The lavatory was at the back of the landing. He had stood on the seat and looked through the window louvres. Yes, sure enough, there was another man, watching the rear of the hotel.

When he got down he saw he had left marks of the shoe-polish on the seat. He had always been particular about his shoes, liking the arches of their soles to be attended to. He wiped away the marks.

If they were Agenti down there, it meant that Alleyn had told the police and they had decided he should be kept under observation. And if, as Alleyn had suggested, Giovanni was under arrest? He might still have managed to lay this on. And if he had done that, then things looked black indeed.

At eleven o’clock he was still watching and being watched. At five past eleven the telephone on the landing rang and went on ringing. He heard the man in the next room groan and go out. He was prepared for the bang on his own door and the slam of the neighbouring one. He answered the telephone. It was somebody speaking basic English for the Vice-Questore Bergarmi. The travellers were required to report next morning at the office where they had formerly been interviewed. At 10.30.

He waited for two or three seconds while he ran the tip of his tongue over his trim little moustache. His hand slithered on the receiver.

‘Jolly good,’ he said. ‘Can do.’

‘I beg your pardon, Signore? You said?’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Wait a bit. Hold on.’

‘Have you found Mailer?’

A pause. A consultation in Italian.

‘Hullo? Are you there?’

‘Yes, Signore, Mailer has been found.’

‘Oh.’

‘His body has been found. He has been murdered.’

He should have said something. He shouldn’t have hung up the receiver without a word. Too late now.

He lay on his bed and tried to think. The hours went by and sometimes he dozed but he always came to with a jerk and returned to look down into the street. The brief quietude of the small hours came over Rome and then, with the first light, the gradual return of traffic. Presently there were movements within the hotel.

At eight o’clock he heard a vacuum cleaner whining in the passage. He got up, shaved, packed a small overnight bag and then sat looking at nothing and unable to think coherently.