“We are architects,” lied St. Hilary glibly. “We are very desirous to see your garden. We understand that it is a very curious old garden.”
The servant in the shabby livery shook his head.
“The Signori Inglesi are mistaken,” he answered politely. “The interesting garden belongs to the House of the Camel just behind this palazzina. Our garden has only artichokes and asparagus and beans and things.”
“The House of the Camel!” I exclaimed involuntarily.
St. Hilary pinched my arm for silence. “But there is a passage through your garden that leads to the garden of the other house, is there not?”
He jingled insinuatingly some loose coins in his pocket.
“Ah, yes, Signore, that is true. A long, long time ago, a great nobleman, dwelt in this house, and his daughter lived in the house behind. He had a gate made in the wall that divides the two gardens. The gate is still there.”
“Excellent! And you will lead us into the garden of the House of the Camel by that gate?”
Without further parley, St. Hilary leaped lightly ashore. I followed his example, and tossed our fare to the gondolier.
“Thoughtful of you to send off that chap. We can’t be too careful,” remarked St. Hilary as we followed the servant in the shabby livery into the hall.