Chapter 23

           Untiloneo’clockBabyWarrenlayinbed,readingoneofMarionCrawford’scuriouslyinanimateRomanstories;thenshewenttoawindowandlookeddownintothestreet.Acrossfromthehoteltwocarabinieri,grotesqueinswaddlingcapesandharlequinhats,swungvoluminouslyfromthissideandthat,likemains’lscomingabout,andwatchingthemshethoughtoftheguards’officerwhohadstaredathersointenselyatlunch.Hehadpossessedthearroganceofatallmemberofashortrace,withnoobligationsavetobetall.Hadhecomeuptoherandsaid:"Let’sgoalong,youandI,"shewouldhaveanswered:"Whynot?"—atleastitseemedsonow,forshewasstilldisembodiedbyanunfamiliarbackground.

           Herthoughtsdriftedbackslowlythroughtheguardsmantothetwocarabinieri,toDick—shegotintobedandturnedoutthelight.

           Alittlebeforefourshewasawakenedbyabrusqueknocking.

           "Yes—whatisit?"

           "It’stheconcierge,Madame."

           Shepulledonherkimonoandfacedhimsleepily.

           "YourfriendnameDeeverhe’sintrouble.Hehadtroublewiththepolice,andtheyhavehiminthejail.Hesentataxiuptotell,thedriversaysthathepromisedhimtwohundredlire."Hepausedcautiouslyforthistobeapproved."ThedriversaysMr.Deeverinthebadtrouble.Hehadafightwiththepoliceandisterriblybadhurt."

           "I’llberightdown."

           Shedressedtoanaccompanimentofanxiousheartbeatsandtenminuteslatersteppedoutoftheelevatorintothedarklobby.