“And when do you suggest we make it?”

“Tonight after dark, I think. I’ll see what I can find out about the place during the day.”

He opened the door and got out, and Chavasse slid across the seat and followed him. They walked to the door of the apartment house and Hardt paused outside.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Chavasse asked in surprise.

Hardt shook his head. “No, I’ll get back to my place. I could do with a few hours’ sleep. I’m afraid I can’t take you with me, but you’ll be all right here. Anna will make up a bed for you on the couch.”

“Aren’t you going to take the car?” Chavasse said.

Hardt shook his head. “I feel like the walk – it isn’t far.”

He started to move away, and then hesitated and turned slowly. Dawn was just beginning to break, and in its gray light he looked sickly and unwell.

“I didn’t lose my nerve back there,” he said.

“I know that,” Chavasse told him.

“It was just that ghastly sound when his head hit the cobbles. I’ve seen men die, I’ve killed several myself, but I’ve never heard anything quite like that.”

“Go home to bed.”

For a moment longer, Hardt stared fixedly at him, and then he walked slowly away along the wet pavement. Chavasse watched him for a little while, and then he turned in through the entrance to the apartment house and went quickly upstairs.

At his first light knock, Anna opened the door and let him in. As he peeled off his raincoat, she said anxiously, “Where’s Mark?”

“Gone back to his hotel,” Chavasse told her. “He’ll be getting in touch later in the day after he’s checked on Kruger’s clinic at Blankenese. We’ll be paying it a visit tonight after dark.”

She went into the kitchen and returned almost at once with a fresh pot of coffee. As she filled two cups, she said, “What happened – did you see Schmidt?”

He drank his coffee, sitting beside her on the couch, and told her. When he finished, she shuddered. “That poor man – what a horrible way to die.”