slit, through which the water must have been rushing in.  How they had originally entered the place was a mystery.  Possibly they had been lowered from above, down the well-shaft, but it was all very hard to explain.  The only thing that seemed certain was that the treasure had never been seen by any one since it had been closed in under the vault, ages ago.  Malipieri had not yet found time to make a careful plan of all the places through which he had passed.  There were so many turns and changes of level, that it would be impossible to get an accurate drawing without using a theodolite or some similar instrument of precision.  From the measurements he had taken, however, and the rough sketches he had made, he believed that the double vault was not under the palace itself, but under the open courtyard, at the depth of about forty feet, and therefore below the level of the Tiber at average high water.

Both men now knelt by the hole, and Masin thrust his lantern down to the full length of his arm.  The light shone upon the vast hand of the statue, and made a deep reflection in the great ruby of the ring, as if the gem was not a stone, but a little gold cup filled with rich wine.  The hand itself, the wrist and the great muscles of the chest on which it lay, seemed of pure gold.  But Malipieri’s eyes fixed themselves on something else.  There were marks on the bright surface of the metal which had not been there when he had looked at it in the afternoon; there were patches of dust, and there were several small scratches, which might have been made by the nails of heavy shoes.

“You were right after all,” said Malipieri, withdrawing the lantern and setting it down beside him.  “The man is here.”

Masin’s china-blue eyes brightened at the thought of a possible fight, and his hold tightened again on his drill.

“What shall we do with him?” he asked, looking down into the hole.

Cunning, as the Italian peasant is by nature, Masin made a sign to his master that the man, if he were really below, could hear all that was said.

“Shall I go down and kill him, sir?” Masin enquired with a quiet grin and raising his voice a little.

“I am not sure,” Malipieri answered, at once entering into his man’s scheme.  “He is caught in his own trap.  It is not midnight yet, and there is plenty of time to consider the matter.  Let us sit here and talk about it.”

He now turned himself and sat beside the hole, placing his lantern near the edge.  He took out a cigar and lit it carefully.  Masin sat on the other side, his drill in his hand.

“If he tries to get out while we are talking,” he said, “I can break his skull with a touch of this.”

“Yes,” Malipieri answered, puffing at his cigar.  “There is no hurry.  Keep your iron ready.”

“Yes, sir.”  Masin made the heavy drill ring on the stones of the vault.

A pause followed.

“Have you got your pipe with you?” asked Malipieri presently.  “We must talk over this quietly.”