There was no time to worry about that now. He had to revive Mauro and try to find out what had happened. He splashed some water over him and as he cleaned his face he saw an ugly purple bruise across his forehead where he must have been struck with the club.

At last Mauro’s eyes opened, but as soon as he was conscious he was violently sick. James left him in the kitchen to clean himself up and went to see what damage had been done and try to find some clues as to what the men might have been after.

He soon found out.

The whole villa had been stripped bare. All the paintings were gone. Everything. All of Poliponi’s work, all of Victor’s work and all the other art that he had collected over the years. The only thing they’d left behind was the stuffed giraffe.

James knew how devastated Victor would be.

There was no sign of Horst anywhere, but he discovered Isabella in one of the bedrooms, bound and gagged, but still alive.

Mauro, who by now was feeling more human, helped him to untie Isabella and in their halting, broken way they planned what to do next.

First of all they carried out a more thorough search of the villa and grounds and, once they were sure that it was safe, they took the Hispano-Suiza out of the garage and drove Isabella to her sister’s in Palau.

‘Tell her to alert the police,’ said James. ‘Polizia.’

‘Sì, sì,’ said Mauro and he had a hurried conversation with the frightened cook.

There were few telephones on the island so the only way to let Victor know what had happened was to go to Ugo’s palazzo and tell him in person. James realised how devoted Mauro was to his master. He was fully prepared, even now, after the terrifying attack and being knocked unconscious, to drive all night to give him the bad news. Anyone else might have been temped just to go away and hide, like Horst appeared to have done.

But James wasn’t about to let him go alone and soon they were loading the car to drive down towards the Gennargentu Mountains. Luckily Mauro knew the way; he had grown up in the mountains. The Barbagia was his home. He showed James the route on an old army map, drawing it on with a thick red crayon, and they set off.