What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. The kind of man who isn’t content with his science, and writes articles in the monthly reviews. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. She pulled the trigger. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. But she must stop him getting away.
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