‘Emmeline,’ said a voice which I thought must be Himmler’s. ‘Was it the Jews who murdered you? Was it Jews who used your blood?’

Another long silence.

‘She doesn’t know,’ said Weisthor. ‘They didn’t say who or what they were. They didn’t look like any of the pictures she’s seen of Jews. What’s that, my dear? She says that it might have been but she doesn’t want to get anyone into trouble, no matter what they did to her. She says that if it was the Jews then they were just bad Jews, and that not all Jews would have approved of such a thing. She doesn’t want to say any more about that. She just wants someone to go and get her out of that dirty barrel. Yes, I’m sure someone will organize it, Emmeline. Don’t worry.’

‘Tell her that I shall personally see to it that it happens tonight,’ said Himmler. ‘The child has my own word on that.’

‘What’s that you said? All right. Emmeline says to thank you for trying to help her. And she says to tell mother and father that she loves them very much indeed, but not to worry about her now. Nothing can bring her back. You should both get on with your lives and put what has happened behind you. Try and be happy. Emmeline has to go now.’

‘Goodbye, Emmeline,’ sobbed Hildegard.

‘Goodbye,’ I said.

Once again there was silence, but for the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. I was glad of the darkness because it hid my face, which must have shown my anger, and afforded me an opportunity to breathe my way back to a semblance of quiet sadness and resignation. If it hadn’t been for the two or three minutes that elapsed from the end of Weisthor’s performance and the raising of the lights, I think that I would have shot them all where they sat: Weisthor, Rahn, Vogelmann, Lange — shit, I’d have murdered the whole dirty lot of them just for the sheer satisfaction of it. I’d have made them take the barrel in their mouths and blown the backs of their heads on to each other’s faces. An extra nostril for Himmler. A third eye-socket for Kindermann.

I was still breathing heavily when the lights went up again, but this was easily mistaken for grief. Hildegard’s face was shiny with tears, which provoked Himmler to put his arm around her. Catching my eye he nodded grimly.

Weisthor was the last to get to his feet. He swayed for a moment as if he would fall, and Rahn took hold of him by the elbow. Weisthor smiled, and patted his friend’s hand gratefully.

‘I can see by your face, my dear lady, that your daughter came through.’