Free 1954 - Mission to Venice by James Hadley Chase Page A

one other equestrian statue that can compete with this one,” he concluded, “and that is Donatello’s Gattamelata in Padua.”
    While he talked his mind was seething with suppressed excitement.
    Had it been a coincidence that Tregarth’s name had cropped up as it had done or was she connected in some way with this affair?
    He decided not to appear anxious for information about Tregarth, and having explained the history of the Colleoni statue, he took her into the church and gave her a brief description of the various Doges’ tombs. When he felt she had seen enough of the wonders of the church, he suggested they should return to the gondola.
    “It’s getting hot now,” he said. “The best place in the Venetian heat is on the water. Let’s take a tour through the rio and talk”
    “Are you sure you can spare the time?” she asked, and he could see she was teasing him.
    “I’m not considering myself,” Don said, grinning. “The gondolier expects it of us and I wouldn’t like to hurt his feelings.”
    She followed him out into the blinding sunshine.
    When they had once more settled in the gondola, and the long, black boat was moving effortlessly through the still water of the rio, Don said, “You mentioned John Tregarth just now.
    Do you know him?”
    “Know John? Why, of course. He is an old friend of ours. Why do you ask? “
    “I used to know him. I haven’t seen him for a long time now: not since the war.”
    She half turned to look at him.
    “You couldn’t be the American pilot he has often talked about. You must be! How stupid of me. I didn’t associate you with the Don Micklem John admires so much. You took him to
    Rome during the war, didn’t you?”
    “That’s right. Have you seen him recently?”
    “He was here three days ago,” Maria said and her eyes darkened, losing their sparkle. “Both Carl and I are very worried about him. We think he is in some kind of trouble.”
    “Trouble? Why do you say that?”
    “He left so hurriedly. He seemed so upset.”
    “Then he has left Venice?”
    “Oh yes. He left for Paris three nights ago.”
    A barge, laden with empty chianti bottles, came slowly down the rio, poled by two ragged young boatmen. Muttering in disgust, Don’s gondolier edged his boat against the wall of a house to let the barge through. There was an exchange of insults as the barge passed, but Don wasn’t ever aware that the gondola had stopped.
    He left for Paris three nights ago.
    This information startled him. If it were true, then he was wasting his time running around Venice hunting for Tregarth. But was it true? Had she been misinformed? Was she lying?
    “That’s disappointing,” he said casually. “I should like to have met him again.”
    “We are very fond of John,” Maria said. “I wish I knew what was the matter. He went off in such a hurry: it was almost as if he was running away from someone. Carl says I’m imagining it, but I’m sure I’m not. John wasn’t only worried, he seemed frightened.”
    “Are you sure he went to Paris?”
    “Yes. We saw him on the train.”
    “When you said just now he seemed frightened, didn’t you ask him what was bothering him?”
    She nodded.
    “He wouldn’t say. ‘It’s something I can’t discuss,’ he said. ‘You two have got to keep out of it. It will be all right when I get to Paris.’ Those were his exact words. He asked us to go with him to the station. We were going to a party and Carl said there wasn’t time. John got very agitated. He said we must come to the station with him. I had an idea he was nervous of going alone. He was so insistent that we did go with him.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of the whole thing. It’s been worrying me.”
    “Sounds odd,” Don said, puzzled. “How long was he in Venice?”
    “He was here when we arrived. I think he was here for about five days. And that’s another thing that puzzles me: Carl and he more or less cover the same ground. None of