They had come down to Heiligenkreuz in Major Danney’s civilian car and that was some comfort. But now they were standing in the dark on the schoolhouse steps, hunch-backed under the wind which was saw-edged with icy rain, waiting while Langer tried to get the key to work in the lock.
The major explained things over again to Welsh. He was standing with his feet apart and his head lowered as if to butt, hulking blackly between Welsh and the glassy yellow stream of the headlights. His face and head were lost in a cap of shadow as if covered by an executioner’s hood; his ponderous voice seemed to contain the tone of an underlying question as though someone were still waking him and he was still asking why. It was about five-thirty in the morning.
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