The Salzburg Connection by Helen MacInnes

him with wide eyes. “He could be one,” he ended lamely. I made a mistake there, he thought; she knows I must have told Felix about Finstersee.
    “Quite possibly,” Felix said. “The rumours about Finstersee might well attract dubious types.” He watched Anna’s face.
    “What rumours?” She kept the fear out of her eyes. “He was only trying to help us. I know. I felt it.”
    “Anna and her instincts,” Johann said jokingly. “She liked him, so she trusted him.”
    What rumours? she kept asking herself. There could be no rumours unless Eric Yates had spread them. Or Johann, if he had talked too much to Felix. Or Felix himself?
    “My dear Anna,” he was saying, “never trust anyone unless you know he is on your side.”
    “Sometimes not even then,” she said bitterly. She walked slowly into the long hallway, looking down at the Manila envelope in her hands.
    “And who was that Parthian shot aimed at?” Felix asked, keeping his voice amused for Anna’s benefit.
    “Me,” Johann said glumly. “You weren’t supposed to know about Finstersee, Felix, why don’t you tell Anna who you really—”
    “How’s your cold?” Felix asked quickly. Anna was within earshot.
    “I haven’t had time to think about it in the last hour. Perhaps that’s part of the cure.”
    Anna had reached the kitchen. Felix moved swiftly over to the door that separated the shop from the hallway and was usually forgotten, so that it stayed open most of the time. He closed it gently. “I’m leaving for Unterwald,” he said very quietly. “Are you feeling fit enough to go there, too? You’ll have to look after Anna first—get her settled with a neighbour or take her over to my house. She can’t be left alone here. You see—I have bad news.” He paused. But Johann had got his message. “Yes,” Felix added gently, “Bryant is dead.”
    “How? Where?”
    “His car skidded off the hill road near St George’s Church. I got word from the Bad Aussee police just before two o’clock. After you telephoned me this morning, I called them to keep an eye open for his Volkswagen and let me know when it passed through Bad Aussee. But he took the other road.”
    “Was he alive when they found him? Could he talk?”
    “No. His neck was broken. He had been thrown out of the car as it fell down the slope—the door had opened, been wrenched off its hinges as the car turned over and over; it was lying not far from his body. It’s the only thing left of the car.”
    “It burned?”
    “At the bottom of a gully where it landed eventually. They haven’t been able to get near it so far.”
    Johann was scarcely listening. “I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it! A skid? Dick was too careful a driver. And he knew that road, he knew—” Shock gave way to pain. “Anna—how am I to tell Anna?”
    Felix Zauner had no answer for that. Each man had to find his own way to tell his bad news. “While you’re with Anna, I’ll use your phone. Did the American mention where he was staying?”
    The practical voice was like a bucket of water doused over Johann. He stared at Felix. Half-angrily he said, “The Salzburger Hof. And he left a card. Somewhere.” He gestured contemptuously at the counter. “Business as usual?” he asked bitterly, turned on his heel and left.
    At least, thought Zauner as he moved quickly to the counter and found Mathison’s card, Johann is under control again. Small help he would be to Anna if he started going to piecesright now. Besides, urgency waits for no man. He picked up the telephone and got through to his office. “Dietrich,” he said crisply, “I’m just about to leave. Any further reports from Unterwald? God, they are slow! Here is something else for you to worry about. I want all information on a William Mathison, American, possibly staying at the Salzburger Hof. If he isn’t, check all the other hotels in town. Give him complete surveillance when you trace him. Yes, complete! And find out from