The other man, Otto Rahn, came to Vogelmann’s assistance.

‘What Herr Vogelmann is trying to suggest, with as much good taste as he can in the circumstances, is that you consider enlisting the services of a medium to help you find your daughter.’ His accent was educated and he spoke with the speed of a man from somewhere like Frankfurt.

‘A medium?’ I said. ‘You mean spiritualism?’ I shrugged. ‘We’re not believers in that sort of thing.’ I wanted to hear what Rahn might have to say in order to sell us on the idea.

He smiled patiently. ‘These days it’s hardly a matter of belief. Spiritualism is now more of a science. There have been some quite amazing developments since the war, especially in the last decade.’

‘But isn’t this illegal?’ I asked meekly. ‘I’m sure I read somewhere that Count Helldorf had banned all professional fortune-telling in Berlin, why, as long ago as 1934.’

Rahn was smooth and not at all deflected by my choice of phrase.

‘You’re very well-informed, Herr Steininger. And you’re right, the Police President did ban them. Since then, however, the situation has been satisfactorily resolved, and racially sound practitioners in the psychic sciences are incorporated in the Independent Professions sections of the German Labour Front. It was only ever the mixed races, the Jews and the gypsies, that gave the psychic sciences a bad name. Why, these days the Führer himself employs a professional astrologer. So you see, things have come a long way since Nostradamus.’

Vogelmann nodded and chuckled quietly.

So this was the reason Reinhard Lange was sponsoring Vogelmann’s advertising campaign, I thought. To drum up a little business for the floating wine-glass trade. It looked like quite a neat operation too. Your detective failed to find your missing person, after which, through the mediation of Otto Rahn, you were passed on to an apparently higher power. This service probably resulted in your paying several times as much for the privilege of finding out what was already obvious: that your loved one slept with the angels.

Yes indeed, I thought, a neat piece of theatre. I was going to enjoy putting these people away. You can sometimes forgive a man who works a line, but not the ones who prey on the grief and suffering of others. That was like stealing the cushions off a pair of crutches.

‘Peter,’ said Hildegard, ‘I don’t see that we really have much to lose.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘I’m so glad you think so,’ said Vogelmann. ‘One always hesitates to recommend such a thing, but I think that in this case, there is really little or no alternative.’

‘What will it cost?’

‘This is Emmeline’s life we’re talking about,’ Hildegard snapped. ‘How can you mention money?’