“Then we’ll dissolve the partnership,” Tony said. He looked a little ashamed as George gave him a reproachful look, but he continued, “I didn’t say we were going to share all our clues. You worked like a Trojan today, and I appreciate it; but without me you wouldn’t have found Nicolas. So far, I think we’re quits.”

“Big deal. I didn’t want Nicolas anyhow. What am I supposed to do with him?”

He left, grumbling, and I went on my errand. George was right about the keys. Tony’s key fit Blankenhagen’s door. All the keys probably fit all the doors, which was not a comforting thought.

Blankenhagen hadn’t bothered to hide the maps very well. They were on top of his wardrobe, quite visible to anyone with my inches. I grabbed them and left.

Tony sat up when I came in.

“Got them? Good work.”

“Lie down.” I slid the roll of parchment under his bed. “Blankenhagen is on his way up. I just got out in time.”

There was a knock at the door. Tony flopped back onto his pillow.

“All settled,” George announced briskly. He pushed Blankenhagen into the room and followed him, rubbing his hands together with the air of a man who has just finished a painful session at the dentist’s. “The Gräfin was quite reasonable. The minister will be up later, and they’ll probably have some kind of service, today or tomorrow. She won’t have the lad in the family vault, though. Says, with all due respect for Tony’s deductions, that she can’t accept the identification as certain, and anyhow, the crypt is reserved for Drachensteins. They’ll bury him in the town cemetery. Lord knows what they’ll put on the tombstone.”

“Good,” said Tony, closing his eyes as Blankenhagen started poking at his shoulder. “What excuse did you give her for our tomb robbing?”

“Funny thing,” said George thoughtfully. “She didn’t ask.”

“You have done yourself no injury,” Blankenhagen said, tucking in an edge of bandage. “But remain quiet and do not raise any more tombstones. Such childishness.”

He stalked to the door and went out. George followed, with a rather wistful glance at me.

“Maybe we ought to keep him in the club,” I said.

“Generosity does not become you. Somebody is behind all these kookie manifestations here, and until I find out who it is—”

“You don’t seriously suspect George, do you? He hasn’t had time to arrange all the things that have happened.”

“I know. I’d like to suspect him, but he doesn’t fit. Herr Schmidt is a better bet. How is he, by the way?”

“Okay, I guess. He’s up and around, anyhow. He wouldn’t even go to the hospital for a checkup, as Blankenhagen suggested.”

“Very interesting. Maybe he faked his faint. He told you his degree is from Leipzig? Convenient that it’s in the East Zone, where official inquiries aren’t easy for us amateurs to make. And of all the suspicious names—it’s as bad as Smith.”