Mission To Siena

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Police constable Elliott stood in a shop doorway and surveyed the east side of the square with placid indifference.

It was a dark, wet November night; the time was a few minutes after eleven o'clock, and because of the rain and the hour, the square was deserted.

It had been raining steadily for the past three hours. Water gurgled in the gutters and dripped from the street lamps that made yellow pools on the glistening pavement. A cold wind added to the misery of the wet, and Elliott thought longingly of his comfortable sitting-room, the bright fire that would be burning, and of his wife who he hoped would be thinking of him. He scowled up at the dark sky, looking for a break in the clouds.

A woman's voice said, "Can you please direct me to Polsen's hotel?"

Elliott lowered his gaze and regarded the girl who stood before him. Her back was to the street lamp and he wasn't able to see much of her. She was wearing a white mackintosh and a close-fitting black hat, and she carried in her right hand a canvas and leather hold-all.

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