her room. I asked her if she were going out, but she acted as if she hadn't heard me. She went out. I went to .the door. There was a car waiting. Miss Pasero was talking to this girl. They got into the car and drove away.'
Don hunched his shoulders against the chill that crawled up his spine.
'What was the girl like?' he asked, and the tone of his voice made Cavallino stiffen.
'I couldn't see much of her, but I did notice her hair. It was an unusual colour: a Venetian red.'
Don stared at him for a loag moment.
'Let me have your telephone',' he said curtly
Cavallino pushed the telephone towards him.
'There is something wrong then?' he asked anxiously.
'That's what I'm going to find out,' Don said and dialled Whitehall 1212.
Lorelli sat in the driver's seat of the Humber, her hands over her ears, her eyes shut.
The old, battered car stood under the trees of the tow-path, a few yards from Risings Lock. It was dark, and the white, damp mist hid the river.
It had been too easy. She had traced Gina to the Miremare Hotel. Gina had recognized her at once, although it was now five years since they had met in Siena. She had accepted Lorelli's tale that there was work for her again in Italy. Excited and unsuspicious, she had got into the car to discuss the details.
Crantor had been hiding in the back of the car. He had risen up and hit Gina with a sock filled with wet sand. He had struck her on the top of her head, very hard and viciously. She had slumped against Lorelli. Shuddering, Lorelli had pushed her away from her, ancl Crantor, leaning over the front seat, had shoved Gina's unconscious body off the seat on to the floor.
'Okay,' he said. 'Straight ahead. I'll tell you where to go.'
It had taken them half an hour to reach Risings Lock. It was now a quarter past one. The tow-path was deserted. Crantor got out of the car and stood listening for some moments to the sound of the rain, the gentle movement of the river and the wind in the trees. Then he dragged Gina's body out of the car, letting it slide on to the wet, muddy tarmac.
'Wait for me,' he said and picking up the unconscious girl, he threw her over his shoulder and walked away into the darkness.
Lorelli waited, her hands pressed to her ears. She couldn't bear to hear the splash that she knew would follow when Crantor threw Gina into the river. After an interminable time Crantor returned to the car. He was breathing heavily. The front of his dirty trench coat was wet.
'Move over,' he said curtly. 'I'll drive.'
Lorelli slid along the bench seat. Crantor got in under the steering wheel, started the car, turned on the parking lights and drove along the tow-path. After a hundred yards or so, he turned left on to the main road.
He drove fast, heading for London. Neither he nor Lorelli said anything until they came to the main London road, then Crantor said abruptly, 'What will you do now?'
'The job's finished,' Lorelli said. 'I'll go back. I'll catch the ten o'clock plane to Rome.'
'Is it safe? They'll be watching the airports.'
'My papers are in order. They won't recognize me. Of course it's safe.'
'Don't be too sure. The cops here are smart.'
'They won't worry me.'
'You'll tell Felix I did a good job?' Crantor said.
'Yes, I'll tell him,' Lorelli said indifferently.
Crantor looked sideways at her.
'You don't sound enthusiastic. It is important he should know how I handled it.'
'You were well paid,' Lorelli said, staring through the windscreen at the beams of the car's headlights as they raced ahead of them.
Crantor grunted. He drove for ten minutes or so without speaking, then he said, 'Do you want to stay at Polsen's for the night?'
'I may as well,' she returned.
Again he glanced at her. Then his big, hairy hand dropped on to her trousered knee.
'You and I could be useful to each other,' he said.
She hit the back of his hand hard with her handbag. The steel clip cut the skin. He jerked his hand away, cursing.
'Every man I have had to work with comes out with that proposition,' Lorelli said angrily. 'Can't you be different?'
'Why?' Crantor snarled as he sucked at his bleeding hand. 'I'm a man, aren't I? Just because my face...'
'Oh, shut up!' Lorelli snapped. 'You flatter yourself. What's your face got to do with it?'
Crantor's hands gripped the steering wheel viciously. He imagined his ringers' were sinking into her white throat.
They drove on in silence.
It wasn't until half-past two the following afternoon that Don came down to his study.
