Didi, I thought; oh, my God. they've found out about Didi. Or believe they've found out. I had no idea what the age of consent was in Switzerland. Probably it varied from canton to canton, like everything else in the country. We were in the canton of Bern. It could be anything up to twenty-one, with all those girls' schools.

'I consider this an intrusion,' I said coldly. 'And I'd like an explanation immediately.'

Again, the assistant manager spoke rapidly in German to the policeman. The policeman nodded. He had an extremely stiff mechanical nod. His neck was thick and rolled over his collar.

'Police Officer Brugelmann has authorized me to explain,' the assistant manager said. 'Briefly, Mr Grimes, a robbery has been committed. Last night. On floor number five of the hotel. A valuable diamond necklace has been reported missing.'

Eunice's room had been on the fifth floor. 'What's that got to do with me?' I asked, relieved. At least Didi Wales wasn't involved.

There was another exchange in German. Before I leave for anywhere next time, I thought, I'm going to Berlitz.

'You have been noticed last night, late, prowling in the halls of the hotel,' the assistant manager said.

'I was visiting a friend,' I said. 'I was not prowling.’

'I was merely translating,' the assistant manager said unhappily. He was not enjoying his task and was probably ' regretting he had ever bothered to learn English.

The police officer said something softly.

The lady you were visiting,' the assistant manager said, 'checked out of the hotel at eight-thirty this morning. Do you happen to know her destination?'

'No,' I said. Almost honestly. I had never asked Eunice for her address. The note she had sent me was crammed into the pocket of my bathrobe. I hoped it didn't show.

The police officer rattled out several sentences that Bounded unpleasant.

The police officer asks permission to search the premises,' the assistant manager said. The words seemed to strangle in his throat.

'Does he have a warrant?' I asked, American to the last civil-rights, amicus curiae, Supreme Court brief.

There was another exchange in German.

There is no warrant. As yet,' the assistant manager said. 'If you insist on a warrant. Police Officer Brugelmann says he will have to take you to the bureau of police and keep you there until the warrant is made out. He warns that it may take a long time. Maybe two days. There will be no avoiding publicity, he says. There are always many foreign newspapermen here. Because of the quality and prominence of our guests.'

'Did he say all that?' I asked.

'I added some on my own,' the assistant manager admitted. 'So that you can have a proper basis for action.'

I stared at Police Officer Brugelmann. He stared back glacially. It was warm in the room, but he hadn't unbuttoned his overcoat. He was a naturally cryogenic man. Snakes and birds were his blood cousins. 'All right,' I said. I seated myself in an easy chair. 'I have nothing to hide. Let him start looking. But please make it quick. I have an appointment at eleven.'

The assistant manager translated and Police Officer Brugelmann nodded stiffly in satisfaction. Then he motioned for me to stand up.

'What does he want now?' I asked.

'He wants to look at the chair.'

I stood up, admiring, despite myself, the talent for his profession of Police Officer Brugelmann. Naturally, if the necklace was hidden in the chair, I would immediately sit on it. I moved away and watched the police officer run his hand over the cushion, then pick it up and poke down into the upholstery. Then he put the cushion back, patting it neatly, and motioned politely that I could seat myself again.

After that, he went swiftly through all my belongings. When he had gone through the closet, he took out my ski pants and held them up, saying something to the assistant manager, obviously, from his tone, a question. The assistant manager fidgeted nervously with the button of his jacket as he translated. 'Police Officer Brugelmann wishes to know,' he said, 'if these ski trousers are the only ones you have brought with you.' 'Yes,' I said.

'Where it wass you wass before?' the police officer was getting impatient with the business of translation and now showed that he could speak a variant of English. 'St Moritz,' I said, 'Davos.'

'St Moritz? With only these?' The police officer sounded incredulous. 'And now Gstaad, too?' 'They do the job,' I said.

'How long you plan the entire holiday iss to endure, Mr Grimes?'

'Three weeks. Perhaps more.'

Solemnly, the police officer hung the pants back in the closet. Then he turned back to me, taking out a black, plastic-covered pad as he did so, and seating himself at the small desk, so that he could write comfortably. 'Now I am afraid I must some questions ask,' he said. 'Permanent address in the United States?'

I nearly said the Hotel St Augustine, then gave him the address on East Eighty-first Street. It was as permanent as anything else and if Interpol, or whoever it might be, inquired, at least they couldn't accuse me of lying.

'Profession?' The police officer kept his head down as he laboriously wrote in his pad. 'Private investor,' I said briskly. 'Bank?'

From the expression on his face I knew that sooner or later I would have to explain this more fully.

The water was getting deep. 'Union Bank of Switzerland. Zurich.' I thanked Miles Fabian in my heart as I said this for having insisted on our opening separate accounts in each of our names there for what he called walking-around money. In America?'

'I've given up banking in America,' I said. 'I'm considering moving to Europe. The economy...'

'Have you ever been arrested before?' The police officer said. 'Now, see here,' I appealed to the assistant manager. 'I'm a guest in this hotel. It's supposed to be one of the best hotels in Europe. I don't have to answer insulting questions like that.'

'It is only standard police procedure.' The button on the assistant manager's coat was almost off by now. 'It is not personal. Others are being questioned, too.'

The policeman didn't look up from his pad, writing and talking at the same time.

'You know Mr Miles Fabian, don't you?' I said.

'Of course. Mr Fabian is an old and honored guest of ours,' said the assistant manager.

'Well, he's my good friend. Why don't you call him and ask him about me?'

The assistant manager spoke in swift German. The police officer nodded and said, 'Before haff you ever been arrested?'

'No, by God!'

'One thing more.' The police officer stood up. 'I would like your passport.'

'What do you need my passport for?'

'To make sure you remain in Switzerland, Hen" Grimes.'

'What if I don't give my passport?'

"Then other measures I would have to take. Like confining you. Swiss prisons are of a good reputation. But they are still prisons.'

'Please, Mr Grimes,' the assistant manager said.

I went over to my wallet and took out my passport. 'I am going to see a lawyer,' I said to Officer Brugelmann, as I gave him the passport.

'You are at liberty,' he said, stuffing the passport into an inside pocket of his black coat. 'Please, keep yourself free for other questions. I belieff that iss all for the moment.' He nodded, working the stiff hinge of his powerful cantonal neck, and went out.

The assistant manager wrung his hands. 'I offer you the sincere apologies of the management This is terribly embarrassing for all of us.'

'Us?' I said. I had no intention of making things easy for him.

'It is these careless rich women,' he said. 'They have no idea of the value of money. They leave eighty thousand dollars worth of jewelry in the train and then there is hysteria for days while we try to recover it. Luckily, we are in Switzerland ...'