the warm lights and convivial ambience. ‘I think I can manage without the lemonade thank you. A sidecar would be delicious.’
Like all visitors to Venice inevitably they talked of the city: their impressions, experiences and favourite places. Or at least Cedric and Felix did. Rosy, newly arrived and diverted by her task, had less to contribute but she listened eagerly to their views and anecdotes. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, ‘I haven’t even been inside St Mark’s yet, so goodness knows when I’ll be able to fit in anything else. Dr Stanley wants me back by the end of the week complete with the wretched book!’
‘Oh ditch the book and admit defeat,’ counselled Felix, ‘Torcello at dusk and San Giorgio at sunset are surely worth more than some Victorian hash of the Horace person! Spend your time wisely Miss Gilchrist.’
‘Actually – you won’t believe this and I hardly do myself – but that Victorian hash as you call it may be worth a great deal of money. Stupendous in fact.’
‘Stupendous?’ queried Cedric sceptically. ‘And what might that mean – five hundred?’
Rosy shook her head. ‘A million.’
Cedric was not easily shocked (or at least generally contrived to conceal such reaction) but at Rosy’s words he almost did the nose trick into his cocktail. Felix too gave a gasp of incredulity, and then turning to Cedric rather thoughtlessly blurted, ‘She’s got it wrong!’
‘No she has
not
got it wrong,’ Rosy retorted, stung by his dismissal. ‘I am merely passing on what my landlady told me this evening. Apparently there’s some crank tycoon in Padua who …’ And she proceeded to give them the few details she knew.
Felix tittered. ‘Well that does put a different complexion on things. I think for a million one might consider missing both Torcello and San Giorgio!’
‘So typical,’ Cedric sighed. ‘I always knew you were a philistine at heart.’
‘Ah, but think of the exquisite paintings that could be purchased for one’s own private delectation – to gaze upon daily if one chose and without the hordes getting in the way.’
There ensued an animated discussion as to which paintings might be selected and indeed whether such possession would justify the transaction. The issue remained unresolved and the topic concluded by another round of sidecars.
‘Just think,’ Felix said to Rosy, ‘when you find the thing you and your boss will be able to retire early and live in clover – though I am sure you won’t forget old friends in such good fortune.’ He winked.
Rosy suspected that the wink contained a pinch ofseriousness.
Old friends?
That was a new term all right!
‘Yes but she won’t find it,’ said Cedric coolly. ‘If what the landlady says is true others will have already looked; and if nothing has so far emerged then I can’t see why it suddenly should now. It’s a dead duck.’ He looked at Rosy: ‘Felix is right. Forget the thing and enjoy Venice – or as the ineffable Horace would say,
carpe diem
!’
‘Well I’d like to
carpe diem
with some zabagliones and coffee,’ his friend declared.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Cedric. ‘And then we’ll escort the millionairess back to her lodging and a good night’s rest. Pursuit of Art and Mammon is always fatiguing, don’t you find Miss Gilchrist?’ He gave a benign smile.
Rosy was grateful for the suggestion. Normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about walking back on her own, but despite the distraction of Florian’s and her companions’ good humour, she still retained the image of Giuseppe Pacelli and his sidekick being mocking in the darkened square.
‘Well that’s a fine tale,’ Felix laughed as he and Cedric made their way back to the palazzo. ‘Do you think there’s anything in it?’
‘Not a jot. The landlady is probably batty and spinning her a line. Or it’s one of those old canards that periodically flourish when nothing much else is going on, something to lighten the
Like all visitors to Venice inevitably they talked of the city: their impressions, experiences and favourite places. Or at least Cedric and Felix did. Rosy, newly arrived and diverted by her task, had less to contribute but she listened eagerly to their views and anecdotes. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, ‘I haven’t even been inside St Mark’s yet, so goodness knows when I’ll be able to fit in anything else. Dr Stanley wants me back by the end of the week complete with the wretched book!’
‘Oh ditch the book and admit defeat,’ counselled Felix, ‘Torcello at dusk and San Giorgio at sunset are surely worth more than some Victorian hash of the Horace person! Spend your time wisely Miss Gilchrist.’
‘Actually – you won’t believe this and I hardly do myself – but that Victorian hash as you call it may be worth a great deal of money. Stupendous in fact.’
‘Stupendous?’ queried Cedric sceptically. ‘And what might that mean – five hundred?’
Rosy shook her head. ‘A million.’
Cedric was not easily shocked (or at least generally contrived to conceal such reaction) but at Rosy’s words he almost did the nose trick into his cocktail. Felix too gave a gasp of incredulity, and then turning to Cedric rather thoughtlessly blurted, ‘She’s got it wrong!’
‘No she has
not
got it wrong,’ Rosy retorted, stung by his dismissal. ‘I am merely passing on what my landlady told me this evening. Apparently there’s some crank tycoon in Padua who …’ And she proceeded to give them the few details she knew.
Felix tittered. ‘Well that does put a different complexion on things. I think for a million one might consider missing both Torcello and San Giorgio!’
‘So typical,’ Cedric sighed. ‘I always knew you were a philistine at heart.’
‘Ah, but think of the exquisite paintings that could be purchased for one’s own private delectation – to gaze upon daily if one chose and without the hordes getting in the way.’
There ensued an animated discussion as to which paintings might be selected and indeed whether such possession would justify the transaction. The issue remained unresolved and the topic concluded by another round of sidecars.
‘Just think,’ Felix said to Rosy, ‘when you find the thing you and your boss will be able to retire early and live in clover – though I am sure you won’t forget old friends in such good fortune.’ He winked.
Rosy suspected that the wink contained a pinch ofseriousness.
Old friends?
That was a new term all right!
‘Yes but she won’t find it,’ said Cedric coolly. ‘If what the landlady says is true others will have already looked; and if nothing has so far emerged then I can’t see why it suddenly should now. It’s a dead duck.’ He looked at Rosy: ‘Felix is right. Forget the thing and enjoy Venice – or as the ineffable Horace would say,
carpe diem
!’
‘Well I’d like to
carpe diem
with some zabagliones and coffee,’ his friend declared.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Cedric. ‘And then we’ll escort the millionairess back to her lodging and a good night’s rest. Pursuit of Art and Mammon is always fatiguing, don’t you find Miss Gilchrist?’ He gave a benign smile.
Rosy was grateful for the suggestion. Normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about walking back on her own, but despite the distraction of Florian’s and her companions’ good humour, she still retained the image of Giuseppe Pacelli and his sidekick being mocking in the darkened square.
‘Well that’s a fine tale,’ Felix laughed as he and Cedric made their way back to the palazzo. ‘Do you think there’s anything in it?’
‘Not a jot. The landlady is probably batty and spinning her a line. Or it’s one of those old canards that periodically flourish when nothing much else is going on, something to lighten the
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