Well-seasoned, that one, Karl had commented after the man’s earlier visit. And wily as a fox, too, Derrick had judged, a man not to be underestimated. The men removed their hats as they approached the desk, the junior officer’s eyes sweeping the office nervously.

“To what do I owe the honor again, gentlemen?” Derrick asked.

Chief detective Maurice Corbett removed several blown-up photographs from a manila envelope. “We’re sorry to bother you again, Colonel Albrecht, but I wonder if you wouldn’t mind identifying this young woman for us.” He spread the two photographs on the desk. They were of Derrick and Victoria Grayson seated at a table at the Ritz the first Sunday they met.

A chill swooped over Derrick. He forced up a smile and answered casually, “Why, yes, the young woman’s name is Mademoiselle Veronique Colbert. She is a fencing instructor of foil at L’Ecole d’Escrime Français.”

“How do you know her?”

“She’s my fencing partner.” Derrick sharpened his voice. “Now would you mind telling me how and where you got these?”

“Not at all. We found them in Monsieur Fournier’s home in a hidden folder containing other photos showing persons of importance in compromising situations.”

“Are you suggesting the man was a blackmailer?”

“It is an explanation we’re considering at this point.”

“Why in the world would he have included photos of Mademoiselle Colbert and me? We were having a meal at the Ritz after a bout,” Derrick said, looking annoyed. He added nothing further. As a trained interrogator, he knew not to volunteer more information than was necessary to emphasize his innocence, a sure indication that he had something to hide.

“I am sure I don’t know. We were hoping you could tell us.”

Derrick said coldly, “There is nothing to tell. Perhaps Monsieur Fournier took the pictures to hold for the day there might be, but I can’t imagine what. The reason is obvious, but valueless. At the time that picture was taken, neither Mademoiselle Colbert nor I were, and are still not, committed to other people.”

Unless, thought Derrick suddenly, the folder included information on how the swine happened to know Victoria Grayson. He allowed a smile to skim his lips, totally without humor. “I might add, Detective, that it would be very dangerous business to attempt to blackmail the SS chief of the French counterintelligence division of the security services of the Reichsführer.”

The senior officer returned the photos to the envelope. “Precisely my deduction, Colonel,” he said, dipping his head respectfully. “We won’t trouble you further. Good day.”

For a moment after the door closed, Derrick stood chewing his lip. He didn’t dare go to the fencing school to warn Victoria to be prepared for a police interview. Detective Corbett would be anticipating that move. He picked up the phone and placed a call on his secure line to L’Ecole d’Escrime Français.