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taking his words at face value.
    Such an inflammatory statement was typical of von Hobarty, however, Werthen knew. He had made a career in Parliament with just such antics as leader of the far right Fatherland Party, demanding racial purity and a union with ‘our German brothers’. A brawl in the Parliament which had left one Czech member in a vegetative state for several months had earned von Hobarty six months in prison and finally ended his political career. Since that time, he had retired to this family estate in Styria and taken to growing premium wines and cultivating his reputation with the occasional blustery article in the
Deutsches Volksblatt
, the
Reischspost,
and other right-wing newspapers that promoted the ideas of German racial purity and blamed all the ills of society on the Jewish community.
    ‘As I am sure you know,’ Gross proceeded, ‘this is just one of a series of similar crimes perpetrated in this vicinity in the last month.’
    ‘Terrible,’ von Hobarty said. ‘I blame it on the leadership in Vienna. They refuse to firm up our borders. The empire is as porous as a sponge. Any sort of riff-raff is allowed in. If this were a true German country nothing like this would happen.’
    ‘Yes,’ Gross said mildly. ‘You might bring that idea up with the Munich constabulary who are this very moment looking for their own pathological murderer whom the papers have dubbed the “Schwabing Ripper”. Or the Frankfurt police and their homegrown “vampire killer” captured just last year after killing nine young men and drinking their blood. A good German he proved to be.’
    ‘There’s been a weakening of our race, an insidious eating away at the moral fiber by pornographers, most of them from the east.’
    Code word for Jew, Werthen knew. He, unlike Gross, was not going to rise to von Hobarty’s crude bait.
    ‘I mention these other cases only to put ours into some perspective, Herr von Hobarty,’ Gross continued. ‘You know that Fräulein Klein was pregnant?’
    Von Hobarty nodded. ‘Terrible times we live in.’
    ‘How long had she worked for you?’
    ‘You will need to confer with my majordomo about that. I hardly have the time to keep track of my domestics. I doubt I said more than one word to the girl.’
    ‘According to your cook, she did serve upstairs from time to time.’
    ‘Well, if Frau Anschitz says so, it must be so.’
    Gross continued to ask his questions but got nowhere. No, von Hobarty did not know the other two young women killed and why ask such a damn silly question? No, he had no idea why Ursula Klein should be out in the grounds so late at night. No, he had no inkling of who her young man might have been; he was a landlord not a matchmaker.
    Werthen listened and also watched von Hobarty closely. Clearly the man had a temper and a tendency toward violence. That was demonstrated by the beating he had given to the Czech minister. But what motive would he have for killing Ursula Klein? Simply to cover up his parentage? A man like von Hobarty would simply ship the young woman off as Frau Anschitz implied had happened before with other kitchen staff. A bit of money to keep her quiet; much simpler than murder.
    But, Werthen went on with his mental calculations, what if, as rumor had it, von Hobarty’s family wealth from his engineer father was fast diminishing with von Hobarty’s lavish experiments in viniculture? It was cold enough in the library; one would think the man would have a roaring fire going in the hearth. Perhaps the rumors were true and he simply did not have the requisite funds to buy the girl off. Or, what if Ursula Klein was not as pliant as other girls? What if she demanded some acknowledgement. Gross suspected that Ursula Klein might be of Jewish background. That was yet to be ascertained. But if so, von Hobarty, pillar of the pan-German movement, known for his virulent anti-Semitism, may not have been too eager for news of his sexual relations with a poor