I did as he’d asked and was led by a waitress to a shady spot. I sat people-watching and taking a moment to retrieve my messages on my mobile. My heart pounded again as I heard the sound of Zed’s voice, saying he’d called Atlantis and the housekeeper had said I was abroad. He was sorry to miss me, he said, as he was leaving for Zurich tomorrow.

Which meant it was now safe to return home . . .

‘Meu Deus! I leave you alone for a few minutes and again you turn a strange colour,’ exclaimed Floriano, appearing at the table and looking at me quizzically as he sat down opposite me. ‘What is it now?’

I was amazed he’d noticed my tension for a second time. And I realised it would be difficult to hide anything from this man, who seemed to have a natural, laser-like intuition.

‘Nothing, really,’ I said, tucking my mobile into my handbag. ‘In fact, I feel very relieved.’

‘Good. Now I’m having a Bohemia beer. Will you join me?’

‘I’m not really a fan of beer, to be honest.’

‘But Maia, you’re in Rio! You must drink a beer. It’s that, or a caipirinha cocktail, which I can assure you is far stronger,’ he added.

I agreed to the beer, and when the waitress came over, we both ordered the steak sandwich Floriano recommended.

‘The beef is Argentinean, and although we hate them for beating us at football all too often, we love eating their cows,’ he said with a grin. ‘Now I don’t think I’m able to wait any longer until you show me this precious object of yours.’

‘Okay.’ I brought the tile out of my bag and placed it carefully on the rough trestle table between us.

‘May I?’ he asked as his hands reached towards it.

‘Of course.’

I watched him as he picked it up with care and studied it. He then turned it over and glanced at the faded words on the back.

‘So,’ he breathed, and I sensed his surprise. ‘Only now can I understand what it was that shocked you. And yes, before you even ask, it looks to me as if this was once destined to adorn the body of the Cristo. Well, well,’ he commented, the presence of the triangular tile cowing him into silence. Eventually he said, ‘Can you tell me how you came by it?’

So, as our beers arrived and then our steak sandwiches, I told Floriano the whole story. He listened patiently, only interrupting occasionally if he needed a fact explained. By the time I’d finished talking, Floriano’s plate was empty and mine was barely touched.

‘So, now we swap. You will eat while I talk.’ He indicated my plate and I did as I was bid. ‘I can certainly help you on one point, and that is with the name of the family who live in A Casa das Orquídeas. The Aires Cabrals are a very well-known Rio family – aristocratic, in fact. Descended from the old and now redundant Portuguese royal family themselves. Various Aires Cabrals have featured throughout the past two hundred years of Rio’s history.’