They made their way quickly to join him. Cyril attempted to lick Angus’s hands through the bars, his tail thumping wildly against the sides of his portable prison. Bending down, Angus released the catch on the front of the cage, and Cyril bounded out. There then followed an orgy of licking and emotional canine howling as dog and master were properly reunited. For Cyril the last few hours had been an ordeal; a time of roaring noise and strange, unsettling movement. But now that was all over and Angus had been restored to him; the discomfort and confusion could be forgotten – it simply had not happened.

Then Cyril suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned his head and lifted his nose, pointing it in the direction of the carousel on which the suitcases were now beginning to appear. One piece of luggage, in particular, attracted his attention, making the moist end of his nose twitch uncontrollably.

64. Services to the Republic

Angus was the first to notice Cyril’s odd behaviour. ‘I think Cyril’s picked something up,’ he said to Domenica and Antonia. ‘Look, his nose only twitches like that when he’s got a whiff of something very interesting.’

They all looked at Cyril, who was now standing quite still, the fur of his coat bristling as he sniffed into the air.

‘One of the suitcases,’ said Domenica. ‘Do you think that he’s seen yours, Angus? Have you got anything of his in it?’

Angus shook his head. ‘No, Cyril travels pretty light. In fact, he’s come with nothing.’

Cyril now began to growl.

‘What is it, old chap?’ Angus asked. ‘Picked up something?’

Cyril’s answer was now to bound across the room towards the luggage carousel. Extracting a lead from his pocket, Angus called him back sharply, but Cyril paid no attention. He was now at the carousel, trotting around after a rather battered red backpack. He uttered a bark, and then, seeing that nobody was reacting, another one, louder this time. This second bark was sufficient to attract the attention of a Sergeant of Carabinieri, who was standing idly at the side of the room, talking to a man in a grey business suit. The officer, along with the man in the suit, now sauntered over towards Cyril.

‘I’m sorry about my dog,’ said Angus, who had walked across the room to join them. ‘I’ll get him under control in a moment.’

The man in the suit turned to Angus and smiled. ‘Your dog is interested in that red pack,’ he said, in well-enunciated English. ‘Is it your own luggage?’

‘No,’ said Angus.

The man looked interested. ‘He has smelled something, would you not say?’

‘Yes, I would say that,’ said Angus.