“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.

It was a superb morning. The rain had been blown away. Venice had robed herself in glory, and proudly enthroned herself as the great enchantress, the magician of the seas.

I threw myself wearily on my bed for a few hours’ sleep. The clock might strike as it would. I was disgusted with its antics.

152

CHAPTER XV

It was long past noon when I was awakened by St. Hilary.

“Well,” I asked sleepily, “have you had any luck?”

“None whatever. The duke’s belongings were packed. His rooms were dismantled. If you remember, he has been living at Bellagio the past few days. He has a villa there.”

“So you have no trace of the missing papers?”

“No trace,” he replied gloomily. “But tell me of your own adventures with the duke.”

“It appears,” he said ruefully, when I had finished, “that the duke has had the advantage of us after all. But at least we have the clock.”

“Yes,” I echoed sarcastically, “we have the clock. But it seems to me that the childish contrivances one sees sold on the boulevards of Paris for ten sous are as ingenious. I have heard it strike four of the hours, and each hour’s results were more disappointing than the last.”

“Did you expect to find its secret on the surface, like the pebbles on the sea-shore? There 153are pebbles on the shore, yes. But, my friend, a poet has said we must dive for the 

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