gy
coat, and allowed the chatelain to detect the object to which he had just
alluded.

"Signore," said the smuggler, changing color but endeavoring to speak
lightly of a discovery which all the others present evidently considered
to be grave, "it would seem that the dog, accustomed to do these little
offices in behalf of his master, has been tempted by success to undertake
a speculation on his own account. By my patron saint and the Virgin! I
know nothing of this second adventure."

"Trifle not, but undo the belt, lest I have the beast muzzled that it may
be performed by others." sternly commanded the chatelain.

The Italian complied, though with an ill grace that was much too apparent
for his own interest. Having loosened the fastenings, he reluctantly gave
the envelope to the Valaisan. The latter cut the cloth, and laid some ten
or fifteen different pieces of jewelry on the table. The spectators
crowded about the spot in curiosity, while the judge eagerly referred to
the written description of the effects of the murdered man.

"A ring of brilliants, with an emerald of price, the setting chased and
heavy," read the Valaisan.

"Thank God, it is not here!" exclaimed the Signor Grimaldi. "One could
wish to find so true a mariner innocent of this bloody deed!"

The chatelain believed he was on the scent of a secret that had begun to
perplex him, and as few are so inherently humane as to prefer the
advantage of another to their own success, he heard both the announcement
and the declaration of the noble Genoese with a frown.

"A cross of turquoise of the length of two inches, with pearls of no great
value intermixed," continued the judge.

Sigismund groaned and turned away from the table.

"Unhappily, here is that which too well answers to the description!"
slowly and with evident reluctance, escaped from the Signor Grimaldi.

"Let it be measured," demanded the prisoner.

The experiment was made, and the agreement was found to be perfect

"Bracelets of rubies, the stones set in foil, and six in number,"
continued the methodical chatelain, whose eye now lighted with the triumph
of victory.

"These are wanting!" cried Melchior de Willading, who, in common with all
whom he had served, took a lively interest in the fate of Maso. "There are
no jewels of this description here!"

"Come to the next, Herr Chatelain," put in Peterchen, leaning to the side
of the law's triumph; "let us have the next, o' God's name!"