‘No, but I assumed she’d seen it in the paper this morning.’

‘Perhaps, but I still find it strange that a German officer bothered to bring her here when she’s got a perfectly good chauffeur. It was almost as if he was checking that Marlene had arrived.’

‘You think Barbara is involved in this?’

Archie shrugged. ‘There must be several people at Claridge’s who know where Marlene is. She said the Nazis had been camped out there for days, so they could easily have twisted someone’s arm for a forwarding address. And presumably 101you told the staff in advance that Marlene was one of the guests?’

He felt rather than heard the butler’s indignation, and Hilaria seemed to share Lee’s resentment. ‘Oh no, Archie, I won’t have that. There’s no way that any of my staff would be involved in something like this. It’s simply not possible.’

‘Of course not. I’m sorry.’ He was about to suggest that they went upstairs to break the news to Marlene when he heard voices outside in the passage, one of the housemaids talking loudly to her colleague.

‘She only wants the thorns cut off the bloody roses! And she’s told me what to do with the fruit bowl – all except the apples.’ The door burst open and the girl came in, carrying a beautiful vase of red roses which had presumably been exiled from Marlene’s room. Luckily, she was too aghast when she saw Hilaria to take any notice of the box on the table, and Lee quickly ushered her out of the room, following her down the corridor to deliver what Archie could only assume would be the scolding of a lifetime. He picked up one of Hitler’s roses and ran his finger along the smooth, perfect stem. ‘Perhaps now isn’t quite the right moment to deliver these,’ he said, ‘but at least the Führer knows how she likes them.’

102

5

Josephine thought that finding Marta would be a simple matter of retracing her footsteps, but the castle’s myriad corridors and staircases defied her recollection of the route they had taken when the housemaid showed them to their rooms. She lost her bearings at each and every turn, and was just beginning to understand why so many country house murder mysteries opened with a helpful map when she recognised the magnificent Samurai suit of armour that stood rather threateningly at the head of a passageway; Marta’s room was just beyond it.

‘Who is it?’ Marta called when she knocked at the door.

‘It’s only me. Can I come in?’

‘No, you can’t. Give me a minute. I won’t be long.’ Intrigued, Josephine heard the rustling of paper from inside the room, followed by a thud or two, as if things were being hurriedly packed away, then Marta appeared in the doorway. ‘All right, it’s safe now. I was just wrapping your final Christmas present.’

‘So I can see. You’ve got glitter all over your face.’

‘Have I?’ She brushed her cheek and stood aside to let Josephine in. ‘Isn’t this wonderful? Come and look at the view.’