During breakfast on Friday, David asked Michael if he knew the location of the Canadian Embassy in Bern.

"I'm not familiar with it, but then I've never had reason to seek it out. Bern's a fine, friendly city, and most will be willing to help you find it." Michael looked back and forth between Maria and David. "You mentioned remaining there a few days. Where have you arranged to stay?"

"We've made no arrangements."

"But you must. There's an increasing flow of wealthy refugees from Eastern Europe. I'll make a telephone call when we finish here. We prefer Hotel Bernerhof; it's central and very comfortable."

Forty minutes later, Michael looked up from the telephone in his office and turned to David. "They have a suite available on Sunday, but for two nights only, thirty-six Francs demi-pension the night." Seeing David's nod, he confirmed and gave the particulars, then rang off and cradled the receiver. "They've put you on a waiting list for further nights."

"That seems expensive," Maria said. "The gasthaus rooms in Freiburg were only six Marks – that's less than seven Francs."

"But this is with dinner and breakfast for you both, and it's a three-room corner suite. It's all they had available. They told me all the city's hotels are crammed."

David looked out through the office window at the flaccid windsock on the end of the jetty. "Looks like still airs. It makes sense to repair the tyre while we wait for the sea breezes."

"We call them lake breezes here." Michael chuckled as he looked out at the clear sky. "There'll be eight to ten knots by mid-morning and a fine breeze by noon. You had a puncture on your drive?"

"Right front, just as we reached the lake. It will give me an excellent opportunity to show Maria how to remove and patch a tube. How's the road to Bern?"

"It's tar-bound macadam all the way from Zürich now – and quite broad."

"We had a fine surface between Winterthur and Zürich. No dust at all and easy driving."

"That's the same surface as the road to Bern. It's a Swiss invention that's spreading quickly. It greatly reduces tyre punctures and keeps the auto and the air clean."

A while later, out in the courtyard, Maria insisted on doing the tyre repair, guided by David's instruction. "It makes less sense to me if all I have is the theory and watching someone else do it. I learn so much better by doing." She paused her prying with the tire irons and giggled. "Remember how innocent I was when I asked you to have sex so I could learn how it's done. God, that seems so long ago."

He lifted her from her knees, and they merged, tears rolling down their cheeks as their lips pressed and tongues explored.

"Haven't gotten far on the tyre repair," Michael said with a chuckle a short while later as he walked past.

David and Maria broke from their kiss and watched him head down toward the jetty. "We should finish here," David said as he leaned to lick the tears from her cheeks. "Then we can look at the boats and think of sailing."

Forty minutes later, as Michael familiarised them with a nine-metre sloop, he said, "I've been thinking. Your hotel in Bern isn't available until Sunday. Sailing today will allow you to see some of this area, but there's so much other spectacular scenery close at hand by road. You should see it while you're here."

David nodded at him. "I would love to see the high Alps. I've spent so much time ogling their pictures in books, and I'd love to see them from places such as Zermatt or Grindelwald."

"Grindelwald is only fifteen kilometres from Interlaken. There's the new cog train up to Jungfraujoch, opened two or three years ago. Tomorrow you could drive through the lake country to Lucerne and then on to Interlaken. It's a hundred and twenty kilometres, the same distance as the rather boring route along the new road to Bern. From Interlaken, it's only fifty kilometres to Bern."

"Would there be a place to stay nearby? Spend the night and have more time to explore?"

"Yes, that's what I was thinking. The oldest hotel in Switzerland is Hotel Interlaken. It dates back to the early thirteen hundreds, but it's fully modernised, and it's very comfortable. That's where I stayed during my Army days. I can telephone and book a room for you."

"Would they have any? The crowds of refugees?"

"I wouldn't think they'd be affected. The crowds will be primarily in the capital, near the embassies. Shall I call?"

Maria nodded excitedly as she squeezed David's arm. "Those peaks I pointed out to you our first day on Feldberg and that we looked out on from our nook. Those are the ones above Interlaken. Jungfrau, Mönch and Eiger, the virgin, the monk and the ogre." She looked at her grandfather. "You must call, Grandpa."

"I'll do that while you're out sailing." Michael completed explaining the peculiarities of the rig and then talked about the lake. "It's thirty-two kilometres to the end from here, about seventeen nautical miles." He looked up at the sky. "Not much over three hours with today's breezes. Six hours there and back. That should give you plenty of time to think. Mary's having a picnic hamper prepared."

A quarter-hour later, the breeze filled the mainsail as David sheeted it in. He asked Maria to release the breast line, and they moved slowly away from the jetty. Maria handled the tiller as David hoisted the jib, then after doing a tack and a jibe for practice, they waved to Michael, Mary and Rachel as they settled in on a reach down the lake.

He snuggled in beside her and watched her on the tiller. "You've not forgotten. How long since you last sailed?"

"Just before we moved to Germany. That was 1905, so ten years. I don't think handling a sailboat is something one can forget."

"You were only eight. You didn't sail this sloop, though, did you?"

"Almost nine. I sailed in this. Grandpa even let me handle the tiller for a while, but we played with the teaching boats – the three-metre punts on our own. My brothers were so frustrated because I always went faster. Not much, but enough to make them mad."

"You had a natural feel for it, likely."

"Maybe, but I was also much lighter than them. They were big boys, a good fifteen kilos heavier, and I figured their boats were deeper into the water, but I didn't tell them." She snickered. "We all kept it from them."

They enjoyed a moderate breeze on or near their port beam into the afternoon, allowing them an exhilarating reach all the way to the end of the lake in silence as they traded handling the tiller and gentle caresses.

After they had tacked up into the breeze, then across it to fall off on a starboard reach, Maria opened the picnic hamper, folded back the linen and looked in. "Any ideas yet?"

"Still too many." He looked into the basket. "Random disjointed things. Unfocused. Too many tangents. The scenery's still far too distracting. Needs more time. Let me continue as we eat."

"I'll feed you so you won't be distracted."

He smiled as he nodded and lounged back into the cushions to look at the backdrop of snow-clad peaks.

After a leisurely lunch, while they sailed back toward Küsnacht, he discussed his ideas with Maria and scribbled many pages in his notebook. Then, he worked on drafting a letter until his pen ran out of ink. "It's telling me something." He capped the pen, pocketed the notebook and wrapped his arms around her. "Time for us."

They enjoyed the remainder of the sail in decreasing winds, and they ghosted up to the jetty a little past four. Michael met them and, seeing the smiles on their faces, said, "Appears you've had a good sail. Did the breezes clear your mind.?"

"We've seen a good approach to the Canadian Embassy, and I have a letter partly drafted." He released the main halyard as Maria gathered the lowering sail. "We've thought my approach should be by handing them a letter and going back to the hotel to await their response."

"That's clever." Michael nodded as he stroked his beard. "It will allow you to fully present your position without fear of being cut off by a quick reaction. It will elicit a considered response."

"Those were our thoughts. Tell them enough to intrigue."

"Before I forget, I've booked a room for Saturday night at Hotel Interlaken." Michael smiled. "In my favourite room. You're booked as David Meier and his wife, Maria. The hotel restaurant is fine, but there are finer places nearby, so I arranged for breakfast only."

"Which is the best restaurant?"

"I haven't been to Interlaken in the past few years, but I have a good friend who's there often. Colonel Brenner, the fellow who's now in charge of the Marine Division. He was my most promising junior officer. I'll telephone him."

David released the jib halyard and began lowering the sail when Michael took the line and said, "You should go finish drafting your letter before your ideas stale. Maria and I will finish here."

Three-quarters of an hour later, Maria came up behind David at the desk and kissed his cheek. Then she looked over his shoulder at the letter. "How's your progress?"

"It's nearly done." He stood and hugged her. "I'm pleased with it. A few more minutes."

"Bring it out to the patio and read it to us when you've finished. We've some wine open."

Ten minutes later he sat with them and read the draft:

Hotel Bernerhof            
Monday, 14 June 1915

Sir:

I am 23414 Private David Michael Berry of 2 Company, 7th Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Canadian Division. I was wounded and trapped behind German lines when the enemy overran our position at Saint-Julien in Belgium on 25 April.

During the following weeks, using my ability with the German language, I made my way through enemy territory with the intention of crossing into Switzerland. Along the way, I was befriended by a Swiss family, also trying to flee the growing horrors of Germany.

We escaped over the mountains together, and in the process, I gathered two large portfolios of engineering drawings and photographs of the bridges, viaducts and tunnels of all three German rail lines which link the industrial heartland with the southern Rhine basin and the battlefronts in France.

I have safe hiding places in Germany, and I also have access to a pair of vineyards nearby that are linked across the German-Swiss border. On each of them is a small stone tool hut. A forty-yard tunnel under the patrol path to join the huts appears an easy job for sappers. Access to and from each hut is obscured by the foliage of the vines in season and, of course, by darkness at night.

I have Swiss identification papers now, so I can move freely on either side of the border. I need some explosives training and a few good engineering soldiers who are fluent in German to assist me with my plans of sabotage.

Please inform my family and the Army that I am safe, that my wounds have healed well, and that I am healthy. I am currently staying at Hotel Bernerhof, where I remain at your disposal.

I continue to seek ways I can better serve the war effort, but if it is the desire of the Army that I remain in the trenches as an Infantry private ...

I have the honour to be His Majesty's obedient servant,

David Berry