rs; it was _antico--antichissimo_, as the
signor could see for himself. It was of the best period of the art.
That Shylock would guarantee. How came it into his possession? By the
greatest good fortune. It was taken from Murano during the troubles
after the fall of the Republic in the time of Napoleon. It had gone
finally into the hands of a certain count, who, very luckily, was
poor. _Conte che non conta, non conta niente._ So Shylock had been
enabled to buy it. It had been the desire of his heart for years to
own so fine an object.

"How much do you want for it?" asked John Manning.

Shylock scented from afar the battle of bargaining, dear in Italy to
both buyer and seller. He gave a keen look at both the _Inglesi_, and
took up the glass affectionately, as though he could not bear to part
with it. Jessica interpreted. Shylock had intended that goblet for his
own private collection, but the frank and generous manner of their
excellencies had overcome him, and he would let them have it for five
hundred florins.

"Five hundred florins! Phew!" whistled Larry, astonished in spite of
his initiation into the mysteries of Italian bargaining. "Well, if you
were to ask me the Shakespearian conundrum, Hath not a Jew eyes? I
shouldn't give it up; I should say he has eyes--for the main chance."

"Five hundred florins," said John Manning. "Very well. I'll take it."

Shylock's astonishment at getting four times what he would have taken
was equalled only by his regret that he had not asked twice as much.

"Can you pack it so that I can take it to New York safely?"

"_Sicuro_, signor," and Shylock agreed to have the precious object
boxed with all possible care and despatch, and delivered at the hotel
that afternoon.

"Servo suo!" said Jessica, as they stood at the door.

"Bon di, Patron!" responded Larry in Venetian fashion; then as the
door closed behind them he said to John Manning, "Seems to me you were
in a hurry! You could have had that glass for half the money."

"Perhaps I could," was Manning's quiet reply, "but I was eager to get
it back at once."

"Get it back? Why, it wasn't stolen from _you_, was it? I never did
suppose _he_ came by it honestly."

"It was not stolen from me personally. But it belonged to my family.
It was made for Giovanni Manin, who fled from Venice to Amsterdam
three hundred odd years ago. His grandson and namesake left Amsterdam
for New Amsterdam half a century later. And when the English c