The Autumn Of The Witch

‘I see.’ Stephanie nodded. ‘Thank you, Miller. You may bring coffee to the library for my father and myself.’

‘Yes, miss.’

As Miller walked away, Stephanie crossed the hall to the library, and after a light tap on the panels of the door, she went in. Her father was still on the telephone and he regarded her intently as she entered the room, obviously listening closely to what Santino Ventura was telling him. His brows were drawn together with some degree of incredulity, and he patted the desk beside him, indicating that Stephanie should come to sit there. Then he looked at her with expressive eyes, shaking his head in a stunned way.

Stephanie guessed that she was not going to have to tell her father what Santino Ventura had suggested. She might have known he would not allow her to give such information. He would want his position making perfectly clear.

At last her father ran a weak hand over his forehead which was visibly perspiring and said: ‘I find all this just – just too much, signor.’

Stephanie heard the blur of Santino’s voice going on and her father nodded his head rapidly several times. ‘Yes, yes, yes, I know, I know. But I just find it hard to accept. I – I never suspected—’

Stephanie frowned. Suspected what? What was there to suspect? She wished there was an extension in the room so that she could hear what was being said. She tapped her father’s arm to attract his attention, but he shook off her hand impatiently, obviously intent on what the other man was saying.