CHAPTERONE

AJourneyforTomRipley

TomlookedbehindhimandsawthemancomingoutoftheGreenCage.He walked faster. There was no doubt theman was following him. Tom hadnoticedhimfiveminutesago,staringathimfromatable.Tomhadpaidforhisdrinkinahurryandleft.

Atthecorner,TomleanedforwardandranacrossFifthAvenue.TherewasRaoul's.Shouldhetakeachanceandgoinforanotherdrink?OrshouldherunovertoParkAvenueandtrytoescapebyhidingindarkdoorways?HewentintoRaoul's.

Ashewalkeduptoanemptyseatatthebar,helookedaroundtoseeifheknew anyone. There was that big man with red hair, whose name he alwaysforgot,sittingatatablewithablondegirl.Butwhowasthatmanoutside?Wasthat the kind ofman theywould send after him?He didn't look like a policeofficer or a detective. He looked like a businessman, someone's father, well-dressedwithgrayhair.Wasthatthekindofmantheysentonajoblikethis?Hewouldchatwithyouinabar,andthenbang!-onehandontheshoulderandtheotherhandholdingapoliceman'sidentification.TomRipley,you'reunderarrest!Tomwatchedthedoor.

Herehewas,cominginside,takingaplaceatthebar.Tomstaredathim.They couldn't give youmore than ten years, Tom thought.Maybe fifteen, butwithgoodbehavior -As theman started to speak,Tomsuffered amomentofdesperateregret.Whywashepretendingtoworkfortheincometaxoffice?Yes,hereceivedchecksforhundredsofdollarsfromstupidpeoplewhobelievedhimwhenhesaid theyowedmoney.Buthenevercashed thechecks. Itwas reallyjustasillygamethatmadehimfeelpowerful.

"Pardonme,areyouTomRipley?""Yes.""MynameisHerbertGreenleaf.RichardGreenleaf'sfather."Thelookon

hisfacewouldhavebeenlessconfusingifhehadbeenholdingagun.Thefacewasfriendly,smiling,andhopeful."You'reafriendofRichard's,aren'tyou?"

Tom searched hismemory. Dickie Greenleaf. A tall, blond guy. He hadquitealotofmoney,Tomremembered."Oh,DickieGreenleaf,yes."

"Charles and Marta Schriever told me about you. I know so few ofRichard'sfriends,buttheyseemedtothinkyouknowhimquitewell.SomebodytoldthemyoudrankattheGreenCage."

"Irememberhim,yes.""Butyou'renotwritinghimnow?"Mr.Greenleafseemeddisappointed."No,Idon'tthinkI'veseenDickieinacoupleofyears.""He's been in Europe for two years. The Schrievers thought you might

havesomeinfluenceonRichard.Wewanthimtocomehome."Tomhadh'tseentheSchrieversmorethanthreeorfourtimesinhislife.He

had once calculated Charley Schrievers income tax and saved him a lot ofmoney. Maybe that was why the Schrievers had recommended him. MaybeCharleyhad said thatTomwas intelligent, honest, andverywilling tohelp. Itwasaslightmistake.

"I don't supposeyouknowanybody else close toRichardwhomight beabletopersuadehim?"Mr.Greenleafasked.

"I'dcertainlyliketohelp.WhereishestayinginEurope?"Tomasked,notcaringatallwhereDickiewasstaying.

"In a town called Mongibello, south of Naples. He divides his timebetweenpaintingandsailing.Heboughtahouse.Richardhashisownincome-notalargeamount,butenoughtoliveoninItalyitseems."

Tom thought Dickie was probably having a great time over there. Anincome,ahouse,aboat.Whyshouldhewanttocomehome?Dickiewaslucky.WhatwasTomdoing?Livingfromweektoweek.Hidingfromthepolicenowfor the first time in his life. He had a talent for mathematics. Why didn'tsomeonepayhimforit?Tomrealizedthathiswholebodyhadtensed.Hewasbored,bored,bored!Hewantedtobeatthebarbyhimself.

"I'dbeveryhappytowritetoDickieifyougivemehisaddress.Isupposehe'll remember me.We were at a weekend party out on Long Island once, Iremember.And I cameup toyour apartment a few times, too,"Tomwenton."Heshowedmesomeofhismodels-ofships."

"Didheevershowyouhisdrawings?"Mr.Greenleafwassmilingagain.Dickie hadn't, butTom said brightly, "Yes, of course he did. Interesting,

someofthem."Tomhadneverseenthem,buthecouldimaginethemnow-and

hecouldseeDickieholdingthemupforhimtosee."Yes,Richardhastalent,"Mr.Greenleafsaidwithsatisfaction."Ithinkhehas,"Tomagreed.Hewasgettingmoreboredeveryminute.He

knewthefeelings.Heexperiencedthematpartiesorwhenhewashavingdinnerwithsomebodyhedidn'twanttobewith."I'msorryI'mnotfreenoworI'dgooverandtrytopersuadeRichardmyself,"Tomsaid,justbecauseMr.Greenleafwantedhimto.

"Richard has always listened to his friends' advice. If you or somebodyelsecouldfindthetime,I'devensendthemovertotalktohim.Idon'tsupposeyoucouldgettimeofffromyourpresentjob,couldyou?"

Tom'sheartsuddenlyjumped.Heputalookofcarefulthoughtonhisface.Hedidn't have a job.Hemight have to leave town soon anyway if the policestarted asking questions. He wanted to leave New York. "I might," he saidcarefully.

"I'dbegladtopayforyourtrip.Doyoureallythinkyoumightbeabletogo-thisfall?"

"IthinkImight.I'dbegladtoseeRichardagain-especiallyifyouthinkImightbeabletohelp."

"Ido!Ithinkhe'dlistentoyou.You'llprobablysucceedwheretherestofushavefailed.Whydon'tyoucomeovertomyhouseandmeetmywife?We'dbesohappyifyouwouldgotoEuropeandbringRichardback."

***"Hello,Tom,myboy!"Mr.Greenleafsaidinavoicethatpromisedgood

drinks,anexcellentdinner,andabedforthenightincasehegottootiredtogohome."Emily,thisisTomRipley!"

"I'msohappytomeetyou!"hiswifesaidwarmly."Howdoyoudo,Mrs.Greenleaf?""Mr.Ripley'sbeenherebefore,"Mr.Greenleafsaid."He'scomeherewith

Richard.""Oh,hashe?Idon'tbelieveImetyou,though."About thirtyminutes later, theywent into thedining-room,wherea table

wassetforthreewithadarkbluetableclothandawholecoldchicken.

The conversation was dull and the dinner delicious. Tom told Mrs.Greenleaf that hewasworking for an advertising companycalledRothenberg,Fleming, andBarter.Later, on purpose, he called itReddington, Fleming, andParker.TheGreenleafsdidn'tnoticethedifference.

"Wheredidyougotocollege?"Mr.Greenleafasked."Iwent toPrinceton for a time, thenwhen I visited an aunt inDenver I

stayedoutthereandwenttocollege."TomhopedMr.GreenleafwouldaskhimsomethingaboutPrinceton,buthedidn't.Tomcoulddiscusstheteachingsystem,thecollegerules,theatmosphereatweekenddances,andthepoliticalbeliefsofthestudents.HehadbeenveryfriendlywithaPrincetonstudentlastsummerandhadaskedhimformoreandmoreinformationincasehemightbeabletouseitsometime.TomhadalsometayoungmanwhohadbeengoingtotheUniversityof Colorado.He had told theGreenleafs that he had been raised by hisAuntDottie inBoston. In truth, though, shehad takenhim toDenverwhenhewassixteen,andhehadonlyfinishedhighschoolthere,buthefeltlikehehadgoneto school there aswell.After Tom had finished high school, they hadmovedbacktoBostonagain.

Mrs.GreenleafcameinwithsomephotographsandTomsatdownbesideherasshelookedthroughthem.Richardtakinghisfirststep;Richardwithlong,blondcurls.Thephotographsweren'tinterestingtohimuntilRichardwasaboutsixteen.Richardhadhardlychangedbetweensixteenandtwenty-four.

Mrs.GreenleafhandedTomseveralphotos."ThesearefromEurope.ThisisMongibello,"shesaid,showingTomapictureofDickieinaboatonthesand."Andhere'sthegirl,theonlyotherAmericanwholivesthere."

"MargeSherwood,"Mr.Greenleafsaid.Thegirlwasinaswimsuitonthebeach,herarmsaroundherknees.TherewasalsoagoodpictureofRichardinshorts,sittingonthewallofaterrace.

TomnoticedthatMrs.Greenleafwasstaringdownatthefloorinfrontofher.He saw tears inher eyes.Mr.Greenleafhad toldhim thatMrs.Greenleafwasseriouslyillandgotemotionalveryeasily.ShewasworriedshewouldneverseeDickieagain.Herhusbandcameovertocomforther.

"Mrs. Greenleaf," Tom said softly, "I want you to know that I'll doeverythingIcantomakeDickiecomehome."

"Thankyou,Tom."ShepressedTom'shandtightly.

"Emily, don't you think it's time for you to go to bed?" Mr. Greenleafasked.

TomstoodupasMrs.Greenleafdid.Mr.Greenleafwentoutoftheroomwithher.

Tomremainedstanding,hishandsathissides.Inalargemirroronthewallhecouldseehimself:theserious,hard-workingyoungmanagain.Hewasdoingtherightthing,behavingtherightway,buthehadafeelingofguilt.

Hefelthimselfbeginningtosweat,andhetriedtorelax.Whatwashesoworried about?He'd felt so good tonight. It's like a dream,Tom thought. In aminute,Mr.Greenleaforsomebodyelsewouldsay,"Tom,Tom!"andhewouldopenhiseyesandfindhimselfbackinRaoul'swithadrinkinfrontofhim.

CHAPTERTWO

ANewStart

Tom'smoodwascalmandhappy,buthedidn'tfeellikemakingfriends.Hewantedhistimeforthinking.Hebegantoplayaroleontheship,theroleofaseriousyoungmanwithanimportantjobaheadofhim.

Hehadasuddendesireforahatandsoheboughtoneontheship,ablue-gray cap of soft Englishwool.He could look like somany different types ofpeopleinthehat.Hehadalwaysthoughtthathehadtheworld'sdullestface.Thecapchangedallthat.Nowhewasayoungmanwithaprivateincome,notlongoutofPrinceton,possibly.

He was starting a new life. Goodbye to all of the awful people he hadknowninNewYork.WhateverhappenedwithDickie,hewouldhandlehimselfwellandMr.Greenleafwouldrespecthimforit.WhenMr.Greenleaf'smoneywasgone,hemightnotcomebacktoAmerica.Hemightgetaninterestingjobinahotel.OrhemightworkasasalespersonforaEuropeancompanyandtravelaroundintheworld.

Oneafternoon,hewroteapolitelettertohisAuntDottie.

DearAuntie,I am on my way to Europe by boat. I had a business offer that I can't

explainrightnow.Ihadtoleavesuddenly,soIwasnotabletocometoBostonandI'msorrybecauseitmaybemonthsorevenyearsbeforeIcomeback.

Iwanted to tell you not toworry and not to sendme anymore checks.Thank you verymuch for the last one from amonth ago. I amwell and veryhappy.

Love,Tom

Thelettermadehimfeelbetterbecauseitseparatedhimfromher.Nomoreof the letterscomparinghim tohis fatherand thestupidchecks for sixdollarsandforty-eightcentsortwelvedollarsandninety-fivecentswhenshehadsomechange left over from the store.AuntDottiehad always toldTom that hehadcost hermore than his father had left in insurance. But did she have to keep

repeatingit?Lotsofauntsandevenstrangersraisedachildfornothingandweregladtodoit.

AfterhislettertoAuntDottie,hegotupandwalkedaroundtheship.Healwaysgotangrywhenhewrotetoher.Hehatedbeingnicetoher.Untilnowhehadalwaysneededthemoneyshesenthim.Buthedidn'tneeditnow.Hewouldbeindependentforever.

He had run away from Aunt Dottie at seventeen and had been broughtback,andhehaddone it againat twentyandsucceeded.He rememberedhowinnocenthehadbeen,notknowinghowtheworldworked.HerememberedhowhefeltwhenhehadbeenfiredfromajobinNewYorkbecausehewasn'tstrongenoughtoliftboxeseighthoursaday.Hewasveryupsetandthoughtitwasn'tfair.Heremembereddecidingthenthattheworldwasfullofselfishpeopleandthatyouhadtobeananimaloryouwouldn'teat.Herememberedrightafterthat,he had stolen a loaf of bread froma store andhad taken it home and eaten itquickly,feelingthattheworldowedhimbread,andmore.

Tom sat back in his chair again, pulled his hat down over his eyes, andfoldedhishandsoverhisstomach.Hisseparationfromtheotherpassengerswasmakingthemnoticehim.Heimaginedtheothersasking,"IsheanAmerican?Ithinkso,buthedoesn'tact likeanAmerican,doeshe?MostAmericansaresonoisy. He's very serious, isn't he, and he can't bemore than twenty-three. Hemusthavesomethingveryimportantonhismind."

Yes,hehad.ThepresentandfutureofTomRipley.***Afewdayslater,TomarrivedinNaples,wherehestayedovernight.The

nextmorningateleven,hegotonthebusforMongibello.Nowandthenhesawlittlevillagesbythewater'sedgeandpeopleswimmingneartheshore.Finally,thedriversaidloudly,"Mongibello."

Tom jumped down out of the bus and walked into the little post officeacross the road, where he asked the man behind the window for RichardGreenleaf'shouse.

Afterashortwalk,Tomfoundatwo-floorhousewithanirongateontheroadandaterracethathungoverthecliff'sedge.Tomrangthebell.AnItalianwomancameoutofthehousedryingherhands.

"Mr.Greenleaf?"Tomasked.

ThewomansmiledandansweredinItalianasshepointeddowntowardthesea.

Tomnodded."Thankyou."Hedidn'thaveaswimsuitsohewentintooneofthelittleshopsnearthepostofficeandboughtatinyblackandyellowone.Heputonhisshoesagainandwalkeddownaroadwhichledtothebeach.

Lookingdownthebeach,Tomsawhimfromagreatdistance-definitelyDickie,thoughhisskinwasadarkbrownandhishairlookedlighterthanTomrememberedit.HewaswithMarge.Tomapproachedthepair.

"DickieGreenleaf?"heasked,smiling.Dickielookedup."Yes?""I'mTomRipley.ImetyouintheStatesseveralyearsago.Remember?"Dickiedidn'tseemtorecognizeTom."Ithinkyourfathersaidhewasgoingtowriteyouaboutme.""Oh,yes!"Dickiesaid.Hestoodup."Tomwhatisit?""Ripley.""This is Marge Sherwood," he said. "Marge, Tom Ripley." Dickie was

lookingathimcarefully,notinaveryfriendlymanner."Youdon'tseemtoremembermefromNewYork,"Tomsaid."Ican'treallysaythatIdo,"Dickiesaid,"WheredidImeetyou?""I think -Wasn't itatBuddyLankenau's?" Itwasn't,butheknewDickie

knewBuddyLankenau,andBuddywasaveryniceguy.Afterashortswim,DickieandMargereturnedtotheirtowels.Dickiesaid,

"We're leaving.Would you like to comeup to the house and have lunchwithus?"

"Well,yes.Thanksverymuch."Fifteen minutes later, Tom had had a cool shower and was sitting in a

comfortablechaironDickie's terracewithadrink inhishand.Hewondered ifMargelivedhere.

At that moment, Dickie came out and poured himself a drink. "Sorrythere'snoice.Ihaven'tgotarefrigerator."

Tomsmiled."Ihaveashirtforyou.Yourmothersaidyou'daskedforone.

Alsosomesocks.""Doyouknowmymother?""ImetyourfatherjustbeforeIleftNewYork,andheaskedmetodinnerat

hishouse.""Isupposeheofferedyouajob,too.He'salwayssearchingforyoungmen

toworkforhiscompany.""No, he didn't."Tom felt thatDickie didn't like him.HadMr.Greenleaf

toldDickiehewascomingtopersuadehimtoreturnhome?OrwasDickiejustinabadmood?HeprobablycouldhavepersuadedDickie tocomehomeifhehadmetDickieinacafedownatthebeach,butthiswaywasuseless.Tomwasangryathimself.Nothinghetooksoseriouslyeverworkedout.Hehadlearnedthatyearsago.

"Whathotelareyoustayingin?"MargeaskedTom.Tomsmiled."Ihaven'tfoundoneyet.Whatdoyourecommend?""TheMiramare'sthebest.""Inthatcase,I'lltrytheMiramare,"Tomsaid,standingup."Imustgo."NeitherDickienorMargeaskedhimtostay.Dickiewalkedwithhimtothe

gate.Margewasn't leaving.Tomwondered ifDickieandMargeweresleepingtogether.Margewas in lovewithDickie, Tom thought, butDickie didn't caremuchabouther.

"Itwasnicetomeetyou.Goodbye,Dickie.""Goodbye."***Tom let three days go by. On the fourthmorning, hewent down to the

beachandfoundDickiealone."Doesn'tlooklikeMargeiscomingdown,"Dickiesaid."IthinkI'llgoup."Tomgotup.TheywalkedtotheMiramare,sayingalmostnothingtoeach

other.Theywentup toTom's room,andDickie tried the shirtonandheld thesocksuptohisfeet.Boththeshirtandthesocksweretherightsizeand,asTomhadthought,Dickiewasverypleasedwiththeshirt.

NowDickiehadeverything,Tomthought,everythinghehadtooffer.Hewouldrefuseaninvitationforadrink,too,Tomknew."Thanksfordeliveringthe

clothes.Itwasveryniceofyou."Dickieheldouthishand."IthinkIoughttotellyousomethingelse,"Tomsaidwithasmile."Your

fathersentmeoverhereespeciallytoaskyoutocomehome.""Whatdoyoumean?"Dickieasked."Paidyourway?""Yes."ItwashislastchancetomakeDickielaughorgooutandslamthe

door indisgust.But the smilewas coming thewayTom rememberedDickie'ssmile.

"Paidyourway!He'sgettingdesperate, isn'the?"Dickieclosed thedooragain.

"HecameuptomeinabarinNewYork,"Tomsaid."ItoldhimIwasn'taclosefriendofyours,buthethoughtIcouldhelpifIcameover.I toldhimI'dtry.Idon'twantyoutothinkI'mtakingadvantageofyourfather.I'lltrytofindajobsomewhereinEuropesoon,andI'llbeabletopayhimback.Heboughtmearound-tripticket."

"Oh, don't bother! The company will pay for it. I can just see Dadapproachingyouinabar.Whichbarwasit?"

"Raonl's.HefollowedmefromtheGreenCage."Tom and Dickie had a drink in the hotel bar. They drank to Herbert

RichardGreenleaf.

CHAPTERTHREE

FriendshipsandJealousies

"Comeon,Tom,I'llshowyousomeofmypaintings."Dickie led theway into the big room Tom had looked into a couple of

timesonhiswaytoandfromtheshower."ThisisoneofMargeI'mworkingonnow.""Oh," Tom saidwith interest. Itwasn't good in his opinion, probably in

anybody'sopinion."Andthese-alotofpaintingsoftheseashore."Dickieobviouslywanted

Tom to say something nice about them, because hewas proud of them.Theywereallwildandallthesame.

"Howlongareyougoingtobehere?"Dickieasked."Oh,atleastaweek,Ithink,"Tomanswered."Because-"Dickie'sfacewasredfromthewinewhichhadputhimina

goodmood."Ifyou'regoingtobeherea little longer,whydon'tyoustaywithme?There'snoreasontostayinahotel,unlessyoupreferit."

"Thankyouverymuch,"Tomsaid."There'sabedintheotherroom,whichyoudidn'tsee."***Thenextmorning,Tommovedin."ArewestillgoingtoNaples?"Tomasked."Remember?Wetalkedabout

ityesterday.""Certainly."Dickielookedathiswatch."It'sonlyaquartertotwelve.We

canmakethetwelveo'clockbus."Thebuswas justarrivingas theyreachedthepostoffice.Dickiestopped

running,rightinthefaceofayoungmanwithredhairandabrightsportsshirt,anAmerican.

"Dickie!""Freddie!"Dickieyelled."Whatareyoudoinghere?"

"Cametoseeyou!AndtheCecchis.They'regivingmeaplacetostayforafewdays."

"I'mofftoNapleswithafriend.Tom?"Dickieintroducedthem.TheAmerican'snamewasFreddieMiles.Tomthoughthewasdisgusting.

Hehatedredhair.Freddiehadlargered-browneyesthatshookinhishead.Hewasalsoveryheavy.

"Seeyoutonight,Freddie."Aboutanhourlater,thebusleftTomandDickieinNaples."I know a good place for lunch," Dickie said. "A real Neapolitan pizza

place.Doyoulikepizza?"Theysatthereuntilfiveo'clock.Dickiehadspentmostofthetimetalking

aboutFreddie,andTomhadfoundtheconversationasuninterestingasFreddie'sface.ThentheymovedtoacafecalledtheGalleria.

"This is what I like," Dickie said. "Sitting at a table and watching thepeoplegoby.Itreallyimprovesyourattitudetowardlife."

Awell-dressed Italian greeted Dickie warmly and sat down at the tablewith them.Tom listened to their conversation in Italian,understandingawordhereandthere.

"WanttogotoRome?"Dickieaskedhimsuddenly."Sure,"Tomsaid."Now?"The Italian had a long, gray car with a loud radio that he and Dickie

seemed happy to shout over. They reachedRome in about two hours and theItaliandroppedtheminthemiddleofastreetandsaidaquickgoodbye.

In Rome, they bought tickets for a music show that evening. After theshow,theyhaddinneranddrankabottleandahalfofwine.Theywereinafinemoodbyoneinthemorning.Theywalkedwiththeirarmsaroundeachother'sshoulders, singing and talking. Neither had the slightest ideawhat street theywereon.

"When the sun comes up, we can see where we are," Dickie saidcheerfully.Helookedathiswatch."Onlyacouplemorehours."

Thenextmorning,theyreturnedtoNaples,justintimetocatchthebusforMongibello.

WhentheyreachedMongibello,MargewasannoyedbecauseDickiehadn'tcalledtosayhewasspendingthenightinRome.

"Idon'tmind,ofcourse,but I thoughtyouwere inNaples,andanythingcanhappeninNaples."

Tomkepthismouthshut.Hewasn'tgoingtotellMargeanythingtheyhaddone.Letherimaginewhatshepleased.Dickiehadmadeitclearthattheyhadhadaverygoodtime.Margehadthelookofamotheroranoldersisternow-thewoman'sdislikeoftheroughplayoflittleboysandmen.Orwasitjealousy?She seemed to know that Dickie had formed a closer friendshipwith Tom intwenty-fourhours, justbecausehewasanotherman, than shecouldeverhavewithDickie,whetherhelovedherornot,andhedidn't.

***For the next three or four days, they didn't see much of Marge. Tom,

anyway, kept Dickie amused. He had lots of funny stories to tell about NewYork, some of them true, some of them invented. Obviously, Dickie wasenjoyinghiscompany.

Tomwrote toMr.Greenleaf,promisinghim thatDickiewasconsideringreturningtotheUnitedStates.Hehadtosmileashewrotetheletter,becauseheandDickieweretalkingofvisitingtheGreekislandsthiswinter.Margewouldn'tbe going,Tomwas sure. Both he and Dickie left her out of their travel planswhentheydiscussedthem.

DickiewaspayingattentiontoMargebecauseheknewshe'dbelonelyinMongibello by herself.But one daywhen they asked her to go to theRomanruinsatHerculaneum,sherefused.

"IthinkI'llstayhome.Youboysenjoyyourselves,"shesaidwithaneffortatacheerfulsmile.

"Well,ifshewon't,shewon't,"Tomsaid,andthenwalkedcalmlyintothehousesothatsheandDickiecouldtalkaloneontheterraceiftheywantedto.

Afterafewminutes,thegateslammed.Margehadleft.Tomwalkedoutofthehouseandontotheterrace.

"Wassheangryaboutsomething?"Tomasked."No.Shefeelskindofignored,Isuppose.""IfeellikeI'mgettinginthewayofyourrelationshipwithMarge."

"Ofcoursenot!Gettinginthewayofwhat?""Well,shemightthinkso.""No.it'sjustthatIowehersomething.AndIhaven'tbeenparticularlynice

toherlately.Wehaven't.""It'saftertwo.Wanttotakealittlewalkandgobythepostoffice?"Theywalked down the hill in silence.What hadMarge said about him,

Tom wondered. Dickie came out of his silence only to greet Luigi, the postofficeworker,andthankhimforhisletter.Tomhadnomail.

"I think I'llgoup toseeMarge,"Dickiesaid."Iwon'tbe long,butdon'twait."

"All right,"Tomsaid, feelingsuddenlydesperate.Abouthalfwayup thehillhehadthesuddenneedtogotoMarge'shouse.Hecouldgowiththeexcuseofapologizingtoher,butsatisfyhisangerbysurprisingandannoyingthem.HesuddenlyfeltthatDickiewastouchingher,atthisminute,andpartlyhewantedtoseeit,andpartlyhehatedtheideaofseeingit.

TomstoppednearMarge'sapartment.Oneofherbraswashangingoutofthewindow.Throughthewindow,hecouldseethatDickie'sarmwasaroundherwaist.Dickiewaskissingher,littlekissesonhercheek,smilingather.Tomwasdisgusted.HeknewDickiedidn'tmeanit;heknewDickiewasusingthischeap,easywaytoholdontoherfriendship.

Tomturnedawayandrandownthesteps,wantingtoscream.Heranalltheway toDickie's house and sat on the couch inDickie's living room for a fewmoments,hismindshockedandempty.

HewentintoDickie'sbedroomandwalkedaroundforafewmoments,hishands inhispockets.HewonderedwhenDickiewascomingback.Orwashegoingtostayallafternoon,reallytakehertobedwithhim?HeopenedDickie'sclosetdoorandlookedin.Therewasanew-lookinggraysuit.Tomtookitout.He tookoffhis shorts andputon thegraypants.HeputonapairofDickie'sshoes.Thenheopenedthebottomdrawerand tookoutacleanblueandwhiteshirt.

"Marge, you must understand that I don't love you," Tom said into themirror in Dickie's voice. "Marge, stop it!" Tom turned suddenly and made amove in the air pretending to grabMarge's throat. He shook her, twisted herdowntothefloor.Hewasbreathingheavily."YouknowwhyIhadtodothat,"

hesaid,addressingMarge,thoughhewatchedhimselfinthemirror."YouwerecomingbetweenTomandme-No,notthat!Butthereissomethingbetweenus!"

Heturned,steppedovertheimaginarybody,andwenttothewindow.HecouldseethebottomofthestepsthatleduptoMarge'shouse.Maybetheyweresleepingtogether,Tomthoughtwithdisgust.Heranbacktotheclosetandtookahatfromthetopshelf.Heput iton.ItsurprisedhimhowmuchhelookedlikeDickiewiththetoppartofhisheadcovered.ReallyitwasonlyhisdarkerhairthatwasverydifferentfromDickie.Buthisnose,hisnarrowjaw,hiseyes-

"What'reyoudoing?"Tomturnedaroundquickly.Dickiewasinthedoorway."Oh-justamusing

myself.Sorry,Dickie."Dickieslammedthedoorloudly."Pleasegetoutofmyclothes.""AreyouandMargeOK?"Tomtried tocalmhimselfashehungup the

suit."Marge and I are fine,"Dickie yelled. "Another thing Iwant to say," he

said,lookingatTom,"I'mnotinlovewithyou.Idon'tknowifyouhavetheideathatIamornot."

"Inlovewithme?"Tomsmiledweakly."Ineverthoughtyouwere.""Well,Margethinksyou'reinlovewithme.""Why?"Tomfeltthebloodgooutofhisface."WhathaveIeverdone?""It'sjustthewayyouact,"Dickiesaid,andwentoutofthedoor.Tom quickly put his shorts back on and followed Dickie. Just because

Dickie likedhim,Tomthought,Margehadspreadherdirty ideasabouthimtoDickie."AreyouinlovewithMarge?"

"No,butIfeelsorryforher.Icareabouther.She'sbeenverynicetome.We'vehadsomegood times together.Youdon't seem tobeable tounderstandthat.I'mgoingtokeepherfriendship."

"Well,haveIdoneanythingtopreventyou?Itoldyou,Dickie,I'dratherleavethandoanythingtohurtyourfriendshipwithMarge."

DickielookedatTom."No,youhaven'tdoneanything,specifically,butit'sobviousyoudon'tlikeheraround."

"I'msorry,"Tomsaidsincerely.Hewassorryhehadn'tmademoreofan

effort,thathehaddoneabadjob."Well,let'sforgetit.Margeand1areOK."Dickieturnedawayandstared

outatthewater.Tomwent into thekitchen tomakehimself somecoffee.Thiswasn't the

timetobetoofriendlywithDickie.Dickiehadhispride.Hewouldbesilentformostoftheafternoon,thencomebackinbyaboutfiveo'clockafterhehadbeenpaintingforatime,andeverythingwouldbethesameasbefore.OnethingTomwassureof:Dickiewasgladtohavehimhere.Dickiewasboredwithlivingbyhimself,andboredwithMarge,too.Tomstillhadthreehundreddollarsleft,andheandDickieweregoingtouseitonatriptoParis.

CHAPTERFOUR

ALossofControl

Thenextday,Tomwalkeddowntothepostoffice.Thereweretwoletters,onetohimfromDickie'sfather,onetoDickiefromsomeoneinNewYorkwhoTomdidn'tknow.HewalkedquicklyhomeasheopenedMr.Greenleaf'sletter,unfoldingthetypewrittensheetrespectfully.

Nov.10,19MydearTom,SinceyouhavebeenwithDickieoveramonthandheshowsnomoresign

of cominghome thanbeforeyouwent, it is clear tome thatyouhaven't beensuccessful.Irealizethatyoureportedsincerelythatheisconsideringreturning,buthonestly,Idon'tseeitanywhereinhisletterofOctober26.Heseemsmoredeterminedthanevertostaywhereheis.

Iwant you to know thatmywife and I appreciatewhatever efforts youhavemadeforus.Fromtoday,Ihavenofurtherneedofyourassistance.Ihopeyouhavenot troubledyourselfgreatlybyyoureffortsof the lastmonth,and Isincerely hope the trip has given you some pleasure despite the failure of itsmaingoal.

BothmywifeandIsendyougreetingsandourthanks.Sincerely,H.R.Greenleaf

Tomwalkedintothehouse.Itwastheend.Mr.Greenleafhadsimplyfiredhim.Hehadfailed.Hestoodatthecorneroftheterrace,staringoutatthecityand thinkingofnothing, feeling lostandalone.He turnedasheheard thegateopen.Dickiewalkedupthepath,smiling,butTomthoughtitwasanunnatural,politesmile.

"Here'saletterforyou."HehandedDickiehisletterandputtheonefromMr.Greenleafintohispocket.

WhenDickiehadfinishedreadinghisletter-aletterthatmadehimlaughoutloudashereadit-Tomsaid,"DoyouthinkMargewouldliketogouptoPariswithuswhenwego?"

Dickielookedsurprised."Ithinkshewould."

"Well,askher,"Tomsaidcheerfully."I don't know if I should go up to Paris,"Dickie said. "Iwouldn'tmind

gettingawaysomewhereforafewdays,butParis-"Helightedacigarette."I'drathergotoSanRemoorevenGenoa."

"ButParis-Genoacan'tcomparewithParis,canit?""No,ofcoursenot,butit'salotcloser.""ButwhenwillwegettoParis?""Idon'tknow.Anytime.Paris'llstillbethere."Tomranfromthehallintothekitchenandfixedhimselfanicelessdrink.

Hishandswereshaking.OnlyyesterdayDickiehadsaid,"AreyougoinghomeforChristmas?"veryquietlyinthemiddleofaconversation,butDickieknewhewasn'tgoinghomeforChristmas.Hedidn'thaveahomeandDickieknewit.Hehad told Dickie all about Aunt Dottie in Boston. It was simply what Dickiewanted,thatwasall.MargewasfullofplansforChristmas.Hecouldn'tbeartoimagineit.Allright,he'dleave.

He'ddoanythingratherthanspendChristmaswiththem.***Marge said she didn't care to gowith them toSanRemo.Shewas busy

working on her book. The bookmust be awful, Tom thought.He had knownwriters.Youdidn'twriteabookwhilespendinghalfthedayonthebeach.

TheytookonlyonesuitcaseofDickie'sforthetwoofthem,becausetheyplanned to be away only three nights and four days. Dickiewas in a slightlymore cheerfulmood, but the awful feelingwas still there, the feeling that thiswasthelasttriptheywouldmaketogetheranywhere.

DickiesaidabsolutelynothingonthetraintoSanRemo.Tomsatoppositehim, staring at his handsome, expressionless face, at his hands with the tworings:onegreenandonegold.Tomdecidedtostealthegreenringwhenheleft.Hewoulddoittheverylastday,hethought.HestaredatDickie'sclosedeyes.Acrazyemotionofhate, ofwarmth, of impatience, and frustrationwas rising inhim,preventinghisbreathing.HewantedtokillDickie.

Itwasnotthefirsttimehehadthoughtofit.Before,onceortwiceorthreetimes, it had been a desire that went away immediately and left him with afeeling of shame. Now he thought about it for a wholeminute, twominutes,

becausehewasleavingDickieanyway,andwhatwastheretobeashamedofanymore?HehadofferedDickiefriendship,andrespect,everythinghehadtooffer,andDickiehadansweredwithcoldnessandnowdislike.Dickiewasjustpushinghimoutinthecold.Ifhekilledhimonthistrip,Tomthought,hecouldsimplysaythattherehadbeenanaccident.Hecould-Hehadjustthoughtofsomethingbrilliant:hecouldbecomeDickieGreenleafhimself.HecoulddoeverythingthatDickiedid.HecouldgobacktoMongibellofirstandcollectDickie'sthings,tellMargeastory,rentanapartmentinRomeorParis,receiveDickie'scheckeverymonth,andsignDickie'snameonit.HecouldsteprightintoDickie'sshoes.Hebegantothinkofhow.

Thewater.ButDickiewassuchagoodswimmer.Thecliffs.Itwouldbeeasy topushDickieoffacliffwhen they tookawalk,buthe imaginedDickiegrabbing at him andpulling himoffwith him, andhe felt nervous.Hewouldhave tomake his hairmore blond.But hewouldn't live in a place, of course,where somebody who knew Dickie lived. He had only to look enough likeDickietobeabletousehispassport.

Dickieopenedhiseyes,lookingrightathim,andTomrelaxed,puttinghisheadbackandshuttinghiseyesquickly.

"Tom,areyouOK?"Dickieasked,shakingTom'sknee."OK,"Tom said, smiling a little.He sawDickie sit backwith a look of

anger,andTomknewwhy;becauseDickiehadhatedgivinghimeventhatmuchattention.Tomsmiled tohimself, amused at pretending tobe asleep.ThathadbeentheonlywaytohidehisthoughtsfromDickie.

SanRemo.Flowers.Amainstreetalongthebeach,shopsandstores,andFrench,English,andItaliantourists.Tomsearchedhisbrain.Where?Inoneoftheselittlestreetstonight?Inthewater?Itwasslightlycloudy,thoughnotcold.Itwouldbeeasyinthehotelroom,too,buthowwouldhegetridofthebody?That left only thewater, andDickiewasvery comfortable in thewater.Therewereboats, rowboats and littlemotorboats, thatpeople could rentdownat thebeach.Ineachmotorboat,Tomnoticed,wasaheavy,round,cementanchortiedtoaropetopreventtheboatfromfloatingaway.

"Whydon'twetakeaboat,Dickie?"Tomasked,tryingnottosoundeager."Well,allright.Foranhouraroundtheport,"Dickiesaid.The Italian boatman started the motor for them. Then Dickie took the

wheelandtheyheadedstraightoutfromthetown."Where'reyougoing?"Tomshouted."Doesitmatter?"Dickiesmiled.Noitdidn't."Youdaremetojumpin?"Tomasked,beginningtotakeoffhisjacket.Dickieonly laughedat this suggestion,openinghismouthwide,keeping

hiseyesfixedonthedistanceinfrontoftheboat.Tomkeptonundressing.Hehadhisshoesandsocksoff.Underhispantsheworehisswimsuit,likeDickie.

"I'll go in if youwill!" Tom shouted. "Will you?"HewantedDickie toslowdown.

"WillI?Sure!"Dickieslowedthemotor.Heletgoofthewheelandtookoffhisjacket.Theboatmovedupanddown,losingitsspeed."Comeon,"Dickiesaid,noddingatTom'spants."Takethemoff."

Tom lookedat the land.Theywere a longway from thewhite sandandpink houses of San Remo now. He picked up the oar slowly, playing with itbetweenhisknees,andwhenDickiewaspullinghispantsdown,TomliftedtheoarandswungitdownhardonthetopofDickie'shead.

"Hey!"Dickieyelled,slidinghalfoffthewoodenseat.Tomstoodupandbroughttheoardownagain."Whatthe...!"Dickiesaid,ashelostconsciousness.Tomhithimonthesideoftheneckthreetimes.Finallythebodyrelaxed

and stopped moving. Tom straightened, getting his breath back painfully. Helookedaroundhim.Therewerenoboats, nothing, except far, far awaya littlewhiteonemovingfromlefttoright.

TomstoppedandpulledatDickie'sgreenring.Heputitinhispocket.Theotherringwastighter,butitcameoff,overthebleedinghand.Thenhereachedfor the rope thatwas tied to theheavyweight.Heguessed the ropewasaboutfourteenorfifteenmeterslong.Hebegantofeelcoolerandcalmer.Thecementweightshouldbejustenoughtoholdabodydown,hethought.Thebodymightmovearoundalittle,butitwouldn'tcomeuptothesurface.

Tompulledthebodytowardtheedgeoftheboat,slidingitalongtheside.HebeganwithDickiesheadandshoulders,turnedDickie'sbodyonitsstomach,

andpushedhimout littleby little.Dickie'sheadwas in thewater.Tomtookabreathandpushedhard.Dickiewentoverthesideoftheboat.

Tomstartedtheboatcautiouslyandheadedtowardtheshore,northofSanRemo.Maybehecouldfindaplace,anemptyareaontheshore,wherehecouldstoptheboatandgetout.Hecouldn't thinkofawaytogetridoftheboat.Hemovedittowardashallow,shortbeachuntilhefeltithitground.Tomdecidedtosinktheboat.

The little beach gave him a feeling of safety and privacy.Therewas nosignthatahumanfoothadevertouchedtheplace.

Tombegantogatherstonesandtodropthemintotheboatonebyone.Heworkedwithoutstoppingbecausehewasafraidsomebodymightfindhimifhestoppedtorest.Whenthestonesreachedthetopoftheboat,hepushedtheboataway from thebeachandpushed itdown,moreandmore,untilwater enteredoverthesides.Astheboatbegantosink,hegaveitanotherpushtowarddeeperwaterandwalkedwith ituntil thewaterwasuptohiswaistandtheboatsankbelowhis reach.Thenhewalkedback to shore and laydown for a time, facedownonthesand.HebegantoplanhisstoryforthereturntoMongibello.

***TomsteppedoffthebusalmostdirectlyinfrontofMarge.Shewasinher

swimsuitandthewhitejacketshealwaysworetothebeach."Where'sDickie?"sheasked."He's in Rome," Tom smiled easily, absolutely prepared for Marge's

questions."He'sstayingupthereforafewdays.Icamedowntogetsomeofhisstufftotakeuptohim."

"Ishestayingwithsomebody?""No,justinahotel."TombegantowalktowardthehouseandMargefollowedhim.Tomtook

the big iron key to the terrace door from its usual place. The table had beenmoved a little, and therewas a book on the chair.Marge had been here sincetheyleft,Tomthought.

"CanIfixyouadrink?""No,thanks.HowlongdoyouthinkDickie'sgoingtobeaway?Tomfrownedthoughtfully."Well,Idon'treallyknow.Hesayshewantsto

seealotofartshowsupthere.Ithinkhe'sjustenjoyingachangeofscene.""Howlongareyoustaying?""Just overnight. I'll be going up to Rome tomorrow. Probably in the

afternoon.""Idon'tsupposeI'llseeyouagain,unlessyou'reatthebeach.Haveagood

timeincaseIdon'tseeyou.AndtellDickietowriteapostcard.Whathotelishestayingat?"

"Oh-uh-what'sthenameofit?NearthePiazzadiSpagna?""TheInghilterra?""That's it.But I think he said to use theAmericanExpress as amailing

address.""Allright.Bye."Margewalkeddownthepathtotheirongate,andout.Tom picked up the suitcase and ran upstairs to Dickie's bedroom. He

opened the drawers quickly and emptied them into the suitcase. There wereletters,keys,addressbooks,andclothes.

He wanted to take all of Dickies stuff straight away to Rome, but heworriedaboutwhatMargemightthinkifhetooksomuchforsuchashorttime.HedecideditwouldbebettertopretendthatDickiehadlatermadeadecisiontomovetoRome.

The next day, Tom worked calmly and thoroughly, expecting Marge tocomebyatanyminute,butitwasafterfourbeforeshecame.

"Stillhere?"sheaskedasshecameintoDickie'sroom."Yes.IhadaletterfromDickietoday.He'sdecidedhe'sgoingtomoveto

Rome."Tomstoodupandsmiledalittle.Itseemedtobeasurprisetohim,too."Hewantsmetopickupallhisthings,allIcancarry."

"MovetoRome?Forhowlong?""Idon'tknow.Therestofthewinter,atleast.""He'snotcomingbackallwinter?"Margesoundedlostalready."No.Hesaidhemightevensellthehouse.""He'sstillgoingtoCortina,isn'the?"Margeasked.DickieandMargehad

beenplanningtogoonaChristmasvacationtoCortinawithFreddieMiles.

"No, he's not. He said he was going to write Freddie and tell him hedecidednottogo."

Tomwatchedhershockedface.Heknewshewaswonderingwhetherhewas going to live with Dickie or not, and that she was probably deciding,becauseofhischeerfulmanner, thathewas.Tomfelt thequestionmoveup toherlips-andthensheaskedhim:"AreyougoingtostaywithhiminRome?"

"Maybeforatime.I'llhelphimwithhisapartment.IwanttogotoParisthismonth,thenIsupposearoundthemiddleofDecemberI'llbegoingbacktotheStates."

Afewminuteslater,Margestoodupandsaidgoodbye.Tomsuddenlyfeltthat she might be going to telephone Dickie today. Or maybe even go up toRome.Butwhat could she do if she did go?People changehotels.And therewere enough hotels inRome to keep her busy for days.When she didn't findhim,shewouldsuppose thathehadgone toParisor toanothercitywithTomRipley.

CHAPTERFIVE

ANewIdentity

Tom leftMongibello by taxi around six o'clock, after a cup of coffee atGiorgio's,where he said goodbye to his andDickie's village friends.To all ofthem he told the same story, thatMr.Greenleafwas staying in Rome for thewinter,andthathesenthisgreetingsuntilhesawthemagain.

On the train, Tomwrote a letter toMarge.As soon as he arrived at thehotelinRome,hetypeditonDickie'stypewriter.

RomeNovember28DearMarge,I've decided to take an apartment inRome for thewinter, just to have a

changeofsceneandgetawayfromoldMongy.Ifeelaneedtobebymyself.I'msorryitwassosuddenandthatIdidn'tgetachancetosaygoodbye,butactuallyI'mnotfaraway,andIhopeI'llseeyounowandthen.Ijustdidn'tfeellikegoingtopackmystuff,soIgavethejobtoTom.

Youhad thewrong idea aboutTom.He's goingback to theStates soon.He'sreallynotabadguyandIdon'tdislikehim.Hehasnothingtodowithusanyway,andIhopeyourealizethat.

Writemeat theAmericanExpress,Rome,until I knowwhere I am. I'mterribly sorry about Christmas, darling, but I don't think I should see you sosoon,andyoucanhatemeornotforthat.

Allmylove,Dickie

Tomhadkepthishatonwhenheenteredthehotel,andhegaveDickie'spassport in at the desk instead of his own. He also signed in with Dickie'ssignature. He spent that evening practicing Dickies signature for the bankchecks.Dickie'smonthlyincomewasgoingtoarrivefromAmericainlessthantendays.

TommovedthenextdaytotheHotelEuropaneartheViaVeneto.Heheld

imaginaryconversationswithMargeandFreddieinhishotelroom.HespoketoherasDickieincaseshecalled.Hehaddonesolittletochangehisappearance,butevenhisexpression,Tomthought,was likeDickie'snow.Heworeasmilethatwas dangerouslywelcoming to a stranger, a smile perfect to greet an oldfriendoralover.ItwasDickie'sbestandmosttypicalsmilewhenhewasinagoodmood.

OnJanuary4therewasaletterfromMarge.ShewasgivingupherhouseonMarch1,shesaid.Shewrote:

WhenamIgoingtoseeyou?IhatemissingasummerinEuropeafterI'velived through another awful winter, but I think I'll go home in early March.Darling, it would be so wonderful if we could go home on the same boattogether.

Isthereapossibility?Idon'tsupposethereis.You'renotgoingbacktotheUSevenforashortvisitthiswinter?

Asever,Marge

OnJanuary10,TomwrotebacktoMarge:

I'mpaintingwithamancalledDiMassimoandamquitepleasedwiththeresults.Imissyou,too,butifyoucanstilllivewithmyplan,I'dprefernottoseeyouforseveralmoreweeks.HellotoGiorgioandhiswife...

It was a letter like all of Dickie's letters, a letter that couldn't be calledwarmorcold,andsaidalmostnothing.

TomwasreceivingDickie'schecksnow,sohehadenoughmoneytoliveashewanted.HehadfoundanapartmentinalargeapartmenthouseintheViaImperiale,nearthePincianGate.Hehadsignedacontracttostayayear,thoughhedidn'tplantospendmostofhistimeinRome,especiallythewinter.Heonlywantedahome,afteryearsofnothavingone.AndRomewasexciting.Romewaspartofhisnewlife.Hewanted tobeable tosay inMajorcaorAthensorCairoorwhereverhewas:

"Yes,IliveinRome,Ikeepanapartment."

"Keep" was the way the international upper classes referred to theirapartments.Theapartmenthadalargelivingroom,abedroom,akindofsittingroom, kitchen, and bath. It suited the respectable neighborhood and therespectablelifehewantedtolead.

Tomcarefullyavoided theAmericans inRomewhomightexpecthim tocome to their parties and ask them to his, though he loved to chat withAmericansandItaliansintheCafeGrecoandinthestudents'restaurantsintheViaMargutta.HetoldhisnameonlytoanItalianpainternamedCarlino,whomhemet in aViaMargutta bar; told him also that he painted andwas studyingwithapaintercalledDiMassimo.Ifthepoliceeverasked,thismancouldnowtellthemthatDickieGreenleafhadbeenpaintinginRomeinJanuary.

HehadaticketforMajorca-bytraintoNaples,thentheboatfromNaplestoPalmaoverthenightofJanuary31andFebruary1.HehadboughttwonewsuitcasesfromGuccis,thebestleatherproductsstoreinRome.

WhileTomwaspackinghissuitcasesonemorning,hisdoorbellrang.Hesupposed itwas a salesperson, or amistake.He had no name on his doorbelldownstairsbecausehedidn'tlikepeopletovisithim.Itrangforthesecondtime,andTomstill ignoredit,andwentonwithhis lazypacking.Helovedtopack,andhetookalongtimeaboutit,awholedayortwodays,layingDickie'sclothescarefullyintosuitcases,nowandthentryingonagood-lookingshirtorajacketinfrontofthemirror.HewasstandinginfrontofthemirrorwithoneofDickie'sshirts,whentherewasaknockathisdoor.

It might be someone from Mongibello - someone who had found hisaddress and wanted to surprise him. That was silly, he told himself. But hishandswerecoolwithsweatashewenttothedoor.Hefeltfaint,andwasafraidhewould fall down.He opened the doorwith both hands, though only a fewcentimeters.

"Hello!"theAmericanvoicesaidoutofthedarknessofthehall."Dickie?It'sFreddie."

Tomtookastepback,holdingthedooropen."He's-Won'tyoucomein?He'snothererightnow.Heshouldbebackalittlelater."

FreddieMilescamein,lookingaround.Hisfat,uglyfaceturnedineverydirection.Howhadhefoundtheplace,Tomwondered.Tomtookhisringsoffquicklyandpocketedthem.Andwhatelse?He,too,lookedaroundtheroom.

"You'restayingwithhim?"Freddieasked,withthatstrangestarethatmadehisfacelookstupidandratherscared.

"Oh,no.I'mjuststayinghereforafewhours,"Tomsaid,calmlyremovingDickie'sshirt.Hehadanothershirtonunderit."Dickiesgoneforlunch.Otello's,I think he said. He should be back around three at the latest." One of theapartmentownershadprobablyletFreddiein,Tomthought,andtoldhimwhichbelltopress,andtoldhimMr.Greenleafwasin,too.FreddiehadprobablysaidhewasanoldfriendofDickie's.NowhewouldhavetogetFreddieoutofthehousewithoutseeingSignoraBuffidownstairs,becauseshealwayscalledout,"Hello,Mr.Greenleaf."

"Imet you inMongibello, didn't I?" Freddie asked. "Aren't you Tom? IthoughtyouwerecomingtoCortina."

"Icouldn'tgo,thanks.Howwasthetrip?""Oh,fine.WhathappenedtoDickie?""Didn'thewritetoyou?HedecidedtospendthewinterinRome.Hetold

mehe'dwrittentoyou.""Notaword.Margetoldmehe'dmovedtoRome,butshedidn'thavethe

address except the American Express office. It was only by luck that I metsomebodyatarestaurantlastnightwhoknewwherehelived."

Freddie had walked toward the bedroom and stopped, looking at thesuitcasesonthebed."IsDickieleavingforsomewhere,ordidhejustgethere?"heasked,turning.

"He'sleaving.Didn'tMargetellyou?He'sgoingtoSicily.""When?""Tomorrow.Orlatetonight.I'mnotquitesure.""So what's the matter with Dickie lately?" Freddie asked, frowning.

"What'stheideaofhidingfromeverybody?""Hesayshe'sbeenworkingprettyhardthiswinter,"Tomsaid."He seems towant privacy, but as far as I know he's still friendlywith

everybody,includingMarge."Tom turned around and saw Freddie staring at the silver identification

braceletonhisleftwrist.ItwasDickie'sbracelet,whichTomhadneverseenhim

wearing,buthadfoundwithDickie'sclothes.Freddiehadclearlyseenitbefore.Tomputonhiscoatslowlyandcalmly.

Freddiewas lookingathimnowwithadifferentexpression,witha littlesurprise.TomknewwhatFreddiewasthinking.Hesenseddanger.

"Readytogo?"Tomasked."Youlivehere,don'tyou?""No!"Tomprotested,smiling.Thefat,uglyfacestaredathimfromunder

thebrightredhair.IftheycouldgetoutwithoutseeingSignoraBuffidownstairs,Tomthoughthewouldbesafe.

"Let'sgo.""Iseeyou'rewearingDickie'sjewelry."Tomcouldn'tthinkofasinglethingtosay,asinglejoketomake."Oh,just

foradayortwo,"hesaidinhisdeepestvoice."Dickiegottiredofwearingit,sohetoldmetowear it."Hemeant the identificationbracelet,but therewasalsothesilverpinonhis tie,with theGonit.Tomhadbought thepinhimself.HecouldfeeltheangergrowinginFreddieMiles.Tomwasafraidofhiseyes.

"Yes,I'mreadytogo,"Freddiesaidseriously,gettingup."I've just remembered I have to make a telephone call," Tom said. "I'll

meetyouthere."Freddiewalkedtothedoorandturnedwithaswingofhisbroadshoulders.

"That'stheOtellonotfarfromtheInghilterra?""Yes,"Tomsaid."He'ssupposedtobetherebyoneo'clock."Freddienodded."Nicetoseeyouagain,"hesaidinanunfriendlymanner,

andclosedthedoor.Tomwhispered a curse.He opened the door slightly and listened to the

soundofFreddie'sshoesgoingdownthestairs.HewantedtomakesureFreddieleftwithoutspeakingtooneoftheBuffisagain.ThenheheardFreddie's"Hello,ma'am."

Freddie was talkingwith Signora Buffi. Thewoman's voice camemoreclearly.

"...onlyMr.Greenleaf,"shewassaying."No,onlyone...Mr.Who?...No,sir... I do not think he has gone out today at all, but I could bewrong!" She

laughed.Tom twisted his hands, imagining that theywere around Freddie's neck.

ThenheheardFreddie'sfootstepsrunningupthestairs.Tomsteppedbackintotheapartmentandclosedthedoor.Hecouldgoonsayingthathedidn'tlivehere,thatDickiewasatOtello's,orthathedidn'tknowwhereDickiewas,butFreddiewouldn'tstopnowuntilhefoundDickie.OrFreddiewoulddraghimdownstairsandaskSignoraBuffiwhohewas.

Freddie knocked on the door. The handle turned. It was locked. Tompickedupaheavyglassashtray.Hecouldn'tgethishandaroundit,andhehadtohold it by the edge.He tried to think just for two secondsmore:wasn't thereanothersolution?Whatwouldhedowiththebody?Hecouldn'tthink.Thiswastheonlyway.Heopened thedoorwithhis left hand.His right hand,with theglassashtray,waspulledbackanddown.

Freddiecameintotheroom."Listen,wouldyoumindtelling..."The hard edge of the ashtray hit themiddle of his head. Freddie looked

shocked.Thenhiskneesbentandhewentdownlikeabullhitbetweentheeyeswithahammer,Tomkickedthedoorshut.Heslammedtheedgeoftheashtrayinto the back of Freddie's neck. He hit the neck again and again, scared thatFreddiemightbeonlypretendingandthatoneofhisgreatarmsmightsuddenlygrabhislegsandpullhimdown.ThenhefeltFreddie'swristforapulse.Therewasafaintone,thoughitseemedtostopashetouched.Inthenextseconditwasgone.

He searched Freddie's pockets. A wallet. The American passport in theinsidepocketoftheovercoat.MixedItalianandsomeotherkindofcoins.TwocarkeysonaringthatsaidFIAT.Hesearchedthewalletforalicense.Thereitwas, with all the details. He went to the front window, then nearly smiledbecause it was so simple: there stood the black car across the street, almostdirectlyinfrontofthehouse.Hecouldnotbesure,buthethoughttherewasnooneinit.

Hesuddenlyknewwhathewasgoingtodo.HesetFreddieupagainstthewall, and poured some strong alcohol from a bottle down his throat. He hadhoursoftime,buthedidn'tstopuntiltheroomwasready,thetwodozensmokedcigarettes and a glass of alcohol broken and only half-cleaned up from thebathroom floor.Thecurious thingwas thatheknewhewouldhave thewholeapartmentcleanedupbyeighto'clock.According to thestoryhewasgoing to

tell,Freddiewouldleavehishousebyseven,andDickieGreenleafwasafairlyneatyoungman,evenwithafewdrinksinhim.Tomwasdirtyingthehouseonlysothathewouldbelievethestoryhewasgoingtotell.

Attentoeight,TomdraggedFreddie'sdeadbodyoutoftheapartmentandbegantowalkdownthestairs.Onthewaydownhestopped,hearingsomeonecomeoutofanapartmentonthesecondfloor.Hewaitedforamomentandthencontinued.Hedidn'twanttorestgoingdownthestairs.Fortunatelynobodyelsecameoutofanyoftheapartmentsorinthefrontdoor.

The street looked normal. If anyone came over, Tom thought, hewouldblowsuchabreathofalcoholinhisfacethattherewouldn'tbeanyreasontoaskwhatwasthematter.HepausedamomentforacartopassandthentookafewheavystepstoFreddie'scar.HepushedFreddie'sheadandoneshoulderthroughtheopenwindowofthecarwhilehebreatheddeeply.

"CanIhelpyou?"avoiceaskedinItalian."Ah,no,no,thanks,"Tomrepliedwithdrunkenhappiness."Iknowwhere

helives,"hesaidinEnglish.Themannodded,smilingalittle,too,andwalkedon.TomswungFreddieoutonthedoor,pulledhimaroundthedoorandonto

the car seat, came around the car, and pulled Freddie into the seat beside thedriversseat.HeputFreddie'skeyinandthecarstartedquickly.Theywereoff.Downthehill to theViaVeneto,past theAmericanLibrary,overtothePiazzaVenezia, through the Forum, past the Colosseum, a grand tour of Rome thatFreddiecouldnotappreciate.

Tombegantolookaroundfortherightspot.Therewasaplaceaheadwiththreeorfourtreesneartheedgeoftheroadandsurelyatombbehindthem.Tompulled off the road by the trees and shut off his lights. Hewaited amoment,watchingbothendsofthestraight,emptyroad.

Freddie'sbodywasstill soft.Tomdraggedhimroughlynow through thedirtandstoppedbehindthelasttree,behindwhatremainedofatomb,whichwasprobablyonlyameterhigh,hethought,andquitegoodenoughforthispig.Tomcursed his uglyweight and kicked him suddenly in the chin. Then hewalkedback to his car on his exhausted,weak legs and turned the car around towardRomeagain.Hewastired, tiredtothepointofcrying,andsickof thesightofFreddieMiles.

CHAPTERSIX

TheHuntforClues

Tomwent out before eight in themorning to buy the papers.Therewasnothing.TheymightnotfindFreddiefordays,Tomthought.NobodywaslikelytowalkaroundanunimportanttombliketheonehehadputFreddiebehind.

HewasdressedbynineandhadevenspokentoSignoraBuffitotellherhewouldbegoneforatleastthreeweeks.

Thetelephonerang,andTompickeditup."Mr.Greenleaf?"askedtheItalianvoice."Yes."The voice stated that the body of Frederick Miles had been found that

morningandhadn'tMr.Milesvisitedhimyesterdayafternoon?"Yes,thatistrue.""Would you be kind enough to answer somequestions?Apolice officer

willcometoyou.""IwillbeverygladtohelpifIcan,"Tomsaidinslow,carefulItalian,"but

can the officer come now? It is necessary for me to leave the house at teno'clock."

Thevoicemadealittlesoundandsaidprobablynot,buttheywouldtry.Tomhurried topushacoupleof suitcasesunder thebed,andcarried the

other to a closet and shut the door.He didn'twant the police to think hewasplanning to leave town.Butwhatwashenervousabout?Theyprobablydidn'thaveanyclues.

MaybeafriendofFreddieshadknownthatFreddiewasgoingtotrytoseehimyesterday,thatwasall.Tompickedupapaintbrushandputit inacupofwater.Hedidn'twant to look tooupsetby thenewsofFreddie'sdeath todoalittlepaintingwhilehewaitedforthem,thoughhewasdressedtogoout.HewasgoingtobeafriendofFreddie's,butnotaveryclosefriend.

SignoraBuffiletthepoliceinatten-thirty.Thereweretwo:anoldermanin theuniformofanofficerandayoungerman inanordinarypoliceuniform.Theoldermangreetedhimpolitelyandaskedtoseehispassport.Tomproduced

it, and the officer looked carefully from Tom to the picture of Dickie, morecarefully than anyone had ever looked at it before. Tom thought the officerwouldaskhimaboutit,buthedidn't.HehandedTomthepassportwithalittlesmile.

"Howwashekilled?"Tomasked."Hewas hit on the head and in the neck by a heavy object," the officer

replied,"androbbed.Wethinkhewasdrunk.Washedrunkwhenhe leftyourapartmentyesterdayafternoon?"

"Well-alittle.Wehadbothbeendrinking."Theofficerwrote thisdowninhisbook,andalso the timethatTomsaid

Freddiehadbeenthere,from,abouttwelveuntilaboutsix."Doyouknowwherehewasgoingwhenheleft?"theofficerasked."No,Idon't.""Butyouthoughthewasabletodrive?""Oh,yes.Ifhehadbeentoodrunktodrive,Iwouldhavegonewithhim."The officer asked another question that Tom pretended not quite to

understand. The officer asked it a second time, choosing differentwords, andsmiled at the younger police officer. The officer wanted to know what hisrelationshiptoFreddiehadbeen.

"A friend," Tom said. "Not a very close friend. I had not seen or heardfromhiminabouttwomonths.Iwasterriblyupsettohearaboutthedisasterthismorning."Tom let his anxious face expresswhat his rather simple vocabularycouldn't. He thought he succeeded. He thought the questioning wasn't veryserious,andthattheyweregoingtoleaveinanotherminuteortwo.

"HesaidnothingaboutmakingatriptotheViaAppiawhenheleftyourapartment?"

"No,"Tomsaid."WhatdidyoudoyesterdayafterMr.Milesleft?""Istayedhere,"Tomsaid,movinghisopenhandsasDickiehaddone,"and

then Ihada little sleep,and later Iwentout forawalkaroundeightoreight-thirty."Amanwholivedinthehouse,whosenameTomdidn'tknow,hadseenhimcomeinlastnightataboutaquartertonine,andtheyhadsaidgoodevening

toeachother."Youtookawalkalone?""Yes.""AndMr.Milesleftherealone?Hewasnotgoingtomeetanybody?""Hedidn'tsayso."TomwonderedifFreddiehadhadfriendswithhimat

hishotel,orwhereverhehadbeenstaying.Tomhopedthatthepolicewouldn'tintroducehimtoanyofFreddie'sfriendswhomightknowDickie.Nowhisname-RichardGreenleaf-wouldbeintheItaliannewspapers,Tomthought,andalsohisaddress.He'dhavetomove.Itwasawful.Hecursedtohimself.Thepoliceofficersawhim,but it lookedlikeacurseagainst thesadendofFreddie,Tomthought.

"We are searching the car now.Maybe the murderer was somebody hepickeduptogivearideto.Shallwebeabletoreachyouhereforthenextfewdays,incasethereareanymorequestions?"

Tomhesitated."IwasplanningtoleaveforMajorcatomorrow.""Iamsorry,butwemayneedtocontactyouinthenextcoupleofdays,"he

statedquietly.HewasnotgivingTomtheopportunitytoargueaboutit,evenifhewasanAmerican."Weshallinformyouassoonasyoumaygo.Iamsorryifyouhavemadetravelplans.Perhapsthereisstilltimetochangethem.Goodday,Mr.Greenleaf."

"Good day." Tom stood there after they had closed the door. He couldmove to a hotel, he thought, if he told the policewhat hotel itwas.Hedidn'twantFreddie's friendsor any friendsofDickie's coming to seehimafter theysawhisaddressinthenewspapers.

Beforeanhourhadpassed,hewasat theInghilterra.His threesuitcases,twoofthemDickie'sandonehisown,depressedhim:hehadpackedthemforsuchadifferentpurpose.Andnowthis!

Hewentout atnoon tobuy thepapers.Everyoneof thepapershad thenews:

AMERICAN MURDERED ON THE VIA APPIA ANTICA...SHOCKING MURDER OF WEALTHY AMERICAN FREDERICK MILESLASTNIGHTONTHEVIAAPPIA...VIAAPPIAMURDEROFAMERICANWITHOUTCLUES...

Tomreadeveryword.Therereallywerenoclues,atleastnotyet,andnosuspects.ButeverypapergavethenameHerbertRichardGreenleafandgavehisaddressastheplacewhereFreddiehadlastbeenseenbyanybody.

Thephonedidn'tringallafternoon.Atabouteight,whenitwasdark,Tomwent downstairs to buy the evening papers.He sat in a little restaurant a fewstreetsaway,readingthem.Stillnoclues.

Tomdrankhisglassofwineslowly,andlookedthrougheachofthepapersforthelast-minutearticlesthatweresometimesputintoItalianpapersjustbeforetheycameout.HefoundnothingmoreontheMilescase.Butonthelastpageofthe lastnewspaperheread:SUNKENBOATWITHBLOODSTAINSFOUNDNEARSANREMO

Hereadit rapidly,withmoreterror inhisheart thanhehadfeltwhenhehad carried Freddie's body down the stairs, or when the police had come toquestionhim.Thiswaslikeabaddreamcometrue.Theboatwasdescribedindetailanditbroughtthescenebacktohim-Dickiesmilingintheboat,Dickiesmilingathim,Dickie'sbodysinkingthroughthewater.Thearticlesaidthatthestainswerebelievedtobeblood,notthattheywere.Itdidn'tsaywhatthepoliceoranybodyelseplannedtodoaboutthem.Butthepolicewoulddosomething,Tomthought.Hisimaginationwentinseveraldirections:whatwouldtheythinkif they searched forDickie's body and found it?Theywould think that itwasTomRipley'snow.Dickiewouldbesuspectedofmurder.ThenDickiewouldbesuspectedofFreddie'smurder,too.Tomsatinhisroomwonderingwhatwouldhappenifhedidnothing,andwhathecouldmakehappenbyhisownactions.

MargewouldcomeuptoRome.ShehadobviouslycalledtheRomepolicetogethisaddress.Ifshecameup,hewouldhavetoseeherasTom,andtrytopersuadeherthatDickiewasout,ashehadwithFreddie.Hemustn'tseeMarge,that was all. Everythingwould be a disaster if he saw her. It'd be the end ofeverything!Butifhecouldbepatient,nothingatallwouldhappen.Itwasjustthis moment, he thought, just this murder, that made things so difficult. Butabsolutelynothingwouldhappentohim,ifhecouldkeepdoingandsayingtherightthingstoeverybody.AfterwardeverythingwouldbeOKagain.

Hepickedupthetelephone,andtoldthemanatthehoteldeskthatifMissMarjorieSherwoodcalledagain,hewouldacceptthecall.Hethoughthecouldpersuade her in two minutes that everything was all right and that Freddie'smurderdidn'tconcernhimatall.Hewouldsaythathehadmovedtoahotelto

avoid annoying telephone calls from strangers but still bewithin reach of thepoliceincasetheywantedhimtoidentifyanysuspectstheypickedup.

He lay down on the bed, tired, but not ready to undress. Tom imaginedDickiesmilingathim,dressedinthesuitthathehadworninSanRemo.Thesuitandtiewerecompletelywet.Dickiebentoverhim,shakinghim."Iswam!"hesaid."Tom,wakeup!I'mallright!Iswam!I'malive!"Tommovedawayfromhistouch.HeheardDickielaughathim,Dickie'shappy,deeplaugh."Iswam!"Dickie'svoiceyelled,ringingandringinginTom'sears.

Tomlookedaroundtheroom,lookingforDickieintheyellowlightunderthelamp,inthedarkcorner.Tomfelthisowneyesopenwide,frightened,andthoughheknewhisfearwassilly,hekeptlookingeverywhereforDickie,belowthe curtains at thewindow, and on the floor on the other side of the bed.Hepulledhimselfupfromthebedandwalked,almostfalling,acrosstheroom,andopened awindow.He felt drugged.He sat beneath thewindow, breathing thecoldair in.Finallyhewent into thebathroomandwethis faceat thesink.Hehadlethisimaginationgocrazy.Hehadbeenoutofcontrol.

***ThefirstthinghethoughtofwhenhewokeupwasMarge.Hereachedfor

thetelephoneandaskedifshehadcalledduringthenight.Shehadn't.HehadaterriblefeelingthatshewascominguptoRome.

Verystrangely,therewasnothinginthepapersabouteithertheMilescaseortheSanRemoboat.Itfrightenedhim.

Thetelephonerangandhejumpedforitobediently.ItwaseitherMargeorthepolice.

"Therearetwoofficersofthepolicedownstairstoseeyou,sir."Aminutelater,heheardtheirfootstepsinthecarpetedhall.Itwasthesame

olderofficerasyesterday,withadifferentyoungerpoliceman.They took the chairs Tom offered. "Are you a friend of the American

ThomasRipley?"theolderofficerasked."Yes,"Tomsaid."Doyouknowwhereheis?""IthinkhewentbacktoAmericaaboutamonthago.""Isee.Thatwillhavetobechecked.Yousee,wearetryingtofindThomas

Ripley.Wethinkhemaybedead.""Dead?Why?"The officer seemed to be smiling between each sentence.The smile had

botheredTomalittleyesterday,too."YouwerewithhimonatriptoSanRemoinNovember,wereyounot?"

Theyhadcheckedthehotels."Yes.""Wheredidyoulastseehim?InSanRemo?""No.IsawhimagaininRome."TomrememberedthatMargeknewhehad

gonebacktoRomeafterMongibello,becausehehadsaidhewasgoingtohelpDickieinhisnewapartmentinRome.

"Whendidyoulastseehim?""I don't know the exact date. Something like twomonths ago, I think. I

think I had a postcard from - fromGenoa, saying that he was going back toAmerica.Whydoyouthinkheisdead?"

"DidyoutakeaboatridewithThomasRipleyinSanRemo?""Ithinkwedid.Yes,Iremember.Why?""Becausea littleboathasbeen foundwithsomekindof stainson it that

maybeblood.ItwaslostonNovember25-thedayyouwereinSanRemowithMr.Ripley."Theofficer'seyesrestedonhimwithoutmoving.

ThefriendlinessofthelookangeredTom.Itwasn'thonest,hefelt.Buthemade an effort to behavewell. "But nothing happened to us on the boat ride.Therewasnoaccident."

"Didyoubringtheboatback?""Ofcourse."Itwasobviouswhatwasgoingonintheofficer'shead:Dickie

Greenleafhadtwicebeenonthesceneofamurder,ornearenough.ThemissingThomasRipleyhad takenaboat rideonNovember25withDickieGreenleaf."AreyousayingyoudonotbelievemewhenItellyouthatIsawTomRipleyinRomearoundDecember1?"

"Oh,no,Ididn'tsaythat!IwantedtohearwhatyouwouldsayaboutyourtravelswithMr.RipleyafterSanRemo,becausewecannotfindhim."Hesmiledagain.

"Ifhe'snotinAmerica,youcouldtryParisorGenoa."

"Wewill,"theofficersaid.Heputhispapersaway.Hehadmadeatleastadozennotesonthem.

"Beforeyougo,"Tomsaidinanervousvoice,"IwanttoaskyouwhenIcanleavethecity.IwasplanningtogotoSicily.Iwouldverymuchliketoleavetodayifitispossible.IplantostayattheHotelPalmainPalermo.ItwillbeverysimpleforyoutoreachmeifIamneeded."

"Palermo,"theofficerrepeated."Well,thatmaybepossible."Aftermakingaphonecalltohisstation,theofficerturnedtoTom,smiling.

"Yes,youmaygotoPalermotoday.""Thank you."Hewalkedwith the two of them to the door. "If you find

whereTomRipleyis,pleaseletmeknow,too,"hesaidsincerely."Ofcourse!Weshallkeepyouinformed,sir.Goodday!"

CHAPTERSEVEN

TheWaitingGame

Tomhadnoplantotrytorunawayfromanything.Hejustwantedtogetout of Rome.Hewas desperate to get out!He threw the last objects into hissuitcaseandslammedtheliddownandlockedit.

Thephoneagain!Tompickeditupquickly."Hello?""Oh,Dickie-!"It was Marge and she was downstairs, he could tell from the sound.

Surprised,hesaidinTom'svoice,"Who'sthis?""IsthisTom?""Marge!Well,hello.Whereareyou?""I'mdownstairs.IsDickiethere?CanIcomeup?""Youcancomeupinaboutfiveminutes,"Tomsaidwithalaugh."IsDickiethere?""Not at themoment.Hewent out about a half an hour ago, but he'll be

backsoon.Iknowwhereheis,ifyouwanttofindhim.""Where?""Attheeighty-thirdpolicestation.No,excuseme,it'stheeighty-seventh.""Isheinanytrouble?""No, justansweringquestions.Hewassupposed tobe thereat ten.Want

metogiveyoutheaddress?"Hewishedhehadn'tstartedtalkinginTom'svoice:whyhadn'thepretendedtobeaservant,somefriendofDickie's,anybody,andtoldherthatDickiewasoutforhours?

Margewasn'thappy."No-o.I'llwaitforhim.""Here it is!" Tom said, pretending to find the address. "Twenty-oneVia

Perugia.Doyouknowwherethatis?"Tomdidn't,buthewasgoingtosendherintheoppositedirectionfromtheAmericanExpress,wherehewantedtogoforhismailbeforehelefttown.

"Idon'twanttogo,"Margesaid."I'llcomeupandwaitwithyouifit'sallright."

"Well,it's-"HelaughedthelaughthatMargeknewsowell."Thethingis,I'm expecting somebody any minute. It's a business interview. About a job.Believeitornot,oldRipley'stryingtoputhimselftowork."

"Oh,"saidMarge,not in the least interested."Well,howisDickie?Whydoeshehavetotalktothepolice?"

"Oh!JustbecausehehadsomedrinkswithFreddiethatday.Yousawthepapers,didn'tyou?"

"HowlonghasDickiebeenlivinghere?""Here?Oh,justovernight.I'vebeenupnorth.WhenIheardaboutFreddie,

IcamedowntoRometoseehim.Ifithadn'tbeenforthepolice,I'dneverhavefoundhim!I'mawfullygladyou'reintown,Marge.Dickie'llbesohappytoseeyou.He'sbeenworriedaboutwhatyoumightthinkofallthisinthepapers."

"Oh,hashe?"Margesaid,surprised,butobviouslypleased."Whydon'tyouwaitformeinAngelo's?It'sthatbarrightdownthestreet

infrontofthehotelasyougotowardthePiazzadiSpagnasteps.I'llseeifIcancomeoutandhaveadrinkoracoffeewithyouinaboutfiveminutes,OK?"

"Oh,allright.Angelo's?""Youcan'tmissit.Onthestreetstraightinfrontofthehotel.Bye-bye."Tomquicklycalledforhisbill tobepreparedandforsomebodytocarry

hisluggage,andthenhewalkeddownstairs.HewantedtoseeifMargewasstillinthehotel,waitingthereforhim,or

possiblystilltheremakinganothertelephonecall.Shewasn't there.Tompaidhisbill. "If anybodyasks forme,wouldyou

saythatI'veleftthecity?"Tomaskedthemanatthedesk.Tomwent out to hiswaiting taxi. "Would you takeme to theAmerican

Express,please?"heaskedthedriver.***The boat approached Palermo harbor slowly. He had spent two days in

Naples,andtherehadbeennothingofanyinterest inthepapersandthepolicehadmadenoattempt to contacthim.Butmaybe theyhad justnotbothered tolookforhiminNaples,hethought,andwerewaitingforhiminPalermoatthehotel.Buttherewerenopoliceonthedockandnopoliceinthehoteleither.Tom

feltsohappythathewentovertothemailcounterandaskedboldlyiftherewasanymessageforMr.RichardGreenleaf.Theclerktoldhimtherewasn't.

Thenhebegantorelax.Therewasn'tevenamessagefromMarge.MaybeMargehadgivenDickieupafterthissituation.Maybeshe'drealizedthatDickiewasrunningawayfromher.

Hedressed,putononeofhisnewtravelingsuits,andwalkedoutintothePalermoearlyevening.Thereacross thesquarewas thegreatcathedralhehadreadaboutinaguidebook.Tomorrowhewouldbeginhisvisit,butthismomentwaswonderful,hethought,ashestoppedtostareatthetallcathedralinfrontofhim.Wonderfultolookatthedustywallsandtothinkofgoinginsidetomorrow,toimagineitssmell,madeupofhundredsandhundredsofyears.

Beyond Sicily came Greece. He definitely wanted to see Greece. HewantedtoseeGreeceasDickieGreenleaf,withDickie'smoney,Dickie'sclothes,Dickie'swayofbehavingwith strangers.Butwould it happen that he couldn'tseeGreeceasDickieGreenleaf?Wouldone thingafteranotherhappen tostophim - murder, the police, people? He hadn't wanted to murder, it had beennecessary. The idea of going to Greece, walking over the Acropolis as TomRipley,Americantourist,heldnocharmforhimatall.Hewouldrathernotgo.Tearscameinhiseyesashestaredupatthecathedral,andthenheturnedaway.

There was a fat letter from Marge the next morning. Tom squeezed itbetweenhisfingersandsmiled.Hewassureheknewwhatitsaidbecauseitwassofat.Hereaditatbreakfast.Heenjoyedeverylineofitwithhisbreakfast.Itwasallhehadhopedforandmore.

...Ifyoureallydidn'tknowthatIhadcomebyyourhotel,thatonlymeansthatTomdidn'ttellyou,whichgivesmemyanswer.It'sprettyobviousnowthatyou're runningout and can't faceme.Whydon't you admit that you can't livewithout your little friend? I'm only sorry, old boy, that you didn't have thecouragetotellmethisbeforeanddirectly.WhatdoyouthinkIam,asmall-townfoolwhodoesn'tknowaboutsuchthings?

SuccessNumberTwoofmyRomanholiday is informing thepolice thatTomRipleyiswithyou.Theyseemedinadesperatehurrytofindhim.(Iwonderwhy?What's hedonenow?) I also informed thepolice inmybest Italian thatyouandTomarealwaystogetherandthatIcouldnotimaginehowtheyfoundyouandmissedTom.

I'llbeleavingfortheStatesaroundtheendofMarch.I'mnotangry,Dickie

boyIjustthoughtyouhadmorecourage.Thanks for all the wonderful memories. They're like something in a

museumalready.Bestwishesforthefuture,Marge

Five days passed, calm, lonely but very pleasant days in which hewanderedaroundPalermo,stoppinghereandthereforanhourortwoinacafeor a restaurant and reading his travel books and the newspaper. He visited apalace,thePalermolibrary,withitspaintingsandpapersinglasscases.HewroteletterstopeopleinNewYork.

Buthewaslonely.Hehadimaginedhimselfmakingabrightnewgroupoffriendswithwhomhewouldstartanewlifewithnewattitudes,standards,andhabitsthatwouldbemuchbetterandclearerthantheoneshehadhadallhislife.Now he realized that it couldn't be. He would have to keep a distance frompeople, always.Hewas alone, and itwas a lonely game hewas playing. Thefriendshemightmakeweremostofthedanger,ofcourse.Ifhehadtowanderaroundtheworldalone,well,therewasmuchlesschancethathewouldbefoundout. That was one cheerful side of it, anyway, and he felt better after he hadthoughtofit.

Hechangedhisbehaviorslightly,tosuittheroleofanobserveroflife.Hewas still polite and smiling to everyone, to peoplewhowanted to borrow hisnewspaperinrestaurantsandtoworkershespoketointhehotel,buthecarriedhis head even higher and he spoke a little less when he spoke. There was asadnessabouthimnow.Heenjoyedthechange.Heimaginedthathelookedlikeayoungmanwhohadhadanunhappyloveaffairoremotionaldisaster,andwastryingtorecoverbyvisitingsomeofthemorebeautifulplacesontheearth.

"Hello!Howareyou?"Hegreeted themanbehind thehoteldeskwithasmile.

"Aletterforyou,sir.Veryurgent,"themansaid,smiling,too.It was from Dickie's bank in Naples. Inside the envelope was another

envelopefromDickie'sbankinNewYork.TomreadtheletterfromtheNaplesbankfirst.

February10

DearSir:IthasbeenbroughttoourattentionbytheWendellTrustCompanyofNew

York, that there exists a doubt whether your signature on your check of fivehundreddollarsoflastJanuaryisyourown.Weareinformingyouasquicklyaspossiblesothatwecantakethenecessaryaction.

Wehavealreadydecidedthat it isbest to informthepolice,butweshallwait foryour reply.Any informationyoumaybeable togiveuswillbemostappreciated,andwebegyoutocommunicatewithusassoonaspossible.

Mostrespectfully,EmiliodiBraganziSecretaryGeneral,theBankofNaples

P.S. If the signature is in fact yours, we ask you to visit our office inNaplesassoonaspossibletosignyournameagainforourpermanentrecords.

TomtoreopentheletterfromtheNewYorkbank.

February5DearMr.Greenleaf:OurDepartmentofSignatureshas reported tous that in itsopinionyour

signatureofJanuaryonyourregularmonthlycheck,No.8747,isnotyours.Weinformyousothatyoumayletusknowifyousignedthecheckorinformusthatthecheckhasbeenstolen.WehavebroughtthistotheattentionoftheBankofNaplesalso.

We are sending you a card for our permanent signature file which werequest you to sign and return to us. Please let us hear from you as soon aspossible.

Sincerely,EdwardT.CavanachSecretary

Tomwethis lips.Hewouldwrite tobothbanks thathewasnotmissingany money at all. But would that stop them for long? He had signed threechecks,beginninginDecember.Weretheygoingtogobackandcheckonallhissignaturesnow?Would somebodybeable to tell that all three signatureswere

notDickie's?Tomwentupstairsandimmediatelysatdownatthetypewriter.Mostfalse

signaturestookmonthstobediscovered,hethought.Whyhadtheynoticedthisone in four weeks? Wasn't it because they were checking on him in everydepartmentofhis life, since theFreddieMilesmurderand theSanRemoboatstory?Theywanted to seehimpersonally in theNaplesbank.Maybesomeofthemen thereknewDickiebysight.A terrible fear ranoverhisshouldersanddownhis legs.Foramomenthefeltweak, tooweaktomove.Hesawhimselfsurroundedbyadozenpolicemen,ItalianandAmerican.TheywereaskinghimwhereDickieGreenleafwas,andhewasunabletoproduceDickieGreenleafortellthemwherehewas,orprovethatheexisted.Heimaginedhimselftryingtosign "H. RichardGreenleaf" under the eyes of a dozenwitnesses, and fallingapartsuddenlyandnotbeingabletowriteatall.

February12DearSirs:InreplytoyourletterconcerningmyJanuarycheck:Isigned thecheckmyselfandreceivedallof themoney. If Ihadmissed

thecheck,Iwouldofcoursehaveinformedyouatonce.I am returning the cardwithmy signature for your permanent record as

yourequested.Sincerely,H.RichardGreenleaf

He signed Dickie's signature several times on the back of the bank'senvelopebeforehesignedhisletterandthenthecard.

Thenhewroteasimilar letter to theNaplesbank,andpromised togo tothebankwithinthenextfewdaysandsignhisnameagainfortheirpermanentrecord.Hemarkedbothenvelopes"Urgent,"andthenmailedthem.

CHAPTEREIGHT

TheReturnofTomRipley

83PoliceStationRomeFebruary14DearMr.Greenleaf:You are urgently requested to come to Rome to answer some important

questionsconcerningThomasRipley.Yourpresencewouldbemostappreciatedandwouldgreatlyspeedupourwork.

Failure to come to us within a weekwill cause us to take certain stepswhichwillbeannoyingforusandforyou.

MostrespectfullyyoursCaptainEnricoFarraraSotheywerestilllookingforTom.Butmaybeitmeantthatsomethinghad

happened on the Miles case, too, Tom thought. The Italians didn't call in anAmerican using words like these. In the last paragraph they were actuallythreateninghim.And,ofcourse,theyknewaboutthesignatureonthecheckbynow.

He stood with the letter in his hand, looking around the room. He sawhimselfinthemirror;thecornersofhismouthwereturneddown,hiseyeswereanxious and scared, and because the way he looked was the way he felt, hesuddenlybecametwiceasfrightened.Hefoldedtheletterandpocketedit,thentookitoutofhispocketandtoreitintopieces.

Hebegantopackrapidly.ThiswastheendofDickieGreenleaf,heknew.HehatedbecomingThomasRipleyagain,hatedbeingnobody,hatedputtingonhisoldsetofhabitsagain.Nowpeoplewouldlookdownonhimandbeboredwithhimunlessheputonanact for them.TomRipleyalways felt stupidandunabletodoanythingwithhimselfexceptentertainpeopleforminutesatatime.Hehatedgoingback tohimselfashewouldhateputtingonadirtyoldsuitofclothes,asuitofclothesthathadnotbeenverygoodevenwhenitwasnew.HistearsfellonDickie'sblueandwhiteshirt that layontopinthesuitcase.IthadDickie'sinitialsonit.HebegantocountupthethingsofDickie'sthathecouldstillkeepbecausetheyhadnoinitials,orbecausenoonewouldrememberthattheywereDickie'sandnothisown.

Tompaidhisbillat thehotel,buthehad towaituntil thenextdayfora

boatawayfromtheisland.HereservedtheboatticketinthenameofGreenleaf,thinkingthatthiswasthelasttimehewouldeverreserveaticketinthenameofGreenleaf,butthatmaybeitwouldn'tbe,either.Hecouldn'tgiveuptheideathattheproblemmightgoaway.Justmight.Andforthatreasonitwassenselesstogive up hope. There was no point in being desperate, anyway, even as TomRipley.TomRipleyhadneverreallybeendesperate,thoughhehadoftenlookedit. Hadn't he learned something from these last months? If you wanted to becheerfulorsad,orhopeful,orthoughtful,orpolite,yousimplyhadtoactthosethings.

Averycheerfulthoughtcametohimwhenheawokeonthelastmorningin Palermo: he could leave all Dickie's clothes at the American Express inVenice under a different name and pick them up at some future time, if hewanted toorhad to,orelseneverpick themupat all. Itmadehim feelmuchbettertoknowthatDickie'sgoodshirts,hisidentificationbracelet,andhiswrist-watchwouldbesafelystoredsomewhere, insteadof lyingat thebottomof theoceanorinatrashcaninSicily.

So,after removing the initials fromDickie's twosuitcases,he sent them,locked,fromNaplestotheAmericanExpressCompanyinVenice,togetherwithtwopaintingshehadbeguninPalermo.HesenttheminthenameofRobertS.Fanshaw,tobestoreduntiltheywerecollected.

***Tomtooka train fromNaplesup throughRome,Florence,Bologna,and

Verona,where he got out andwent by bus to the town of Trento about sixtykilometersaway.Hedidn'twanttobuyacarinatownasbigasVerona,becausethepolicemightnoticehisnamewhenheobtainedhislicenseplates,hethought.InTrento,heboughtausedcarforabouteighthundreddollars.HeboughtitinthenameofThomasRipley,ashispassportread,andtookahotelroominthatname towait the twenty-fourhoursuntilhis licenseplateswouldbeready.Bynoonthenextdayhehadhisplatesonhiscarandnothinghadhappened.TherewasnothinginthepapersaboutthesearchforThomasRipley.Itmadehimfeelratherstrange,rathersafeandhappy;perhapsthewholesituationwasunreal.HebegantofeelhappyeveninhisboringroleasThomasRipley.Hetookapleasurein it, almost overdoing the old Tom Ripley shyness with strangers. Wouldanyone,anyone,believethatsuchapersonhadevercommittedamurder?Andtheonlymurderhecouldpossiblybe suspectedofwasDickie's inSanRemo,andthepolicedidn'tseemtobegettingveryfaronthat.LifeasTomRipleyhad

one positive, at least: it freed his mind of guilt for the stupid, unnecessarymurderofFreddieMiles.

ThenextnighthespentinVenice.HefoundVenicemuchbiggerthanhehad imagined. He found he could walk across the whole city by the narrowstreetsandbridgeswithoutsettingfootinaboat.HechoseahotelveryneartheRialtobridgecalledtheCostanza,ahotelwhichwasneitherfamousnoracheaponeon thebackstreets. Itwasclean, inexpensive,andconvenient toplacesofinterest.ItwasjustthehotelforTomRipley.

Ashespentacoupleofhoursinhisroom,Tomimaginedtheconversationhewasgoingtohavewiththepolicebeforelong...Well,Ihaven'tanyidea.Isawhim in Rome. If you've any doubt of that, you can ask Miss MarjorieSherwood... Of course I'm Tom Ripley! (He would give a laugh.) I can'tunderstandwhat all the problem is about!... SanRemo?Yes, I remember.Webrought the boat back after an hour... Yes, I came back to Rome afterMongibello,butIdidn'tstaymorethanacoupleofnights.I'vebeenwanderingaround thenorthof Italy... I'mafraid Ihaven'tany ideawherehe is,but I sawhimaboutthreeweeksago...

Tom got up from his chair smiling, changed his shirt and tie for theevening,andwentouttofindapleasantrestaurantfordinner.Agoodrestaurant,he thought.TomRipleycouldordersomethingexpensive foronce.Hispocketwas so fullofmoney that itwouldn'tbend.Hehadcasheda thousanddollars'worthoftravelers'checksinDickie'snamebeforeheleftPalermo.

Tomenteredasmall,lightedstreet.Itwasfullofrestaurants,andhechosea very large and respectable-looking place with white tablecloths and brownwoodenwalls,thekindofrestaurantswhichexperiencehadtaughthimbynowconcentratedonfoodandnotappearance.Hetookatableandopenedoneofthenewspapers.

Andthereitwas,ashortarticleonthesecondpage:POLICESEARCHFORMISSINGAMERICANDickieGreenleaf,Friend

oftheMurderedFreddieMiles,MissingAfterSicilianHolidayThe article stated that H. Richard (Dickie) Greenleaf, a close friend of

Frederick Miles, the American murdered three weeks ago in Rome, haddisappeared after taking aboat fromPalermo toNaples.Both theSicilian andRomanpolicehadbeen informedandwere looking forhim.Afinalparagraphsaid that Greenleaf had just been requested by the Rome police to answer

questionsconcerningthedisappearanceofThomasRipley,alsoaclosefriendofGreenleaf.Ripleyhadbeenmissingforaboutthreemonths,thepapersaid.

Thenextmorningtherewasalongstoryinanothernewspaper,sayinginonly one small paragraph that Thomas Ripley was missing, but stating veryboldly that Richard Greenleaf's absence was "making the police suspect hisguilt,"andthatheshouldgoimmediatelytothepolicetodiscussthesituation.Thepaperalsomentionedtheforgedchecks.

Onhiswalkaround thecity thenextmorning,hedecided thathehad toidentifyhimself,immediately.Itwouldlookworseforhim,whateverhappened,the longer he waited.When he left the cathedral, he inquired of a policemanwhere thenearestpolicestationwas.Heasked it sadly.He felt sad.Hewasn'tafraid,buthefeltthatidentifyinghimselfasThomasPhelpsRipleywasgoingtobeoneofthesaddestthingshehadeverdoneinhislife.

"You are Thomas Ripley?" the captain of police asked, with no moreinterestthanifTomhadbeenadogthathadbeenlostandwasnowfound."MayIseeyourpassport?"

Tomhandedittohim."Idon'tknowwhatthetroubleis,butwhenIsawinthepapersthatIambelievedtobemissing-"Itwasallsadandboring,justashehadexpected."Whathappensnow?"Tomaskedtheofficer.

"I shall telephone toRome," the officer answered calmly, andpickedupthetelephoneonhisdesk.

There was a few minutes' wait for the Rome line, and then the officerannounced to someone in Rome that the American, Thomas Ripley, was inVenice.ThentheofficersaidtoTom,"TheywouldliketoseeyouinRome.CanyougotoRometoday?"

Tomfrowned."Iwasn'tplanningtogotoRome.""Ishalltellthem,"theofficersaid,andspokeintothetelephoneagain.Nowhewas arranging for theRomepolice to come tohim.Therewere

stillsomeadvantagestobeinganAmericancitizen,Tomsupposed.Tomspent the restof theday inhis room,quietly thinking, reading,and

makingsmallchanges tohisappearance.Hethought itquitepossible that theywouldsendthesamemanwhohadspokentohiminRome.

Ateight-thirtythateveninghistelephonerang,andthemanfromthehotel

deskannouncedthatLieutenantRoveriniwasdownstairs."Wouldyouhavehimcomeup,please?"Tomsaid.Tomopenedthedoorinalazyway."Goodevening.""Goodevening.LieutenantRoverinifromtheRomanPolice."Behindhim

came another tall, silent young police officer - not another, Tom realizedsuddenly,buttheonewhohadbeenwiththelieutenantwhenTomhadfirstmetRoveriniintheapartmentinRome.

"You are a friend of Mr. Richard Greenleaf?" the lieutenant asked,obviouslynotrecognizinghim.

"Yes.""Whendidyoulastseehimandwhere?""IsawhimforashorttimeinRome,justbeforehewenttoSicily.""AnddidyouhearfromhimwhenhewasinSicily?"The lieutenantwaswriting it alldown in thenotebook thathehad taken

fromhisbrowncase."No,Ididn'thearfromhim.""YoudidnotknowwhenyouwereinRomethatthepolicewantedtosee

you?""No, I did not know that. I cannot understand why people think I am

missing.""Mr.GreenleafdidnottellyouinRomethatthepolicewantedtospeakto

you?""No.""Mr.Ripley,wherehaveyoubeensincetheendofNovember?""Ihavebeentraveling.IhavebeenmostlyinthenorthofItaly."Tommade

amistakehereandthere,andhisItaliansoundedquitedifferentfromDickie's."Where?""Milan,Torino,Faenza.""Wehave searched the hotels inMilan andFaenza.Didyou stay all the

timewithfriends?"

"No,I-sleptquiteofteninmycar."Itwasobvioushedidn'thavemuchmoney,Tomthought.

"MayIseeyourpassport?"Tompulled it out of his inside jacket pocket. The lieutenant studied the

pictureclosely,whileTomwaitedwiththeslightlyanxiouslook,thefirmlyopenlips,ofthepassportphotograph.Thelieutenantlookedquicklyatthefewmarksthatonlypartlyfilledthefirsttwopagesofthepassport.

"YouhavebeeninItalysinceOctober2?""Yes."The lieutenant smiled, a pleasant Italian smile now, and leaned forward.

"Well,thatsettlesoneimportantmatter-themysteryoftheSanRemoboat."Tomfrowned."Whatisthat?""Aboatwas found sunk therewith some stains thatwerebelieved tobe

blood. Naturally, when you were missing, or we thought you were missing,immediately afterSanRemo -We thought itmight be a good idea to askMr.Greenleafwhathadhappenedtoyou.Wedidthat.TheboatwasmissedthesamedaythatyoutwowereinSanRemo."

Tompretendednottoseethejoke."DidyoualsoknowFrederickMiles?"thelieutenantasked."No,IonlymethimoncewhenhewasgettingoffthebusinMongibello.I

neversawhimagain.""Ah-hah."Thelieutenantwassilent."IhavereadinanewspaperthatthepolicemaybelievethatMr.Greenleaf

isguiltyofthemurderofFreddieMilesifhedoesnotspeaktothem.Isittruethattheythinkheisguilty?"

"Ah, no, no, no!" the lieutenant protested. "But it is important that hecomesforward!Whyishehidinghimself?Youhaveabsolutelyno ideawhereMr.Greenleafmightbeatthismoment?"

"No,absolutelyno.""Mr.GreenleafandMr.Milesdidn'thaveanargumentthatyouknowof?""Idon'tknow,but-"

"Whataboutthegirl,MarjorieSherwood?""Isupposeitispossible,"Tomsaid,"butIdonotthinkso."Tomwaited, silent.The lieutenantwaswaiting forhim to saysomething

more.Tomfeltquitecomfortablenow.Hefeltsuddenlyinnocentandstrong."Doyouthinktheyhadanargument,Mr.MilesandMr.Greenleaf,about

MissSherwood?""Icannotsay.It ispossible. IknowthatMr.Mileswasveryfondofher,

too."His storypainted apictureofDickie as anunhappy lover,Tom thought,

not willing to let Marge go to Cortina to have some fun, because she likedFreddieMilestoomuch.

"DoyouthinkDickieisrunningawayfromsomething,ordoyouthinkitisanaccidentthatyoucannotfindhim?"

"Oh,no.This is toomuch.First, thematterof thechecks.Hedenied thefalse signatures, but when the bank wishes to see him and also the police inRome wish to see him about the murder of his friend, and he suddenlydisappears-"

Thelieutenantthrewouthishands."Thatcanonlymeanthatheisrunningawayfromus."Thelieutenantstoodup."Well,thankyousomuchforyourhelp,Mr.Ripley.Ihopewecanfindyoumoreeasilythenexttimewehavequestionstoaskyou."

"If you like I shall keep in touchwith you inRome so youwill alwaysknowwhereIam.Iamasmuchinterestedasyouinfindingmyfriend."

The lieutenant handed him a cardwith his name and the address of hisstation inRome. "Thankyou,Mr.Ripley.Goodday."Theyounger policemanwavedtohimashewentout,andTomsaidgoodbyeandquietlyclosedthedoor.

Hefeltlikeflying-likeabird,outofthewindow,withspreadarms!Thefools!All around the thing and never guessing it!Never guessing thatDickiewasrunningfromthesignaturequestionsbecausehewasn'tDickieGreenleafatall!

Tonight he was going to have a wonderful dinner. And look out at themoonlight on thewater.Hewas suddenly very hungry.Hewas going to havesomethingdeliciousandexpensivetoeat.

Hehadabrightideawhilehewaschanginghisclothes:heoughttohaveanenvelopehiddeninhissuitcase,withanoteonitsayingthatitshouldnotbeopenedforseveralmonths.InsideitshouldbeawillsignedbyDickie, leavingTomhismoneyandhisincome.Thatwasanidea!

CHAPTERNINE

AVisitfromMarge

VeniceFebruary28DearMr.Greenleaf:I thoughtIoughttowriteyouwithwhateverpersonalinformationIhave

aboutRichard,sinceIwasoneofthelastpeople,itseems,whosawhim.I saw him in Rome around February 2 at the Inghilterra Hotel. As you

know,thiswasonlytwoorthreedaysafterthedeathofFreddieMiles.IfoundDickieupsetandnervous.HesaidhewasgoingtoPalermoassoonasthepolicefinished questioning him about Freddie's death, and he seemed eager to getaway.Iwantedtotellyouthattherewasacertainunhappinessunderallthisthattroubledmemuchmorethanhisobviousnervousness.Ihadthefeelingthathewouldtrytodosomethingviolent-perhapstohimself.

I believe it is possible that Richard has killed himself. At the time ofwriting he has not been found. I certainly hope hewill be before this reachesyou.This isasadmessage tosendyouandI regret it. I thought itmyduty towriteyouthis...

MunichMarch3DearTomThanksforyourletter.Itwasverykindofyou.I'veansweredthepolicein

writing,andonecameuptoseeme.Iwon'tbecomingbyVenice,butthanksforyour invitation. I am going to Rome the day after tomorrow tomeetDickie'sfather,whoisflyingover.Yes,Iagreewithyouthatitwasagoodideaforyoutowritetohim.

IdidwanttosaytoyouthatIdon'tagreewithyouatallthatDickiewouldcommitsuicide.Hejustisn'tthetype.Iknowyou'regoingtosaypeopleneveractlikethey'regoingtodoit.Butno,notDickie.Maybehewasmurderedinaback street inNaples - or evenRome. I can also imagine him running out onduties.Ithinkthat'swhathe'sdoingnow.

Nice to know your address finally. Thanks again for your letter, youradvice,andinvitations.

Best,Marge

She had decided to be friendswith him, Tom supposed. She'd probablychangedherattitudeabouthimtothepolice,too.

Dickie's disappearance was causing a lot of interest in the Italiannewspapers. Marge, or somebody, had provided reporters with photographs.TherewerepicturesofDickiesailinghisboatinMongibello,picturesofDickieonabeach, and apictureofDickie andMarge.Oneof the articlesmentionedthat"Mr.Ripley,oneofthewealthyyoungAmericanvisitorsinItaly,nowlivesinapalacelookingoutonSanMarcoinVenice."

ThatpleasedTommostofall.Hecutoutandsavedthatarticle.He was now so confident that he even wrote Aunt Dottie with a calm,

lovingattitudethathehadneverwantedtousebefore,orhadneverbeforebeenable to use.He asked about her health and her little groupof nasty friends inBoston.Afterhehadfinishedtheletter,hetypedDickie'swill, leavinghimhisincomeandthemoneyhehadinvariousbanks,andsigneditRichardGreenleaf.Thesignaturewasperfect,exactlylikethethin,confusingsignatureonDickie'spassport.Tompracticed forhalfanhourbeforehe signed thewill, relaxedhishands, then signed a piece of paper, then thewill, in rapid order. Tomput anenvelope into the typewriter and addressed it to "ToWhom ItMayConcern,"withanotethatitshouldn'tbeopeneduntilJuneofthisyear.Heplaceditinasidepocketofhissuitcasetosuggestthathehadbeencarryingitthereforsometimeandhadn'tbotheredunpackingitwhenhemovedintothehouse.

***About ten days after Marge's letter, Tom began to worry because Mr.

Greenleafhadn'twrittenortelephonedhimfromRome.HesometimesimaginedthatthepolicehadtoldMr.GreenleafthattheywereplayingagamewithTomRipley,andhadaskedMr.Greenleafnottotalktohim.

EachdayhelookedeagerlyinhismailboxforaletterfromMargeorMr.Greenleaf.Hishousewasreadyfortheirarrival.Hisanswerstotheirquestionswerereadyinhishead.Tomwantedtotakeatrip,thefamoustriptoGreece.HehadboughtatravelbookaboutGreece,andhehadalreadyplannedhisjourneythroughtheislands,buthecouldn'tgountilsomethinghappened.

Then,onthemorningofApril4,hegotatelephonecallfromMarge.She

wasinVeniceattherailroadstation.***"I'llcomeandpickyouup!"Tomsaidcheerfully."IsMr.Greenleafwith

you?""No,he'sinRome.I'malone.Youdon'thavetopickmeup.""Nonsense!"Tomsaid,wantingsomethingtodoatlast."You'llneverfind

thehousebyyourself.""Yes, I will. It's next to della Salute, isn't it? I take a boat from San

Marco's."She was right. "Well, if you really want to come alone." He had just

thoughtthathehadbettertakeonemoregoodlookaroundthehousebeforeshegotthere."Haveyouhadlunch?"

"No.""Good!We'lllunchtogethersomewhere."They hung up. He walked seriously and slowly through the house, into

bothlargeroomsupstairs,downthestairs,andthroughthelivingroom.Nothing,anywhere, that belonged toDickie.He hoped the house didn't look too upperclass.

Tommadetwodrinksandarrangedtheglassesandaplateofsnacksonasmalltableinthelivingroom.Whenheheardaknock,hewenttothedoorandswungitopen.

"Marge!Goodtoseeyou!Comein!"Hetookthesuitcasefromherhand."Howareyou,Tom?Isallthisyours?"Shelookedaroundher,andupat

thehighceiling."Irenteditverycheaply,"Tomsaidquickly"Comeandhaveadrink.Tell

me what's new. You've been talking to the police in Rome?" He carried herovercoatandherraincoattoachair.

"Yes,andtoMr.Greenleaf.He'sveryupset-naturally."Shesatdownonasofa.

Tomsatoppositeher."Havetheyfoundanythingnew?Oneoftheofficerstherehasbeenkeepingmeinformed,buthehasn't toldmeanythingthatreallymatters."

"Well,theyfoundoutthatDickiecashedoverathousanddollars'worthoftravelers'checksbeforeheleftPalermo,justbefore.Maybehewentsomewherewithit,likeGreeceorAfrica.Certainlyhedidn'tgoofftokillhimselfafterjustcashingathousanddollars,anyway."

"No," Tom agreed. "Well, that sounds hopeful. I didn't see that in thepapers."

"Idon'tthinktheyputitin.""HowisMr.Greenleaf?"Marge shook her head. "I feel so sorry for him. He keeps saying the

American police could do a better job and all that, and he doesn't know anyItalian,sothatmakesittwiceasbad."

"What'shedoinginRome?""Waiting.Whatcananyofusdo?"Tomdrankhisdrinkslowlywhilehe thought."Icertainlydidn'tmean to

upsetanybodywhenIsaidwhatIdidaboutDickie'ssadness.IfeltitwaskindofadutytotellyouandMr.Greenleaf."

"Iunderstand.No, I thinkyouwere right to tellus. I justdon't think it'strue."Shesmiled,hereyesshiningwithabeliefthatstruckTomascompletelycrazy.

During lunch, Marge asked him more questions than any police officerabout Dickie's feelings while he was in Rome. Tom was questioned abouteverything fromDiMassimo, the painterDickie hadworkedwith, toDickie'seatinghabitsandthehourhegotupinthemorning.

"Howdoyouthinkhefeltaboutme?Tellmehonestly.Icantakeit.""Ithinkhewasworriedaboutyou,"Tomsaidseriously."Ithink-well,it

was one of those situations that happen quite often, a man who's afraid ofmarriagetobeginwith-"

"ButIneveraskedhimtomarryme!"Margeprotested."I know, but -" Tom forced himself to continue, though the subjectwas

sourinhismouth."Let'ssayhecouldn'tfacetheresponsibilityofyoucaringsomuch about him. I think hewanted a less complicated relationshipwith you."Thattoldhereverythingandnothing.

Theywere silent a fewminutes, then Tom asked her about her life andwork.Margeansweredveryenthusiastically.TomhadthefeelingthatifshehadDickie back she would probably just explode with happiness, make a loud,attractivepop!Andthatwouldbetheendofher.

"Doyou think I should offer to talk toMr.Greenleaf, too?"Tomasked."I'd be glad to go to Rome -" but he wouldn't be so glad, he remembered,becauseRomehad simply toomanypeople in itwhohad seenhimasDickieGreenleaf."Ordoyouthinkhe'dliketocomehere?"

"Ithinkit'dbeniceifyoucalledhim.I'llwritetheaddressdownforyou.""That'sagood idea.Hedoesn't likeme,doeshe?"Margesmileda little.

"Well,tobehonest,no.IthinkhethinksyouusedDickie,toyouradvantage.""Well,Ididn't.I'msorrytheideadidn'tworkaboutmygettingDickieback

home, but I explained all of that. I wrote him the nicest letter I could aboutDickiewhenIheardhewasmissing.Didn'tthathelp?"

"I think itdid,but -Oh, I'm terriblysorry,Tom!Allover thiswonderfultablecloth!"Margehadturnedherdrinkover.Shewipedatthetableclothrapidly.

Tomcamerunningbackfromthekitchenwithawetcloth."Perfectlyallright,"hesaid,watchingthewoodofthetableturnwhiteinspiteofhiswiping.Itwasn'tthetableclothhecaredabout,itwasthebeautifultable.

"I'msosorry,"Margewentonprotesting.Tomhatedher.Hesuddenlyrememberedherbrahangingoverthewindow

inMongibello.Herunderwearwouldbehangingoverhis chairs tonight, if heinvited her to stay here. The idea disgusted him. He forced himself to smileacrossthetableather."Ihopeyou'llhonormebyacceptingabedforthenight.Not mine," he added, laughing, "but I've got two rooms upstairs and you'rewelcometooneofthem."

"Thanksalot.Allright,Iwill."Shesmiledbroadlyathim.TomcalledMr.Greenleaffromapublictelephoneataboutseveno'clock.

Mr.Greenleafsoundedfriendlier thanTomhadexpected,andsadlyhungryforanyinformationaboutDickie.

"I've told Marge all I know," Tom said, "so she'll be able to tell youanything I've forgotten. I'm only sorry that I can't provide anything of realimportanceforthepolicetoworkon."

"These police!" Mr. Greenleaf said angrily. "I'm beginning to thinkRichardisdead.ForsomereasontheItaliansdon'twanttoadmithemightbe."

TomwasshockedatMr.Greenleaf'shonestyaboutDickie'spossibledeath."Doyou really thinkDickie'skilledhimself,Mr.Greenleaf?"Tomasked

quietly.Mr. Greenleaf thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. I think it's

possible,yes.Ineverthoughtmuchofmyson'smentalhealth,Tom.""I'mafraidIagreewithyou,"Tomsaid."WouldyouliketotalktoMarge?

She'sherewithme.""No,no,thanks.When'sshecomingback?""I thinkshesaidshe'dbegoingback toRometomorrow.Ifyou'd like to

cometoVenice, justforaslightrest,Mr.Greenleaf,you'rewelcometostayatmyhouse."

ButMr.Greenleafrefusedtheinvitation.TomandMargewalkedtoarestaurant.Margewasinthemoodtotalkand

thatannoyedTomthroughtheirlongdinner,buthemadeanenormouseffortnottogetangry.Theworstwascominglatertonight,Tomthought:theboatride.

Margewantedaprivateboat,of course,not the regular service that tookpeopleover fromSanMarco's to the stepsofSantaMariadellaSalute. Itwasone-thirty in themorning.He felt exhausted and layback in theboat's seat aslazilyasMarge,carefultokeephislegfromtouchinghers.

CHAPTERTEN

TheArrivalofMr.Greenleaf

Tomwasawakenedveryearlythenextmorningbyabangingonhisdoor.Hegrabbedhispantsandwentdown.Itwasatelegram,andhehadtorunbackupstairs togeta tip for theman.Hestood in thecold livingroomandread it:CHANGED MY MIND. WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU. ARRIVING 11:45A.M.H.GREENLEAF.

Tomshookwithfear.Well,hehadexpected it,he thought.Buthehadn'treally.Hewasn'tlookingforwardtoit.

Heranupstairsandgotbackintohiswarmbedtotrytocatchsomemoresleep.HekeptwonderingifMargewouldcomeinorknockonhisdoorbecauseshehadheardthatloudknock,buthefinallydecidedthatshehadsleptthroughit.HeimaginedgreetingMr.Greenleafatthedoor,shakinghishandfirmly,andhetriedtoimaginehisquestions,buthismindwastootiredandthatmadehimfeelfrightenedanduncomfortable.

Marge and Tom went to the railroad station to meet Mr. Greenleaf atelevenforty-five.Itwasraining,andsowindyandcoldthattherainfeltlikeiceontheirfaces.FinallytherewasMr.Greenleaf,seriousandgray.Margerushedforwardtokisshimonthecheek,andhesmiledather.

"Hello,Tom,"hesaidloudly,puttingouthishand."How'reyou?""Verywell,sir.Andyou?"Tomsuggestedtheygostraighttohishouse,but

Mr.Greenleafwantedtogotoahotelfirst."I'll comeover as soon as I check in. I thought I'd try theGritti. Is that

anywherenearyourplace?"Mr.Greenleafasked."Not too close, but you canwalk to SanMarco's and take a boat over,"

Tom said. "We'll comewith you, if youwant, if you justwant to check in. Ithought we could all have lunch together - unless you'd rather seeMarge byyourselffirst."HewastheoldRipleyagain.

"Cameheremainlytotalktoyou,"Mr.Greenleafsaid."Isthereanynews?"Margeasked.Mr.Greenleafshookhishead.Hewaslookingaroundnervously.Hehadn't

answeredTom'squestionaboutlunch.Tomfoldedhisarms,putapleasantlook

on his face, and didn't try to talk any more. Mr. Greenleaf and Marge weretalkingveryquietlyaboutsomepeopletheyknewinRome.TomobservedthatMargeandMr.Greenleafwereveryfriendly,thoughMargehadsaidshehadnotknownhimbeforeshemethiminRome.

At lunch,Mr.Greenleaf talkeda littlemore,buthis facekept its seriouslook,andhestill lookedaroundashespoke,clearlyhoping thatDickiewouldcomewalkinginatanymoment.Thepolicehadn'tfoundanythingthatcouldbecalledaclue,hesaid,andhehadjustarrangedforanAmericanprivatedetectivetocomeoverandtrytosolvethemystery.

This made Tom swallow thoughtfully - he, too, believed that AmericandetectiveswerebetterthantheItalians.

Thequestions,Tomthought,wouldcomeatthehouse,probablywhenheandMr.Greenleafwere alone.He knewMr.Greenleafwanted to talk to himalone,andthereforehesuggestedcoffeeattherestaurantwheretheywerebeforeMargecouldsuggesthavingitathome.ButMargesataroundwiththeminthelivingroomforhalfanhouraftertheygotback.FinallyTomfrownedatherandlookedatthestairsandshegotthemessage,putherhandoverhermouth,andannouncedthatshewasgoinguptohaveashortrest.

"Well,Tom,"Mr.Greenleafbeganheavily,"thisisastrangeend,isn'tit?""End?""Well,youlivinginEuropenow,andRichard-""None of us has suggested yet that hemight be back inAmerica,"Tom

saidpleasantly."No. That couldn't be. The officials inAmerica have beenwatching for

him."Mr.Greenleafcontinuedtowalk,notlookingathim."Wheredoyoureallythinkhemaybe?"

"Well,sir,hecouldbehidinginItaly-veryeasily,ifhedoesn'tuseahotelwherehehastosignin."

"ArethereanyhotelsinItalywhereonedoesn'thavetosignin?""No,notofficially.ButanyonewhoknowsItalianaswellasDickiemight

manageit.""Andisthatyourideaofwhathemaybedoing?"Mr.Greenleaflookedat

him suddenly, and Tom saw that sad expression he had noticed on the first

eveninghehadmethim."No,I-It'spossible.That'sallIcansayaboutit."Hepaused."I'msorryto

sayit,Mr.Greenleaf,butIthinkthere'sarealpossibilitythatDickieisdead."Mr. Greenleaf's look didn't change. "Because of that sadness you

mentionedinRome?Whatexactlydidhesaytoyou?""Itwashisgeneralmood,"Tomsaid."TheMilesthinghadobviouslyupset

him.He'sthesortofman-Hereallydoeshateattentionofanykind,violenceofany kind." Tom bit his lips. "He did say that if onemore thing happened, hewouldjustgocrazy-orhedidn'tknowwhathewoulddo."

"I'm afraid I don't agree with you that Richard committed suicide,"Mr.Greenleafsaid.

"Well,neitherdoesMarge.Ijustsaidit'sapossibility.Idon'teventhinkit'sthemostlikelythingthat'shappened."

"Youdon't?Whatdoyouthinkis?""That he's hiding," Tom said. "You know he could be in several other

countriesbesides Italy, too.Perhapshewent toGreeceorFranceor anywhereelseafterhegotbacktoNaples,becausenoonewaslookingforhimuntildayslater."

"Iknow,Iknow,"Mr.Greenleafsaidtiredly.Later that evening, Tom andMarge calledMr.Greenleaf at his hotel. It

was still early for dinner, so they had drinks at a cafe in a street near Mr.Greenleaf'shotel.Tomtriedhardtobepleasantandtotalkinafriendlymannerduring dinner. Mr. Greenleaf was in a good mood, because he had justtelephonedhiswifeandfoundherinverygoodspiritsandfeelingmuchbetter.

It was a quiet dinner. Tom told a clean, slightly funny joke, andMargelaughedloudly.Mr.GreenleafrefusedtoletTompayforthedinner,andthenhesaid he was going back to his hotel because he didn't feel too good. HewasgoingbacktoRometomorrow,andMargedecidedtogowithhim.Theywalkedbacktothehotelandsaidgoodnight.

"I'mverysorryIwasn'tabletospendmoretimewithyou,"Tomsaid."So am I,my boy.Maybe some other time."Mr.Greenleaf touched his

shoulder.TomwalkedbackhomewithMargeinakindoffogofhappiness.Ithad

allgoneverywell,Tomthought.Margetalkedtohimastheywalked,laughingbecauseshehadbrokenherbraandhadtoholditupwithonehand,shesaid.

Tomwas thinking of the letter he had received fromBobDelancey thisafternoon, the first letter he had received fromBob inmanyweeks. Tom hadlivedinaroominBob'shousebeforeleavingNewYork.Intheletter,Bobsaidthatthepolicehadquestionedeverybodyinhishouseaboutanincometaxcrimeofafewmonthsago.Thecriminal,itseemed,hadusedBob'saddresstoreceivehischecks,andhadgottenthechecksbythesimplemeansoftakingthelettersout of themailbox,where themailman had put them.Themailman had beenquestioned, too,Bobhad said, and remembered thenameGeorgeMcAlpinontheletters.Bobseemedtothinkitwasratherfunny.Themysterywas,whotookthelettersaddressedtoGeorgeMcAlpin?

ItwasaverycomfortingletterforTom.Thatincometaxsituationhadbeenworryinghimbecausehehadknownthepolicewouldfindoutaboutitatsometime.Hewasgladthewaithadended.Hecouldn'timaginehowthepolicewouldever,couldever,connectTomRipleywithGeorgeMcAlpin.

He sat down in the living room to read Bob's letter again when he gothome.Margehadgoneupstairs topackher thingsand togo tobed.Tomwastired,too,butthefreedomoftomorrow,whenMargeandMr.Greenleafwouldbegone,wasapleasantthought.Hetookhisshoesoffsohecouldputhisfeetuponthesofa,laybackonapillow,andcontinuedreadingBob'sletter.

"Thepolicethinkit'ssomebodywhocamebyoccasionallytopickuphismail,becausenoneofthepeopleinthishouselooklikecriminals...HowarethegirlsinVenice?Howlongareyoustayingthereanyway?"

Forever,Tom thought.Maybehe'dnevergoback to theStates. Itwasn'treallyEuropeitself thatmadehimfeel thisway,but theeveningshehadspentalone,hereandinRome.Eveningsbyhimselfsimplylookingatmaps,orlyingaroundonsofasgoingthroughtravelbooks.Eveningslookingattheclothes-hisclothesandDickie's-andfeelingDickie'srings,andrunninghisfingersoverthesuitcasehehadboughtatGucci's.

Helovedobjects,notmountainsofthem,butacertainfewthathewantedtokeep.Theygaveamanrespectforhimself.Thethingshepossessedremindedhim thatheexisted, andmadehimenjoyhis life. Itwasas simpleas that.Heexisted. Dickie's money gave him the opportunity to see Greece, to collectwhatever hewanted, to join art societies if he cared to, and to givemoney to

theirwork.Hethoughthemightrest,thenreadsomeofhisbook,whateverthehour.

He feltwarmand sleepy, in spiteof thecoffeehehaddrunk.Theedgeof thesofafittedhisshoulderslikesomebody'sarm,orbetterthansomebody'sarm.Hedecidedhewould spend thenighthere. Itwasmorecomfortable than the sofaupstairs.Inafewminuteshemightgoupandgetablanket.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Dickie'sRings

"Tom?"Heopenedhiseyes.Margewascomingdownthestairs.Tomsatup.She

hadhisbrownleatherboxinherhand."IjustfoundDickie'sringsinhere,"shesaidasifshewashavingtrouble

breathing."Oh.Hegavethemtome.Totakecareof."Tomstoodup."When?""InRome, I think."He tookastepbackandpickeduponeofhisshoes,

mostlyinanefforttoseemcalm."Whatwashegoingtodo?Why'dhegivethemtoyou?"She'dbeenlookingforaneedletosewherbra,Tomthought.Whyhadn't

heputtheringssomewhereelse,likeinaninsidepocketofthatsuitcase?"Idon'treallyknow,"Tomsaid."Amomentofstupidityorsomething.Youknowhowheis.Hesaidifanythingeverhappenedtohim,hewantedmetohavehisrings."

Margelookedconfused."Wherewashegoing?""ToPalermo."Hewasholdingtheshoeinbothhands,inapositiontouse

itasaweapon.Aplanwentquicklythroughhishead:hitherwiththeshoe,thendragheroutbythefrontdoor,anddropherintothewater.He'dsayshedfallen,slippedontherocks.Andshewassuchagoodswimmer,he'dthoughtshecouldsaveherself.

Margestareddownatthebox."Thenhewasgoingtokillhimself.""Yes-ifyouwanttolookatitthatway,therings-Theymakeitlookmore

likelythathedid.""Whydidn'tyousayanythingaboutitbefore?""IthinkIabsolutelyforgotthem.Iputthemawaysotheywouldn'tgetlost

andIneverthoughtoflookingatthemsincethedayhegavethemtome.""Heeitherkilledhimselforchangedhisidentity-didn'the?""Yes."Tomsaiditsadlyandfirmly.

"You'dbettertellMr.Greenleaf.""Yes,Iwill.Mr.Greenleafandthepolice.""Ithinkwe'regettingclosertothetruth,"Margesaid.Tomwastwistingtheshoeinhishandslikeapairofglovesnow,butstill

keepingitinposition,becauseMargewasstaringathiminafunnyway.Shewasstillthinking.Wassheplayinggameswithhim?Didsheknownow?

Marge said seriously, "I just can't imagineDickie everbeingwithouthisrings,"andTomknewthenthatshehadn'tguessedtheanswer.

Herelaxedandsankdownonthesofaandpretendedtobusyhimselfwithputtingonhisshoes.

"No,"heagreed,automatically."Ifitweren'tsolate,I'dcallMr.Greenleafnow.He'sprobablyinbed,and

hewouldn'tsleepallnightifItoldhim,Iknow.""I'msorryIdidn'tmentionitsooner,"hesaid."Itwasjustoneofthose-""Yes, itmakes it kind of silly at this point forMr.Greenleaf to bring a

privatedetectiveover,doesn'tit?"Hervoiceshook.Tomlookedather.Shewasgoingtocry.Thiswasthefirstmoment,Tom

realized, that she was admitting to herself that Dickie could be dead, that heprobablywasdead.Tomwent towardherslowly."I'msorry,Marge. I'mreallysorrythatIdidn'ttellyousoonerabouttherings."

He put his arm around her. He almost had to, because she was leaningagainsthim.

***Marge calledMr.Greenleaf at eight-thirty the nextmorning to ask how

soontheycouldcomeovertohishotel.ButMr.Greenleafprobablynoticedthatshewasupset.Tomheardherstartingtotellhimthestoryoftherings.SheusedthesamewordsthatTomhadusedtoherabouttherings-obviouslyMargehadbelievedhim-butTomcouldn'ttellwhatMr.Greenleaf'sreactionwas.

"Whatdidhesay?"TomaskedwhenMargehadhungup.Margesatdowntiredlyonachairacrosstheroom."He seems to feel theway I do.He said it himself. It seems thatDickie

meanttokillhimself."

Tomsatupontheedgeofthesofaandloosenedhistie.Hehadsleptinhisclothesonthesofa,andMargehadawakenedhimwhenshehadcomedownafewminutes ago.He felt awful.He stood up suddenly. "I'm going upstairs towash,"hecalledtoMarge.

TomundressedintheroomnexttoMarge's, thenwentintothebathroomand turned on the shower.After a look at himself in themirror he decided toshavefirst,andhewentbacktotheroomtogethiselectricrazorwhichhehadremoved from thebathroom fornoparticular reasonwhenMargehad arrived.On thewaybackheheard the telephone ring.Margeanswered it.Tom leanedoverthestairs,listening.

"Oh,that'sfine,"shesaid."Oh,thatdoesn'tmatterifwedon't...Yes,I'lltellhim...Allright,we'llhurry.Tom'sjustwashingup...Oh,lessthananhour.Bye-bye."

Heheardherwalking toward the stairs, andhe steppedbackbecausehewasn'tdressed.

"Tom?"shecalledup."ThedetectivefromAmericajustgothere!HejustcalledMr.Greenleafandhe'scomingfromtheairport!"

"Fine!" Tom called back. He turned the shower off, and picked up hisrazor.Hewouldbegladwhenshewasgone,andhehopedsheleftthismorning.UnlesssheandMr.Greenleafdecidedtoseewhatthedetectivewasgoingtodowithhim.TomknewthatthedetectivehadcometoVeniceespeciallytoseehim.Ifhehadn't,hewouldhavewaitedtoseeMr.GreenleafinRome.TomwonderedifMargerealizedthattoo.Probablyshedidn't.

Tom and Marge took the boat to San Marco and then walked to Mr.Greenleaf's hotel. They telephoned up toMr.Greenleaf's room.Mr.GreenleafsaidthatMr.McCarronwasthere,andaskedthemtocomeup.

Mr. Greenleaf opened his door for them. "Good morning," he said. HepressedMarge'sarmlikeafather.

"Tom-"TomcameinbehindMarge.Thedetectivewasstandingbythewindow,a

short,fatmanofaboutthirty-five.Hisfacelookedfriendlybutserious."This isAlvinMcCarron,"Mr.Greenleaf said. "MissSherwood andMr.

Ripley."

"Iunderstandyou'reafriendofRichard's?"heasked."Webothare,"Tomsaid."Doyouhavetherings?"McCarronasked,lookingfromTomtoMarge."Yes,"Margesaidseriously,gettingup.Shetooktheringsfromherpurse

andgavethemtoMcCarron.McCarronturnedtoTom."Whendidhegivethemtoyou?""InRome.AscloseasIcanremember,aroundFebruary3,justafewdays

afterthemurderofFreddieMiles,"Tomanswered."Whatdidhesaywhenhegavethemtoyou?""Hesaidthatifanythinghappenedtohim,hewantedmetohavethem.I

askedhimwhathethoughtwasgoingtohappentohim.Hesaidhedidn'tknow,but somethingmight."Tompausedonpurpose. "Hedidn't seemmoreupsetatthat particularmoment than a lot of other times. I'd talked to him, so it didn'tentermymindthathewasgoingtokillhimself.Iknewheplannedtogoaway,thatwasall."

"Where?"askedthedetective."ToPalermo,"Tomsaid.He lookedatMarge. "I'mquitecertainhegave

themtomethedayyouspoketomeinRome-attheInghilterra.Thatdayorthedaybefore.Doyourememberthedate?"

"February2,"Margesaidinaquietvoice."What else?"McCarron asked Tom. "What time of daywas it? Had he

beendrinking?""No.Hedrinksverylittle.Ithinkitwasearlyafternoon.Hesaiditwould

bebetter ifIdidn'tmentiontheringstoanybody,andofcourseIagreed.Iputthe ringsawayandcompletely forgotabout them,as I toldMissSherwood - Isuppose because I'd told myself so strongly that he didn't want me to sayanythingaboutthem."

"Whatdidyoudowiththerings?""IputtheminanoldboxthatIhave-justalittleboxIkeepoddbuttons

in."McCarron looked at him for amoment in silence. Out of that calm but

brightIrishfacecouldcomeanything,adifficultquestion,adirectstatementthat

hewas lying. In hismind, Tom concentrated on his own facts, determined todefendthemtohisdeath.Inthesilence,TomcouldhearMarge'sbreathing,andacough fromMr.Greenleaf almostmade him jump.Mr.Greenleaf looked verycalm,almostbored.TomwonderedifhehadfixedupsomeplanwithMcCarronagainsthim,basedontheringsstory?

"Didhehaveanyenemiesthatyouknowof?"McCarronasked."Absolutelynone,"Tomsaid."I'vethoughtofthat.""Anyreasonyoucanthinkofwhyhemightwanttohide,ortakeanother

identity?"Tomsaidcarefully,"Possibly-butit'salmostimpossibleinEurope.He'd

needadifferentpassport.Anycountryhewantedtoenter,hewouldhavetohaveapassport.He'dneedoneeventogetintoahotel."

"Well,howdoyouseeit,Mr.Ripley?"McCarronwasn't nearly finished, Tom thought.McCarronwas going to

seehimalonelater."I'mafraidIagreewithMissSherwoodthatitappearsthathe'skilledhimself.I'vesaidthatbeforetoMr.Greenleaf."

"Whenwasthelasttimeyousawhim,MissSherwood?""OnNovember23,whenheleftforSanRemo,"Margesaidquickly."YouweretheninMongibello?"McCarronasked."Yes,"Margesaid."IjustmissedseeinghiminRomeinFebruary,butthe

lasttimeIsawhimwasinMongibello.""He was trying to avoid everyone in Rome," Tom added. "That's why,

when he first gaveme the rings, I thought he had some idea of getting awayfromeveryonehehadknown, living inanothercity,and justbeingaloneforatime."

"Why,doyouthink?"Tomexplained,mentioningthemurderofhisfriendFreddieMilesandits

effectonDickie."DoyouthinkRichardknewwhokilledFreddieMiles?""No,Icertainlydon't.""Think a minute," McCarron said to Tom. "Do you think that might

explainhisbehavior?Doyouthinkhe'savoidingansweringthepolicebyhiding

outnow?"Tom thought for a minute. "He didn't give me a single reason to think

that.""DoyouthinkDickiewasafraidofsomething?""Ican'timagineofwhat,"Tomsaid.McCarronwasstaringatTom,butwhetherhewasconsideringhishonesty

or thinkingover all theyhad said tohim,Tomcouldn't tell.McCarron lookedlikeatypicalsalesman,Tomthought.Hedidn'tthinktoomuchofhim,but,onthe other hand, it wasn't wise to ignore your enemy. McCarron's small, softmouth opened as Tom watched him, and he said, "Would you mind comingdownstairswithme,Mr.Ripley,ifyou'vestillgotafewminutes."

"Certainly,"Tomsaid,standingup."Wewon'tbelong,"McCarronsaidtoMr.GreenleafandMarge.They walked toward the elevator. Was this the way they did it? Tom

wondered.Aquietwordalone.Hewouldbehandedover to the Italianpolice,andthenMr.McCarronwouldreturntotheroomjustashehadpromised.TomturnedtoMcCarronastheelevatorstopped,andsaidseriously,showinghisteethinasmile,"IsthisyourfirsttriptoVenice?"

"Yes,"saidMcCarron.Hepassedbythehoteldesk."Shallwegorightinhere?"Hepointedatthecoffeebar.Hespokeverypolitely.

"Allright,"Tomagreed.WouldMcCarronaccusehiminaplacelikethis,quietlylayingdownfactafterfactonthetable?HetookthechairthatMcCarronpulledoutforhim.McCarronsatwithhisbacktothewall.

McCarron looked at him. His small mouth smiled on one side. Tomimagined three or four different beginnings: "You killed Richard, didn't you?Theringsarejusttoomuch,aren'tthey?"Or"TellmeabouttheSanRemoboat,Mr. Ripley, in detail." Or simply leading up quietly, "Where were you onFebruary15,whenRichard landed in...Naples?All right,butwherewereyoulivingthen?WherewereyoulivinginJanuary,forexample?...Canyouproveit?"

McCarronwas sayingnothing at all, only lookingdownat his fat handsnow,andsmilingweakly.

Tomheardhimselfspeaking, inanamazinglycalmvoice."Didyouhave

time to speak to Lieutenant Roverini when you came through Rome?"As heasked it, he realized that hewanted information: to find out ifMcCarron hadheardabouttheSanRemoboat.

"No, I didn't," McCarron said. "How would you describe Richard'scharacter?"

"Hewantedtobeapainter,"Tombegan,"butheknewhe'dneverbeaverygoodpainter.Hetriedtopretendhedidn'tcare,andthathewasperfectlyhappyandleadingexactlythekindoflifehewantedtoleadoverhereinEurope."Tomwethislips."ButIthinkhewasbeginningtogetdepressed.Hisfatherdidn'tlikehis lifestyle, as you probably know. And Dickie had gotten himself into adifficultsituationwithMarge."

"Howdoyoumean?""Margewasinlovewithhim,andhewasn'twithher,andatthesametime

hewasseeinghersomuchinMongibello,shekeptonhoping-"Tombegantofeelonsaferground,buthepretendedtohavedifficultyin

expressinghimself. "Henever actuallydiscussed itwithme.He always spokeveryhighlyofMarge.Hewasveryfondofher,butitwasobvioustoeverybody-Marge,too-thathewouldnevermarryher.ButMargeneverquitegaveup.Ithinkthat'sthemainreasonDickieleftMongibello."

"Whatdoyoumeannevergaveup?Whatdidshedo?""Shekeptwritingtohim,wantingtoseehim.Hewantedtobebyhimself.

ParticularlyaftertheMilesmurder,hewasn'tinthemoodtoseeMarge,andhewasafraidthatshe'dcomeuptoRomefromMongibellowhensheheardofallthetroublehewasin."

"WhydoyouthinkhewasnervousaftertheMilesmurder?DoyouthinkRichardkilledFreddie?"

"No, Idon't. I never thoughtof it. I don't knowwhatkindofpeople arelikelytokillsomebody.I'veseenhimangry-"

"When?"TomdescribedthetwodaysinRomewhenDickie,hesaid,hadbeenangry

andfrustratedbecauseofthepolicequestioning,andhadactuallymovedoutofhisapartment toavoidphonecalls fromfriendsandstrangers.Tomalso talkedagain about the growing frustration in Dickie, because he had not been

progressingashehadwantedtoinhispainting.HedescribedDickieasaproudyoung man who was determined to ignore his father's wishes. "If he killedhimself,"Tomsaid,"Ithinkitwasbecauseherealizedcertainfailuresinhimself.It'smucheasierformetoimaginehimasasuicidethanamurderer."

"ButI'mnotsosurethathedidn'tkillFreddieMiles.Areyou?"McCarron was perfectly sincere. Tom was sure of that. McCarron was

evenexpectinghimtodefendDickienow,becausetheyhadbeenfriends.Tomfeltsomeoftheterrorleavinghim,butonlysomeofit,likesomethingmeltingveryslowlyinsidehim."I'mnotsure,"Tomsaid,"butIjustdon'tbelievethathedid."

"I'mnotsureeither.Butitwouldexplainalot,wouldn'tit?""Yes,"Tomsaid."Everything."***McCarroncalledthenextdayfromRome,wantingthenamesofeveryone

DickiehadknowninMongibello.Mostof thenamesMargehadalreadygivenhim,butTomwentthroughthemall.

"Well,Iguessthat'saboutall.Thanksverymuch,Mr.Ripley.""You'reverywelcome.Goodluck."ThenTomwaited quietly in his house for several days, just as anybody

woulddoifthesearchforamissingfriendhadreacheditsmostseriouspoint.OntheeveningofthesixthdayafterMr.GreenleafandMcCarronhadleft,

Tom calledMr. Greenleaf in Rome. He had nothing new to report, but Tomhadn'texpectedanything.MargehadgonebacktotheUnitedStates.

Mr.Greenleafsaidhewouldbeleavingattheendoftheweek,travellingfirst to Paris, where the French police were also carrying on the search.McCarronwasgoingwithhim,andifnothinghappenedinParistheywerebothgoinghome. "It'sobvious tomeor toanybody,"Mr.Greenleaf said, "thathe'seitherdeadorhidingfromus.There'snotacorneroftheworldwherethesearchforhimhasn'tbeenwrittenaboutinthenewspapers."

CHAPTERTWELVE

TomRipley'sHeroicJourney

VeniceJune3DearMr.Greenleaf:Whilepackingasuitcasetoday,IfoundanenvelopethatRichardgaveme

inRome,andwhichforsomereasonIhadforgottenuntilnow.Ontheenvelopeis written, "Not to be opened until June" and, as it happens, it is June. TheenvelopecontainsRichard'swill,andheleaveshis incomeandeverythingelsetome.Iamshockedbythis,asyouprobablyare,butheseemedtoknowwhathewaswriting.

IamonlyverysorryIdidnotrememberhavingtheenvelope.IfIhad,itwouldhaveprovenmuchearlierthatDickieplannedtokillhimself.Iputitintoasuitcasepocket,andthenIforgotit.HegaveittomeonthelastoccasionIsawhim,inRome,whenhewassodepressed.

Onsecondthoughts,Iamsendingacopyofthewillsothatyoumayseeitforyourself.ThisisthefirstwillIhaveeverseeninmylife,andIdon'tknowwhathappens.WhatshouldIdo?

Please give my kindest hello to Mrs. Greenleaf and realize that I feeldeeplyforyouboth,andregret theneed towrite this letter.Please letmehearfromyouassoonaspossible.Mynextaddresswillbe:c/oAmericanExpress,Athens,Greece.

Mostsincerelyyours,TomRipley

In a way it was asking for trouble, Tom thought. It mightmake peoplethinkagainaboutthesignatures,onthewillandonthechecks.Butthatwasthemoodhewasin.HehadboughthisticketforGreeceinthemiddleofMay,andthedayshadgrownfinerandfiner,makinghimmoreandmoreanxious.Hehadonlytwothousanddollarsinhisownname,movedfromDickie'sbankandsavedoutofDickie'sincome.

The risk of trying to get all of Dickie's money, the danger of it, wasexcitingtohim.HewassoboredafterthequietweeksinVenicewheneachdaythat went by seemed to remind him of the dullness of his life. Roverini had

stoppedwriting to him.AlvinMcCarronhadgoneback toAmerica, andTomsupposedthatheandMr.Greenleafhaddecidedthatfurthersearchwasuseless.

TomhaddecidedinVenicetomakehisjourneytoGreeceaheroicone.Hewould see the islands, swimming for the first time into his view, as a living,breathing,braveindividual-notasafrightenedlittlenobodyfromBoston.Ifhesailed right into the arms of the police in Greece, at least he would firstexperiencestandinginthewindatthefrontofaship,crossingthedarksealikeanancienthero.

So he had written the letter to Mr. Greenleaf and mailed it three daysbeforesailingfromVenice.Mr.Greenleafwouldprobablynotgettheletterforfouror fivedays, so therewouldbeno time forMr.Greenleaf toholdhim inVenicewithamessageandmakehimmisshisship.Besides,itlookedbetterifhewascalmabout thematter,unable to receivemessages foranotherweekortwountilhegottoGreece.Itwasbettertopretendhedidn'tcarewhetherhegotthemoneyornot;hehadn'tletthefactofthewilldelayevenalittleatriphehadplannedtomake.

Twodaysbeforehesailed,hewenttoteaatthehouseofawomanhehadmet the day he had started looking for a house in Venice. The woman, Titi,greetedhim:"Ah,hello,Thomas!Haveyouseentheafternoonpaper?TheyhavefoundDickie'ssuitcasesandhispaintings!RighthereintheAmericanExpressinVenice!"Hergoldearringsshookwithexcitement.

"What?"Tomhadn't seen thepapers.Hehadbeen toobusypacking thatafternoon.

"Readit!Here!Allhisclothes,leftthereonlyinFebruary!TheyweresentfromNaples.PerhapsheishereinVenice!"

Tomwas reading it. The string around the paintings had fallen off, thepaper said, and while wrapping them again a worker had discovered thesignatureofR.Greenleafonthepaintings.Tom'shandsbegantoshake,andhehadtoholdthesidesofthepapertocalmhimself.Thepapersaidthatthepolicewerenowexaminingeverythingcarefullyforfingerprints.

"Perhapsheisalive!"Titishouted."Idon'tthink-Idon'tseewhythisprovesheisalive.Perhapssomebody

killed him or he killed himself after he sent the suitcases. The fact that thepaintingsareunderanothername-Fanshaw-"

Hehad the feeling thathis friend,whowas sittingon the sofa staringathim,wassurprisedbyhisnervousness,sohecalmedhimselfdownquicklyandsaid,"Yousee?They'relookingthrougheverythingforclues.Theywouldn'tbedoingthat if theyweresureDickiehadsent thesuitcaseshimself.Whyshouldhe leave them in the name of Fanshaw, if he expected to pick them up againhimself?Hispassport'sevenhere,itsays.Hepackedhispassport."

"Perhapshe ishidinghimselfunder thenameofFanshaw!Oh,mydear,youneedsometea!"

"It says here that the suitcases contained everything - razor, toothbrush,shoes, overcoat,"Tom said, hiding his terror in sadness. "He couldn't be aliveandleaveallthat.Themurdererprobablytookeverythingfromhisbodyandlefthisclothestherebecauseitwastheeasiestwayofgettingridofthem."

"Willyounotbesosaduntilyouknowwhatthefingerprintsare?Youaresupposedtogoonapleasuretriptomorrow."

Thedayafter tomorrow,Tomthought.Plentyof timeforRoverini togethis fingerprints and compare themwith the prints on the paintings and in thesuitcases.

He tried to turnhis thoughts toGreece.Hesawhandsomebuildingsandblueskies.Hedidn'twanttogotoGreecewiththeworryaboutthefingerprintsinVenicehangingoverhim.Tomputhisfaceinhishandsandcried.Greecewasfinished,explodedlikeagoldenball.

TheworstofallwasthatRoverini,whosemessageshadbeensofriendlyuntil now, sent himno information at all about the discovery of the suitcases.Tomdidn'tsleepthatnightandthenspentadaywalkingaroundhishousewhilehetriedtofinishtheendlesslittledutiesbeforeleavingforGreece.Heexpectedthepolicetocomeknockingathisdooratanytimeofthedayornight.

***BythetimehegotontotheshipforGreece,Tomfeltlikeawalkingghost.

Hewassleepless,foodless,fullofcoffee,carriedalongonlybyhisnerves.Herememberedlastnightlyingfacedownonhisbedwithonearmtwistedbeneathhim,andbeing too tired tochangehisposition.Whenheawoke,hefeltbetterexceptthatthearmhehadbeenlyingonhunguselesslyathisside.

An angry courage rose in him.Whatwouldhappen if the radiomanwasreceivingatthisminuteamessagetoarrestTomRipley?Hewouldstandupjust

asbravelyashewasstandingnow.Orhemightthrowhimselfintothesea.Hewasn'tafraid.Thiswasit.Thiswasthewayhehadhopedhewouldfeel,sailingtoGreece.TolookoutattheblackwaterallaroundhimandnotbeafraidwasalmostasgoodasseeingtheislandsofGreececomingintoview.

Heconsideredthathehadbeenluckybeyondreasoninescapingarrestfortwomurders,luckyfromthetimehehadtakenDickie'sidentityuntilnow.Thefirstpartofhislifehadbeencompletelyunfair,hethought,buttheperiodwithDickieandafterwardswaslikeawonderfuldream.ButsomethingwasgoingtohappennowinGreece,hefelt,anditcouldn'tbegood.Hisluckhadheldfortoolong.

Theonlythingheregrettedwasthathehadnotseenalltheworldyet.Hewanted to see Australia. And India. Hewanted to see Japan. Then there wasSouthAmerica. Just to look at the art of those countrieswould be a pleasant,rewarding life's work, he thought. He had learned a lot about painting, evenwhiletryingtocopyDickie'sbadpaintings.AttheartmuseumsinRome,hehaddiscoveredaninterestinpaintingsthathehadneverrealizedbefore,orperhapsthathadnotbeeninhimbefore.

WhentheboatapproachedGreece,Tomwasstandinglookingattheland.Itwasn'tadreamaheadofhim, itwasasolidhill thathecouldwalkon,withbuildingsthathecouldtouch-ifhegotthatfar.

Thepolicewerewaitingonthedock.Hesawfourofthem,standingwithfoldedarms, lookingupat theship.Tomturnedandwalkedslowlytowardthepolicemen. He wouldn't cause trouble, he thought, he'd just tell them himselfwhohewas.Therewasabignewsstandbehindthepolicemen,andhethoughtofbuyingapaper.Perhapstheywouldlethim.Thepolicemenstaredbackathimfromovertheirfoldedarmsasheapproachedthem.Theyworeblackuniformswithcaps.Tomsmiledatthemweakly.Oneofthemtouchedhiscapandsteppedtooneside.Theothersdidn'tmovecloser.NowTomwasalmostbetweentwoofthem, right in front of thenewsstand, and thepolicemenwere staring forwardagain,payingnoattentiontohimatall.

Tomboughtseveralnewspapersandwalkedback to thedock towait forhisluggage.UndertheR'shestoppedandopenedtheoldestItalianpaper,whichwasfourdaysold.

NOONENAMEDROBERTS.FANSHAWFOUNDINMYSTERYOFGREENLEAFLUGGAGE.

Onlythefifthparagraphinterestedhim:Thepolicediscoveredafewdaysagothatthefingerprintsonthesuitcases

andpaintingsarethesameasthefingerprintsfoundinGreenleaf'sapartmentinRome. Therefore, it is believed thatGreenleaf left the suitcases and paintingshimself...

Tomquicklyopenedanotherpage:There is the possibility that he committed suicide.Another possibility is

thatheexistsatpresentunder thefalsenameofRobertS.Fanshaworanothername. A third possibility is that he was murdered after leaving his bags inVenice.

Anyway, it is useless to search for "Richard Greenleaf" any longer,because,evenifheisalive,hedoesnothavehis"RichardGreenleaf"passport...

Tomcouldn'tbelievehisgoodluck.Itmeanthewasn'tsuspectedatall.Itmeantthatthefingerprintsreallyhadguaranteedhisinnocence.Itmeantthathewasnotgoingtojail,andnotgoingtodie,butalsothathewasn'tsuspectedatall.Hewasfree.ExceptforDickie'swill.

TomboardedthebusforAthens.Thewillcouldruinitall.Helookedoutthewindowbuthedidn'tnoticeanything.MaybetheGreekpolicewerewaitingforhimattheAmericanExpressoffice.Maybethefourmenhehadseenhadn'tbeenpolicebutsomekindofsoldiers.HegotoffthebusandjumpedinataxitogototheAmericanExpress.

HesatupwhenhesawtheAmericanExpresssign,andlookedaroundthebuildingforpolicemen.Maybethepolicewereinside.Tomlookedin.Nothingunusual.

TherewasaletterwaitingforhimfromMr.Greenleaf.Heopenedit.

June9DearTom,Receivedyourletteryesterday.Itwasnotsomuchofasurprisetomywifeandmeasyoumaythink.We

bothrealizedthatRichardwasveryfondofyou,inspiteofthefactthatheneveractuallytoldusthisinanyofhisletters.Asyousaid,thewilldoessuggestthatRichardhastakenhisownlife.

Mywifeagreeswithme thatweshouldfollowRichard'swishes.Soyouhave,asfarasthewillisconcerned,mypersonalsupport.Ihavegiventhecopyyou sent to my lawyers, who will keep you informed about their progress inputtingRichard'smoneyandotherpropertiesinyourname.

Oncemore,thankyouforyourassistancewhenIwasoverseas.Letushearfromyou.

Withbestwishes,HerbertGreenleaf

Wasitajoke?Butthepaperinhishandfeltreal.Besides,Mr.Greenleafwouldn'tjokelikethis,notinamillionyears.Tomwalkedtothewaitingtaxi.Itwasnojoke.Itwashis!Dickie'smoneyandhisfreedom.HecouldhaveahouseinEurope,andahouseinAmericatoo,ifhechose.

Hegrewsuddenlyworried,andhisdreamsdisappeared.Washegoing tosee policemen waiting for him on every dock that he ever approached? InAlexandria? In Istanbul? Bombay? Rio? No use thinking about that. No useruininghistripthinkingaboutimaginarypolicemen.

"Whereto?Whereto?"thetaxidriverwasasking."Toahotel,please,"Tomsaidwithalaugh."Thebesthotel.Thebest,the

best!"

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