for. There was a membership card for a club on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg in the name of Hans Muller, a faded snapshot of him in Luftwaffe uniform with his arm round a girl and several letters from someone called Lilli addressed to a hotel in Gluckstrasse, Hamburg.
Chavasse got slowly to his feet, his mind working rapidly. As he turned away from the body, his eyes fell upon the Mauser automatic pistol lying in the corner. As he bent to pick it up, there was a thunderous knocking on the door and it was flung open.
Inspector Steiner was standing there, the attendant peering anxiously over his shoulder. “Herr Chavasse?” Steiner said politely. “I regret to trouble you, but the attendant reports hearing a shot from this compartment. Have you any explanation?”
At the same moment he saw the Mauser lying on the floor and picked it up. The attendant gasped in horror and Sterner pushed Chavasse back into the compartment and followed him in.
Chavasse sat on the edge of the bunk and Steiner examined the body quickly. After a moment he called the attendant in. “What is your name?” he said.
“Schmidt, Herr Steiner,” the attendant said. “Otto Schmidt.” His face had turned a sickly yellow colour and he looked as if he might vomit at any moment.
“Pull yourself together, man,” Steiner snapped. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
Schmidt nodded. “He boarded the train at Osnabruck, Herr Steiner.”
“And then?” Steiner asked.
Schmidt glanced furtively at Chavasse. “I saw him enter this compartment.”
Steiner nodded. “I see. Ask Dr Kruger to step in here.”
Schmidt went out into the corridor and Steiner turned and held out his hand. Chavasse realized that he was still holding the things he had taken from Muller’s pocket and handed them over. Steiner examined the letters quickly and grunted. “This man, Hans Muller, who was he? Why did you kill him?”
Chavasse shrugged. “You tell me.”
Steiner bent down and picked up the wad of banknotes from beneath the washbasin. He held them up in one hand. “I don’t think we have to look very far, my friend, unless you are going to try to tell me this money is yours?”
Chavasse shook his head, “No, it isn’t mine.”
Steiner nodded in satisfaction. “Good, then we are getting somewhere. There was a quarrel, perhaps over this money. He struck you. There is the mark of the blow on your cheek and a cut caused by the rather ornate ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand.”
“And then I shot him?” Chavasse said helpfully.
Steiner shrugged. “You must admit it looks that way.”
At that moment Kruger came into the compartment. He glanced enquiringly at Steiner who nodded towards the body. Kruger frowned and dropped down on to one knee. After a brief examination he stood up. “A clean shot through the heart. Death must have been instantaneous.”
Steiner put the money into one of his pockets and became suddenly businesslike. “Have you anything further to tell me before I take you into custody, Herr Chavasse?”
Chavasse shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. There’s just one thing I’d like to ask Schmidt, if I may.” He turned to the attendant before Steiner could reply. “Tell me, Schmidt. Is there an American army sergeant travelling on the train?”
Schmidt looked genuinely bewildered. “An American army sergeant, mein Herr? No, you must be mistaken.”
Chavasse smiled gently. “Somehow I thought I was.” He got to his feet and turned to Steiner. “Well, where do we go, Inspector?”
Steiner looked enquiringly at Schmidt. “Have you an empty compartment?”
“Yes, Herr Steiner,” Schmidt said. “In one of the other coaches.”
Kruger, who had been listening in silence, stood to one side and Steiner pushed Chavasse into the corridor. The noise of the voices had brought several people to the doors of their compartments and as Chavasse followed Schmidt along the corridor, people stared curiously at him.
Sir George Harvey was standing outside his compartment, a bewildered expression on his face. As they approached he seemed about to raise a hand, but Chavasse frowned and shook his head slightly. Sir George stepped back into his compartment and closed the door.
Chavasse had decided a good ten minutes earlier that there was little point in sitting in a Hamburg gaol for six months while the lawyers argued over his ultimate fate. As they passed through the second coach a plan had already started to form in his mind.
The empty compartment was at the far end of the third coach and by the time they reached it he was ready. Schmidt bent down to unlock the door and Chavasse waited, Steiner close behind him. As the door started to open Chavasse pushed his hand into Schmidt’s back, sending him staggering into the compartment. At the same moment he whirled on the ball of one foot and rammed the stiffened fingers of his left hand into Steiner’s throat.
The policeman collapsed on to the floor of the corridor, hands tearing at his throat as his face turned purple. Chavasse quickly closed the compartment door, cutting off Schmidt’s cry of alarm and turned the key in the lock. Then he stepped over Steiner’s writhing body and ran back the way they had come.
His intention was to reach the sanctuary of Sir George Harvey’s compartment. There he would be safe, at least until they reached Hamburg. But first it was necessary to make Steiner believe he had left the train.
He turned the corner at the end of the corridor and reached for the handle of the emergency stop lever above the door. As the train started to slow, he opened the door and the cold night air sucked it outwards, sending it smashing back against the side of the coach.
He moved on quickly into the next coach. He was almost at the end of the corridor and within a few yards of Sir George’s compartment, when he heard voices coming towards him. For a moment he hesitated and then, as he turned to run, the door of the compartment behind him opened silently. A hand reached out and pulled him backwards through the doorway.
He lost his balance and fell to the floor. Behind him the door clicked firmly into place. He started to move, ready to come up like a steel spring uncoiling with explosive force, but he paused, one knee still on the floor.
Lying on the bunk in front of him was an American army uniform with the sergeant’s stripes showing on the neatly folded tunic. On top of the tunic rested a military cap and on top of the cap, a pair of thick-lensed, steel-rimmed spectacles.
3
The man who leaned against the door held an Italian Biretta automatic negligently in his right hand. He was of medium build and his eyes seemed very blue in the tawny face. An amused smile twisted the corners of his mouth. “You do seem to have stirred things up, old man,” he said in impeccable English.
The train had finally come to a stop and there was shouting in the corridor outside. Chavasse listened keenly and managed to distinguish Steiner’s voice. He scrambled to his feet and the man said, “Steiner doesn’t sound very pleased. What did you do to him?”
Chavasse
