There was an enormous Christmas tree at the foot of the stairs, decorated to within an inch of its life, and Archie walked past it to announce himself at the reception desk. ‘I’m here to see Miss Dietrich,’ he added. ‘She’s expecting me.’

‘You’re a nice change from her usual visitors, I must say.’ The comment came out before it could be stopped, but it was in such stark contrast to the hotel’s customary discretion that Archie heard a sharp intake of breath from the couple checking in beside him. The clerk flushed as his colleague glared at him, then smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ll let 41Miss Dietrich know that you’re here. Just one moment.’ He went to the telephone and dialled a room number, returning after the briefest of conversations. ‘She’ll see you now, sir. Her other guests are just leaving. I’ll call someone to take you up to her suite.’

‘There’s really no need. I’m sure I can find it myself.’

The receptionist seemed to have learned his lesson. ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ he insisted, sticking politely but firmly to convention. ‘We won’t keep you a moment.’

Archie waited impatiently, his tetchiness made worse by the final throes of a cold. A bell boy appeared in due course, understandably eager to show someone to the star’s rooms. The lift purred quietly to the fourth floor and he followed his guide down plushly carpeted hallways, noticing that – for all its fashionable elegance – there was something sedate and restrained about this particular hotel which encouraged a reverence more appropriate to a church. The bell boy turned a corner and gestured to the door at the far end of the corridor, which led to an outer lobby. Two men stood guard there, one on either side, and Archie stopped in his tracks, understanding now what the receptionist had meant. Their dark uniforms struck a jarring note in the hotel, the silver eagles and swastikas giving the lie to an otherwise convincing illusion that the world was a place of peaceful civility; in spite of a life that had seen more than its fair share of war, Archie was shaken by their presence. ‘You can leave me here,’ he said, dismissing his chaperone. ‘Thank you.’

The bell boy took his tip and hurried back to the lift. Archie headed for the suite, and as he approached the inner door opened, giving him his first glimpse of Dietrich. She was dressed entirely in white, and the contrast with her 42visitors – whether coincidental or carefully staged – could not have been more dramatic. The Nazi she was showing out was taller than his colleagues and his face looked vaguely familiar from the newspapers; he snapped his heels together and kissed the hand that she held out to him, a movement that was simultaneously chivalrous and threatening. Then, after a clipped ‘Heil Hitler’ which met with no response, he strode from the room. His henchmen fell into step, as if joined by an invisible thread, and Archie stood aside to let them pass.