“But I have none, have I?”

“If the facts were known to-morrow, your brother might at once begin an action to recover, on the equitable ground that by an extraordinary chain of circumstances the property has turned out to be worth much more than any one could have expected.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.  Go on.”

“Very well.  The Senator knows that in all probability the court would decide against your brother, who has the reputation of a spendthrift, unless your claim is pushed; but that any honest judge, if it were legally possible, would do his best to award you something.  If you had made over your claim to Volterra, that would be impossible, and would only strengthen his case.”

“I see,” said Sabina.  “It is very complicated.”

“Of course it is.  And there are many other sides to it.  The Senator, on his part, is as anxious to keep the whole matter a secret as I am, for your sake.  He has no idea that there is a colossal statue in the vaults.  He probably hopes to find gold and jewels which could be taken away quietly and disposed of without the knowledge of the government.”

“What has the government to do with it?”

“It has all sorts of claims on such discoveries, and especially on works of art.  It reserves the right to buy them from the owners at a valuation, if they are sold at all.”

“Then the government will buy this statue, I suppose.”

“In the end, unless it allows the Vatican to buy it.”

“I do not see what is going to happen,” said Sabina, growing bewildered.

“The Senator must make everything over to you before it is sold,” answered Malipieri calmly.

“How can he be made to do that?”

“I do not know, but he shall.”

“Do you mean that the law can force him to?”

“The law might, perhaps, but I shall find some much shorter way.”

Sabina was silent for a moment.

“But he employs you on this work,” she said suddenly.

“Not exactly.”  Malipieri smiled.  “I would not let Volterra pay me to grub underground for his benefit, any more than I would live in his house without paying him rent.”

Sabina bit her lip and turned her face away suddenly, for the thoughtless words had hurt her.

“I agreed to make the search merely because I am interested in archaeology,” he continued.  “Until I met you I did not care what might become of anything we found in the palace.”

“Why should you care now?”

The question rose to her lips before she knew what she was saying, for what had gone before had disturbed her a little.  It had been a very cruel speech, though he had not meant it.  He looked at her thoughtfully.

“I am not quite sure why I care,” he answered, “but I do.”

Neither spoke for some time.

“I suppose you pity me,” Sabina observed at last, rather resentfully.

He said nothing.