Free Return to Vienna by Nancy Buckingham

able to get the full truth from him. I was still tormented by the idea of Max making love to Mitzi Flamm.
    Pent up, the words came tumbling out. “She claims that she and Max were lovers at one time.”
    “What?” Richard looked absolutely astounded.
    With relief I saw that the fat woman had disappeared through a curtained archway behind the counter, so I guessed she didn’t understand English at all.
    I whispered, “Is it true, Richard? Did Max ever. .?”
    “Of course it’s not true! You don’t imagine Max was that sort of man, do you?”
    It didn’t tie up with Steve’s comments, and I wanted to confront Richard with the contradiction. But something held me back from admitting I’d already discussed this with Steve. I knew that Richard wouldn’t approve.
    I said weakly, “Are you quite sure? I mean, Max never pretended there hadn’t been other women before he met me. It was just the idea of Mitzi Flamm . .. That’s silly of me, I suppose.”
    Why couldn’t I let it go, I thought angrily. Hadn’t Max said in his last letter that I was the only woman who had ever mattered to him?
    Richard was stirring his coffee absentmindedly. After a while he said slowly, “No, it’s not true about Mitzi. You mustn’t upset yourself, Jessica. The woman is obviously trying to be vindictive for some reason—maybe because she made a play for Max and he chose you.”
    That fitted in with my own hopeful reasoning. I could take anything Mitzi liked to hand out if jealousy was her driving force. But why, I wondered, had Steve seemed to be making excuses for Max about something that had never happened?
    Richard was speaking again. “Don’t let Mitzi Flamm get you down—she really might be useful to us, you know. A woman of her type has so many contacts.”
    I nodded. But I was still thinking about Steve. It didn’t seem fair of him, because what he had hinted about Max and Mitzi couldn’t fail to leave a scar upon my heart. I felt immensely grateful to Richard, and unhappy and bewildered about Steve.
    “So you won’t go having a row with Mitzi, will you?” I heard Richard say.
    “No, all right. You needn’t worry.”
    “Be nice to her, and keep your ears open.”
    I sighed. “I’ll do my best, but she’s not easy to be nice to.”
    Richard smiled faintly. “You’re a smart girl, Jessica. I’m sure you can manage friend Mitzi without any trouble.”
    He picked up his cup and drank down the coffee in a couple of gulps, pulling a face because it was cold and probably tasted awful. I’d not even touched mine, and wasn’t going to bother. As he chinked the cup back on its saucer, he said, “We’d better break it up now. I’ll be in touch again soon.”
    “Richard ...” I began hesitatingly. “Isn’t there some way I can get hold of you? It makes me feel so cut off, not knowing when I might hear from you again. Suppose I was in trouble!”
    “What sort of trouble?”
    “Well, anything. ... I might need your help.” I had a sudden thought. “Could I talk to the man you’ve got following me?”
    “No, you mustn’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “Don’t you see, it would be too risky. You’re supposed to be here in Vienna on your own. If you were seen speaking to one of my men, it could easily scare off for good the very people we’re hoping will come forward. And besides, it might give the game away to the enemy.”
    It frightened me, the way he said that. “The enemy ... ?”
    “That’s exactly what they are, Jessica, and they don’t pull any punches. Do I have to remind you what they did to Max?”
    At that moment the door from the street burst open with a sudden crash, and I froze with fear, until I remembered how tightly it got stuck with the damp. The two men who came in were hefty in black reefers and shiny peaked caps—deckhands off one of the Danube boats, probably. Grinning amiably, they called for coffee and Wurstsemmel. There was nothing about their appearance to cause any alarm, but