‘Pouf! Ten thousand francs! What is that? He said he would take me to Cartier in Monte Carlo … but that was before Wolf. So …’ She shrugged, smiled, put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It is only a little joke, you know? And I won, isn’t it? That is enough for Sylva; was very, very nice.’

‘Good. I’m very glad, Really chuffed.’

Nando came back, a little out of breath, preventing any further discussion. ‘I think that we should go: Grottorosso is waiting,’ he said.

‘Nando! In my pretty cabin there is water everywhere, you know this? The wash place is full, it will not go away.’

‘I told you not to wash your hair in there. Speak to Peppe, not to me!’

‘Peppe will not speak to me. He sticks out his tongue … he hates me. Poor Sylva …’ But her voice drifted away as they went down the deck.

‘Puttana!’ muttered Belluno. ‘Puttana! Lei é un putridúme! Excuse me. I would say to you before we speak to Grottorosso, please remember that this is a very sad ship, eh? A catastrophe! Months of work and hopes destroyed by one stupid slip, one error. It is wise not to speak of this to him, please. He is a fastidious man, and very private, he dislikes to speak of personal things or anything which is in the least ugly or unpleasing. You have seen the beauty of this ship? He created all. So you will realize the sensitivity and style of this man. Incomparable. His sense of form, of purity cannot be matched by any other Master in his field today. So speak, if you will be so kind, only of charming things, help to distract him from his sadness. It is understood?’

Marcus nodded. He was still too enraged by Sylva’s confession to make any comment.

Belluno, for his part, wanted no difficult questions asked, or anyone to make the slightest error of judgement. It was perfectly possible, he thought, that the Princess had been accurate in her assessment of the unfortunate ‘accident’ to Hagel: but that was really not his affair.

What was his affair was presently at his side moving towards Grottorosso’s steel stateroom. If the film was to be secured, at this last deplorable moment, then it was possible that an arrangement might be made with this Divine Intervention, though he very much doubted that it had anything to do with Divinity personally. And if he felt some small shadow of remorse (for he was a family man and kind at home) that he was behaving like a eunuch accompanying the newest concubine to the harem, or worse still delivering a healthy young animal to the vivisectionist, he put it from his mind: he was a Producer first and foremost, the Film must be saved above all else. Eight weeks to go before shooting started, and already his mind was eradicating remorse as the possibility of stimulating publicity phrases swung before him. ‘The Look-Alike-l’Aiglons’; ‘Year Search for l’Aiglon Ends on Riviera Beach’ … or words to that effect. Things were desperate; especially financially, but if all else failed in the end, there was always the merry little spring bubbling away in Tuscany. He tapped the stateroom door.