The sun began to burn off the fog. Heated and damp, he brushed at the lapels and breast of his cutaway coat, flicking away droplets of rain. That gave him the excuse to pick up spare clean clothing from his lodgings, and to check the rooms, since they were now deserted much of the time. It’s too easy to suspect anybody! Conrad corrected himself on the instant. To suspect everybody! Even isolated by his escort of Luigi’s plainclothes men, walking through Naples’ crowded streets—elbow to elbow with other men’s arguments—still gave him the feeling he had come back into the real world. The key fit into the door of his lodgings, the lock undamaged. Entering the empty rooms already felt strange. He packed his gear quickly. Who among us doesn’t have a weakness? It was, Conrad thought, the same as trying to ask oneself who might be a connection with the Honoured Men or the Local Racket. The Prince’s Men would think that, say, Captain Luigi and Commendatore Mantenucci both knew the police not immune to corruption—and therefore a cynic would say either of them could be bribed, if the price was high enough, having that example in front of them.
