Returning to the main room, the living area adjoining the kitchen, he took a corner seat, switched off the torch and put his pistol on the table in front of him to wait. And then he felt it – the warmth. He was close to the tiled wood-burner and he could feel a soothing heat in his shoulder. Placing the palm of his hand flat against the tiles, he confirmed for himself that there was a little fire left in the burner, just a few embers perhaps. By no means hot, certainly not enough to heat the room, but someone had been here in the past day.

Had he arrived too late or misunderstood the timing? Had August Jaeger disappeared into the mountains again? He was certain now that Jaeger had been in the village all along when he and Heck came here before, and that he had simply slipped away at their approach or perhaps had been warned to make himself scarce, perhaps by someone from the guest house down in Grünegg. Well, this time Wilde would stay, and see what transpired.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Half an hour later, with the first rays of sunlight touching a white peak in the east, the front door opened and a figure stepped inside, directly in Wilde’s line of vision. But it wasn’t August Jaeger.

It was the woman they had met before, the plump farmer’s wife who had been severing a chicken’s head. She stopped suddenly, as though sensing his presence

‘Grüss Gott, Fräulein.’

She gasped in shock and held her hand to her breast.

‘I’m sorry, did I startle you?’ he said in German.

‘What are you doing here, sir?’ She was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide, but she was doing her best to regain some composure.

‘I came back to see Herr Jaeger.’

‘But you can’t just walk into a man’s house in the night, like a thief!’

‘He called me and told me to meet him here. Where is he?’

‘I don’t know. I have just come to do my cleaning. I look after the house.’

‘But he was here. And you must have told him my name and location – otherwise he would not have called me.’ He placed his palm against the tiles of the stove. ‘Warm.’

‘The heat is from yesterday. I saw him yesterday morning, but not since.’

‘Did he say where he had been or where he was going?’

‘No, sir. He never does.’

‘But you talked about me?’

She hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes, sir, I mentioned your visit.’

‘How did he react?’

She didn’t reply.

‘Fräulein?’

‘Sir, if I am honest, I would say that he was angry that his beloved map had been taken, and nervous. Anyone would be nervous when secret agents seek them out.’

‘So you think we’re secret agents?’

‘Of course. What else would you be?’