‘Ah no, ah no!’ cried the Baroness. ‘We cannot so coldly dismiss! Here is tragedy! Here is Nemesis! Behind this dénouement what horror is not lurkink?’ She appealed from one to another of the hearers and finally to her husband. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘No, Gerrit, no! It is dreadful to think,’ she said. ‘The Violetta and this Mailer and the Sweet: between them was such hatred! Such evil! So close to us! I am sick to think of it.’

‘Never mind, my darling. It is gone. They are gone.’

He comforted her in their own language, gently patting one of her large hands between his own two enormous ones as if to warm it. He looked round at the others with that winged smile inviting them to indulge a childish distress. They responded awkwardly.

Valdarno said that they would all perceive, no doubt, that the affair now wore an entirely different complexion. It would be improper, until legal pronouncements had been made and the case formally wound up, for him to make a categorical pronouncement but he felt, nevertheless, that as representative of the Minister for the Interior he might assure them they would not be unduly troubled by further proceedings. They would be asked to sign a statement as to their unfortunate experience. Possibly they would be required to give formal evidence and should hold themselves in readiness to do so. And now, perhaps, they would be kind enough to wait in the next room while Vice-Questore Bergarmi prepared a statement. He greatly regretted—

He continued in this strain for a few more rounded periods and then they all stood up and responded as best they could to a ceremonial leave-taking.

Alleyn remained behind.

‘If it would save trouble, Signor Questore,’ he said, ‘I’m at your service—you’ll want an English transcription of this statement, for instance. And perhaps—as I was there, you know—?’

‘You are very kind,’ Valdarno began, and broke off to deal with yet another report of violence. Bergarmi had gone to some inner office and for a moment or two Alleyn and Giovanni were confronted. The Questore’s back was turned to them as he apostrophized the telephone.

‘You too,’ Alleyn said, ‘will no doubt sign a statement, will you not?’

‘But certainly, Signore. On my conscience and before the saints. It is my duty.’

‘Will it include an account of your talk with Major Sweet yesterday afternoon, at the Eremo?’

Giovanni, snakelike, retracted his head. Almost, Alleyn thought, you could hear him hiss. He half-closed his eyes and whispered disgustingly.

For the hundredth time that morning Valdarno shouted, ‘E molto seccante! Presto!’ He clapped down the receiver, spread his hands for Alleyn’s benefit, and caught sight of Giovanni. ‘You! Vecchi! You are required to make a written statement.’

‘Of course, Signor Questore,’ Giovanni said. The intercom buzzed. Valdarno took another call.