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the front of his shirt. At this point Broke felt a thud on his own shoulder and found that Signora Solferini had fallen asleep. He shifted her head round until it was comfortable, and closed his own eyes.
    At an immeasurable time after this there was a general stir amongst the guests, and Broke realized that dinner was over. He propped the Doctor’s wife in a vertical position, and rose stiffly from his seat. A glance at his wrist told him that it was a quarter to four.
    He strolled out on to the terrace to smoke a cigarette. It was the darkest moment of the night. In less than an hour, as the earth completed one more of its uncounted rotations, the stars would be going out, the mountain peaks in the east would be hardening as the sky paled behind them, and another day would be born.
    ‘“But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad”,’ said Comander Comber, from behind him, ‘“walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.” Wonderful chap, Shakespeare. He didn’t need stage lighting. He gave it all to you in the script. Do you think we could find our host, and be slipping quietly away?’
    ‘What have you done with that brunette?’
    ‘I surrendered her, without too much of a struggle, to one of her compatriots. He has taken her down into the olive grove, to listen to the cicadas.’
    ‘Then let’s go.’
    As they turned back into the house Comber said, ‘I did warn you it wouldn’t be an ordinary cocktail party, didn’t I?’
    ‘You did,’ said Broke. ‘And next time, I’ll pay some attention to your warnings.’
    They found Professor Bronzini with the hard core of the party in the reception room. He was demonstrating his prowess on the double pipes and had just finished a rendering of what sounded like the ‘Flowers of the Forest’.
    ‘Go?’ he said. ‘Of course you mustn’t go, my dear fellow. The night is still young. You have work to do tomorrow? No true Etruscan ever thinks about tomorrow. But I had forgotten. You are not an Etruscan. You are a Roman. The disciplina Romana ! A code which starts with self-control, but always ends by imposing control on others. The axe and the rods, eh?’
    Broke was too tired to argue.
    He said, ‘It’s been an unforgettable experience, Professor. I envy you your lovely house, and all those beautiful things you have downstairs.’
    ‘You have seen them?’
    ‘Mercurio was kind enough to show me round.’
    ‘You found them interesting?’ said Bronzini. There was a curious look in his Silenus eyes.
    ‘Extremely interesting.’
    ‘You must come and inspect them more at leisure. They are worth looking at.’
    ‘I’m sure they are.’
    Out in the hall there was trouble. A voice, which Broke recognized, was shouting. It was Antonio Lucco, the great footballer. His face looked as if it had been clawed. The front of his shirt was hanging out and there was a long red stain down the front of his jacket which Broke thought, at first, was blood, and then saw was only wine.
    Lucco was screaming insults at the little knot of men who were shepherding him slowly along the passage, like bees balling a struggling intruder out of the hive.
    The gentle Arturo appeared at the end of the passage and the crowd opened.
    As Lucco started to shout, Arturo grasped the collar of his coat and shirt in one large hand and picked him up, holding him suspended. As the pressure on his windpipe silenced Lucco, Arturo turned, still holding him, and carried him to the door.
    It was an extraordinary feat of strength, for Lucco was by no means a small man.
    At the door Arturo paused for a moment to say, ‘Will one of you find this gentleman’s hat and coat?’
    Broke said to Comber, ‘What was up? Was he just tight, or what?’
    ‘He was tight all right,’ said Comber. ‘But that’s no crime round here. I gather he made a pass at one of the boys.’
    They found their car at the end of the line of parked vehicles. As they were backing it out, Arturo loomed through the dark.
    ‘I must