We must have looked an odd trio as we made our way along the tree-lined street. It was after four o’clock, but bright sunlight and dark shadows flickered over a well-dressed man, a girl in a thin cotton dress and a second man, whose unkempt appearance suggested a labourer, or perhaps, in this town, an artist. Though it would be invisible to an onlooker, the girl in the cotton dress held her heart in her mouth and did not dare look at either the scruffily-dressed man or the smart one. This, though no one would guess it, was the crossroads of her nineteen years.

Signor La Manna, the bank manager, led the way to the strongboxes. David and I watched while Aidan opened one and withdrew the white envelope. He nodded towards David, who took a similar envelope, though buff-coloured, from the pocket of his suit jacket.

“Lay it on the table,” instructed Aidan.

David did so, and Aidan went to it, checked the contents, and put it back. Then he laid our envelope beside it. I could hardly breathe. This was the moment when David’s trustworthiness would be tested. If he tried to make his escape with both envelopes, Signor La Manna would be a witness, and the theft would be a matter for the police.

David must have realized this. He picked up the white envelope, checked it just as Aidan had done, and laid it down again. “Signor La Manna,” began Aidan in his most charming voice, “would you be so good as to leave your duties here for a few minutes and accompany me and my party to the beach? We have something we would like you to see.”

The procession downhill to the beach was even stranger than the one to the bank. Four figures now, not speaking to, or even looking at, one another. The few sunbathers must have been surprised to see the youngest of the three men gather driftwood into a small pile and spread upon it branches from the dry-as-tinder plants that grew from crevices in the wall. When he stooped, struck a match and lit the kindling, they must have assumed a newly caught fish was about to be cooked and consumed, although nobody seemed dressed for a beach party. But instead, the man who had made the fire threw what looked like two envelopes, a white one and a buff one, into the flames.

All four members of the little expedition waited solemnly while the envelopes and their contents became ashes. The girl poked the embers with a stick, as if to make sure what was burned had truly disappeared. Then they all turned and made their way back up the beach to the town, leaving nothing to show they had been there but a charred patch among the pebbles.