‘I’ll make us some coffee.’

Harriet went into the back of the shop and put on the coffee, annoyed with herself for having made a mess of everything after Olympia’s warning. But she’d half convinced herself that Marco wouldn’t bother coming to see her, and her mind had been so taken up with worries about her creditors that she’d had little time to think of other things.

As an expert in antiquities Harriet had no rival. Her taste was impeccable, her instincts flawless, and many an imposing institution accepted her opinion as final. But somehow she couldn’t translate this skill into a commercial profit, and the bills were piling up.

The coffee perked and she brought herself back to reality. She would have given anything not to have betrayed her money worries to this man, but perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Then he appeared beside her and she became distracted by the resemblance. Just where had she seen him before?

She’d promised Olympia not to let Marco suspect that she’d been forewarned, so it might be safest to play dumb for a while. It was a melancholy fact, she’d discovered, that if you pretended to be really stupid people always believed you.

‘Why did you want to see me, Signor-Calvani, was it?’

‘My name means nothing to you?’

‘I’m sorry, should it?’

‘I’m a friend of your sister Olympia. I thought she might have mentioned me.’

‘We’re only half-sisters. We grew up far apart and don’t see each other often.’ She added casually, ‘How is she these days?’

‘Still the beautiful social butterfly. I told her I’d look you up while I was in London. If it’s agreeable to you we might spend this evening together, perhaps go to a show and have dinner afterwards.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘What kind of show do you like?’

‘I’ve been trying to get into Dancing On Line, but the seats are like gold-dust and tonight’s the last performance.’