‘No. But he did something strange – he left money for the food and clothes. What sort of thief does that? Not that it makes any better – for who can get hold of new clothes these days? And as for the bacon, we had been saving that to see us through to spring. Now we have hardly enough to last until Christmas.’

‘Were there footprints?’

‘Dust and dirt on the kitchen floor, that’s all. The swine didn’t even take his shoes off when he came indoors. Do you think he was a deviant? Why else would he take a girl’s skirt and blouse?’

Kalt looked around the yard and found no distinctive footprints. He looked, too, at the Reichsmark notes the man had left. Again there was nothing unusual about them. Finally he tried to get some sense out of the old man rocking beside the fire, but to no avail.

‘Thank you, Frau Spitzweg. I may be back.’

‘You would be most welcome, Herr . . .’

‘Kalt. Otto Kalt.’

‘Well, I hope you catch the man. And when you do, I want him strung up. I would like to be there to see that.’

‘So would I, Frau Spitzweg.’

Damn, thought Kalt. This meant the girl, with a proper outfit, would be less conspicuous. And they had food. But all was not lost, for it was clear they were still on foot and continuing in the same direction, north towards the Schorfheide – and the Hitler Youth boys had given him a much fuller description of the Frenchman in a chauffeur’s uniform.

*

Wilde saw movement in the woods, to the east, along the path that Sunny had taken. At last she was returning; she had taken long enough – at least half an hour.

No, that wasn’t her. There were two of them – shadowy figures, both much larger than Sunny Somerfeld.

He rose and grabbed Klara’s hand.

‘Quick. Two men are coming this way.’

Klara wrenched herself free of his grip.

‘No, it’s all right. They are SS men.’

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Wilde’s hand went to his pocket, to the carving knife he had stolen from the house. Two young SS guards were emerging into full view. They were tall, straight-backed, with holstered pistols at their belts. Wilde’s grip tightened on the hilt of the blade.

Then he saw Sunny. A head shorter than the men, and walking a little behind them, she had been almost invisible, but now he saw her talking amiably with them.

Wilde’s eyes met hers and she smiled. She touched the arm of the officer nearest to her.

‘Ah, here they are, Herr Major,’ Sunny said in quick German. ‘My driver, Sable, and my niece Klara.’

The officer ignored Wilde but bowed towards Klara and held out his gloved hand to her.

‘Fräulein, it is a pleasure to meet you.’