He wasn’t kind; he was a sentimentalist, a very different thing. And like all sentimentalists, he could turn vicious in a moment if thwarted. But how had she thwarted him? What did he want? How much did he know? He’d hinted at this and that, but was it out of tactful discretion, as he’d claimed, or just out of ignorance? He had been playing some sort of game with her, of that she felt sure, but she didn’t know the nature, still less the purpose, of the game. In fact she really didn’t know anything much about Danilo at all, she realized.

On the other hand, she thought, returning to the living room for an unheard-of second cigarette, he didn’t know anything much about her. So there was really nothing to worry about, except of course for those concerned with ‘the honour of the regiment’. They must have been shitting their neatly starched knickers, she thought, using an Austrian expression occasionally voiced by her bilingual mother. If this investigator for the Ministry of the Interior ever found out even a fraction of what had really occurred all those years ago, the honour of the regiment would resemble a pair of those soiled knickers for the foreseeable future. It would be the scandal to end all scandals.

But those in power would of course take steps to prevent this happening, hence the discreetly menacing tone of Danilo’s parting shot. She was to be careful how she handled herself with the police, not just because of her own involvement in the matter, but because if she said the wrong thing and became a liability to those who had even more to lose they would not hesitate to sacrifice her in order to save themselves. Yes, that had been the message: a crude threat wrapped in a thin layer of superficial concern.

She swallowed another gulp of Cinzano, reeling from this revelation but pleased and proud that she still had the wit to work it out. Very well, the situation was clear. Now she had to decide what to do, a much harder matter, and one she certainly didn’t feel up to tackling now.