Manack suddenly stopped his pacing and faced me. 'Well?' I looked at him. But I didn't say anything. I hadn't made up my mind. He picked up the paper and opened it at an inside page. 'Read that,' he said. I looked down at the type. It was a description of myself: A very powerfully built man, broad shoulders, height about 6ft. 2 ins., slouching walk, dark complexion, blue eyes, thick brown hair starting low on the forehead. When last seen, Pryce was wearing seaman's clothes, dark blue serge jacket and trousers, dark blue jersey. He had no hat and may be carrying a light khaki raincoat several sizes too small for him. The girl had certainly given them a pretty accurate description.
'Still not want to go to Italy?' Manack's voice was sarcastic. I looked up. 'I don't need to tell you,' he added, 'that on that description you'd be picked up in no time — if you left here.' He suddenly sat down in the chair opposite me. 'Listen, Pryce — I run these cargoes into the mine at the moment in a barge propelled by an electric motor. It's a sort of submarine barge and lies submerged when not in use. We bring it to the surface with compressed air before going out to pick up a cargo. I'll show you when we go down. It's not a bad device. But it's too dangerous. It means my boats have to lie off for good weather. And now that this has happened I daren't risk it any more. The Mermaid gallery runs out just on half a mile. I plan to blow the end of it so that cargoes can be lowered on buoyed guide wires down into the gallery. They'll come into the mine by a hawser-drawn wooden carriage running on the rock ledges. It may work or it may not. If it does, then it means that my boats can unload in any weather. I'm not running any more cargoes by the old method. I tell you that so that you'll know just how determined I am for the blasting of the Mermaid gallery to be done now. I've got all the equipment you need, including compressor and pneumatic drills.' He paused, watching my face. 'Why don't you want to go back to Italy?' he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. 'I was working in the lignite mines. It was all right at first. I wasn't getting shot at and the Italians respected me. But later — well, lignite mining isn't my line. And then again I don't like working with Italians. It's all right if you're the boss. But if they feel they've got you by the shorts — well, much more of their sneers and I'd have been involved in fights. And Italians don't fight the way men do in the gold mines.'
He smiled. 'Parlate Italiano?' he asked suddenly.
'Si, si,' I answered. 'Molto bene.' He nodded. 'Benone? He leaned forward. 'Look, Pryce you seem a reasonably honest and dependable sort of fellow. I've got an estate in Italy. It's a big vineyard in the mountains behind Naples — near Benevento.'
'I know,' I said. 'That's where the Strega comes from.'
'That's right. It's not far from Alberti's. That's where Mulligan's cargoes are coming from. We ship out things like lighter flints, contraceptives, Government surplus watches, rubber tyres and so on, things that fetch a high price out there. With the proceeds Mulligan brings back stuff like chianti, kummel, triple sec and strega. The rest of the cargo is made up of cognac, which is what my estate specialises in. Now then, what I need is an agent out there to look after my interests. It doesn't need any detailed knowledge. All I want is someone there on the estate to whom I can send instructions and know that they will be carried out. A man who'll keep an eye on things generally for me.'
'What about Dave?' I asked.
He shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'Dave's a crook. I need somebody honest. I've other plans for Dave. I'm going to open up trade between Italy and Greece. Mulligan's already got me a fair-sized schooner. It's now being re-fitted at Ischia. Well,' he said. 'What about it? It's a fair offer.'
'Suppose I say No?'