Journey to love Read online

  “You have certainly given me a good deal to think about,” the Marquis answered. “Actually I have planned to lead a quiet life in the country and not trouble myself with the problems of politics and the world outside.”

  “If you do, it will be a senseless waste of good material.”

  “I have never,” the Marquis complained, “been referred to as material before. But I suppose one lives and learns!”

  Then because he sounded as if he was really insulted by the suggestion, they both began to laugh.

  “I cannot believe this conversation is taking place,” the Marquis said. “Since I am finding it difficult to hold my own, I challenge you to another game of deck-tennis which I intend to win.”

  “I shall make sure,” Shana replied, “that you do not do so too easily. I will go and change my shoes.”

  She ran across the deck and disappeared.

  The Marquis stared after her.

  How could he ever have found anyone so extraordinary? And how annoying it was to have to admit that what she was saying was entirely right – it was something he should have thought of himself.

  They played their game of deck-tennis and although the Marquis won again, he had to fight hard to gain the upper hand.

  *

  The Seashell anchored in a quiet bay for the night off the coast of Corsica.

  “Tomorrow we shall be in Rome,” the Marquis announced as they finished dinner. “I want to tell you, Shana, I have enjoyed every moment of this voyage in a way I did not at all expect when we sailed from London.”

  “And I have enjoyed it so much too, it has been very exciting talking to you and arguing with you on so many absorbing subjects.”

  “It is something I never anticipated doing with a woman. I can only think it is a pity that you are not a man, for undoubtedly you would be challenging Mr. Gladstone as Prime Minister or perhaps Lord Granville as Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs!”

  “That is just the kind of position you should aim at,” Shana retorted, “as you know a great deal more about Europe than most people and I think the intrigues and difficulties which you would be confronted with, you would find fascinating and rewarding.”

  The Marquis held up his hands.

  “Now you are pushing me into trouble,” he complained, “and hard work. If you say very much more I shall become alarmed at what you might inveigle me into and I will have to throw you overboard to the fishes!”

  Shana laughed.

  “If you throw me into the sea, I shall become a water-nymph and haunt you wherever you go. You will not be able to escape me at sea and you will certainly find me in your lake when you return home!”

  “You would look so lovely as a water-nymph that you are tempting me to carry out my threat!”

  “I am not afraid,” Shana smiled. “You pledged yourself to protect me and that means of course you must protect me from yourself.”

  It was what the Marquis had been thinking last night and it occurred to him that their minds were undoubtedly on a very similar wavelength.

  They might in some magical way be the other half of each other.

  “That is just what the Greeks believe we are all seeking in our lives,” Shana chimed in.

  “Now you are reading my thoughts,” the Marquis protested.

  “Just as you can read mine,” Shana answered. “Perhaps we have been together in other lives. Who knows, I might have been your brother or sister?”

  The Marquis noticed that she did not say ‘wife.’

  “Whatever we may have been,” he said, “I am sure that now we have met again we have managed to air our opinions and our ideas and I find yours fascinating.”

  He stretched out his hand and covered hers.

  “I want to look after you, Shana,” he told her gently, “and I cannot contemplate you having to earn your own living in the future.”

  For a moment Shana could not think of anything to say.

  She looked up at the Marquis and there was an expression in his eyes that she had not noticed earlier.

  She could not exactly put it into words and it made her feel a little shy and almost as if her heart was turning a somersault.

  She rose to her feet taking her hand away from the Marquis’s.

  “The Captain tells me,” she said, “that we shall be sailing into the port of Ostia tomorrow morning. I do not wish to miss a moment of it, so I am retiring to my cabin.”

  The Marquis tried to think how he could keep her from leaving him.

  Even as he hesitated, Shana had reached the door of the Saloon.

  “Goodnight,” she called sweetly, “and thank you for a wonderful day. It has been very exciting, but I think tomorrow will be even more so.”

  She was gone before he could think of a reply.

  He realised instinctively it would be a mistake to follow her or to upset her in any way before they reached Rome, and he was well aware that they both faced quite an ordeal ahead of them with the Chief of the Security Police.

  ‘She is being very brave about it,’ the Marquis mused to himself, ‘but I would not expect her to be anything else.’

  Equally he knew the encounter was bound to be upsetting and although Shana had not said so, he knew she was apprehensive.

  ‘We can only help them with what we know,’ the Marquis decided. ‘When they realise it is impossible for Shana to find the men she has seen, we will be able to go home.’

  There was a question in his mind as to what ‘going home’ meant and because he was afraid of the answer even to himself, he did not wish to think about it.

  When he finally climbed into bed he was acutely aware that she was so close to him. Even more aware that he was finding it difficult to think of the future without her.

  *

  The Seashell passed into the port of Ostia where the river Tiber reaches the sea.

  The Marquis was not surprised to find at breakfast that Shana knew as much about the Tiber and its turbulent history as he did.

  She was talking excitedly of when Horatio had held the bridge and the Etruscan armies who had waded across the river at its shallowest point and she was eager for her first glimpse of the Eternal City.

  When they disembarked there was an Officer waiting for them with a carriage to convey them to their appointment with the Chief of Police.

  “This is most kind of you,” the Marquis intoned as they drove off.

  The Officer was sitting opposite them with his back to the horses.

  “We have been waiting for you for the last few days, my Lord,” the Officer began. “But even so, we expected a far longer wait. Your yacht must have been very fast.”

  “I like to think it is faster than almost any other ship afloat and we experienced a very comfortable voyage without any trouble through the Bay of Biscay.”

  The Officer smiled.

  “That, I am always informed, my Lord, is a test for any vessel that ventures through it.”

  “Well, we passed the test and so did the Seashell,” the Marquis replied with pride. “How are things in Rome?”

  The Officer answered with a long list of the difficulties and frustrations which were making it difficult for those in authority.

  Shana did not bother to listen as she was looking out at the beauty of the countryside and eventually the City of Rome came into view.

  They did not pass the Fountain of Trevi, but she asked the Officer if they were likely to do so. However there were many other fountains to be seen everywhere in Rome as on every Piazza there were fountains embellished with sculptures and elaborate marble basins, their water glistening like rainbows that made Shana’s heart leap.

  She knew how disappointed she would have been if Rome had not been as beautiful as in her dreams.

  All too soon they drew up outside an impressive building.

  The Officer escorted them up the steps and they walked along a number of lofty corridors. With a great deal of bowing and scraping, men-at-arms in glamorous uniforms
showed them into a large room in the centre of which was an enormous writing table.

  At it sat an elderly man in uniform wearing a large number of medals. He sprang to his feet when the Marquis was announced and walked towards him holding out his hand.

  “It is a great honour, my Lord,” he announced pompously, “and I cannot express our gratitude to you for coming all this distance to help us.”

  “Your Ambassador in London was very persuasive,” the Marquis replied, “and I have brought with me as requested the lady whom you wanted to meet.”

  The Officer bent over Shana’s hand and looked at her in a scrutinising manner which made her feel embarrassed.

  “How is it possible,” he asked in Italian, “that anyone so young and beautiful could possibly have come into contact with these desperados who are driving us insane with their crimes.”

  “That is exactly what she will tell you herself,” the Marquis answered. “But I think it important, Signor, that we confer in a small room where there is no possibility of being overheard.”

  Shana thought this suggestion was very sensible and the Chief of Police readily agreed.

  They moved into quite a small room which was unattractively furnished and when the door was closed it seemed impossible that anyone could listen in on their deliberations.

  The Chief of Police was joined by two other Officers who were obviously of high rank and they all sat in a row while Shana told them what had occurred at the Rose and Crown.

  She became aware, as did the Marquis, that they were looking at her with admiration.

  When they did address her there was almost a caressing note in their voices as they asked questions.

  It was impossible for Shana to tell them anything more than she had already recounted to the Marquis.

  Then it was the Marquis’s turn. He explained how when Shana had come to warn him and that he had taken every precaution to capture them at the Hall and yet they had escaped.

  He had never anticipated that he and his men might be sprayed with a chemical, which had not only temporarily blinded them but had made them choke.

  “The same method has been used here in Italy,” the Chief commented, “but of course your Lordship would not have known about their diabolical methods.”

  The Marquis told them that the footman they had bribed had been stabbed before they made their getaway.

  The Chief of Police informed him this was a usual procedure.

  “They make absolutely certain that no one can talk about them after they have left and that of course applies to a dead man.”

  It was then that the Chief began to talk to Shana and he explained to her that she was the only person who had ever seen the thieves without their masks.

  “There must be some people who know them and can recognise them,” Shana remarked.

  “Their families, their friends and their confederates,” the Chief said, “are all far too frightened to betray them and in any case we have not the slightest idea of where any of them are.”

  “It does seem extraordinary,” Shana answered.

  She was speaking in Italian and so was the Marquis who spoke the language well without hesitating for a word. However she could not help thinking a little conceitedly that on the whole her Italian was better than his.

  The Chief then explained to Shana that he would like her to look through a number of pictures of criminals from the Police archives, some of which were drawings and some were newly invented photographs.

  “We have examined the background,” he continued, “of every criminal the Italian Police arrested in the last few years, but it would have been impossible for any of them to have operated with this particular gang who are terrorising not only Italy but many other countries in Europe.”

  “It must be a very large organisation,” the Marquis commented.

  “It may be and it may not be,” the Chief replied. “We have gone into every detail very carefully and we think there is one boss directing perhaps a dozen men over whom he has complete and absolute control. The thieves have never been known to work in two countries at the same time and they never undertake more than two or three burglaries in the same country in the same year.”

  “So you think it is the same team which travels from country to country?” the Marquis asked.

  “What we have concluded, my Lord, but it is entirely guesswork, is that the organisation consists of perhaps three or at the most four teams, who have been trained by their head so cleverly and so carefully that they never seem to make a mistake.”

  “If they did you would have caught them by now.”

  “We never know where they will strike next,” the Chief continued. “The only fact we do know,” another Official added, “is that everyone who has a really outstanding collection of pictures, antique furniture or, most of all, silver or gold, is a prime target and the thieves will sooner or later be determined to rob them.”

  “Why do you think they are especially keen on silver and gold?” Shana enquired.

  “Because we know they have stolen some of the finest sixteenth century goldsmith’s work produced by Hans of Antwerp, goldsmith to Henry VIII.”

  “They stole some of his work!” the Marquis exclaimed.

  “Unfortunately quite a considerable amount from one owner, who of course did not want his loss published in the newspapers.”

  “That is indeed a tragedy.”

  “The French,” Shana remarked “must be quite pleased that Louis XIV melted the Royal plate down to pay his troops so that no silver of the period remains.”

  “You are right, Signorina,” the Chief responded. “But there are people, whose names I cannot mention, who are fortunate enough to own some of the silver furniture which was such a feature in the Palace of Versailles, none of which survived the Revolution, but it had become fashionable amongst the French noblemen – and we do know that these thieves have managed to carry away a silver dressing table, a looking-glass, and a pair of candlesticks from one noble family.”

  “I can see your problem is appalling” the Marquis observed, “and we can only hope that Miss Shana will be able to recognise one of the men amongst the thieves gallery you will be showing her.”

  “We are not optimistic, my Lord,” the Chief said, “but miracles do happen.”

  “Let us hope we can perform one for you,” the Marquis smiled.

  He felt there was nothing more to say and rose to his feet.

  Almost reluctantly, because the Chief and his assistants wanted to go on talking, they moved to another room.

  Here likenesses of the thieves caught in the last five years had been put on display ready for Shana to cast her eye over them.

  The majority were very badly executed, but a glance at most of them told her instantly that none of them resembled the two men she had served in the Rose and Crown.

  She hesitated over one, although the image was not really like the smaller man and not elegant enough for the taller one.

  “We have sent to other Police Headquarters in the country,” the Chief advised her, “for some more pictures which will be arriving tomorrow. I cannot say I have much hope of their being what we require, but we would be grateful if the Signorina would look at them as well.”

  “Yes, of course I will, “Shana replied, “and I am sorry I cannot give you any good news with this collection.”

  “We shall go on trying,” the Chief answered. “But I have omitted to tell you, my Lord, that as we thought it would be a mistake for you to stay at a hotel, the Duke di Cambo has offered you his house. His Grace is away at the moment in the South of France, but his servants have instructions to look after you and of course while you are in Rome you will be under our protection.”

  “I am very pleased to hear it,” the Marquis replied. Now, if it is possible, I would like to take the Signorina to where we are staying.”

  The Chief turned towards Shana.

  “While you are walking round Rome, Signorina, I know you will b
e looking at the beauty of our City. But will you also take a good look at the men you pass? If, as we have already said, by a miracle there is someone you suspect, then we will arrest him.”

  “I will certainly keep my eyes wide open,” Shana replied, “and we can only hope that fate will be kind enough to point us in the right direction.”

  The Chief smiled and thanked her and the Marquis again and they were escorted back to their carriage.

  They crossed one of the famous bridges over the Tiber and came to a part of Rome where there were some very impressive private residences.

  When they saw where they were staying, Shana was delighted – it was a beautifully designed house with a garden which reached down to the river.

  A butler and three footmen welcomed them.

  The house itself was furnished with many treasures and Shana was surprised that the thieves had not tried to steal them.

  The Marquis too was pleased at the accommodation that had been arranged for them.

  “Actually,” he said, “I was worried in case we found ourselves in an uncomfortable hotel or with a family of people who never ceased talking.”

  “You need not be afraid of that happening here,” Shana added. “In fact I find these very large rooms rather awe-inspiring.”

  It was obvious the Duke’s house had been furnished when the owner’s taste had been in favour of heavy velvet curtains, panelled walls and large and ponderous pieces of furniture. The pictures were good, but the Marquis thought they needed cleaning.

  The lighting by candles seemed somewhat inadequate after the electric light on the yacht. However he had no wish to grumble as it was obvious they would be safe and well looked after in the Duke’s house and the Chief had already promised that they would be guarded and watched wherever they went.

  Their luggage had already arrived from the yacht and after luncheon they explored the house.

  They were walking down to the river bank when the Marquis thought it would be a mistake for them to try and do too much on the first day.

  “I do so want to see the Trevi fountain,” Shana insisted.

  So because she was so eager, the Marquis ordered the carriage which had been put at their disposal and they drove to the Trevi.