‘To the Palazzo Bagnelli? Why?’

‘I thought Gino might be here.’

‘Gino Falzi?’

She brightened. ‘You do know him?’

‘Yes, I know him well, but-’

‘Does he still live here? Is he here now?’

‘No,’ he said slowly.

Pietro was getting warning signals that filled him with apprehension.

Gino’s mother had once been the Bagnelli family’s cook, living on the premises with her son. The lads had grown up good friends despite the six years between them. Gino was light-hearted, delightful company, and Pietro, the elder and more serious-minded, had found in him a much-needed release.

‘You should laugh more,’ Gino often chided him. ‘Come on, have some fun.’

And Pietro had laughed, following his scape-grace friend into his latest mad adventure, from which he usually had to extract him. Gino had a butterfly mind, which made it hard for him to settle to steady employment, although he had finally found a niche in the tourist firm that Pietro owned, where his charm made him a knockout with the customers.

It also made him a risk-taker, walking a fine line between acceptable behaviour and going a bit too far. Pietro knew that Gino loved to impress the girls by pretending that he came from the aristocratic Bagnelli family, and although he disapproved it also made him shrug wryly. It was just Gino amusing himself.

Now he was beginning to worry that Gino had amused himself in a way that might bring tragedy.

‘Can you tell me where he is?’ she asked.

‘He’s off travelling at the moment. He works for me in a tourist firm I own, and he’s exploring new places.’

‘But he’ll be home soon?’ she asked with a hint of eagerness that both touched and worried him.

‘No, he’s on a long trip, finding places where I can mount tours.’

‘I see,’ she said with a little sigh.

Pietro asked his next question carefully.

‘Does Gino know you well?’