'Don't be absurd, Joe,' I said. Then I showed him the photograph, keeping my thumb across the writing. 'Is that the same girl?' I asked him.
He cocked his head on one side and screwed up his little bloodshot eyes. 'Hmm. Could be. How did you get hold of that?'
'It's the picture of an Italian actress,' I lied quickly. 'I knew her in Naples just before Anzio. She gave it to me then. The point is — is the woman sitting over there the girl I knew or not?'
'I don't know,' he replied. 'And frankly, old man, I don't give a damn. But it seems to me that the best way to find out is to go and ask her.'
Joe, of course, did not realise the difficulty. Engles had said, do nothing. But I had to be certain. It seemed so fantastic that she should turn up on the very first day I was at Col da Varda. But the likeness was certainly striking. I suddenly made up my mind and got to my feet. 'You're right,' I said. 'I'll go and find out.'
'Well, don't go treading on the corns of that overdressed little pimp. I'm a good chucker-out in a London bar. But I'm too big a target to play around with people I suspect of being expert knife-throwers.'
She had seen me get up and her eyes watched me intently as I crossed the belvedere. Valdini looked up as I reached the table. 'Excuse me,' I said to her, 'but I feel sure I met you when I was in Italy with the British Army.'
There was an awkward pause. She was watching me. So was Valdini. Then she gave me a sudden warm smile. 'I do not think so,' she said in English. Her voice was deep and liquid. It was like a purr. 'But you look nice. Come and sit down and tell me about it.'
Valdini, who had been watching me guardedly, now sprang to his feet. Polished and suave, he produced a chair for me from the next table.
'Well,' she said as I sat down, 'where was it that we met?'