Way beyond the little lake, he saw two figures. At first, he thought it must be a pair of mountain goats or wolves but then he became certain that it was two men, walking steadily away.

His blood ran cold. The killers.

Paula was at his side. The sobs were choking her and he put a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘Can you look over there?’ he said.

‘I don’t want to see anything, ever. I will never sleep again.’

‘I know, but please – look across the lake. Do you recognise those men?’

She raised her eyes and followed the direction of Wilde’s outstretched arm. ‘What men?’

Wilde screwed up his eyes. ‘Can you not see them?’

She held her hand flat to her brow to shield her eyes from the sunlight. ‘Ah yes, now I see them. But it’s just a couple of kids.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Mr Wilde, look again. A boy in leather shorts and a girl in dirndl, skipping through the meadow.’

He peered into the distance. Maybe she was right. They didn’t look very old or tall. ‘Do you recognise them – are they from your village?’

‘No, sir, but these mountains are accessible from other villages.’

‘I want to talk to them. Maybe they saw something. You stay here.’

‘You’re going to leave me?’ She sounded horrified.

‘Go back to the village. Talk to the village elders. Tell them what’s happened. They’ll organise everything and call in the French authorities.’

‘But there is a killer somewhere in these mountains. I think Uncle August has not been dead long, and so the murderer could still be around. I would rather stay with you.’

‘As you wish.’

They set off along a path to the north of the lake. Its waters were mirror still and pure. The sun cast a reflection on its surface of the towering mountain behind.

As they circled the little lake, they lost sight of the two children.

‘Where do you think they’ve gone?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s hard to say.’

‘But where does this path lead? You’ve lived here all your life, you must know this place.’

‘There are lots of tracks, but they just go up into the higher mountains and beyond.’

It was an easy walk on stone and grass. Wilde felt increasingly uneasy and kept his hand on the butt of his pistol in his pocket. At the far side of the lake, there was still no sign of the young people. For twenty minutes he explored the boulders and the last of the straggly trees. This was the limit of the forest. Above this there was nothing but bare mountain. His view was reasonable in all directions, but there was nothing. No boys, no girls, no secret lair. Just the towering mountains, the rocks, the wildflowers and the sky.

With so many paths to choose from, it was pointless going further.

Chapter 35

Chapter 35