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on the look-out for number three. Keep a very wary eye open, Meadowes. A wary eye. That's my advice.”
    And in high good humour Major Bletchley wheeled about at the end of the parade and set the pace for a smart walk back to breakfast at Sans Souci.
    In the meantime, Tuppence had gently continued her walk along the esplanade, passing quite close to the shelter and the young couple talking there. As she passed she caught a few words. It was the girl speaking.
    “But you must be careful, Carl. The very least suspicion -”
    Tuppence was out of earshot. Suggestive words? Yes, but capable of any number of harmless interpretations. Unobtrusively she turned and again passed the two. Again words floated to her.
    “Smug, detestable English...”
    The eyebrows of Mrs Blenkensop rose ever so slightly. Hardly, she thought, a very wise conversation. Carl von Deinim was a refugee from Nazi persecution, given asylum and shelter by England. Neither wise nor grateful to listen assentingly to such words.
    Again Tuppence turned. But this time, before she reached the shelter, the couple had parted abruptly, the girl to cross the road leaving the sea front, Carl von Deinim to come along in Tuppence's direction.
    He would not, perhaps, have recognized her but for her own pause and hesitation. Then quickly, he brought his heels together and bowed.
    Tuppence twittered at him:
    “Good morning, Mr von Deinim, isn't it? Such a lovely morning.”
    “Ah, yes. The weather is fine.”
    Tuppence ran on.
    “It quite tempted me. I don't often come out before breakfast. But this morning, what with not sleeping very well - one often doesn't sleep well in a strange place, I find. It takes a day or two to accustom oneself, I always say.”
    “Oh yes, no doubt that is so.”
    “And really this little walk has quite given me an appetite for breakfast.”
    “You go back to Sans Souci now? If you permit I will walk with you.” He walked gravely by her side.
    Tuppence said:
    “You also are out to get an appetite?”
    Gravely, he shook his head.
    “Oh, no. My breakfast I have already had it. I am on my way to work.”
    “Work?”
    “I am a research chemist.”
    So that's what you are, thought Tuppence, stealing a quick glance at him.
    Carl von Deinim went on, his voice stiff.
    “I came to this country to escape Nazi persecution. I have very little money - no friends. I do now what useful work I can.”
    He stared straight ahead of him. Tuppence was conscious of some undercurrent of strong feeling moving him powerfully.
    She murmured vaguely:
    “Oh, yes, I see. I see. Very creditable, I am sure.”
    Carl von Deinim said:
    “My two brothers are in concentration camps. My father died in one. My mother died of sorrow and fear.”
    Tuppence thought:
    “The way he says that - as though he had learned it by heart.”
    Again she stole a quick glance at him. He was still staring ahead of him, his face impassive.
    They walked in silence for some moments. Two men passed them. One of them shot a quick glance at Carl. She heard him mutter to his companion:
    “Bet you that fellow is a German.”
    Tuppence saw the colour rise in Carl von Deinim's cheeks.
    Suddenly he lost command of himself. That tide of hidden emotion came to the surface. He stammered:
    “You heard - you heard - that is what they say - I -”
    “My dear boy!” Tuppence reverted suddenly to her real self. Her voice was crisp and compelling. “Don't be an idiot. You can't have it both ways.”
    He turned his head and stared at her.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You're a refugee. You have to take the rough with the smooth. You're alive, that's the main thing. Alive and free. For the other - realize that it's inevitable. This country's at war. You're a German.” She smiled suddenly. “You can't expect the mere man in the street - literally the man in the street - to distinguish between bad Germans and good Germans, if I may put it so crudely.”
    He still stared at her. His eyes, so very blue,