of postcards, there was a savage elderly postcard lady in the entrance who made a scene with Mailer.’
‘A scene? How?’
‘Yelling abuse at him. It was not in the sort of Italian we learnt in my Diplomatic days but the general drift was invective and fury.’
Alleyn could almost hear the Questore’s shrug.
‘He has done something to annoy her, perhaps,’ he suggested in his melancholy voice.
‘She spat at him.’
‘Ah,’ sighed the Questore. ‘He had irritated her.’
‘No doubt,’ Alleyn faintly agreed. ‘She’s called Violetta,’ he added.
‘Why do you concern yourself with this woman, my dear colleague?’
‘Well, if I understood her at all, she threatened to kill him.’
‘Evidently a short-tempered woman. Some of these street-vendors are in fact badly-behaved persons.’
‘I thought he was greatly disturbed by the encounter. He made light of it but he turned very white.’
‘Ah.’ There was a brief silence. ‘She sells postcards outside S. Tommaso?’
‘Yes. One of our party thought she saw her shadow on the wall of a passage down in the Mithraeum.’
‘They are not permitted to enter.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘I will have inquiries made. I will also have the airports, omnibus and railway stations watched. I feel there is a strong probability Mailer has recognized you and will attempt an escape.’
‘I am deeply obliged to you, Signor Questore.’
‘Please!’
‘But I confess the chances of his recognizing me—we have never met—do seem a bit thin.’
‘Some contact of his, an English contact, may have seen you and informed him. It is most possible.’
‘Yes,’ Alleyn said, ‘it’s possible of course.’
‘We shall see. In the meantime, my dear Superintendent, may I have a little speech with this Dominican?’
‘I’ll call him.’
‘And we keep in close touch, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’
‘With my compliments, then,’ said Il Questore Valdarno sadly.
Alleyn returned to the shop and delivered his message.
‘Il Questore Valdarno, is it?’ said Father Denys. ‘You didn’t let on this was a pollis affair but it doesn’t surprise me at all. Wait, now, and I’ll talk to ‘um.’
He did so in voluble Italian and returned looking perturbed. ‘It’s a queer business,’ he said, ‘and I don’t say I fancy the turn it’s taking. He wants to send in some of his fellows to search below and is going to talk to my Superior about it. I told ‘um we’d overlooked every inch of the place but that doesn’t satisfy the man. He says will I tell you you’re welcome to join in. Eight sharp in the morning.’
‘Not tonight?’
‘Ah, why would it be tonight and himself if he’s below, which he’s not, locked up like a fish in a tin.’ Father Denys looked prettysharply at Alleyn. ‘You’re not the cut of a policeman, yourself,’ he said. ‘None of my business, of course.’
‘Do I look like a harmless visitor? I hope I do. Tell me, do you know anything about the woman called Violetta who sells postcards here?’
Father Denys clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Violetta, is it!’ he ejaculated. ‘A terrible pest, that one, God forgive me, for she’s touched in her wits, poor creature. Sure, this other business put her clean out of my mind. Come into the atrium till I tell you. We’ll lock up this place.’
He did lock up the vestibule and pretty securely, too, fetching a great key out of a pocket in his habit. Nobody else had that one or a key to the iron grille he said, except Brother Dominic who opened up in the morning.
The basilica was now deserted and the time six o’clock. All the bells in Rome rang the Ave Maria and Father Denys took time off to observe it. He then led the way into the atrium and settled beside Alleyn on a stone bench, warm with the westering sun. He was a cosy man and enjoyed a gossip.
Violetta, he said, had sold postcards in the entrance to S. Tommaso for some months. She was a Sicilian of dubious origins, was
‘A scene? How?’
‘Yelling abuse at him. It was not in the sort of Italian we learnt in my Diplomatic days but the general drift was invective and fury.’
Alleyn could almost hear the Questore’s shrug.
‘He has done something to annoy her, perhaps,’ he suggested in his melancholy voice.
‘She spat at him.’
‘Ah,’ sighed the Questore. ‘He had irritated her.’
‘No doubt,’ Alleyn faintly agreed. ‘She’s called Violetta,’ he added.
‘Why do you concern yourself with this woman, my dear colleague?’
‘Well, if I understood her at all, she threatened to kill him.’
‘Evidently a short-tempered woman. Some of these street-vendors are in fact badly-behaved persons.’
‘I thought he was greatly disturbed by the encounter. He made light of it but he turned very white.’
‘Ah.’ There was a brief silence. ‘She sells postcards outside S. Tommaso?’
‘Yes. One of our party thought she saw her shadow on the wall of a passage down in the Mithraeum.’
‘They are not permitted to enter.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘I will have inquiries made. I will also have the airports, omnibus and railway stations watched. I feel there is a strong probability Mailer has recognized you and will attempt an escape.’
‘I am deeply obliged to you, Signor Questore.’
‘Please!’
‘But I confess the chances of his recognizing me—we have never met—do seem a bit thin.’
‘Some contact of his, an English contact, may have seen you and informed him. It is most possible.’
‘Yes,’ Alleyn said, ‘it’s possible of course.’
‘We shall see. In the meantime, my dear Superintendent, may I have a little speech with this Dominican?’
‘I’ll call him.’
‘And we keep in close touch, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’
‘With my compliments, then,’ said Il Questore Valdarno sadly.
Alleyn returned to the shop and delivered his message.
‘Il Questore Valdarno, is it?’ said Father Denys. ‘You didn’t let on this was a pollis affair but it doesn’t surprise me at all. Wait, now, and I’ll talk to ‘um.’
He did so in voluble Italian and returned looking perturbed. ‘It’s a queer business,’ he said, ‘and I don’t say I fancy the turn it’s taking. He wants to send in some of his fellows to search below and is going to talk to my Superior about it. I told ‘um we’d overlooked every inch of the place but that doesn’t satisfy the man. He says will I tell you you’re welcome to join in. Eight sharp in the morning.’
‘Not tonight?’
‘Ah, why would it be tonight and himself if he’s below, which he’s not, locked up like a fish in a tin.’ Father Denys looked prettysharply at Alleyn. ‘You’re not the cut of a policeman, yourself,’ he said. ‘None of my business, of course.’
‘Do I look like a harmless visitor? I hope I do. Tell me, do you know anything about the woman called Violetta who sells postcards here?’
Father Denys clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Violetta, is it!’ he ejaculated. ‘A terrible pest, that one, God forgive me, for she’s touched in her wits, poor creature. Sure, this other business put her clean out of my mind. Come into the atrium till I tell you. We’ll lock up this place.’
He did lock up the vestibule and pretty securely, too, fetching a great key out of a pocket in his habit. Nobody else had that one or a key to the iron grille he said, except Brother Dominic who opened up in the morning.
The basilica was now deserted and the time six o’clock. All the bells in Rome rang the Ave Maria and Father Denys took time off to observe it. He then led the way into the atrium and settled beside Alleyn on a stone bench, warm with the westering sun. He was a cosy man and enjoyed a gossip.
Violetta, he said, had sold postcards in the entrance to S. Tommaso for some months. She was a Sicilian of dubious origins, was
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