Closing the panel door after me, I sprang lightly to the floor. I did not dare attempt to escape from the palace by the way of the tower. I stole across the polished floor out to the landing. I listened at the head of the stairs. In the hall below I could hear the clatter of wooden pattens on the marble flags. There was the swish of a broom. A door slammed, then all was still. I descended the stairway rapidly.

To my joy the double doors of glass leading out into the garden were open. I might be seen from the window of the palazzo while crossing the garden to the little gate, but I had to take the chance. I stole out into the garden. I gained the shelter of the pergola. I reached the gate, slipped out into the street, and closed it behind me. In two minutes I had lost myself in the market crowd in the Campo San Bartolomeo.

And now what should I do? It was impossible to avail myself of the ordinary channels of the law. I had no more legal right to the casket 274than had St. Hilary. I must rely on my own wits.

Would he already have left Venice? Perhaps. In that case it would be a stern, almost a hopeless, chase. But if he had not done so, how would he attempt to escape from me?

I looked at my watch. It was not quite five. I knew that the next train leaving Venice was at eight-thirty. A boat sailed to Trieste three times a week. One left Venice this evening at seven. At twelve a P. and O. liner sailed for Brindisi. These were the regular means of travel. But nothing could be more simple than for him to hire a craft. If one pays enough, one can go anywhere. The search seemed almost hopeless.

Obviously, the first thing for me to do was to go to St. Hilary’s hotel. I was not so simple as to expect to find him there, but I might learn if he had made any plans beforehand to leave Venice.

His hotel was on the Riva, not far from Danielli’s. The concierge knew me well, and in answer to my careless inquiry as to whether St. Hilary had been in his rooms since last night, he went up-stairs to inquire. There was no answer to his knock. I bade him open the door, and told him I would wait for my friend. He did so, and I entered.

275My worst fears were realized. Two heavy trunks were strapped and labeled. The address was simply in the care of a forwarding agent in London.

His razors and hair-brushes, however, were still on the dressing-table, and an open bag on the chair. If he had planned returning to his rooms he would not imperil the loss of the casket by bothering about these paltry toilet articles. That was my first thought. But even as I was closing the door behind me I paused. Would he not, indeed? He was still in the fancy costume of the ball. True, he had my ulster and golf cap, but the day promised to be warm. Could he travel thus without attracting attention? Unless he were to leave Venice by private boat, he would be almost sure to change his clothes. I abandoned my intention of going to the railway station. I would remain here at his rooms. And yet I must send some one. Whom could I trust? There was Pietro, of course; he knew St. Hilary. But Pietro had played me false; he would play me false again, unless I made it worth his while not to do so. I must make it worth his while. I sent one of the hotel servants to fetch my man. In twenty minutes he arrived, smiling.
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