He felt her massive shoulders rise. ‘It is strange, perhaps,’ she conceded, ‘that he disappears. We hope all is well with him, do we not? That is all we can do. The tour has been satisfactory.’ They moved past their table. The Baron cried, ‘Good, good!’ and gently clapped his enormous hands in praise of their dancing. Lady Braceley removed her gaze from Giovanni and gave them a haggard appraisal. The Major slept.

‘We think,’ said the Baroness, resuming their conversation, ‘that there was perhaps trouble for him with the postcard woman. The Violetta.’

‘She certainly made him a scene.’

‘She was down there, we think. Below.’

‘Did you see her?’

‘No. Miss Jason saw her shadow. We thought that Mr Mailer was unhappy when she said so. He made the big pooh-pooh but he was unhappy.’

‘She’s a pretty frightening lady, that one.’

‘She is terrible. Such hatred so nakedly shown is terrible. All hatred,’ said the Baroness, deftly responding to a change of step, ‘is very terrible.’

‘The monk in charge had the place searched. Neither Mailer nor Violetta was found.’

‘Ah. The monk,’ Baroness Van der Veghel remarked and it was impossible to read anything at all into this observation. ‘Possibly. Yes. It may be so.’

‘I wonder,’ Alleyn presently remarked, ‘if anyone has ever told you how very Etruscan you are.’

‘I? I am a Dutchwoman. We are Netherlanders, my husband and I.’

‘I meant, if you’ll forgive me, in looks. You are strikingly like the couple on that beautiful sarcophagus in the Villa Giulia.’

‘My husband’s is a very old Netherlands family,’ she announced apparently without any intention of snubbing Alleyn but merely as a further statement of fact.

Alleyn thought he also could pursue an independent theme. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind my saying so,’ he said, ‘because they are so very attractive. They have that strong marital likeness that tells one they, too, are in perfect accord.’

She offered no comment unless her next remark could be construed as such. ‘We are distantly related,’ she said. ‘We are in fact descended upon the distaff side from the Wittelsbachs. I am called Mathilde Jacobea after the so celebrated Countess. But it is strange, what you say, all the same. My husband believes that our family had its origins in Etruria. So perhaps,’ she added playfully, ‘we are backthrows. He thinks of writing a book on the subject.’

‘How very interesting,’ said Alleyn politely and entered upon a spinning manoeuvre of some virtuosity. It rather irritated him that she followed with perfect ease. ‘Yes,’ she said, confirming her own pronouncement, ‘you dance well. That was most pleasant. Shall we return?’

They went back to her husband, who kissed her hand and contemplated her with his head on one side. Grant and Sophy joined them. Giovanni asked if they were ready to be driven to their hotels and on learning that they were, summoned the second driver.