“I feel fairly safe in assuming that, with your usual efficiency and thoroughness, you’ve gone into my activities in depth. So you probably know where the allegedly borrowed funds went, and how, and you know as well that I haven’t a dime of it left-that I’m additionally in debt, in fact, way over my head. So you can’t be expecting restitution. At least not in kind. So what’s the quid pro quo, Nino? What do I have that you could possibly want?”

“Virginia.”

For a moment the tall man sat quite still. As he sat his eyes darkened to a deep sea blue. “Virginia,” he said, as if it were a word he had never heard before.

“Virginia,” the industrialist repeated, tasting it.

He took the Havana out of his mouth, peering at its smoke. “Well, I don’t know, Nino. This isn’t your mountainside Italy. Or the 19th century. By the way, you are proposing to marry my daughter, aren’t you? Not just play some dirty bedroom game with her?”

“Maiale! E figlio d’uri maiale!”

The tall man sat unmoved by the almost visible steam coming out of the espresso eyes. He was a little surprised at Importuna’s wrath; the old cod must really like the girl.

The man behind the table sank back, fuming. “Yes, she’s to be my wife,” he said curtly. “Don’t make me mad again. What I say to you is this: You talk Virginia into marrying me, and I not only won’t prosecute you for embezzling Importuna money, I’ll even pay your debts-$46,000, isn’t it?”

“Forty-eight and some,” the embezzler said delicately.

“-because then, you see, you’ll be my father-in-law. My suocero, as they say in the old country. Family. You know how we take care of family… suocero.”

“I’m a bit young for the role,” the controller murmured, “but unsuccessful thieves are like beggars, Nino, aren’t they?” He stuck the cigar back between his teeth. “At that I’m not sure I understand. You say you want to marry Virginia. You’ve never struck me as an Italian Miles Standish. You usually speak right up when you want something. How come you haven’t asked her? Or have you?”