As the song ground on towards its inexorable and somewhat telling conclusion—‘Already Hitler’s banners fly over all streets. The time of bondage will last but a little while now’—Harry’s gaze was drawn to a man who sat alone in the corner. At first, he’d thought him likely to be one of the university’s academics, but any reputable professor would surely long since have had the good sense to depart. And this slight, angular fellow just sat there, tugging at his moustache and drinking his single glass of Pilsner with measured care. And watching everyone. Who was he? Harry wondered. And why was he sitting alone, his gaze flicking from Harry to the Nazis and their companions and back again?

He surely wasn’t from the Gestapo. It was a facet of life in Hitler’s new Germany that you always felt watched.

Unable to contain herself, Amanda stood and proceeded to goose-step up and down the room with her finger beneath her nose to imitate Hitler’s moustache.

Her mockery was so brazen that the uniformed thugs and their companions fell silent. Only Hughes-Hallett’s booming voice pierced the hush. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’ He looked at the pimply youth she had been sitting with. ‘Can’t you control your woman, Carrington? I thought she was supposed to be the daughter of an earl. You’d think she’d have more damned manners.’

The nearest Nazi reached over and tried to grab Amanda’s skirt. She pulled away, but he had enough of a hold to force her to slip on the flagstones. She hit the floor hard. Another Nazi, a big sweaty man with dark hair cropped close to his skull, lurched forward, took the hem of Amanda’s dress and flipped it over her head to reveal her underwear. There was a roar of laughter.

Amanda screamed. The man stood over her, as if about to contemplate a more serious assault. But Carrington dived at his feet to reassemble Amanda’s clothes and beg forgiveness. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘she’s very drunk. She meant no harm.’

Yes, she bloody did, Harry thought. And liked her all the more for it.

Carrington hurried Amanda towards the door and, for a moment, it looked as if that might be the end of the matter. But Harry had seen enough of the Nazis to know restraint was not part of their make-up. The men stood and began to follow the couple to the door, hitching their belts and pulling up their sleeves.

Harry caught the eye of the man in the corner. A half-smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as if he was interested to see how this would play out. He was gazing intently at Harry, his right hand clutching a Homburg on the table in front of him. He had his coat on his lap, as if about to leave.