“No.”
“Don’t you know?”
“No.”
Wolfe’s tone sharpened. “I must remind you that last Friday, four days ago, Josip Pasic took Telesio a message from you to the effect that he was to telephone me that the man I sought was within sight of the mountain. You sent that message?”
“Yes, but, as I told you, I sent it because Carla said to.”
“She told you to send that message without telling you who the man was, and you didn’t ask her? Pfui.”
“I had no chance to ask her. You don’t know the circumstances.”
“I have come four thousand miles to learn them. I confidently expected you to name the man.”
“I can’t.” Danilo was resentful. “I am accustomed to being regarded with suspicion by nearly everyone here, I invite it and I welcome it, but from you, my uncle’s oldest and closest friend, who denied us your help, I would not expect it. Carla came eleven days ago — no, twelve, a week ago Friday. She did not come here to Titograd — like you, she had no papers, and, unlike you, she took precautions. She went to a place she knew of near the Albanian border, in the mountains, and sent me word, and I went to her. I had certain urgent affairs here and could stay there only one day. Her purpose was to arrange matters that Marko, being dead, could no longer attend to, but she shouldn’t have crossed the sea. She should have sent for me from Bari. That place in the mountains is at the center of danger. I tried to persuade her to return to Bari, but she wouldn’t. You knew her.”
“Yes, I knew her.”