Wilde and Heck caught each other’s eye. Both of them realised that if Jaeger wasn’t here they had made a long journey for nothing. They certainly couldn’t hang around here for days on end, and looking for him in the mountains would be pointless.

Did it make sense to give this woman a contact number? She seemed straight enough. But so did almost everyone when confronted with armed members of the occupying powers. Wilde wrote his name and the CIC telephone number on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

‘Does Jaeger live here alone?’ Heck asked.

‘Yes, sir, since his mother died two years ago.’

‘How old is Jaeger?’

‘Fifty-five, I think. No, fifty-six.’

‘It’s a big house for one person,’ Wilde said. ‘Does he have no wife, no children?’

‘Yes, it is too big, but his family has owned this house and lived here for many generations. He had a wife, of course – Margarethe – but she died in childbirth twenty years ago. The child died, too. But there was an elder boy, Franz. He died at Monte Cassino. Herr Jaeger has no one left.’

Wilde felt a sudden pang. His first wife, Charlotte had also died in childbirth many years ago. He was married again with a fine boy, but the pain of that first loss could never be completely erased.

There was silence for a few moments. Motes of dust caught in a shaft of sunlight from an east-facing window. This house had the stillness of a museum, or a church.

Heck broke the moment. ‘Is there anywhere in the village we could get a cup of coffee?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. There is no cafe. Nor do we have a Gasthof or hotel. But, if you wish, I could offer you coffee.’ Her mouth dropped and she looked apologetic. ‘But it is ersatz – acorns – and I am sure you Amis are used to real coffee.’

‘I’ll give it a go,’ Wilde said. ‘Could you bring it to us here? We have come a long way to see Herr Jaeger and I’d like to stay here an hour or two, just in case he turns up.’

She bowed again and disappeared.

‘This is like a ghost house,’ Heck said. ‘Did you trust her?’

‘I don’t know, but she seems a decent woman and her story makes sense.’

‘Does it?’

‘You don’t think so, Heck?’

‘I don’t trust a single fucking German or Austrian. You saw those bastards last night with the Horst Wessel song. The only things missing were the Sieg Heils.’

They continued looking around the house. Wilde spent a long time gazing at the map on the table, as though he would see a mark that told him where Hitler was hiding out. Here lies buried treasure. But, of course, there was no such clue. All the map told him was that the Alps were vast, and trying to find anything without directions or hints would be nigh on impossible. No wonder the German high command had considered turning these forbidding mountains into a fortress.