Free A Dead Man in Naples by Michael Pearce Page B

be tempting?’
    ‘They wouldn’t stand a chance!’
    ‘I know, but they might not think that.’
    ‘Challenge them, anyway: it might be a bit of fun.’
    ‘There’s talk of a race between the Racing Club and the Reds,’ said Francesca, as she helped Maria clear away the dishes that evening. ‘My money’s on the Club.’
    ‘You haven’t got any money,’ said Giuseppi.
    ‘Giorgio has, and he’s putting it on the Racing Club.’
    ‘That boy is going to the bad,’ said Giuseppi. ‘What is he doing, putting his money on that lot?’
    ‘He thinks they’d win. They’re proper cyclists, he says. The Reds are just amateurs.’
    ‘Of course they’re amateurs!’ said Giuseppi. ‘They’re honest men who work for a living. Not fancy boys whose fathers top up their pay so that they can go riding about the countryside.’
    ‘What I meant,’ said Francesca, ‘was that the Club takes cycling seriously. They race every week. Whereas the Reds –’
    ‘– cycle for a purpose,’ said Giuseppi. ‘And it’s a noble purpose. To tell people what an awful government we’ve got –’
    ‘Don’t they know that already?’ asked Maria.
    ‘– and what to do about it,’ concluded Giuseppi.
    ‘Well, I think they’ll get thrashed,’ said Francesca.
    ‘People will be putting down their money on this,’ said Giuseppi, when Francesca had departed into the kitchen with a pile of dishes.
    ‘Money they haven’t got,’ said Maria.
    ‘And which they’ll lose,’ said Giuseppi. ‘It’s always somebody else who makes the money out of betting.’
    ‘And usually the Camorra,’ said Maria.
    Giuseppi looked around uneasily.
    ‘Better not say that too loudly,’ he said.
    ‘I say what I like,’ said Maria, and went off after Francesca.

Chapter Five
    ‘He would have wished you to have them, Giorgio,’ said Miss Scampion.
    Giorgio seemed stunned.
    ‘How can I ever thank you, Signora?’ he muttered.
    ‘It is not me you have to thank,’ said Miss Scampion. ‘It is my brother.’
    ‘But this . . . this munificence . . .’
    He spread his arms, as if overwhelmed.
    ‘I am sure they will mean a lot more to you than they do to me,’ said Miss Scampion, pleased.
    ‘They will mean much to me, Signora,’ said Giorgio recovering. ‘And I shall always treasure them.’
    With a sudden unexpected grace he kissed her hand.
    ‘And now at least I won’t have to carry them home again,’ said Miss Scampion, smiling. ‘I brought them in my basket and, really, it made the bicycle quite top-heavy.’
    ‘That is because the weight was all at the front, Signora,’ said Giorgio. ‘I will make you a little basket that will fit at the back and then you will be able to divide the load.’
    ‘Thank you. I hope, though, that I will not often be carrying so much.’
    ‘They are a treasure, Signora, a treasure!’ said Giorgio, his eyes starry.
    He took up the magazines tenderly in his arms.
    ‘Do you want some help with reading them?’ asked Francesca.
    ‘No, I don’t!’ said Giorgio indignantly.
    He took the pile and sat on a step.
    Francesca went off in a huff.
    ‘I am beginning to turn things out, Mr Seymour,’ said Miss Scampion. ‘I should have done this long ago.’
    She collected her bicycle and walked it along the street. The street was too narrow, and too crowded, for her to mount with decorum and ride with safety, but Seymour, whose eyes followed her as she went, saw her reach the broader thoroughfare at the end and ride away.
    ‘A fine pile,’ he said to Giorgio, looking at the cycling magazines.
    ‘I could sell them,’ said Giorgio, ‘but I won’t. They are a precious inheritance.’
    He showed them to Seymour.
    There were two main ones, Le Vélo and L’Auto-Vélo .
    ‘ Le Vélo was the first,’ said Giorgio. ‘It was started in France but now we’ve got an edition in Italy. The other one, L’Auto-Vélo , was also started in France, by Monsieur le Comte de Dion. He is a big industrialist so