“OH, TOM. IT WAS DREADFUL. THE VIOLIN IS RUINED.” Tyler and Clare were seated at a corner table of the Acton Lodge restaurant, close to the kitchen, where a large, if bedraggled, potted palm tree offered some privacy. “We all thought he’d had a heart attack at first. He’d bitten his tongue and the blood was pouring out. Major Fordham insisted on having him taken to hospital. Dr. Beck was allowed to accompany him, thank goodness. He rang me just before I left. He said it wasn’t a heart attack. The poor man had collapsed from the shock of seeing the destruction of his violin. Dr. Beck says he has gone into what he calls a fugue. Herr Hartmann cannot or will not communicate with anybody. Who knows how long that will last. Bruno wanted to stay at the hospital with him, but they wouldn’t let him. He is most upset about it.” The waiter came over with two menus, each in a heavy cloth cover with a gold tassel. He was wearing a shabby black suit that gave off a whiff of old sweat as he stooped over them to drape napkins on their knees.
