âI am not a shopkeeper. I do not charge for blankets.â
âBut you must. I insist. Blankets cost money.â
âPlease.â The truckdriver had left his table and approached them. âI shall be passing back this way tomorrow. I shall bring them with me.â
Petersen thanked them and so it was arranged. Alex, followed by the von Karajans, helped the innkeeper carry the blankets out to the truck. Petersen and George lingered briefly in the porch, closing both the inner and outer doors.
âYou really are the most fearful liar, George,â Petersen said admiringly. âCunning. Devious. Iâve said it before, I donât think Iâd care to be interrogated by you. You ask a question and whether people say yes, no or nothing at all you still get your answer.â
âWhen youâve spent twenty-five of the best years of your life dealing with dim-witted students â â George shrugged as if there were no more to say.
âIâm not a dim-witted student but I still wouldnât care for it. You have formed an opinion about our young friends?â
âI have.â
âSo have I. Iâve also formed another opinion about them and that is that while Michael is no intellectual giant, the girl could bear watching. I think she could be clever.â
âIâve often observed this with brother and sister, especially when theyâre twins. I share your opinion. Lovely and clever.â
Petersen smiled. âA dangerous combination?â
âNot if sheâs nice. Iâve no reason to think sheâs not nice.â
âYouâre just middle-aged and susceptible. The innkeeper?â
âApprehensive and unhappy. He doesnât look like a man who should be apprehensive and unhappy, he looks a big tough character who would be perfectly at home throwing big tough drunks out of his inn. Also, he seemed caught off-balance when you offered to pay for the meal. One got the unmistakable impression that there are some travellers who do not pay for their meals. Also his refusal to accept money for the blankets was out of character. Out of character for an Italian, I mean, for Iâve never known of an Italian who wasnât ready, eager rather, to make a deal on some basis or other. Peter, my friend, wouldnât even you be slightly nervous if you worked for, or were forced to work for the German SS?â
âColonel Lunz casts a long shadow. The waiter?â
âThe Gestapo have fallen in my estimation. When they send in an espionage agent in the guise of a waiter they should at least give him some training in the rudiments of table-waiting. I felt positively embarrassed for him.â George paused, then went on: âYou were talking about King Peter a few minutes ago.â
âYou introduced that subject.â
âThatâs irrelevant and donât hedge. As a departmental head in the university I was regarded â and rightly â as being a man of culture. Prince Paul was nothing if not a man of culture although his interests lay more in the world of art than in philology. Never mind. We met quite a few times, either in the university or at royal functions in the city. More to the point, I saw Prince Peter â as he was then â two or three times. He didnât have a limp in those days.â
âHe still doesnât.â
George looked at him then nodded slowly. âAnd you called me devious.â
Petersen opened the outer door and clapped him on the shoulder. âWe live in devious times, George.â
The second half of the trip was an improvement on the first but just marginally. Cocooned, as they were, to the ears in heavy blankets, the von Karajans were no longer subject to involuntary bouts of shivering and teeth-chattering but otherwise looked no happier and were no more communicative than they had been in the morning, which meant that they were both totally miserable and silent. They