In the reflected light from the Cadillac's headlamps, Alsconi looked white and flabby. His mouth twitched and there was fear in his eyes.

"Watch this man: shoot him if he moves," he said, then he caught hold of Lorelli's arm and pulled her into the light so he could see her clearly. "So you got away? And you have been talking, haven't you? You've been giving away my secrets." He dropped the gun into his pocket and caught hold of her by her throat, shaking her. "Haven't you?" he shouted at her.

Lorelli buckled at her knees, her hands pulled at Alsconi's wrists, trying to break his vicious grip.

"You've told him about my yacht, haven't you?" Alsconi snarled. "Haven't you?"

"Take your hands off her!" Don exclaimed. "You can't get away. The police are on the yacht now, waiting for you.

They're at the Bazzoni villa as well."

Alsconi threw Lorelli from him so she sprawled in the road. He dragged out his gun, his face murderous. Stepping back so he could still watch Don, Crantor aimed a quick slap at Alsconi's wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand.

Alsconi staggered back, his face livid.

"Wait!" Crantor said sharply. "What is this? What's happening?"

"Happening?" Alsconi cried, his voice shrill. "She's betrayed us! That's what's happening! She's given us away to the police."

"What's this about a yacht? What yacht?"

"How can I get away unless I use the yacht?" Alsconi snarled. "The police have a description of me." Fear made his face slack and ugly. "There's money in the villa. How am I going to get away now?"

This news, came as a shock to Crantor. So Alsconi was on the run and the police had a description of him! Crantor's brain worked quickly. They hadn't a description of himself, he thought, but if he were caught with Alsconi... What a mug he had been! He should have taken the fifteen thousand and dropped out of sight. Then he had a sudden idea.

"What about the motor launch?" he asked. "Have you still got it?"

Alsconi blinked, then clapped his hands together.

"Of course!" He had forgotten the motor cruiser in the harbour of Civitavecchia: the cruiser that was used to smuggle French currency into Italy. "That's it! It had gone out of my mind. While the police wait for me in Palermo, I'll take the launch to Monte Carlo. We will go at once to Civitavecchia."

He picked up the gun that Crantor had knocked out of his hand. Lorelli had got to her feet and was now standing by Don, her face white. She watched Alsconi fearfully.

"Is Micklem's car damaged? Look and see," Alsconi said to Crantor. "I'll watch these two."

Crantor went over to the Bentley: apart from a buckled rear wing there seemed nothing the matter with the big car. He opened the door, slid under the driving wheel and started the engine. He shifted the gear lever and moved the car a few yards, then cut the engine and came back. "It's all right."

"Then we'll use it. It will be safer, and they will go with us. The police won't think of looking for me in a British car with three other people in it. Get those boxes out of the Cadillac and put them in his car. Then get the Cadillac off the road. Hurry!"

While Alsconi continued to cover Lorelli and Don, Crantor transferred the boxes into the boot of the Bentley. He put his and Alsconi's suitcases in beside them.

He returned to the Cadillac, released the parking brake, then going around to the front of the car, he leaned his weight against the bonnet. The car moved, its back wheels dropped off the road, and it crashed down the steep bank and ended up some fifty yards down the hill against an olive tree.

"You will drive, Mr Micklem," Alsconi said. "You will take me with all possible speed to Civitavecchia." He looked at Lorelli. "You will sit beside him. If either of you make a move to attract attention, I shall shoot you. Do you understand?"

"You're not going to get far," Don said. "You're just kidding yourself if you think you're going to get away."

Listening, Crantor thought the same.

"Get in the car!" Alsconi snarled.

Don and Lorelli walked over to the Bentley; the other two followed. They got in the car and Don started the engine. He turned the car and headed back to Siena.

The time was now a few minutes to one o'clock. They had a hundred and twenty miles to cover to reach the port. The roads would be deserted. Alsconi reckoned they should arrive by half-past three.

"Lombardo should be sleeping on board," he said to Crantor, "but if he isn't we will not be able to wait for him. Can you handle the boat?"

"I can try," Crantor said doubtfully. "I haven't handled a big motor-boat before, but I'm pretty good with engines."

"Don't talk like a fool," Alsconi snarled. "You would have to navigate the boat. Could you get me to Monte Carlo?"

"No," Crantor said. "I don't know anything about navigation."

Alsconi thought for a moment: this could be a disaster if Lombardo wasn't on board and it was unlikely that he would be.

He leaned forward and tapped Don on his shoulder.

"Can you handle a boat? If you can and if you can get me to Monte Carlo I will refrain from shooting you when we reach Civitavecchia."

"That's comforting news," Don said dryly. "I'll take you there on condition that Lorelli and I take the boat back after I've landed you."

"Certainly," Alsconi said and smiled in the dark. "You would of course give me your word not to tell the police that you have landed me at Monte Carlo?"

"Of course," Don said gravely, knowing Alsconi would never let him go free.

"Then let's get on," Alsconi said and sat back.