“But it will be the simplest thing in the world for me to get another telegram,” he cried mockingly. “The thieves will not inconvenience me in the slightest. And as to their going to my rooms, bah, I am not so big a fool as to leave anything of interest there for an intruder to gaze at. No, Mr. Hume, not so big a fool as that. By the way, did you find your bibelot, that rare bibelot in the Imperial Library, interesting?”
“I did not take the trouble to go back for it,” I lied carelessly. “A telegram from Miss Quintard recalled me to Bellagio.”
I startled him as I had intended to. His face darkened. He looked at the clock again.
He had heard the spring whirr metallically. The bells began to strike. Instinctively we both turned, and watched the fourth door open slowly. Again the figure on the platform had been broken off. What the background was I could not see. I dared not show too great curiosity before the duke.
The door closed. The duke and I looked at each other.
“It is interesting, all the same, my droll old clock.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I see that you have had it repaired.”
“I was wondering if that fact would dawn on you,” I said.
“Am I to understand that because you have had the clock repaired, my right to it is the less real?” he inquired, an ugly gleam in his blue eyes.