“If you had read that book in the shop there, some of your questions might have been answered,” retorted St. Hilary placidly.
I held the coffee-pot suspended in mid-air. “It mentions the clock?”
“It does.”
“Then it’s there for all the world to read–the duke, for instance!”
The thought was rather startling.
“I suppose so. Had I known before I saw you last night that you were to be my criminal partner in pursuit of the casket and the gems, I should have brought that book as well as the Diary which I happened to have in my pocket. As it is, you might just step over to Rosen’s and buy a copy. You will find it an amusing book during your long journey to St. Petersburg.”
I looked at him with some annoyance.
“You take so much for granted,” I remonstrated. “I shall need some persuasion. You know, I suppose, that it’s quite necessary for me to get a passport to travel in Russia. And as to our criminal pursuit, I take it that findings are keepings.”
“Very true,” he answered, looking at me cynically. “Beatrice, who wore some of our gems when she went into that cathedral over there, is dust these four hundred years and more. The line of the D’Estes and Sforzas is extinct. There is not a man or woman in Venice or Italy who may boast that a drop of the Doge’s blood runs in their veins. Legally, I suppose, the state––”
“Oh, the state!” I sniffed contemptuously. “I don’t mind putting my claims against the state!”