“But you must help me. I must catch him at Santa Chiara, for it is a business of life and death. Is there a car to be had?”
“There is mine. But there is no chauffeur. Chelius took him.”
“I can drive myself and I know the road. But I have no pass to cross the frontier.”
“That is easily supplied,” he said, smiling.
In one bookcase there was a shelf of dummy books. He unlocked this and revealed a small cupboard, whence he took a tin dispatch-box. From some papers he selected one, which seemed to be already signed.
“Name?” he asked.
“Call me Hans Gruber of Brieg,” I said. “I travel to pick up my master, who is in the timber trade.”
“And your return?”
“I will come back by my old road,” I said mysteriously; and if he knew what I meant it was more than I did myself.
He completed the paper and handed it to me. “This will take you through the frontier posts. And now for the car. The servants will be in bed, for they have been preparing for a long journey, but I will myself show it you. There is enough petrol on board to take you to Rome.”