St. Hilary pointed to the cover. On it was engraved: “Giovanni da Sestos fecit, 1525.”
“A da Sestos made the casket for the jewels!” exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, glancing at the duke.
“It is a matter of history,” replied St. Hilary.
“Jewels!” cried the duke. “What is this about a da Sestos making a casket for jewels?”
“I was amusing the ladies this afternoon with the story of the mysterious disappearance of the D’Este gems. As a matter of fact, they did not merely disappear, Mrs. Gordon. They were stolen, and stolen, if the legend be true, from one of his Grace’s ancestors.”
“An ancestor of mine?” cried the duke. “Impossible.”
“He was a marvelous artist and clock-maker,” returned St. Hilary coolly. “He was the first Venetian of his name to become famous, though I believe his end was rather tragic.”
“You seem to know a great deal about the affairs of my family, Mr. St. Hilary. It is strange that I have never heard of this ancestor and his casket.”
“Not so strange,” replied the dealer, “seeing that nearly five hundred years have passed since then. As to the casket, it is a curiosity, and a matter of history. There are few curiosities in the world that escape the notice of us dealers in antiquities. It is our business to know about them.”
“Perhaps you will enlighten me as to this strange story,” said the duke.