God willing, thought Wilde. But if it was so simple, why was this woman so on edge – and why did he feel such trepidation? This sensation of utter vulnerability, that events were out of his control, was new to him. He had been in difficult – even deadly – spots before, but never had he felt so unsure of himself. For a confident man not lacking in courage, it was a discomfiting experience. He was at the mercy of this woman’s decisions – and, frankly, he wasn’t even totally sure who she was or whether he trusted her.

*

She hid him in the attic. Some time later, from the depths of the dark and dusty space – full of trunks and obsolete furnishings – Wilde heard the muffled and distant sound of the front door opening. A minute later, he heard it close, and then Sunny Somerfeld appeared at the hatch and shone a torch in his direction.

‘You can come out now, Monsieur Sable. We’ll have no more trouble from the Drexlers.’

What had changed? As they returned to the whisky bottle and cheese sandwiches, Sunny was grinning.

‘I had a sudden idea,’ she said. ‘I told him in a confidential whisper that you were an important person and that it would be unwise to ask too many questions. That unsettled him. Then I went further. I told him very quietly that they must tell no one, but you were, in fact, Hans Frank.’

‘I think I’ve heard that name.’

‘He is governor-general of occupied Poland and an old Party stalwart, right back to the Munich putsch. One of the filthiest and most terrifying of them all.’

‘And he looks like me, does he?’

Sunny studied him, as though sizing him up, then laughed.

‘No, he is nothing like you, monsieur. About the same age, perhaps, but that is all. He is much more handsome and dashing!’

‘Thank you.’

‘Seriously, the thing is, I told Drexler he was back on leave from Poland – and I intimated that we had a liaison and that his wife might not approve. I begged him not to tell any of the other neighbours or his SA friends, because if word got out that he was gossiping about a senior-ranking member of the Party, it would not be good for him or anyone else. That shut him up straight away. He couldn’t get away from my door fast enough. If there’s one thing a Brownshirt fears, it’s anyone in authority over them. It is what makes the whole regime so sclerotic – everything is duplicated, everyone is scared of being denounced, so much gets left undone.’

‘Why him – why Hans Frank?’

‘His name just happened to be the first that came to mind. I have met him in the past at a drinks party we held here, when my husband was alive. It is just possible Frau Drexler saw him then arriving among other guests. But she could not have got a clear view of him then, nor of you this evening.’