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hour they were in Amalfi, which wasmore a city than a village, and sufficed as an elegant shopping mall. Stone walked into the Ermenegildo Zegna shop and found a lightweight blazer that fit him very well plus a couple of pairs of trousers, some shirts, and a small suitcase. Then he loosed Hedy upon half a dozen shops—Prada, Gucci, Ferragamo, and others.
    They packed their things into their new suitcases, strapped them to the top of their vehicle, and drove back to Positano. As they turned off the main road and down the hill toward their hotel, Stone saw flashing blue lights and smoke rising. It took them a good half hour to make their way through the backed-up traffic to Le Sirenuse. In the forecourt of the hotel was the smoking ruin of a car that could barely be recognized as a Mercedes.
    â€œIs that our car?” Hedy asked.
    â€œI think it used to be,” Stone said. He took the car key from his pocket and pressed a button. The car beeped, and the lights flashed. “It’s ours.” He saw the hotel’s manager standing nearby and introduced himself. “I believe that’s the car that was stolen from us yesterday,” he said to the man. “Did anyone see how it got here?”
    â€œA young man drove it into the forecourt, then got out and walked away, according to the doorman,” the man replied. “Have you offended someone?” he asked, with a flicker of incredulity.
    â€œNot intentionally,” Stone said. “I’ve only been in Italy for two days.”
    â€œYou might see if any of your belongings can be recovered,before the firemen haul it away,” the man said. “The doorman managed to use a fire extinguisher on it before the firemen arrived.” He explained to the firemen that the car belonged to Stone, and he was allowed to approach it.
    He removed his briefcase and Hedy’s purse from the rear seat: both were charred, but their contents seemed unharmed. Stone used his key to try to open the trunk. It worked. A bellman came and removed their luggage, which seemed unharmed.
    Before they could get to their suite, the two policemen he had spoken to the day before were back; they checked things off the list of lost items that had been reported the day before and issued Stone a new police report. “Your insurance will be happy,” one of them said.
    Upstairs, they unpacked their bags, and Stone transferred the contents of his ruined briefcase to a shopping bag. Realizing that he had neglected to call Marcel duBois the day before, he did so now.
    Marcel reacted to the news of the loss of his car with equanimity. “I will notify my insurer,” he said.
    â€œI think you should ask for a new car,” Stone suggested. “It would cost them less than restoring the present one.”
    â€œQuite.”
    â€œMarcel, do you think there is a connection between the theft and burning of the car and the burning of the hotel?”
    â€œPossibly,” Marcel replied.
    â€œWould you care to expand on that?”
    â€œNot at the present time. When will you return to Rome?”
    â€œTomorrow, I suppose.”
    â€œWhat time will you depart?”
    â€œAfter lunch.”
    â€œI will send another car for you.”
    â€œWe can rent one.”
    â€œIt will be safer if I send a car.”
    Stone refrained from mentioning that there was evidence to contradict that statement. “All right,” he said.
    They had lunch on their terrace, and Hedy surprised him by stripping naked and disporting herself on a chaise longue. “I forgot to buy a bikini,” she said.
    â€œWho’s complaining?” He took off his clothes and joined her.
    â€”
    T hey awoke later in the afternoon when the sun was behind an awning and a cool breeze swept over them. They took a shower together, made love on the bed, and fell asleep again.
    They went down to dinner at the hotel’s terrace restaurant. Another couple, apparently Italian,