“Ah, your gendarmes,” I said coolly.
“And, as host, may I receive my guests?”
“Do,” I urged, and seated myself in his chair, the casket on my knees.
He opened the door. Two impossibly solemn gendarmes entered, precisely alike as two files. Keeping step, each with each, their hands on their sword hilts, they advanced to the middle of the room and saluted. Old Luigi stood discreetly without. I hope it is no disgrace to confess that I awaited the duke’s orders with some trepidation.
“We have received word,” said the duke calmly, and he waved his hand toward me, “that an American gentleman, returning from the bal masqué at the Cæsarini Palace, early this morning, was assaulted by ruffians near the Calle Bianca Madonna, and knocked insensible. He was then carried to an empty house in the Jewish quarter. It is the third right-hand house on the quay of the Mestre Canal as you enter it. Release the gentleman. Tell him that his friend, Signore Hume, wishes to speak with him here. See that he comes. That is all.”
The gendarmes saluted as one man, spun about on their heels and marched from the room, their red and white plumes nodding.
“The gentleman to be found in the Jewish quarter is, of course, St. Hilary. It requires no great imagination to guess that you had him confined there. It would interest me to know how you managed last night.”
“Oh, believe me, nothing could have been simpler,” replied the duke. “I knew, you may be sure, that you were not spying on Miss Quintard and myself in the tower. As a matter of fact, I was bitterly disappointed when you showed yourself; for, frankly, Mr. St. Hilary and you had been seen ascending the tower, and it was known that you were concealed somewhere. But we had not thought of the beams up there. When you were discovered I had presence of mind enough not to rout out your friend. All we had to do, then, was to watch him. We made our way into the sala after you, and, lying concealed until the dramatic moment, my Punchinello took care of your friend, while I took care of your casket.”
“But how did you know we were to take the casket that night?”
“You have been watched for a week. It is so much easier and more sensible to reap where others have sown than to dirty one’s own fingers with the plow.”