“We should find ourselves somewhere out in the lagoon,” sneered St. Hilary.
“If we passed seven blocks on our right, then, proceeding up the seventh canal until thirty blocks were passed, took the junction of the two canals at this point for a new start until thirty more blocks were passed, where should we find ourselves?”
St. Hilary consulted the map of Venice that lay before him.
“You are a little obscure, my dear Hume. But, so far as I can make it out, after you had passed your sixty little canals, if you turned to the left you would find yourself in the Jewish quarter. If you turned to the right, in the fishermen’s quarter. You may be sure that da Sestos was not quite so mad as to hide his casket in a part of the city that would be subject to demolition. You will have to try again.”
“Thirty changes of raiment and thirty sheets,” I mused. “Thirty plus thirty; why not the sixtieth palace down the Grand Canal, either left or right?”
“Within seven days,” quoted St. Hilary, closing his eyes.
“I had forgotten the seven days,” I admitted. “Well, then, why not the fifty-third palace?”
“Why the fifty-third?” demanded St. Hilary in a bored tone.
“Within seven of sixty ought to mean fifty-three,” I said quickly.
St. Hilary opened his eyes. A look of interest dawned in them. He drew toward him an old map of Venice, La Nuova Pianta di Venezia, it was called, and was published in 1689. It contained an interesting chart on which were marked all the palaces of Venice existing at that time. He began to count these palaces carefully, going down the Grand Canal toward the Rialto Bridge.