81

Spencer George, having seen the young Gendarme to the door and pressed his hand in perhaps a more fond farewell than their short acquaintance called for, had been settled in his easy chair deep in thought when Livia’s call came. After speaking with her, he’d spent some more time the same way, unmoving, eyes focused on nothing. Now he stood, walked slowly about his house, looking at this and that, contemplating an etching or a bit of silver. Finally he returned to his study. He rang for coffee, and when it had come and he had enjoyed it, he took out his cell phone and made a call.

“Salve,” came the voice at the other end of the line.

“Salve. Sum Spencer George. Quid aegis?”

“Hic nobis omnibus bene est. Quomodo auxilium vobis dare possumus?” All is well here, came the response. How may we be of service?