I hesitated. Her eyes were very dark and they were looking at me with open amusement. 'I think your name is Carla,' I said.
The eyes suddenly went blank. They were cold and hard — hard like the eyes in the photograph.
'I think you have made a mistake,' she said coldly.
Valdini came to the rescue. 'Perhaps I should make an introduction. This is the Contessa Forelli. And this is Mr Blair. He is from an English film company.' I wondered how he had found that out and why he had taken the trouble.
'I am sorry,' I said. 'I thought your surname might be — Rometta.'
I was convinced she caught her breath. But her eyes did not change. She had control of herself. 'Well, now perhaps you know you have made a mistake, Mr Blair,' she said.
I was still not sure. I pulled the photograph out of my pocket and showed it to her. 'Surely this is a photograph of you?' I said. I kept the bottom part covered.
She leaned forward quickly. 'Where did you get that?' There was nothing purrful about her voice as she shot the question at me. It was hard and angry and brittle. Then, with an abrupt change of tone, she said, 'No, you can see for yourself that it is not my photograph. But it is strange. It is a great likeness. Let me look at it.' And she extended a strong brown hand imperiously.
I pretended not to hear her request. I put the photograph back in my pocket. 'Most extraordinary!' I murmured. 'The likeness is quite remarkable. I felt certain—' I rose to my feet. 'You must excuse me, CON-TESSA,' I said, bowing. 'The likeness is quite extraordinary.'
'Don't go, Mr Blair.' She gave me a hard, brilliant smile and the purr was back in her voice. 'Stay and have a drink — and tell me more about that photograph. It is so nearly myself that I would like to know more about it. I am intrigued. Stefan, order a drink for Mr Blair.'