‘It was an amazing spectacle,’ said Count Giuseppe Bennazzo, one of Nicholas’s friends who was with the Italian Embassy in Berlin, referring to the Nazi Party conference he had attended a week earlier in Nuremberg. ‘You Berliners may be used to such sights, but I wasn’t. There were scores of thousands there and the applause and cheers were deafening. When the Gauleiter of Bavaria declared that Hitler’s Reich was going to last a thousand years I thought the roof of the hall was going to lift off.’

‘Führer,’ said the pretty girl who had taken part in all the political conversation, amused chastisement thick in her voice. ‘You can’t continue referring to Hitler as Hitler, Giuseppe. Disrespect will get you carted off to a camp. His title is Führer.’

Nicholas Schulenburg snorted in disgust and another member of Nicholas’s party took a hasty look around to make sure no one at near by tables was listening in to them or inadvertently overhearing them.

Max didn’t blame him. Though nothing overtly disloyal had been said, the way things had been said had left him in no doubt that Ilse’s upper-crust friends were, without exception, fervently anti-Nazi and anyone listening to them would, no doubt, come to the same conclusion. As reporting anyone guilty of disloyal talk had become something of a way of life, it didn’t do to speak carelessly in public, not even in the kind of nightclub no card-carrying Nazi was likely to patronize.

‘Why is the present Reich referred to as the Third Reich?’ Ilse asked, intrigued enough to finally join in the conversation.

Nicholas Schulenburg’s well-shaped mouth twitched in amusement at her ignorance. ‘Because it makes a powerful symbolic link to the greatness of the past, Liebchen,’ he said, his eyes and voice softening as he looked towards her. ‘The First Reich refers to the rule of Charlemagne. The Second Reich to the rule of Bismarck.’

His use of Liebchen went unnoticed by everyone but Vladimir and Max, for it was a term of endearment often used carelessly.

Max knew that in this instance, however, it hadn’t been used carelessly and, by the look on his face, so did Vladimir. There was no time for either of them to ponder it, however, for Lotti was hurtling towards them, dressed and made-up ready for her performance.

‘Darlings, how wonderful there is such a big party of you!’ The smile splitting her face sizzled. ‘Max! I didn’t know you were back in Berlin! Why didn’t you phone?’ She kissed and hugged him and then turned her attention to Nicholas Schulenburg. ‘And Nicky! How blissful you’re here again, but be warned that I haven’t changed my repertoire. I’m singing the same songs as Monday night and so you’ll just have to die of boredom.’ There were more kisses and hugs as she greeted the friends who had come with him and who she already knew. Then she turned the full blaze of her attention on Vladimir.

Ilse did the honours. ‘Lotti, Vladimir Ovelensky. Vladimir, my sister, Lotti.’