“Herr Hebel,” I said in German, staring coldly at him like a porcelain dog. “What can I do for you?”

He put a manicured hand inside the breast pocket of his Savile Row jacket and withdrew a buff-colored envelope, which he then handed to me. “If you have a spare few moments, I was wondering if you might write a translation of this letter from French into German for me? My French isn’t nearly as good as yours, Herr Wolf, and it contains some technical terms that are frankly beyond me.”

These were the first words he’d spoken to me since January 1945, and it took all of my self-control not to remind him of this or to punch him in the nose. Hebel knew that, of course, but it was all part of a careful act that he should pretend he and I were almost strangers. His voice carried the rasping edge of a growl, like a big cat, or a guard dog.

“Certainly, sir. I’ll get right onto it.”

“Take your time, my dear fellow,” he said affably. “There’s no hurry. Sometime this afternoon would be just fine.”

“Very well, sir.”

“You can leave both versions in my room if you like. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

And then he went out into the fierce heat and handed a tip to the parking valet, who ran off to fetch his car.

I was on my mid-morning break before I opened the envelope and carefully read Hebel’s typewritten instructions on how and where and when the blackmail money was to be paid. Then I went into the back office and called Somerset Maugham at the Villa Mauresque, and when his friend and secretary, Alan, fetched him to the phone, I told the old man to have the money ready for collection that same evening.

“He’s made contact then?” Maugham was speaking German, which suited me fine; he seemed to like speaking German to me.

“Yes.”

“What did you think of him?”

“The same thing I thought more than ten years ago. That I’d like to see him dead.”

“The offer’s still there.”

“No, thanks. I don’t care to murder anybody, Mr. Maugham. Even the people I don’t much like.”

“Can he be trusted?”

“No, of course he can’t. He’s a snake. But this is a big payday for him, and he’ll want things to proceed without any problems. So, to that extent, everything should go according to plan. At least tonight. After that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“How shall I pack it? The money, I mean. In a parcel?”

“A parcel would have to be unwrapped so the money could be counted. No, anything that slows things down tonight is to be avoided. A bag would be good. Preferably one that you don’t mind giving away to a bastard like Hebel.”