'Yes.'
'Walking east.'
'Yes. I really didn't watch them that closely.'
'What else can you tell me about the man with the long hair?'
'Fatma seemed to like him.'
'Like him?'
'She smiled when she was with him.'
'What about his clothing?'
'He looked poor.'
'Ragged?'
'No, just poor. I can't say exactly why I formed that impression.'
'All right,' said Daniel. 'What about the other one?'
'Him I saw once, a few days before she left. This was at night, the same circumstances as the time we took her in. I was returning from late Mass, heard voices-crying-from the Bab el Jadid side of the monastery, took a look, and saw her sitting, talking to this fellow. He was standing over her and I could see he was short-maybe five foot five or six. With big glasses.'
'How old?'
'It was hard to tell in the dark. I saw the light reflect off his head, so he must have been bald. But I don't think he was old.'
'Why's that?'
'His voice-it sounded boyish. And the way he stood-his posture seemed like that of a young man.' Roselli paused. 'These are just impressions, Inspector. I couldn't swear to any of them.'
Impressions that added up to a perfect description of Anwar Rashmawi.
'Were they doing anything other than talking?' Daniel asked.
'No. If any? romance had ever existed between them, it was long over. He was talking very quickly-sounded angry, as if he were scolding her.'
'How did Fatma respond to the scolding?'
'She cried.'
'Did she say anything at all?'
'Maybe a few words. He was doing most of the talking. He seemed to be in charge-but that's part of their culture, isn't it?'
'What happened after he was through scolding her?'
'He walked away in a huff and she sat there crying. I thought of approaching her, decided against it, and went into the monastery. She was up working the next morning, so she must have come in. A few days later she was gone.'
'Following this meeting, what was her mood like?'
'I have no idea.'
'Did she look frightened? Worried? Sad?'
Roselli blushed again, this time more deeply.
'I never looked that closely, Inspector.'
'Your impression, then.'
'I have no impression, Inspector. Her moods were none of my business.'
'Have you ever been in her room?'
'No. Never.'
'Did you see anything indicating she used drugs?'
'Of course not.'
'You seem very sure of that.'
'No, I'm? she was young. A very simple little girl.'
Too pat a conclusion for a former social worker, thought Daniel. He asked the monk: 'The day before she left she was wearing the striped white shift?'
'Yes,' said Roselli, annoyed. 'I told you she only had the one.'
'And the earrings.'
'If there were earrings.'
'If,' agreed Daniel. 'Is there anything else you wish to tell me?'
'Nothing,' said Roselli, folding his arms across his chest. He was sweating heavily, gripping one hand with
