was sitting on. So I wasn't too bothered. And he intrigued me – his questions about Dr Berlin.'
`What sort of questions?'
`Had he returned to Priwall Island? Did I know him? When I said no – except twenty years ago in Kenya – he wanted to know his timetable. How much time he spent here. How long he was away. When he was away. In the end I told him I was a diplomat's wife, not a bloody walking encyclopaedia. He pushed off soon afterwards, limping back across the gangway.'
`He was lame? Could you describe him?'
`This is getting a bit much. No, I couldn't describe him. He said the strong light hurt his eyes, so I turned them down with the dimmer. About Bob's height and build, I think. He wore one of those floppy duffel coats, so it was hard to tell. That was the night the strange power cruiser put in here.'
`Strange?'
`Never seen it before. It moored at the landing-stage beyond the Sudwind. It arrived a few minutes before this so-called Andrews appeared like a genie out of a bottle.'
`It's still here?' Newman asked.
`No. It must have moved off during the night. It was gone by morning. The Nocturne.'
Tweed froze, his glass half way to his mouth. He frowned, trying to recollect where he'd heard the name before. She misinterpreted his expression.
`I do know what I'm talking about. I was just going below when I saw it berthing. I used my night-glasses to read the name on the hull. Nocturne. I suppose,' she continued, 'as an insurance man all you know about is statistics. Nocturne, I said. Chopin composed them.'
`I have heard of Chopin…'
`Good for you. Oh, look whom we have here. We are honoured. How are you, Diana, darling? Care for a drink? You've never been known to say no.'
`You're looking marvellous,' Diana said as she came aboard. `This old thing?'
`I meant the outfit, not what's inside it…'
`Really?' Grayle placed her glass carefully on the table, rose slowly to her feet, her expression icy, as Tweed stood up quickly, staring at Diana. Grayle opened her mouth, closed it without saying anything, and studied Diana before speaking.
`What's wrong? You're trembling.'
`I'm terribly sorry. That was unforgivably rude of me.. `Something's happened?' Tweed asked.
Diana clenched her hands, took a deep breath. She looked at Tweed, then at Newman. She unclenched her hands, folded both arms across her breasts as though struggling for control.
`Could you both come to the Sudwind? Something has happened.'
`Someone has been on board while we were in England. All my things have been searched. I'll have to wash everything – the thought of a burglar feeling my underclothes…'
`There's no outward sign of a burglary,' Newman remarked.
`Yes, but a woman can tell when someone has been rifling her things. They tried to cover it up, but I can tell. Things are not the way I left them. And, it's weird. They've put new locks on the cupboards I don't use – which are most of them.'
`Show me an example,' said Tweed.
`This cupboard, this one – and this one…'
The locks certainly looked new, and they were deadlocks – not what you expected aboard a cruiser. Tweed stared round the cabin. The storage space was considerable. And it would take more than a skeleton key to open these locks. He looked at Newman, who was checking the general capacity of the newly-secured cupboards.
`All the drawers containing your own property were locked?' Newman asked.
`None of them were. They don't lock. I'm packing all my things now.' She heaved a suitcase down off a shelf, placed it on a table, flipped open the case. She started taking her clothes out of a drawer, putting them inside the case. 'I'm clearing out. Could I stay with you at the Jensen? I'll pay for my room. You've spent too much on me already…'
Her hands were trembling again. Tweed put an arm round her waist, sat her down on the edge of a bunk.
`You need a drink. Where is it?'
`In that cupboard.' She pointed. 'Cognac, please. Just a little.'
Newman found the bottle and the glasses, poured a small quantity into a glass and handed it to her. She took several sips, put the glass down.
`Thank you. Both of you.'
`You seem exceptionally upset,' Tweed observed, sitting beside her. 'Is it only the burglary? It doesn't look like a normal burglary.'
`It's those new locks. I've got to get out of here – away from Travemunde. He must be back.'
`Dr Berlin?'
`It's his boat.'
`How are you off for money?' Tweed asked, changing the subject.
`I'm all right at the moment. And soon I'll be able to earn my own living. In London I called a couple of secretarial agencies. I was amazed what they pay for a competent secretary. It's time I stood on my own feet. I'm all right now. Let me get on with the packing. I feel I must do something…'
Tweed stood up, asked Newman to stay with her, then walked back along the landing-stage to the waterfront. Butler was leaning against a lamp post, taking random shots with a camera. Tweed paused beside him, cleaning his glasses. His lips hardly moved.
`Emergency. Diana must be guarded night and day. She could be in danger of her life. The risk has increased enormously. Tell Nield. Arrange a roster between you – one on, one off. Then you can both get some sleep.'
`Understood.'
Butler had his camera raised, was snapping a large white passenger ship just approaching the narrows from Sweden. Tweed was turning to go back to the Sudwind when a uniformed policeman ran across the road and spoke. Tweed thought he recognized the man from Lubeck-Sud.
`Mr Tweed?'
`Yes.'
`Chief Inspector Kuhlmann is on the phone. Wants to speak to you urgently. Can you come back with me to the station?'
Inside the small police station facing the waterfront, Tweed was given a tiny room on his own. He picked up the receiver lying on its side and stood, looking out of the window.
`Tweed speaking. How did you know I was here?'
`I had you followed. Chap on a motor-cycle. That's immaterial. Kurt Franck didn't murder those blonde girls.'
`I did wonder. How do you know that?'
`Pathologist's report after examining the knife. It's very similar to the weapon used, but it's not the weapon. They've checked it under the microscope. There's a minute nick in the blade – so small you'd never notice it with the naked eye. However carefully that knife had been cleaned traces of dried blood, human skin, flesh, etc. would have remained inside the nick. No traces. And the curve of the blade isn't quite the right angle.'
`So my theory becomes valid again…'
`The theory you won't tell me about?' Kuhlmann snapped.
`Because I'm not sure I'm right. It's become complicated again, grimly so. And I suppose if I asked you to search one of Dr Berlin's cruisers, the Sudwind – rip it apart – you'd jump back a kilometre?'
`Ten kilometres. If I hadn't had friends in Bonn that raid would have finished me. And my job is to find that mass- murderer. Top priority.'
`You think you'll succeed?'
`They never did identify your Jack the Ripper.'
Ten days passed. Newman had the impression Tweed was in a passive phase, an opinion shared by Butler and Nield when the two men discussed their chief.
`He's waiting for something to happen, a development,' said Butler, who knew Tweed well. 'When it does,
