Sophy asked Grant.
‘It’s as good an idea as any other.’ He turned to Alleyn. ‘Sorry to be bloody-minded,’ he said. ‘Shall we go back in there, then?’
‘On second thoughts I won’t bother you. If you wouldn’t mind fixing things with Giovanni—I suggest that even if I don’t re-appear with Mailer in hand, you carry on with the programme. The alfresco tea, then back to your hotels and the cars will pick you all up again at nine o’clock. You’re at the Gallico, aren’t you? You might be very kind and just make a note of where the others are staying. There I go, bossing again. Never mind.’
He gave Sophy a little bow and as Major Sweet bore down upon them, neatly side-stepped him and returned to the basilica.
‘I’ll be damned,’ said Barnaby Grant.
‘I dare say,’ Sophy said. ‘But all the same you’ll do it. It’s like what you said.’
‘What did I say, smarty-pants?’
‘He’s got authority.’
II
When Alleyn got back to the vestibule he found the shop still in process of closure. An iron lattice gate with a formidable padlock shut off the entrance to the lower regions. S. Tommaso in Pallaria, like its sister basilica, S. Clemente, is in the care of Irish Dominicans. The monk in charge—Father Denys, it transpired—spoke with a superb brogue. Like so many Irishmen in exile, he had the air of slightly putting it on as if he played his own part in some pseudo-Hibernian comedy. He greeted Alleyn like an old acquaintance.
‘Ah, it’s yourself again,’ he said. ‘And I have no news for you. This fellow Mailer’s not below. We’ve had the full power of the lighting on and it’s enough to dazzle the eyes out of your head. I’m after looking beneath with these two young chaps—‘ he indicated his assistants. ‘We made a great hunt of it, every nook and cranny. He’s not there, at all, no doubt of it.’
‘How very odd,’ Alleyn said. ‘He’s in charge of our party, you know. What can have happened to him?’
‘Well, now, it’s a strange occurrence and no mistake. I can only suggest he must have slipped through here at a great pace when we were all occupied and never noticed ‘um. Though that’s not an easy thing to credit, for as I’ve mentioned we keep a tally ever since a Scandinavian lady twisted a fetlock and got herself locked in five years ago and she screeching all night to no avail and discovered clean demented, poor soul, in the morning. And another thing. Your party was the only one beneath, for the one or two odd visitors had come out before you arrived. So he would have been on his own and the more noticeable for it.’
‘I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself, Father, and I don’t for a moment suggest your search wasn’t thorough but would you mind if I—
‘I would not but I can’t permit it. It’s the rule of the place, d’ye see. No visitors beneath under any pretext after closure.’
‘Yes, I see. Then I wonder—is there a telephone I could use?’
‘There is and welcome. In here. You can go, now,’ he said over his shoulder to his assistants and repeated it in Italian.
He opened a door into a store-cupboard, pointed to a telephone and switched on a light.
There wasn’t much room or air when the door was shut. Alleyn backed gingerly into an open box of holy trinkets, eased himself into a crouch supported by the edge of a shelf, examined his memory and dialled the resulting number.
Il Questore Valdarno had not left his office. He listened to Alleyn’s story with an animation that was almost tangible but with few interruptions. When Alleyn had finished Valdarno said in English: ‘He has run.’
‘Run?’
‘Flown. He has recognized you and decamped.’
‘They seemed pretty sure, here, that he couldn’t have got past them.’
‘Ah, ah, ah,’ said the Questore contemptuously, ‘who are they? a monk and two pale shop boys. Against this expert! Pah! He has run away at the double-up behind the show-cases.’
‘Speaking
‘It’s as good an idea as any other.’ He turned to Alleyn. ‘Sorry to be bloody-minded,’ he said. ‘Shall we go back in there, then?’
‘On second thoughts I won’t bother you. If you wouldn’t mind fixing things with Giovanni—I suggest that even if I don’t re-appear with Mailer in hand, you carry on with the programme. The alfresco tea, then back to your hotels and the cars will pick you all up again at nine o’clock. You’re at the Gallico, aren’t you? You might be very kind and just make a note of where the others are staying. There I go, bossing again. Never mind.’
He gave Sophy a little bow and as Major Sweet bore down upon them, neatly side-stepped him and returned to the basilica.
‘I’ll be damned,’ said Barnaby Grant.
‘I dare say,’ Sophy said. ‘But all the same you’ll do it. It’s like what you said.’
‘What did I say, smarty-pants?’
‘He’s got authority.’
II
When Alleyn got back to the vestibule he found the shop still in process of closure. An iron lattice gate with a formidable padlock shut off the entrance to the lower regions. S. Tommaso in Pallaria, like its sister basilica, S. Clemente, is in the care of Irish Dominicans. The monk in charge—Father Denys, it transpired—spoke with a superb brogue. Like so many Irishmen in exile, he had the air of slightly putting it on as if he played his own part in some pseudo-Hibernian comedy. He greeted Alleyn like an old acquaintance.
‘Ah, it’s yourself again,’ he said. ‘And I have no news for you. This fellow Mailer’s not below. We’ve had the full power of the lighting on and it’s enough to dazzle the eyes out of your head. I’m after looking beneath with these two young chaps—‘ he indicated his assistants. ‘We made a great hunt of it, every nook and cranny. He’s not there, at all, no doubt of it.’
‘How very odd,’ Alleyn said. ‘He’s in charge of our party, you know. What can have happened to him?’
‘Well, now, it’s a strange occurrence and no mistake. I can only suggest he must have slipped through here at a great pace when we were all occupied and never noticed ‘um. Though that’s not an easy thing to credit, for as I’ve mentioned we keep a tally ever since a Scandinavian lady twisted a fetlock and got herself locked in five years ago and she screeching all night to no avail and discovered clean demented, poor soul, in the morning. And another thing. Your party was the only one beneath, for the one or two odd visitors had come out before you arrived. So he would have been on his own and the more noticeable for it.’
‘I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself, Father, and I don’t for a moment suggest your search wasn’t thorough but would you mind if I—
‘I would not but I can’t permit it. It’s the rule of the place, d’ye see. No visitors beneath under any pretext after closure.’
‘Yes, I see. Then I wonder—is there a telephone I could use?’
‘There is and welcome. In here. You can go, now,’ he said over his shoulder to his assistants and repeated it in Italian.
He opened a door into a store-cupboard, pointed to a telephone and switched on a light.
There wasn’t much room or air when the door was shut. Alleyn backed gingerly into an open box of holy trinkets, eased himself into a crouch supported by the edge of a shelf, examined his memory and dialled the resulting number.
Il Questore Valdarno had not left his office. He listened to Alleyn’s story with an animation that was almost tangible but with few interruptions. When Alleyn had finished Valdarno said in English: ‘He has run.’
‘Run?’
‘Flown. He has recognized you and decamped.’
‘They seemed pretty sure, here, that he couldn’t have got past them.’
‘Ah, ah, ah,’ said the Questore contemptuously, ‘who are they? a monk and two pale shop boys. Against this expert! Pah! He has run away at the double-up behind the show-cases.’
‘Speaking
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