The night was a long one for Detlef. His only companions were the rats and beetles, and the hard stone floor amplified the aches and wounds from the fight the day before. Sleep came and went and finally disappeared altogether just before dawn. Detlef propped himself against the iron bars and watched as a gray light softened a barred window high above him. A guard came with some foul-smelling sop in a bowl for him, and then stalked away without a word. Detlef watched in silence as the guard disappeared. Then he sighed and rubbed his stiff shoulder. “I haven’t given up yet, Ilona.” But what else could he try? He had thrown his weight against every bar of his cell yesterday without success. The guards were numerous. The viscount made it clear that the only way out was to testify falsely against an innocent man who had dared...