She nodded her head.
“Ha, I wanted them both,” she answered, “but there was only one. But I’ll get the other one sometime. You wait and see. I’ll get it.”
“Harmless,” thought De Medici swiftly, “and not on her guard. It’ll be best to talk directly.” He continued aloud:
“Why did you want them?”
“Ha, ha,” the old woman cackled in answer. “I wanted them, all right. I know something about them. Ha, they belong to me. This one does, anyway.”
“And what do you know about them?” De Medici persisted. His body was quivering with excitement. Here lay a clear and open track. Here was a creature who knew something about the candlestick signature. But her next words irritated him. Her childishness would be as hard to circumvent as shrewdness might have been.
She leaned forward and spoke in a hysterical whisper:
“They were Victor Ballau’s candlesticks,” she said.
“I know that,” De Medici nodded impatiently. “But why did you want them?”
She laughed.