He breakfasted on fruit and coffee before setting out to walk the short distance to the Gallery d’Estino. He judged his time precisely, arriving at a quarter to nine, before it was open. This would give him a chance to form an impression of the place before meeting the owner.

What he saw, he approved. The shop was exquisite, and although he could discern little of the merchandise through the protective grilles over the windows, what he could make out seemed well chosen. His mental picture of Harriet d’Estino became clearer: a woman of elegance, mental elegance, as well as intellect. He began to warm to her.

The warmth faded a little as nine o’clock passed with no sign of the shop opening. Inefficiency. The unforgivable sin. He turned and collided with someone who yelled, ‘Ouch!’

‘My apologies,’ he murmured to the flustered young woman who was hopping about on the pavement, clutching one foot.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, wincing and nearly losing her balance until Marco took hold of her.

‘Thanks. Did you want to go in?’

‘Well it is past opening time,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh, gosh yes, it is, isn’t it. Hang on, I’ve got the key.’

While she scrabbled through a large collection of keys he studied her and found nothing to approve. She wore jeans and a sweater that looked as though they’d been chosen for utility, and a blue woollen hat that covered her hair completely. She might have been young. She might even have been attractive. It was hard to tell since she looked like a worker on a building site. Harriet d’Estino must be desperate for staff to have employed someone so gauche and clumsy.

After what seemed like an age she let him in.

‘Just give me a moment,’ she said, dumping her packages and starting work on the grilles. ‘Then you can have all my attention.’

‘Actually I was hoping to see the owner.’

‘Won’t I do?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

The young woman grew suddenly still. Then she shot him a nervous glance and her whole manner changed.