Two hours had passed since I left the church. St. Hilary and I had spent the time in a diligent study of the Bible. The result confirmed my theory beyond a doubt. With the exception of the scenes of the fifth and tenth hours, we had identified them all as Bible scenes. We had also found that in each story certain numbers were mentioned.

“To tell which are the significant numbers, that is the question,” said St. Hilary. “In two or three of the stories, at least, more than one set are mentioned. How can we be sure which numbers count, and which do not?”

“We can not be sure, I suppose,” I replied thoughtfully. “We can only guess. But at least we may make a reasonable guess. The goldsmith had some method in choosing them. What would be the most obvious?”

“That he should select the numbers that really counted in the various stories,” replied St. Hilary.

“I have observed that the important numbers are invariably mentioned in the first part of the 193story. We may go on that assumption to begin with, at any rate. Our search for the landmark of the second hour ought to begin from the Piazzetta, where the first landmark stands–that is, the lion of San Marco. Now our first numbers are 7, 30, 30. If we interpret those rightly, we shall find ourselves at the second landmark. Thence we may start for the third.”

“But the meaning of those numbers,” grumbled St. Hilary, “is extremely doubtful. They may be added to, or subtracted from, or divided or multiplied by others, and the landmark of the second hour is veiled in complete obscurity. If it were the landmark of the fourth hour, the House of the Camel, we should know what to look for.”

“But it is not,” I said impatiently. “Your precious landmark is quite useless by itself, because we have not been able to identify the Bible story of the fifth hour, and so we are ignorant of the numbers that will lead us to the landmark of the sixth. We are compelled to start at the first hour. From that point we go on to the second, and from the second to the third. As to the gap in the fifth hour, we won’t attempt to jump that until we come to it.”

The little man yawned. His dogged skepticism was maddening. The fact is, he resented my 194having been so fortunate as to make the great discovery. Because he had not made it himself, or helped to make it, he sulked and made endless objections.

“How do you propose to interpret the first numbers, 7, 30, 30?” he asked.

“Well,” I answered patiently, “say that they represent blocks of buildings. We go down the Grand Canal until seven blocks are passed. If we took the seventh canal to our left, and continued up that canal until thirty blocks had been passed––”

“We should find ourselves somewhere out in the lagoon,” sneered St. Hilary.

“If we passed seven blocks on our right, then, proceeding up the seventh canal until thirty blocks were passed, took the junction of the two canals at this point for a new start until thirty more blocks were passed, where should we find ourselves?”

St. Hilary consulted the map of Venice that lay before him.

“You are a little obscure, my dear Hume. But, so far as I can make it out, after you had passed your sixty little canals, if you turned to the left you would find yourself in the Jewish quarter. If you turned to the right, in the fishermen’s quarter. You may be sure that da Sestos 195was not quite so mad as to hide his casket in a part of the city that would be subject to demolition. You will have to try again.”

“Thirty changes of raiment and thirty sheets,” I mused. “Thirty plus thirty; why not the sixtieth palace down the Grand Canal, either left or right?”

“Within seven days,” quoted St. Hilary, closing his eyes.

“I had forgotten the seven days,” I admitted. “Well, then, why not the fifty-third palace?”

“Why the fifty-third?” demanded St. Hilary in a bored tone.

“Within seven of sixty ought to mean fifty-three,” I said quickly.

St. Hilary opened his eyes. A look of interest dawned in them. He drew toward him an old map of Venice, La Nuova Pianta di Venezia, it was called, and was published in 1689. It contained an interesting chart on which were marked all the palaces of Venice existing at that time. He began to count these palaces carefully, going down the Grand Canal toward the Rialto Bridge.

“The fifty-third palace is the Palazzo Chettechi. Look in that French monograph, Les Palais de Venise Moderne. See if it is mentioned there.”

196I turned hurriedly to the index.

“Yes, it is mentioned. But, confound it, the palace was torn down and rebuilt in 1805.”

“And down with it tumbles y............