Lunch was served. I ate it. More than I had expected to eat. Then I had a sleep in an armchair. When I woke up I found myself alone with Gruen. He seemed to have been there for a while. He was looking at me in a curious sort of way that I felt deserved some kind of explanation.

“Was there something you wanted, Herr Gruen?”

“No, no,” he said. “And please, call me Eric.” He wheeled his chair back a little. “It’s just that I had the feeling we’d met somewhere before, you and I. Your face seems very familiar to me.”

I shrugged. “I guess I must have that kind of face,” I said, remembering the American back at my hotel in Dachau. I recalled him making a similar remark. “I guess it’s lucky I became a cop,” I added. “Otherwise my photograph might get me pinched for something I hadn’t done.”

“Were you ever in Vienna?” he asked. “Or Bremen?”

“Vienna, yes,” I said. “But not Bremen.”

“Bremen. It’s not an interesting town,” he said. “Not like Berlin.”

“It seems that these days, there’s nowhere quite as interesting as Berlin,” I said. “That’s why I don’t live there. Too dangerous. If ever there’s another war, Berlin is where it will start.”

“But it could hardly be more dangerous than Munich,” said Gruen. “For you, I mean. According to Heinrich, the men who beat you up almost killed you.”

“Almost,” I said. “By the way, where is Dr. Henkell?”

“Gone down to the laboratory, in Partenkirchen. We won’t see him again until dinner. Maybe not even then. Not now that you’re here, Herr Gunther.”

“Bernie, please.”

He bowed his head politely. “What I mean is, he won’t feel obliged to have dinner with me, as he usually does.” He leaned across, took hold of my hand, and squeezed it companionably. “I’m very glad to have you here. It gets pretty lonely here, sometimes.”

“You have Raina,” I said. “And Engelbertina. Don’t ask me to feel sorry for you.”

“Oh, they’re both very nice, of course. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t know what to do without Engelbertina to look after me. But a man needs another man to talk to. Raina stays in the kitchen and keeps to herself. And Engelbertina isn’t much of a conversationalist. I daresay that’s not so very surprising. She’s had a hard life. I expect she’ll tell you all about it in due course. When she’s ready.”