” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. But this made the chase all the more exciting. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook.
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