He attempted no excuse, he expressed no regret.
“Gaspare!” Hermione said.
Suddenly Artois put his hand on Gaspare’s shoulder. He said nothing, but his touch told the Sicilian much—told him how he was understood, how he was respected, by this man who had shared his silence.
“We thought they might be here,” Artois said.
“They are not here.”
Her voice was almost hard, almost rebuking. She was still standing in the door-space.
“I will go back and look again, Signora.”
“Si,” she said.
She turned back into the room. Artois held out his hand to Gaspare:
“Signore?”