She nodded. ‘You must take a holiday during your stay in Italy. Go down to the south where it is warm and you can lie in the sun. Do you know Amalfi?’
‘It is very beautiful, yes? So much more beautiful than the Riviera. To see the moon lie like a streak of silver across the warmth of the sea.’ Her voice was like the murmur of the sea coming in over sand.
‘I’m due for a holiday,’ I said. ‘As soon as I can—’
But she wasn’t listening. She was looking past me towards the door. I half turned in my seat. There was the murmur of voices and then Sismondi came in rubbing his hands. He went over to the cocktail cabinet and poured a drink. A silence hung over the room. Then the door opened again and a man came in. I got to my feet and as I did so he stopped. I couldn’t see his face. It was in shadow and he was just a dark silhouette against the light of the open doorway. But I could feel his eyes fixed on me.
Sismondi came hurrying forward. ‘Mistair Farrell. I wish to introduce you to a friend of mine who is very interested in the matter which brings you here. Signer Shirer.’
I had moved forward to greet him, but I stopped then. Walter Shirer! It couldn’t be. It was too much of a coincidence just after I’d met Reece again. But the man had the same short, rather round figure. ‘Are you — Walter Shirer?’ My voice trembled slightly as I put the question.
‘Ah! So you know each other already?’
The figure in the doorway made no move. He didn’t say anything. I felt the sudden tension in the room. I began to sweat. ‘For God’s sake say something,’ I said.
‘I have nothing to say Jo you.’ He had turned on his heel.
‘Damn it, man!’ I cried. ‘You don’t hold it against me now, surely? At the Villa d’Este you were so decent about—’