“You are to understand precisely that,” I replied. “And permit me to remind you, first of all, that this clock is not yours. It is now Mrs. Gordon’s. She has asked me to keep it for her. I shall take whatever steps I may think necessary for its safe keeping. I am beginning to think that it is valuable when people break into my rooms to observe it.”
“Break into your rooms?” He looked at me angrily.
“I beg your pardon,” I said suavely. “I was thinking, of course, of the thieves.”
He bowed. “A very natural mistake. Felice noce.”
“Good night, duke.” We pressed each other’s hands warmly.
But at the door he turned.
“Mr. Hume, do you not think that when people resort to the extreme measures of binding one and shutting one up in closets they must be decidedly anxious that one shall not see things?”
“Without a doubt,” I retorted airily. “As, for instance, when they tear leaves out of library-books.”
Again we bowed. So we understood each other.
I threw open my shutters and looked out. The duke was stepping into his gondola. Evidently he saw it was useless to sail longer under false colors. He waved to me familiarly.