Free Puppet by Eva Wiseman Page A

say murder a secret.” The words came out of him painfully, as if they had jagged edges.
    “Point out your father to us!” Bary ordered.
    Morris hesitated. Then he pointed at his father. Joseph Scharf closed his eyes.
    Bary clapped Morris on the back. The boy winced.
    “You did well, boy. Really well,” Bary said.
    Morris's face was blank. He looked like a stranger to me.
    “Kill the Jews! Kill the Jews!” The villagers chanting was louder, frenzied.
    Bary turned to the chief of the gendarmes.
    “Mr. Recsky! Please order your men to escort the culprits back to jail. Tomorrow morning they will be transferred to the prison in Nyiregyhaza where they'll stand trial. We finally know who killed poor Esther Solymosi.”
    The gendarmes marched the prisoners away. Someone had freed Mr. Scharf from his gag. “Morris, my son, what are you doing? Have you taken leave of your senses?” His words were an anguished cry.
    As soon as the gendarmes and the prisoners were gone, the rest of the Jews surrounded Morris.
    “Liar!” A man charged at the boy.
    “Traitor!” A tiny, bent woman tried to claw his face.
    Bary laughed.
    “Recsky, you'd better transfer the boy to the jail in Nyiregyhaza with the others,” he said. “He won't last too long if we leave him alone with his brethren, and we need him hale and hearty as a witness. We'll find a safe cell for him.”
    After Morris was led away, I gathered up my pail to go back inside the prison. A couple blocked my way. It took me a moment to realize it was Pa and the yellow-haired woman. She was holding his arm possessively, Ma's shawl draped around her shoulders in spite of the warm May morning.
    I couldn't let the chance go by. “Pa, have you heard anything from Aunt Irma? Is Clara well?”
    He scowled as if he couldn't remember who Clara was. “What do you want from me?”
    “Nothing, Pa! I don't want anything. I just want to know about Clara.”
    “Get away from me!” He moved to push past me.
    The woman plucked at his sleeve.
    “Peter, don't — it's your daughter, for God's sake!”
    “Mind your own business!”
    He shook off her arm and strode away. She shot me a sympathetic glance and followed him. I ran after them.
    “Pa,” I called. “Has there been word about Clara?”
    He vanished into the crowd. A cold dread gripped me. Was something wrong with Clara? Was she dead? Is that why he wouldn't talk to me? I swore that I would somehow earn the money I needed to go to Csonkafuzes to see my sister. But soon I would have no job and no place to live. If I was ever to see Clara again, I had to think and think fast.
    Gendarme Bako was leading the shackled Jewish prisoners to the horse-drawn cart waiting in front of the prison. Here was my chance!
    “Please, sir,” I begged him. “Take me with you.”
    “Why do you want to go to Nyiregyhaza?”
    “I'm not needed here any longer. Sergeant Toth's housekeeper will be back in a few days. I need a job and I can get one in Nyiregyhaza.”
    He shrugged.
    “Talk to Sergeant Toth. If he agrees, you can come.”

CHAPTER 11
THURSDAY, JUNE 1, 1882 —
SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1882
    I knocked on the door of the office, my heart in my throat. I had slept under the stars for the past week. If I didn't get the job, I didn't know what I would do.
    “Enter!” called a gruff voice.
    I smoothed down my skirt, took a deep breath, and went into the room. Antal Henter, the warden of the Nyiregyhaza prison, was sitting at his desk. A gigantic white Komondor dog was lying on the floor by his feet.
    “Come closer!” Warden Henter said, beckoning to me.
    As soon as I took a step toward him, the dog lumbered to its feet and bared its fangs. It growled at me menacingly. I jumped backward.
    “Steady, Felix! Steady, boy!” Henter said, scratching the dog behind its ear.
    The dog shook its corded coat and sunk down to the floor.
    “Gendarme Bako tells me that you worked in the jail-house in Tisza-Eszlar,” Henter said. “What were your