face, the bleak, screwed-up eyes and the black shadow of a careless shave.
He found Alsconi disappointing. After all he had heard of him, he had expected to find someone iron-hard instead of this fat, petulant, elderly man.
Alsconi felt Crantor's searching gaze and he in turn looked at him and inwardly shuddered. What a face! If he had known Crantor looked like this he would never have planned to make use of him. It was a face as easily recognized as Carlos's giant body. It was a face once seen couldn't possibly be forgotten. But the man could drive. If they continued at this speed they would be in Naples by the morning. He straightened a little in his seat.
'Very soon now,' he said, 'we shall come to the hill road into Siena. You will have to drive more slowly, but don't go too slow. It is essential I should be in Palermo as soon as you can possibly get me there.'
'Will Felix be in Palermo? I understood he was in Siena,' Crantor said as he edged up the speed of the car.
'Don't bother me with small talk,' Alsconi said irritably. 'I have things to think about.'
Crantor drove on, his mind seething with rage at the snub. And it wasn't until they began to climb the twisting hill road and when he had to slacken speed, that he began to consider his position.
Alsconi had said there was to be a change. He had told him to come out immediately. Could that mean he was now to work closely with him? Did he want to? If Alsconi treated everyone in this way was it worth while working with such a man?
Crantor suddenly thought of the fifteen thousand pounds in five-pound notes he had brought out of England and that were now lying on the floor of the car. If he had known Alsconi was going to be like this, he would have taken the money for himself and dropped out of sight. It wouldn't have been easy, but it could have been done. It was not too late to do it now. Again he thought of the wooden boxes. What did they contain? More money?
His mind was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he came upon Don's Bentley without seeing it until it was too late. He swept around the curve in the road, then suddenly realized he was too far over to the left. He saw the Bentley's dipped headlights, and he slammed his foot down on the brake pedal.
He felt the violent impact and heard the front tyre burst. For one nerve-racking moment as the car swung broadside on, he thought it was going to crash down into the valley. He heard Alsconi cursing as he wrestled with the wheel, then the car came to a standstill. Shaken and furious with himself, he opened the car door and got out.
Lorelli looked beyond Crantor and recognized Alsconi's bulky figure. She felt herself turn cold.
Crantor said, 'What are you doing here with Micklem?' He had lowered the gun. There was a puzzled expression on his face. 'What is this?'
'Crantor! Bring her here! 'Alsconi barked. 'Don't let her get away.'
Lorelli looked around wildly for a means of escape as Crantor caught hold of her wrist. She tried to jerk free, but he held her and pulled her across the road to where Alsconi was standing, covering Don with the gun.
In the reflected light from the Cadillac's headlamps, Alsconi looked white and flabby. His mouth twitched and there was fear in his eyes.
'Watch this man: shoot him if he moves,' he said, then he caught hold of Lorelli's arm and pulled her into the light so he could see her clearly. 'So you got away? And you have been talking, haven't you? You've been giving away my secrets.' He dropped the gun into his pocket and caught hold of her by her throat, shaking her. 'Haven't you?' he shouted at her.
Lorelli buckled at her knees, her hands pulled at Alsconi's wrists, trying to break his vicious grip.
'You've told him about my yacht, haven't you?' Alsconi snarled. 'Haven't you?'
'Take your hands off her!' Don exclaimed. 'You can't get away. The police are on the yacht now, waiting for you.
They're at the Bazzoni villa as well.'
Alsconi threw Lorelli from him so she sprawled in the road. He dragged out his gun, his face murderous. Stepping back so he could still watch Don, Crantor aimed a quick slap at Alsconi's wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand.
Alsconi staggered back, his face livid.
'Wait!' Crantor said sharply. 'What is this? What's happening?'
'Happening?' Alsconi cried, his voice shrill. 'She's betrayed us! That's what's happening! She's given us away to the police.'
'What's this about a yacht? What yacht?'
'How can I get away unless I use the yacht?' Alsconi snarled. 'The police have a description of me.' Fear made his face slack and ugly. 'There's money in the villa. How am I going to get away now?'
This news, came as a shock to Crantor. So Alsconi was on the run and the police had a description of him! Crantor's brain worked quickly. They hadn't a description of himself, he thought, but if he were caught with Alsconi... What a mug he had been! He should have taken the fifteen thousand and dropped out of sight. Then he had a sudden idea.
'What about the motor launch?' he asked. 'Have you still got it?'
Alsconi blinked, then clapped his hands together.
'Of course!' He had forgotten the motor cruiser in the harbour of Civitavecchia: the cruiser that was used to smuggle French currency into Italy. 'That's it! It had gone out of my mind. While the police wait for me in Palermo, I'll take the launch to Monte Carlo. We will go at once to Civitavecchia.'
He picked up the gun that Crantor had knocked out of his hand. Lorelli had got to her feet and was now standing by Don, her face white. She watched Alsconi fearfully.
'Is Micklem's car damaged? Look and see,' Alsconi said to Crantor. 'I'll watch these two.'
