‘How do you mean?’ I asked him.
‘That girl.’ He nodded towards the closed door of the box.
‘Well? What about her?’
‘She’s dynamite. The photograph I saw of her was in a dossier about an inch thick. It was shown to me by one of the AMG police at the Questura in Rome during the war.’
‘You mean she was a German agent?’ I asked.
‘There was no definite proof, but—’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘The Field Security Police kept a close eye on her.’
‘If there was no proof, then—’
He stopped me with a quick movement of his hand. ‘I didn’t come to see you about your girl friend,’ he said. ‘Why did you skip out of Milan like that?’
‘Reece was getting on my nerves,’ I answered quickly.
He drew on his cigarette until the point of it glowed. ‘I don’t think that was the reason,’ he said softly.