‘I see you’re not going to miss anything,’ I murmured.
‘No sir. That’s why I’ve come out to Casamicciola to-day. Did you know that Epomeo is a volcano?’ He showed me a little red-bound book he had with him. ‘This is an old Baedeker I found amongst my father’s things. It’s dated 1887.’ He flipped the pages. ‘This is what it says about Casamicciola. The terrible earthquake of 28th July, 1883, laid it almost entirely in ruins and cost thousands of lives and most of the few houses that are still standing have suffered severely.’ He waved his arm towards the town. ‘Do you realise what that means, Mr. Farrell? It means that when this little book was printed there was almost nothing here but the ruins of that earthquake.’
I believe he would have gone on reading passages to me out of that old Baedeker if Zina hadn’t appeared. I introduced them and she slumped, exhausted, into a chair. ‘Phew! It is very relaxing, no?’ She smiled. ‘But a little later you will feel like a million dollars.’
‘What will it be, Countess?’ Hacket asked her.
‘I do not think I will drink yet.’ She looked across at the American. ‘Are you here on business or pleasure, signore?’
‘Mr. Hacket has come here to look at volcanoes,’ I said quickly.
Volcanoes?’ Her brows lifted. ‘You have your wife with you perhaps?”
‘No.’ He looked puzzled. ‘The wife is a bad sailor. She doesn’t like travel.’
‘You are here alone and you are only interested in our volcanoes?’ Zina smiled.
‘I am interested in everything geological — in rock formation, everything,’ Hacket said. ‘But down here, of course, my interest is in volcanic eruptions. Yesterday I was at Pozzuoli. This afternoon I’m going up to take a look at Epomeo. And—’