“You say that these apartments were broken into?” Volpe queried. “May I see where the entrance was forced?”
Cardinal York coughed nervously.
“I did not mean to be taken literally,” he said as if in bad temper. “There was no sign of anyone actually breaking into these chambers, was there, Glenbuchat?”
The Marchese shook his head.
“No doors nor windows bore signs of forced entry nor even the secret cabinet in which the jewels were kept for safety.”
Volpe frowned.
“I presume that the doors to these apartments are locked when there is no one present?”
“Of course, though there is usually myself or my chamberlain here. If we are not, there is my bodyguard, Colonel O’Sullivan, and my manservant, Iain.”
“These have access to the chamber where the jewels were kept?”
The Cardinal nodded.
“No one else?”
“None that have free access to these rooms.”
“If someone will be so good as to show me where these jewels were kept…?” asked Volpe after a moment’s reflection.
Cardinal York glanced to his chamberlain.
Lord Glenbuchat took Volpe by the arm and led him to another door.
“This is His Majesty’s bedchamber,” he confided. Volpe could not get used to the form of address. He supposed that, to his followers, the Cardinal was totally accepted as the rightful king. Glenbuchat had opened the door and pointed to the key in the lock.
“This key is always in the possession of His Majesty or myself when His Majesty was not in this room. The room was always kept locked because of the presence of the jewels.”
“There is only one key?”
“So I am told by the abbot of this monastery.”
“And where were the jewels kept?”
Lord Glenbuchat led the way into the chamber, which was covered with frescoes from the time of Palladio who had built the church of San Giorgio Maggiore. Most of them were framed either in the ornate cornices of the ceiling or with raised plasterwork on the walls. There were copies of Tintoretto paintings such as the“Gathering of Manna” which had been executed by his students. The room was also sumptuously furnished. Volpe saw that there was one window, a small one that he knew only gave access of view to an inner courtyard, some ten metres below.
The Marchese went to the head of the bed, by the right hand side and leaned forward, pressing a panel, which slid aside and reveal a small iron door. He reached for a key on the table and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a tiny metal safe beyond. Apart from some papers, it was empty.
“This is where the jewels were kept,” he said, standing aside.
Count Volpe glanced quickly at the safe. It would tell him nothing, except that the lock had not been forced.
“Where was the key kept?” he asked.
“So far as we knew, it was with His Majesty the entire time.”
“There being no other key?”
“Again I was assured by the abbot that there was none.”
Volpe moved to the window and noticed the latches were secured. He opened it and peered out. It was only a tiny window, no bigger than to allow one’s head to be put through. Certainly no one could exit nor gain access through this aperture, even if they had a ladder long enough to reach up from the courtyard.
“Who knew of this secret panel and the safe?”
“Apart from His Majesty and myself as chancellor, only Colonel O’Sullivan and the manservant.”
“I presume the previous occupants of this chamber and, of course, the abbot, would know of the safe,” Volpe dryly pointed out.
“But they would not have known of the valuables that had been placed there,” replied Lord Glenbuchat.
Volpe conceded that it was a point.
“Who knew about these jewels? I do not mean their exact location but of their existence?”
“Of the existence of the Stuart Crown Jewels? I would say, countless people. Now and then emissaries from the usurper Hanoverian court came to make offers to His Late Majesty, when I served him.”
“His Late Majesty?” frowned Volpe.
“Charles the Third,” replied Glenbuchat irritably. “And, when his brother succeeded, twice they came with offers. The House of Hanover would like possession of the jewels in order to boost the legitimacy of their claims. But the exact whereabouts was only known to we of the household. Indeed, Colonel O’Sullivan deemed it best, when we fled from Frascati, to put it abroad that the French had taken the jewels when they sacked the villa at Frascati.”
Volpe was thoughtful.
“Are you saying that no one outside the four of you knew that these jewels were here in the monastery?”
“That I am.”
“Then this makes my work either very easy or very hard.”
Lord Glenbuchat turned with a quizzical gaze.
“Let us return to His… His Eminence,” Volpe suggested. “I would like to hear when the jewels were last seen and when and how they were discovered to be missing.”
The elderly Cardinal was still sitting before the fire but now there was a young man in attendance to him, serving a pewter goblet whose contents proved to be with mulled wine. Volpe presumed, with accuracy, that this was the Cardinal’s servant, Iain, and sought confirmation after he had withdrawn from the room.
“Now, Eminence, would you recall for me the last time you saw the jewels secured in your room?”
Cardinal York pursed his lips.
“I think I ascertained their safety late yesterday.”
“It was in the evening, Majesty,” added Glenbuchat quickly. “You will recall the evening Angelus was sounding but you had felt a distemper, deciding to retire early for the night.”
“Ah, so I did, so I did.”
“And why were the jewels inspected?” queried Volpe.
“Some papers had arrived, which I felt that His Majesty should lock away for safekeeping until we were able to deal with them.”
“Papers?”
“A report from our chief agent in London which was not for eyes other than myself and His Majesty,” replied Glenbuchat.
“And did they also disappear?”
“They did not. Only the jewels.”
“So, Eminence, you retired to bed early last night… and then what?”
“My servant Iain had brought me some hot brandy and, having partaken of it, I fell asleep and was not roused until this morning.”
Volpe unconsciously stroked his chin in thought.
“So you were not disturbed during the night?”
“I slept soundly.”
“And, Marchese, you told me it was the custom for His Eminence’s bedchamber to be secured?”
Glenbuchat nodded.
“There have been, from time to time, agents of the Hanoverians who might believe assassination was a solution to the claims of His Majesty to the throne of England. This is the first time in years that we have been in a more public place than in the confines of the villa at Frascati. We have to be vigilant. Indeed, you must know that there are some representatives of the clergy attending this conclave who declare their allegiance to the Hanoverian usurpers. Even the Irish bishops have had their allegiance bought by promises of seminaries and an easing of the Penal Laws against the Catholic population in Ireland.
“The Archbishop of Dublin, for example, Troy, is bending over backwards claiming that only those expressing loyalty to the Hanoverian Kings in London should be promoted as Irish bishops. He has condemned the uprising of the Irish last year and is even preaching legislative union of Ireland with England and Scotland. If such is the position of Irish Catholics, then the Stuart cause is lost forever. Such supporters of Archbishop Troy have the effrontery to come here to Venice to support the election of the new Holy Father.”
It was clear that Lord Glenbuchat was impassioned with his cause.
“So the bedchamber was secured?”
“We ensure that His Majesty secures his bedchamber door from the inside. And when he retires for the night O’Sullivan or Iain take it in turn to stay outside the door.”