WASHED AND SHAVED and wearing a change of clothes, I walked back into the Adlon, encountering both surprise and delight, not to mention a certain amount of suspicion. It wasn’t unknown for staff to pull a sicky for a few days and then return with the same explanation as me. Sometimes it was even true. Behlert greeted me much as he might have greeted a tomcat returning home after an absence of several days and nights: with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

“Where have you been?” he said, scolding. “We’ve been worried about you, Herr Gunther. Thank goodness your friend, Detective Sergeant Stahlecker, has been able to take on some of your duties.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“But even he was unable to find out what had happened to you. No one at the police praesidium at Alexanderplatz seemed to know anything. It’s not at all like you to disappear like that. What happened?”

“I’ve been staying at another hotel, Georg,” I told him. “The one run by the police in Potsdam. And I didn’t enjoy it. Not one bit. I’m thinking of walking around to that MER travel bureau on Unter den Linden and telling them not to recommend it any longer as a place to stay when you’re in Potsdam. You can sleep much more comfortably in the river. In fact, I very nearly did.”

Behlert glanced uncomfortably around the mausoleumlike entrance hall. “Please, Herr Gunther, keep your voice down or else someone will overhear, and then we’ll both be in trouble with the police.”

“I wouldn’t be in trouble if it wasn’t for the help of one of our guests, Georg.”

“Who can you mean?”

I might have mentioned the name of Max Reles. But I saw no point in explaining exactly what had happened. Like the majority of law-abiding Berliners, Behlert preferred to know as little as possible about those things that might get him into trouble. And, in a way, I respected that. Given my own recent experiences, it was probably the more sensible way to be. So instead I said, “Frau Charalambides, of course. You know I’ve been working for her. Helping her write this article.”

“Yes, I did know. And I can’t say that I approved. In my opinion, it was wrong of Frau Adlon to ask you. It put you in a very difficult position.”

I shrugged. “That can’t be helped. Not now. Is she in the hotel?”

“No.” He looked awkward. “I think perhaps you had better speak to Frau Adlon. As a matter of fact, she inquired about you only this morning. I believe she’s in her apartment, upstairs.”

“Has something happened to Frau Charalambides?”

“She’s fine, I can assure you. Shall I telephone Frau Adlon and suggest an appointment for you?”

But sensing something was wrong, I was already running upstairs.