She said firmly, “But it is – why would Katie Holdt lie? In any case, I can tell that she definitely is the little girl and there’s an unmistakable family likeness between her and the soldier. It must be her brother.”
“Then who was the man in your compartment?” Hardt said to Chavasse.
Chavasse shook his head. “He wasn’t Muller, we can be certain of that.”
“Then what do you think happened?”
Chavasse pulled on his raincoat and buttoned it quickly. “I’d only be guessing,” he said, “and I never like to do that. Let’s say a certain pattern has formed in my mind. I think a few words with Otto Schmidt might go a long way toward completing the picture.”
“Then we’ll go and see him,” Hardt said. He turned to Anna. “We’ll take the car. Have you got the keys?”
She quickly took them from her bag and handed them across, and then she opened the door for them. Hardt went out without a word, but as Chavasse descended the stairs, he glanced back and saw her still standing there, framed in the opening of the door. She raised her hand and her mouth moved silently. When he looked back again, she had closed the door.
THEY parked the car around the corner from Steinerstrasse and walked the rest of the way. Hardt found the apartment house with no difficulty and they moved inside. Schmidt’s apartment was on the third floor and they paused outside the door and listened. There was no sound and Chavasse gently tried the door. It was locked.
Hardt pressed the bell firmly, holding it in position, and they waited. Within a few moments, they heard steps approaching the door. It opened on a chain and Schmidt said sleepily, “Yes, who is it?”
“Police!” Chavasse said gruffly in German. “Come on, open up!”
Schmidt seemed to come to life at once. He disengaged the chain and opened the door. As he saw Chavasse, his jaw dropped. Chavasse moved in quickly and jabbed a fist into the man’s belly before he could cry out. Schmidt sagged at the knees and started to keel forward. Chavasse ducked, caught him across one shoulder, and walked on into the room.