"No one will pinch you," said Dyton-Blease. "These people are different."
"I hope so," said Selina. "But if these are what I am to wear—why all this?" And she swept her hand in a fury down her dress.
"It may be necessary to stay with Naxos for a while, on his yacht," Dyton-Blease said. "It depends—" "On what?"
"An Englishman," said Dyton-Blease. "I expect that he will be ill by now. If not, it will be necessary to kill him."
"What does he look like?" Selina asked.
"You've met before," Dyton-Blease said. "But then I didn't know who he was. I wish to God I had." He took a photograph from his pocket, and handed it to her. She found herself looking at Craig, and realized that he had not lied.
* * »
The ship turned westward, seeking the opening in the long, low shoreline. The ringing blue of the Adriatic became shallow, opaque. Along the eastern reef there were a straggle of fishing villages; violently painted fishing boats, each one decorated on the bows with an eye or a star to ward off evil; a maze of nets, drying in the evening sun; and other boats, restless, searching for the comfort of the city. Motor-boats, dinghies, barges, wary of the shallows. The Philippa eased to half speed, as opulence took over from poverty; white hotels; caf6s, gardens with umbrellas like mad, striped toadstools, twin rows of barbered, symmetrical trees. Then the last promontory disappeared, and before them was Venice, towers, domes, campaniles, palazzos, a shimmering haze of white and pink and blue. The Philippa sailed on to the basin of Saint Mark's, and dropped anchor off Saint George's Island.
Craig stood between Flip and Naxos, and looked at the city, its waters alive with gondolas, barges, sandolos, vaporettos, and crowded on to the land, pushing in hard for room like the home crowd at a cup tie, the palaces and churches, gorgeous, arrogant, triumphal as the men who made them.
"Aren't you glad we had to come here?" Flip asked.
"It's magnificent," Craig said, "but it's dangerous."
"That's part of its charm," Phihppa said.
Naxos said: T own one of those," and nodded at the line of palazzos on the Grand Canal. "That one." He pointed, and handed Craig a pair of binoculars. Craig took the glasses and saw a slim, elegant building, with magnificent balconies and a vast shaded portico. Two gondolas tied up at the painted poles by its steps stained its honey-yellow marble. The gondolas too, were Harry's, but not the rabble of other craft that jostled to tie up alongside, row-boats, motorboats, barges, loaded with food, drink, carpets, glassware, crockery, chairs, even musical instruments.
"What on earth—"
"There'll be more round the back," said Naxos, and turned to Craig.
"I'm sorry, John. We're having a party tonight."
"How many guests?"
"About three hundred," said Naxos.
"And reporters and photographers and TV cameras?"
"Well of course. It's a big party." He paused. "Trot-tia's designing it for me."
'Trottia?"
"Yes," said Naxos. "It's very important for me, John." "Okay," he said. "You'd better show me a plan of the
house."
He worked over it carefully, in infinite detail, with Naxos. There was one way in, and one way out. That was a gain. The house looked out in front on to the Grand Canal, and was a hollow square, enclosing a courtyard that was bounded on one side by a narrow waterway, on the two others by even narrower streets. It would be staffed by the stewards of the yacht, policed by its sailors. The band was to be flown in from Rome, the guests from half Europe. Naxos deemed it a necessary exercise in public relations, and nothing Craig could say would shift him. It was too late to cancel, and Trottia had organized it anyway. "AH right," Craig said at last. "But you both get there and stay there—in a crowd. I want everybody to See you—and recognize you."
"Of course," said Naxos. "There's just one more thing. This is a costume ball, John—I have a costume for you—and everyone will go masked."
"That's all I needed," said Craig.
"We begin at midnight and unmask at dawn. Trottia says it's the way the Venetians lived in the old days. The great ones, I mean. The merchant princes."
And he's conned you into being the last of them, Craig thought.
He said at last: "You won't leave the ship until midnight. Promise?"
"Sure," said Naxos.
"Who will?"
"The stewards will leave in an hour. They have to set the house in order. The crew—the ones who will be policing the place—they'll go over at eleven."
"Your guests?"
"They'll stay here if I ask them. We're eating at ten." "Ask them," said Craig. "I will."
"I'd like to go ashore now. Can I take the bosun with
me?"
"Take what you like," said Naxos.
"Just the bosun. Have you said anything about me?"
Naxos shook his head.
"Tell him I'm your new security chief. Tell him he's to do as I say. And, Harry—" Naxos turned to him. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"
"Only what I have to," said Naxos.
5"Chapter 11 *
The small launch roared across to Lido and put Craig ashore. Craig told the Hydriote to wait and hurried to a cafe in the piazza, and a telephone. No time to go to the Danieli, near as it was. He phoned Grierson and told his friend to meet him and to bring an extra gun. He then raced for the maze of shops near the Largo San Marco, found a chemist's, and walked inside. Afterwards he returned to the Hy-driote.
"I've tried to telephone the palazzo," he said. "There's no answer. Go and see what's wrong. Ill wait here."
The Greek nodded and set off in the motorboat. Craig looked out from the piazzetta. In the middle of the crowd an Englishman walked, tall, dapper, aloof. Dark slacks, dark-blue sport shirt, handmade Florentine shoes, a hat of coffee-colored straw. He carried a map, and looked puzzled. Craig stood up and sauntered easily into the most earnest crowd in the world, as it gaped at one of its finest views. The tall Englishman bumped into him, then looked up, apologetic.
"I'm awfully sorry," he said.
'That's all right."
"Oh, you're English? Jolly good," said the tall one, then added: "I say. You don't happen to know a place where they sell a decent beer, do you?"
'There's a cafe round the corner," said Craig. "Come and 111 show you."
They turned down to the piazzetta, sheltered from the crowd in a doorway. Craig made explanatory gestures and said: "Nice to see you. Did you bring a gun?"
"Just let me show you the map," said Grierson.
He opened it wide, and Craig, holding one side, felt a weight in the pocket of his jacket.
"Thanks," he said. "You're going to a masked ball tonight."
"Oh, goody," said Grierson.
"Get yourself a costume and meet me here at eleven o'clock."
"Will do. Anything else?"
Maize pellets rattled on the stone in front of them, a flock of overfed pigeons swooped, and a flurry of German tourists aimed Leicas. Grierson lifted the map again.
"Go and get your beer," said Craig. "Have one for
me.
Grierson left him, and Craig waited for the Hydriote to return. He admired the skill with which the bosun ran the boat alongside the molo, then tied up and left it, going at once to Craig. Greeks never expected to be robbed, Craig thought, but maybe Theseus was right anyway. Who would dare rob Naxos?
"Phone's okay," he said.
"I must have got the number wrong," Craig said. Theseus said nothing.
"We've got time for a drink," said Craig.
The idea pleased the Hydriote so much he was moved to speech.