"What a shame," Tracy murmured. "It's such a beautiful dress." She could have slapped the man for degrading his wife. She deserves every carat of jewelry she has, Tracy thought, and more.
He sighed. "Fornati will buy her another one. Pay no attention to her manners. She is very jealous of Fornati."
"I'm sure she has good reason to be." Tracy covered her irony with a small smile.
He preened. "It is true. Women find Fornati very attractive."
It was all Tracy could do to keep from bursting out laughing at the pompous little man. "I can understand that."
He reached across the table and took her hand. "Fornati likes you," he said. "Fornati likes you very much. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a legal secretary. I saved up all my money for this trip. I hope to get an interesting position in Europe."
His bulging eyes roved over her body. "You will have no problem, Fornati promises you. He is very nice to people who are very nice to him."
"How wonderful of you," Tracy said shyly.
He lowered his voice. "Perhaps we could discuss this later this evening in your cabin?"
"That might be embarrassing."
"Perchй? Why?"
"You're so famous. Everyone on the train probably knows who you are."
"Naturally."
"If they see you come to my cabin - well, you know, some people might misunderstand. Of course, if your cabin is near mine... What number are you in?"
"E settanta - seventy." He looked at her hopefully.
Tracy sighed. "I'm in another car. Why don't we meet in Venice?"
He beamed. "Bene! My wife, she stays in her room most of the time. She cannot stand the sun on her face. Have you ever been to Venezia?"
"No."
"Ah. You and I shall go to Torcello, a beautiful little island with a wonderful restaurant, the Locanda Cipriani. It is also a small hotel." His eyes gleamed. "Molto privato."
Tracy gave him a slow, understanding smile. "It sounds exciting." She lowered her eyes, too overcome to say more.
Fornati leaned forward, squeezed her hand, and whispered wetly, "You do not know what excitement is yet, cara."
Half an hour later Tracy was back in her cabin.
The Orient Express sped through the lonely night, past Paris and Dijon and Vallarbe, while the passengers slept. They had turned in their passports the evening before, and the border formalities would be handled by the conductors.
At 3:30 in the morning Tracy quietly left her compartment. The timing was critical. The train would cross the Swiss border and reach Lausanne at 5:21 A.M. and was due to arrive in Milan, Italy, at 9:15 A.M.
Clad in pajamas and robe, and carrying a sponge bag, Tracy moved down the corridor, every sense alert, the familiar excitement making her pulse leap. There were no toilets in the cabins of the train, but there were some located at the end of each car. If Tracy was questioned, she was prepared to say that she was looking for the ladies' room, but she encountered no one. The conductors and porters were taking advantage of the early-morning hours to catch up on their sleep.
Tracy reached Cabin E 70 without incident. She quietly tried the doorknob. The door was locked. Tracy opened the sponge bag and took out a metallic object and a small bottle with a syringe, and went to work.
Ten minutes later she was back in her cabin, and thirty minutes after that she was asleep, with the trace of a smile on her freshly scrubbed face.
At 7:00 A.M., two hours before the Orient Express was due to arrive in Milan, a series of piercing screams rang out. They came from Cabin E 70, and they awakened the entire car. Passengers poked their heads out of their cabins to see what was happening. A conductor came hurrying along the car and entered E 70.
Silvana Luadi was in hysterics. "Aiuto! Help!" she screamed. "All my jewelry is gone! This miserable train is full of ladri - thieves!"
"Please calm down, madame," the conductor begged. "The other - "
"Calm down!" Her voice went up an octave. "How dare you tell me to calm down, stupido maiale! Someone has stolen more than a million dollars' worth of my jewels!"
"How could this have happened?" Alberto Fornati demanded. "The door was locked - and Fornati is a light sleeper. If anyone had entered, I would have awakened instantly."
The conductor sighed. He knew only too well how it had happened, because it had happened before. During the night someone had crept down the corridor and sprayed a syringe full of ether through the keyhole. The locks would have been child's play for someone who knew what he was doing. The thief would have closed the door behind him, looted the room, and, having taken what he wanted, quietly crept back to his compartment while his victims were still unconscious. But there was one thing about this burglary that was different from the others. In the past the thefts had not been discovered until after the train had reached its destination, so the thieves had had a chance to escape. This was a different situation. No one had disembarked since the robbery, which meant that the jewelry still had to be on board.
"Don't worry," the conductor promised the Fornatis. "You'll get your jewels back. The thief is still on this train."
He hurried forward to telephone the police in Milan.
When the Orient Express pulled into the Milan terminal, twenty uniformed policemen and plainclothes detectives lined the station platform, with orders not to let any passengers or baggage off the train.
Luigi Ricci, the inspector in charge, was taken directly to the Fornati compartment.