‘Nobody.’ He had everything to gain by remembering some chance passer-by, and I believed him. He said, ‘I noticed myself how quiet and dead the whole street looked. Part of it had been bombed, you know, and the moon was shining on the snow slopes. It was so very silent. I could hear my own feet creaking in the snow.’

‘Of course, it proves nothing. There is a basement where anybody who had followed you could have hidden.’

‘Yes.’

‘Or your whole story may be phoney.’

‘Yes.’

‘The trouble is I can see no motive for you to have done it. It’s true you are already guilty of getting money on false pretences. You came out here to join Lime, perhaps to help him …’

Martins said to me, ‘What was this precious racket you keep on hinting at?’

‘I’d have told you all the facts when I first saw you if you hadn’t lost your temper so damned quickly. Now I don’t think I shall be acting wisely to tell you. It would be disclosing official information, and your contacts, you know, don’t inspire confidence. A girl with phoney papers supplied by Lime, this man Kurtz …’

‘Dr Winkler …’

‘I’ve got nothing against Dr Winkler. No, if you are phoney, you don’t need the information, but it might help you to learn exactly what we know. You see, our facts are not complete.’

‘I bet they aren’t. I could invent a better detective than you in my bath.’

‘Your literary style does not do your namesake justice.’ Whenever he was reminded of Mr Crabbin, that poor harassed representative of the British Council, Rollo Martins turned pink, with annoyance, embarrassment, shame. That too inclined me to trust him.

He had certainly given Crabbin some uncomfortable hours. On returning to Sacher’s Hotel after his interview with Herr Koch he had found a desperate note waiting for him from the representative.