“American habit,” said Reles. “We put ice in everything. But I kind of like it in schnapps. You should try it sometime.”

Dora handed me a smaller glass of schnapps. I was watching her now for some sign that she might be up to her old whore’s tricks, but there didn’t seem to be anything between them that I could see. She even shied away a little when he came too close. The typewriter looked like it was still as busy as always. The wastepaper basket was overflowing.

I toasted Reles.

“Down the hatch,” he said, and took a large mouthful of ice-cold schnapps.

I sipped mine like a dowager, and we faced each other in awkward silence. I waited a moment, then tossed back the rest.

“Well, if that’s all, Detective,” he said. “We have work to do, don’t we, Fräulein Bauer?”

I handed Dora the glass and headed for the door. Reles was there ahead of me, to open it and speed me on my way.

“And thanks again,” he said, “for recovering my property. I appreciate it. For what it’s worth, you’ve restored my faith in the German people.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them that, sir.”

He chuckled, thought of a retaliatory remark, appeared to think better of it, and then waited patiently for me to make my exit from his suite.

“Thanks for the drink, sir.”

He nodded and closed the door behind me.

I hurried along the landing and down the stairs. Crossing the entrance hall, I went into the switchboard room, where, under a high window, four girls were sitting on high chairs in front of what looked like a double-sized upright piano. Behind them was a desk where Hermine, the switchboard supervisor, sat watching the hotel’s “hello girls” as they went about the voluble business of connecting telephone calls. She was a prim woman, with short red hair and a complexion as pale as milk. Seeing me, Hermine stood up and then frowned.

“That mark on your face,” she said. “It looks very much like a whip mark.”

Several of her girls looked around and laughed.

“I went riding with Hedda Adlon,” I said. “Listen, Hermine, the party in 114. Herr Reles. I want a list of everyone he calls this evening.”

“Does Herr Behlert know you’re asking?”

I shook my head. I went a little closer to the switchboard, and Hermine followed attentively.

“He wouldn’t like you spying on the guests, Herr Gunther. I think you’ll need to get his written permission.”

“It’s not spying, it’s snooping. I’m paid to snoop, remember? To keep you and me and the guests safe, although not necessarily in that order.”

“Maybe. But if he found you listening in on Herr Reles’s calls, he’d have our hides.”

“Putting you through now, Herr Reles,” said Ingrid, who was one of the best-looking of the Adlon’s hello girls.