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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 2 An Expedition is Arranged
CHAPTER 3 Saturday, the Twenty-sixth
CHAPTER 4 Absence of Mr Mailer
CHAPTER 6 Re-appearance of a Postcard Vendor
CHAPTER 8 Return of Sebastian Mailer
CHAPTER 9 Death in the Morning
Patrons of Mr Sebastian Mailer’s conducted tour
| Mr Barnaby Grant | Author of Simon in Latium |
| The Baron and Baroness Van der Veghel | |
| Miss Sophy Jason | Writer of children’s stories |
| Lady Braceley | |
| The Hon. Kenneth Dorne | Her nephew |
| Major Hamilton Sweet | |
| Superintendent Roderick Alleyn | CID London |
Officers of the Roman Police Department
Il Questore Valdarno
Il Vice-Questore Bergarmi
Sundry members of the Questura
Dominicans in charge at S. Tommaso in Pallaria
Father Denys
Brother Dominic
| Mr Sebastian Mailer | Il Cicerone Conducted Tours |
| Giovanni Vecchi | His assistant |
| Violetta | A postcard vendor |
| Marco | A restaurateur |
| A British Consul | |
| Signor Pace | A travel agent |
| A Porter and sundry waiters |
Barnaby Grant looked at the Etruscan Bride and Bridegroom who reclined so easily on their sarcophagal couch and wondered why they had died so young and whether, as in Verona, they had died together. Their gentle lips, he thought, brushed with amusement, might easily tilt into the arrowhead smile of Apollo and Hermes. How fulfilled they were and how enigmatically alike. What signal did she give with her largish hands? How touchingly his hand hovered above her shoulder.
‘—from Cerveteri,’ said a guide rapidly. ‘Five hundred and thirty years before Christ.’
‘Christ!’ said a tourist on a note of exhaustion.
The party moved on. Grant stayed behind for a time and then, certain that he desired to see no more that morning, left the Villa Giulia and took a taxi to the Piazza Colonna for a glass of beer.
II
As he sat at a kerbside table in the Piazza Colonna, Barnaby thought of the Etruscan smile and listened to thunder.
The heavens boomed largely above the noon traffic but whatever lightning there might be was not evident, being masked by a black canopy of low and swollen cloud. At any moment, thought Barnaby, Marcus Aurelius’s Column will prick it and like ‘a foul bumbard’ it will shed its liquor! And then what a scene!
Before him on the table stood a glass and a bottle of beer. His mackintosh was folded over the back of his chair and on the ground, leaning against his leg, was a locked attaché case. Every so often his left hand dropped to the case and fingered it. Refreshed by this contact his mouth would take on an easier look and he would blink slowly and push away the lock of black hair that overhung his forehead.
A bit of a swine, this one, he thought. It’s been a bit of a swine.
A heavy rumbling again broke out overhead. Thunder on the left, Barnaby thought. The gods are cross with us.
He refilled his glass and looked about him.
The kerbside caffè had been crowded but now, under threat of a downpour, many customers had left and the waiters had tipped over their chairs. The tables on either side of his own, however, were still occupied: that on his right by three lowering young men whose calloused hands jealously enclosed their glasses and whose slow eyes looked sideways at their surroundings. Countrymen, Grant thought, who would have been easier in a less consequential setting and would be shocked by the amount of their bill. On his left sat a Roman couple in love. Forbidden by law to kiss in public, they gazed, clung hand-to-hand, and exchanged
