Liza drew her back to the seat, keeping hold of her hand as if to say that her new friend was under her protection. Even though she was so young, her strength of will was clear. She had probably inherited it from her father, Holly thought.

He eyed Holly coldly.

‘You turn up in my compartment, and I’m expected to accept your presence with equanimity?’

‘I’m-just an English tourist,’ she said carefully.

‘I think I begin to understand. There’s a commotion further down the train. But I imagine you know that.’

She faced him. ‘Yes, I do know.’

‘And no doubt it has something to do with your sudden appearance here. No, don’t answer. I can make up my own mind.’

‘Then let me go,’ Holly said.

‘Go where?’

His tone was implacable. And so was everything else about him, she realised. Tall, lean, hard, with dark, slightly sunken eyes that glared over a prominent nose, he looked every inch a judge: the kind of man who would lay down the law and expect to be obeyed in life as well as in court.

She searched his face, trying to detect in it something yielding, but she could find no hope. She tried to rise.

‘Sit down,’ he told her. ‘If you go out of that door you’ll run straight into the arms of the police, who are examining everyone’s passports.’

She sank back in her seat. This was the end.

‘Are you a suspicious person?’ he asked. ‘Is that why Berta has vanished?’

Liza giggled. ‘No, Berta has gone along the corridor for a few minutes.’

‘She asked me to look after your daughter while she was away,’ Holly said. ‘But now you’re here-’

‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered.

She had half risen in her seat, but his tone of command was so final that she had no choice but to fall back.

‘Are you really running away from the police?’ Liza asked her. ‘How exciting!’

Her father closed his eyes.

‘Is it too much to hope that you’ll remember I am a judge?’ he asked.

‘Oh, but that doesn’t matter, Poppa,’ the child said blithely. ‘Holly needs our help.’

‘Liza-’

The child scrambled painfully out of her seat and stood in front of him, taking his outstretched hand for support and regarding him with a challenging look.

‘She’s my friend, Poppa.’

‘Your friend? And you’ve known her for how long?’

‘Ten minutes.’

‘Well, then-’

‘But who cares?’ Liza demanded earnestly. ‘It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone. You used to say that.’

‘I don’t think I actually said-’

‘You did, you did.’ Liza’s voice rose as she began to be upset. ‘You said, with some people you knew at once that they were going to be terribly important to you. You and Mamma-’

Without warning she burst into tears, drowning out the rest of her words.

Holly waited for him to reach out and hug his child, but something seemed to have happened to him. His face had acquired a grey tinge and was suddenly set in forbidding lines, as though the mention of his dead wife had murdered something inside him. It was like watching a man being turned into a tombstone.

Liza’s tears had turned into violent sobs, yet still he did not embrace her. Unable to bear it any longer, Holly scooped her up so that the little girl was sitting in her lap, her face buried against her.

At that moment the door of the compartment slid back. Holly drew in a sharp breath as the full horror of her position crashed over her. The police were coming in. And she was in the hands of a judge. Now there was no hope.

A man in a police uniform entered, and immediately froze at the sight of the judge, whom he clearly recognised. He spoke in Italian, which Holly just managed to follow.

‘Signor Fallucci, forgive me, I did not know-a small matter.’

‘What is this small matter?’ The judge sounded as though speaking was suddenly an effort.

‘We are searching for a woman who, we have reason to believe, is on this train. Her name is Sarah Conroy.’

He was forced to raise his voice to be heard above Liza’s sobbing, and turned to Holly.

‘Signorina, is your name-?’

But before he could complete the question Liza raised her head. Her face was red and tears streamed down her face as she cried,

‘Her name is Holly and she’s my friend. Go away!’

‘I only-’

‘She’s Holly,’ Liza screamed. ‘And she’s mine, she’s mine!’

‘Hush,’ Holly whispered. ‘Hold on to me.’

Liza was already clinging around her throat with arms so tight that Holly was almost choking. She stayed holding the little girl, offering what comfort she could.

If she’d been thinking clearly she would have realised that Liza was obscuring her face from the policeman, and her noisy sobs were covering any suspicious Englishness in Holly’s voice. But right now she was beyond understanding. She cared only for Liza’s shattering grief and whatever she could do to ease it.

So she gathered her in an even tighter embrace, murmuring words of comfort and tenderness until the sobbing little girl in her arms grew less tense.

The judge had seemed almost in a trance, but now he roused himself with an effort.

‘I think you should go now,’ he said. ‘My daughter is not well, and it isn’t good for her to be upset.’

By now the young policeman had noticed the wheelchair and the supports on Liza’s legs. He nodded to show his understanding.

‘I’ll leave you in peace. Forgive me. Good day, signore, signorina.’

He couldn’t get out fast enough.

For a while they travelled in silence. Holly met the judge’s eyes, trying to read them, but found them cool and impenetrable.

‘Why did you do that?’ she asked.

He glanced at his little daughter, as if to say she was answer enough. Which was true, Holly thought. He had had no choice, and yet-

‘Would you have preferred the alternative?’ he asked.

‘Of course not, but you don’t know me-’

‘That will be remedied when I’m ready.’

‘But-’

‘It will be best if you say no more,’ he replied in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘We shall soon be in Rome, and later I will tell you as much as you need to know.’

‘But when we get to Rome I shall be leaving-’

‘I think not,’ he said in a tone of finality.

‘Is Holly coming home with us?’ Liza asked, smiling at the prospect.

‘Of course,’ he told her.

‘But-my plane-’ Holly tried to say.

This time he did not answer in words, but the flicker of his eyes was enough to inform her that he, not she, was calling the shots.

Liza showed her happiness by twining her hand in Holly’s and beaming at her father.

‘Thank you, Poppa,’ she said, as though he had just bought her a precious gift.

The compartment door slid back and Berta entered, looking nervous at the sight of her employer.

‘You should not have left Liza alone,’ he growled.

‘Scusi, signore-but she was not alone.’

The judge seemed disposed to argue, but then he looked at his little daughter, snuggling happily in Holly’s arms, and the sight seemed to strike him silent.

Now that Liza had secured her object her tears dried like magic.

‘You’ll like our house,’ she told Holly. ‘I’ll show you all over the gardens and…’

She chattered on and Holly tried to keep up with her, putting in the odd word, although her mind was whirling. While she smiled at Liza she was intensely aware of the man in the opposite seat, watching her with sharp, appraising eyes.

He was sizing her up, she guessed, mentally taking notes, trying to come to a decision. In other words, he was behaving like a judge deciding the verdict, with the sentence to follow.

He might have been in his late thirties, although his stern face and haughty demeanour made him seem older. He was handsome in a fierce, uncompromising way that had more to do with something in his eyes than with the shape of his features.

Suddenly he spoke, indicating the small bag that hung from her shoulder. ‘What do you have in there?’

‘My passport,’ she said, ‘and papers generally.’

‘Let me see.’

She handed him the bag and he glanced through briefly, examining the papers until he came to her passport. Without hesitation he took it, placing it in an inside pocket of his jacket.

Holly opened her mouth to protest but was checked by his glance. It was hard, forbidding, and it compelled her silence.

‘Good,’ he said, handing the bag to her. ‘You have all you need.’

‘I need my passport.’

‘No, you don’t. Do it my way and don’t argue.’

‘Now, look-’

‘Do you want my help or don’t you?’

‘Of course, but I-’

‘Then take my advice and stay as quiet as you can. From now on, not a word. Try to look stupid. Practise that if you have to, but don’t speak.’

‘But I had to leave a suitcase further down the train,’ she burst out. ‘I must get it.’

‘Why?’

‘My clothes-’

‘You don’t need them. And trying to recover your possessions would lead you into danger.’

Into the arms of the police, he meant, and she realised he was right. Holly would have been grateful for his warning but for a feeling he was chiefly concerned about the inconvenience to himself.

The train was slowing, gliding into Rome railway station, coming to a halt. Immediately a man appeared wearing the uniform of a chauffeur and signalled through the window. The judge signalled back, and a moment later the man entered the compartment.

‘The car is waiting, signore,’ he said, bestowing only the briefest glance on Holly.

Liza immediately put her hand in Holly’s and stood up.

‘I think you should use the wheelchair,’ her father said.

Liza thrust out her lower lip and shook her head. ‘I want to go with you,’ she said, looking up at Holly.