60
When Urbino came through the swinging doors of Harry’s Bar that evening at eight-fifteen, he almost expected to find Emo running up a tab but the locksmith was nowhere in the crowded, smoke-filled room. Urbino ordered a drink and started to read the copy of today’s International Herald Tribune, which someone had left at the bar.
He kept glancing at the entrance and the large round clock over the bar. When half an hour had passed and Emo hadn’t come, Urbino went upstairs to the dining room. Almost all the tables were taken. Urbino was glad he had made reservations. The maitre d’ escorted Urbino to a table by the windows with a splendid nighttime view of the Basin of San Marco and the Island of San Giorgio Maggiore.
Urbino ordered another drink and a plate of antipasti as he waited for Emo to arrive. When another half hour had passed, Urbino assumed he was being stood up. Although he didn’t have much of an appetite, he couldn’t very well leave after having reserved a table at such a busy time. He ordered several items and did his best to enjoy them, all the while trying to figure out what Emo’s absence might mean.
As he stared absently out at the evening scene beyond the window, his mind wandered without focus over his last visit to Possle and the prospect of his visit tomorrow. He knew that his meeting with Possle tomorrow would be crucial, and he tried to work out the strategy he would use. But he kept glancing at the door for Emo and becoming more and more distracted.
“Excuse me, signore,” the waiter said, after Urbino had managed to get through a plate of pasta and a chicken dish. Under any other circumstances it would have been delicious. “There’s a young man downstairs who’s asking for you. I asked him to come up, but he prefers to stay in the bar.”
Urbino went downstairs.
Gildo was standing by the entrance, his cap in his hands, his tousled head of curls bowed.
“What’s the matter?” Urbino asked him.
The gondolier’s handsome face was tense. “My Uncle Demetrio had an accident. He was attacked in San Polo. He was hit on the head and knocked to the ground.”
“How terrible. Is he in the hospital?”
“At home. He wasn’t hurt badly, thank God.”
“Are you sure?”
“He’ll be all right. He wants you to make another reservation.”
Urbino was disturbed by this turn of affairs, but he didn’t want to show it any more than he already had. He asked Gildo if he would like some dinner.
“No thank you,” he said quickly.
“Very well. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Urbino went upstairs and settled the bill. When he returned to the ground floor, Gildo was outside in the Calle Vallaresso. They boarded the vaporetto.
On their way up the Grand Canal, Gildo assured Urbino that his uncle was fine despite bruises. When Urbino asked why Emo had been in San Polo, Gildo said that he had gone there to change a lock.
Urbino regretted that his talk with Emo was delayed and hoped that what had happened to him in San Polo had nothing to do with the Ca’ Pozza. It seemed a feeble hope.
Gildo was withdrawn. He kept looking through the window at the passing scene. When he spied some friends walking along the Rialto embankment when the vaporetto was about to pull away, he said a hurried good-bye to Urbino and jumped off to join them. As he threw his arm around one of his companions, he cast a quick glance back at Urbino.