How was Dr. Kopp to direct the questions of the press and frame the answers thus influencing the thought processes and opinions of their readers. There was, of course, the theory that had become the favourite of the press and the logical theory of the police that the disappearance of Hildegard Zäpernick could only have been the work of a stranger, and it was this theory that was causing the city to become suspicious. So they walked and kicked the dirt of Berlin’s sand bowl land, the land that the soldiers of Napoleon had noted for its barren quality, their obvious belonging to the police being noted by the workers arriving on site to begin their work day, but to whom, the presence of the police was no longer a cause for the eyes to wander with intrigue such had become the regularity of their visits and despite the criminal investigations being undertaken there was no reason to call a halt to the construction, so Quoß, other than the collection of alibis, had left the workers alone to continue their work, after all the site had been searched and searched again.

The reporters noted and their photographer colleagues depressed the buttons that, even in daylight, triggered the bright bulbs of their flashes. Quoß and Werneburg stood by, as did other members of the Sonderkommission Zäpernick, a showing of unity and support for their superior. Dr. Kopp, stood tall before the small crowd, and presented a well tailored Prussian figure, with close cropped hair, a thin face that was not gaunt and adorned a gaze that was warm and welcoming as it was stern and serious. For Quoß his schedule was for the morning press conference to be followed by a site inspection for the benefit of the press. It was to be a means of showing the city that the police were hard at work, and to not worry, for the criminal who was responsible for the disappearance of the young girl was to be soon brought to hand, by the use of all the latest techniques that the police had at their fingers.

Rudolph Bahnemann arrived at 10:00am to work on the Gillesbau, from his home the looked out on to the pitched stands of Die Plumpe, the beloved home of Berlin’s Herta Berlin football club near the Gesundbrunnen station. Avoiding the commotion that was gathering at the Sachsenplatz entrance to the Gillesbau construction site, he meandered to the Schaumburg Allee entrance, walked through the gates, that were wide open and took quick note of the three members of the Prussian Police that were poking at the ground, two of which were busy talking, the third merely listening, but thought nothing more of it. He, like the rest, was used to their presence. With work continuing at a hurried pace he had been told by one of the foremen, August Steuer, that his job that day was to help with the roofing, especially with the drawing of materials from their dry basement storage to the roof in order for the weather proofing of the building to be completed before Berlin’s stormy autumn, when the winds blew the bough of the trees strong enough to fracture, thunder and lightening rumble and crack overheard, and wind drives heavy rain through the seals of shut windows, arrived. Through the doors, that had been secured tight when the building sight was quiet and into the lower reaches of the building and past the bases of the shafts that one day will carry the lucky renters of this luxurious living complex to the higher reaches.

It was a labyrinth below, light that should penetrate the lower reaches through the thin double windowed gaps could not, for the boards of the security fence reached higher casting the fenestra within its shadow, making the journey through the meandering subterranean corridor confusing to all but those who knew it well. Most of the recesses that would form the basements of future residents contained the materials of the first fix, the copper pipes for plumbing, the rain gutters awaiting the roof to be fitted, roles of cables and insulation rested upon the concrete floor, however, the furtherest reaches contained the boards for the roof. The roofing boards had filled up most of the spaces, but as the massive construction advanced with the roofing, the rooms had emptied, and progressively had had their floors covered with a layer of concrete, which, once dry, had again been used to store building materials. Now with work being so advanced it was only with the deepest reaches that the recesses still held the roofing boards. Rudolph Bahnemann continued on until at last he crossed into the sandy and earthen floor, where the boards were piled neatly in the corner. Yet as he entered he paused. It struck him that laying on the floor there were several bricks all located close together, and forming a circle. Rudolph wandered closer, he stared at it, seeing that it was strange and out of place, there was no reason for stones normally stored in neat stacks to be left, even if a stack had been depleted, in such a way. So strange did he think that it was that he decided to bring a friend and colleague to investigate it further with him.

Dr. Kopp called the meeting of the press adjourned. Quoß and himself had decided that it served little to no purpose to allow the press to tour the construction site, and in doing so might just draw the anger of Ernst Gilles the construction and site owner in allowing people to trapse where his workers were busying themselves with a schedule in mind. Dr. Kopp milled around with the investigators for a short time, before leaving, as did Quoß and Rosse and the other investigators. There was little point in spending time where they had already searched and questioned everyone they believed of relevance so they departed.

Rudolph Bahnemann emerged into the light once again. The day was growing hot under clear blue skies and was certainly a contrast to the basements that might as well have been in the pits of Tartarus, some workers were already purchasing beer from the Budiker and carrying the bottles from the hut to where they were to be stationed for the day. Rudolph found Otto Rich, his 29 year old colleague and friend despite a near twenty one year age difference. Back through the labyrinth Rudolph wandered with Otto in toe, treading the sand and soil ground beneath their feat, until they reached the basement room and its circle of bricks that had concerned Rudolph.
“What do you reckon it is?” Rudolph asked of Otto. Otto taking a moment to ponder the curious case of the circle of bricks. “It’s wide isn’t it?” Continued as his younger colleague stared on at the ground, “one and three quarters of a meter I reckon.”
“It is somewhat odd,” Otto conquered.
“I haven’t seen anything like it in the other rooms, why you suppose someone gone and done it here?” Otto and Rudolph bent down at the edge of the circle of brick, and stared at the ground at its centre.
“The ground,” Otto began, “it’s not compacted like the rest, see, where we walk, it’s got to be freshly dug.” He reached out his hand and touched the earth. Even with the slight pressure from resting his palm upon the earth the ground below sank. Otto and Rudolph looked to one another.
“Press a little harder Otto.” Otto did as his older colleague asked and found that with a little exertion of pressure his hand sank into the earth up to his wrist.
“Look,” Otto pointed out, “the top layer of the earth, it’s dry, but here, here it’s damp, it’s been recently turned. I don’t like it Rudi, with Kripo walking around here I find it awfully suspicious.”
“What d’we do?” Rudolph asked.
“Go tell the foreman, I think we need some more eyes on this.” Rudolph Bahnemann left the basement room leaving Otto on his own. Otto took a moment, he stood, wandered over to the stacked roofing boards and pondered the room before him, taking note of the imprint of the rubber heel of a boot left in the loosened earth and the marks of a dog having been in the area. But being on his own in a room where he felt more and more assured that with the police loitering and the press bothering that being left along in a room that was growing in suspicion to him was not of sound mind and more people were required.

Once more in the light of day Otto went in search for those he was friendly with amongst his colleagues. What had happened to Bahnemann he could not say, but he couldn’t be found easily, so Otto went in search of and found his brother Wilhelm, together they found the foreman Vollack.
“What’s going on?” August Steuer, the foreman asked, as he saw the three men journey towards the basements.
“Just found something suspicious, and going to have a closer look,” Otto Rich answered.
“Where?” Steuer enquired bemused.
“One of the deep rooms, with the roofing material.”
“What’s suspicious about it?”
“It looks like the earths been recently turned, and there’s a strange circle of bricks.”
“On you go, I’ll join you shortly.”

In the suspicious room once again the three eyed up the ground. Wilhelm asked of Vollack “can we dig? See why the ground was turned?” Vollack nodded. Wilhelm began pulling away at the earth with his hands then Steuer arrived followed shortly thereafter by Ganzkow, also a foreman. Steuer had with him in his hand a shovel and with a quick glance to where Wilhelm was busying himself with drawing back the soft earth with hand and arm, he then turned to look and earth beneath his own feet. Taking the spade, he placed it into the earth away from the stone circle, and with a sharp but gentle twist of the wrist the pointed end of the shovel pricked at the floor, cutting a v shaped chip in the compacted earth showing that with so many feet moving through the construction site all of the earth that, as of yet, did not have a layer of cement covering it, was heavily compacted. Within the room they all looked between what a spade could do to the floor and what Wilhelm Rich was able to do with his arms. They decided to dig on, but with five in the basement, the space was a little crowded so Otto Rich returned to work, leaving the four men to dig.

He had not long returned to his work when he suddenly looked up to see the face of his brother approaching him with great speed. Otto noticed that the blood had drained from his face. He ran over excitedly but not with joy, rather with horror, he grabbed at the shoulders of his brother and steadied him, and then from lips that adorned a face as white as a wall said, “we found her.”

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