‘I thought that the General Staff had such a role,’ Berthe said.
‘In fact they do,’ Werthen told her, ‘but it is something of a newcomer. One hears of competition between the two. Frankly, I find the concept of military intelligence to have internal semantic contradictions.’
Gross remained silent through this, smiling to himself like a satisfied cat.
‘You think there is a connection between von Ebersdorf’s death and Mitzi’s?’ Werthen finally said to him.
Gross folded his hands over his paunch. ‘Possibly. I have never been one to subscribe to the powers of mere serendipity.’
‘First the biblical reference to spies,’ said Werthen. ‘In Joshua: 2. And now Mitzi’s foremost customer turns out to be involved in espionage. Do you actually think Fräulein Mitzi-’
‘We should not speculate at this point,’ Gross said. ‘It is, however, a possible avenue of investigation.’
‘And what does Drechsler think now that he’s seen the sketch?’
Gross imparted to them what the Inspector had told him that afternoon.
‘Meindl again,’ Werthen sighed. ‘The man is insuperable.’
‘But it does make how we should proceed with our investigation clear,’ Gross said.
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, considering this information.
Gross suddenly said, ‘But do excuse me, Frau Berthe. I interrupted you.’
Werthen also refocused. ‘Yes, Berthe. I really hope you did not accept Frau von Suttner’s case.’
‘I did accept. And you will not have to be involved. It is all settled. Frau von Suttner merely wishes to see where her husband goes and what he gets up to when he comes to Vienna with his niece.’
‘She suspects his niece?’ Werthen said.
‘I thought you were not interested in domestic cases? But yes, she does. So I and Fräulein Metzinger will take turns following the pair when they come to Vienna.’
‘But Fräulein Metzinger is needed in the law office,’ Werthen said to his wife. ‘And you have a child to care for.’
‘Don’t worry, Karl. I talked with Erika — Fräulein Metzinger — on the phone this afternoon and she thought it was a wonderful idea. You know how efficient she is; and it is only once or twice a week, I assure you. It is something I very much want to do.’
He could see it in her face: she was committed to this.
‘Of course, then, if you feel that way. But I do not want you putting yourself in harm’s way.’
‘Karl, it is a domestic case. Frau von Suttner’s husband is a baron. I think the danger factor is rather low.’
Such a comment was like wishing for bad luck, but none of them said anything.
‘Besides, we can hardly turn her down now,’ Berthe added. ‘Frau von Suttner has helped solve the mystery of our missing language.’
‘You don’t say!’ said Werthen, who — having copied the note out longhand for fear of losing the original — had spent the better part of the day at the Hofbibliothek fruitlessly looking for linguistic sources to match the original. Esperanto had been a complete wash-out, as had Solresol, an artificial language developed about seventy years earlier.
‘Yes. You know Frau von Suttner travels in international circles, promoting peace and a sense of a shared destiny on this planet.’
‘Watch out, Werthen,’ Gross intoned. ‘I fear you may have a convert on your hands.’
It was Berthe’s turn to smile knowingly now. ‘If I may continue,’ she said. ‘Such international languages are integral to world peace. No more need for the tower of Babel to separate humankind.’
‘Perhaps we can dispense with the propaganda,’ Gross said.
‘The long and short of it is that I mentioned the note to Frau von Suttner and she examined it briefly.’ She paused dramatically just to annoy Gross.
‘And?’ Werthen said.
‘Volapük,’ Berthe replied.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Gross said.
Werthen thought the word sounded familiar.
‘Volapük. It is a language developed by a Catholic priest in Germany.’
‘Schleyer,’ Gross said, snapping his fingers. ‘Yes, that makes sense.’
‘Johann Martin Schleyer, to be exact,’ Berthe said.
‘The man thought that God spoke to him in a dream and gave him the idea of the language.’ Gross looked well pleased with himself.
‘It was the first widely accepted universal language, according to Frau von Suttner. Its name actually means “world speak”, or “world language”. Frau von Suttner studied the language for several years, and went to the 1889 Volapük convention in Paris. The entire proceedings were conducted in that language. But the movement fell apart thereafter.’
‘Too damned complicated,’ Gross announced. ‘Thousands of declensions and inflections and verb forms, which make Latin seem like child’s play.’
‘Yes,’ Berthe said, ‘but the basic vocabulary is quite simple, as Frau von Suttner demonstrated. I think she was happy to concentrate on something other than her domestic problem.’
She produced the note from Mitzi’s Bible. ‘If, as we assumed last night, this is a letter, then the first line, Löfik Mot amp; Fat, should be a salutation.’
The others agreed and Berthe, referring to another sheet she was not as yet sharing with them, said, ‘It translates as “Dear Mother and Father”.’
‘Excellent,’ Gross said. ‘Is that the complete translation?’ He nodded at the other sheet.
Berthe ignored this and went on for a time, taking them through the steps Baroness von Suttner had followed in making her translation. The phrase Nök Hieronymus, which appeared twice in the letter, became Uncle Hieronymus. And then, Berthe explained, they were also able to trace place names. First came the name of a village, Bukbel.
‘As Frau von Suttner explained, Volapük is an agglutinative language, building new words by joining smaller ones together. Thus, “buk” is “book” and “bel” is “mountain”. So Bukbel translates as Buchberg.’
‘But there are hundreds of villages in the empire named Buchberg,’ Werthen said.
‘Yes,’ Berthe said. ‘But the very next line reduces the possibilities.’ She pointed at the word Vinfoldil.
‘That translates as the Weinviertel,’ she said with a smile.
‘Buchberg in the Weinviertel. Sounds a lovely place for a visit, Werthen,’ Gross said. ‘Sample the lovely white wines of the region.’
‘Let’s see the complete translation,’ said Werthen, finally losing patience with the game.
Berthe placed it on the table in front of them and they read it together:
Dear Mother and Father,
It has been too long since I last wrote, but I am very busy in Vienna, as you can imagine. Uncle Hieronymus has a busy household and I must attend to many duties. If I wrote my daily schedule for you, Father, you would laugh and no longer call me the seagull, the bird who just comes for the food and then leaves. Uncle Hieronymus says that young people should have a busy life to keep them out of trouble.
I hope to make it home to Buchberg for a visit soon. The Weinviertel must be lovely at this time of year. But as I say, things are very hectic for me here. .
And that was where the letter broke off.
‘No family name,’ Berthe said, disappointed.
‘But how large could the village be? And how many of its families have a daughter in service in Vienna?’
‘You’re right, Werthen. A brief chat with the local postmaster or the wirt at the village gasthaus should do the trick. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in such a place, I am sure.’
Berthe looked at the letter again. ‘Makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it.’
‘About Uncle Hieronymus?’ Werthen said.
‘Mitzi had obviously left the man’s home months before she wrote this letter, but she could brazen out the lie to her parents of still living there instead of at a bordello.’