The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by Alexander McCall Smith

Igelfeld’s defence. ‘It’s none of your business,’ he said abruptly. ‘What is in this bag is between our colleague here and ourselves. It does not concern you in the slightest.’
    ‘You brought the subject up,’ said the waiter. ‘If this tall gentleman gets himself arrested, then don’t say that I didn’t try to help.’
    ‘Well we don’t want your help,’ said Prinzel.
    ‘Then in that case who’s going to bring you your lunch?’ shouted the waiter.
    ‘Clearly not you,’ said Prinzel. ‘And there are plenty of other restaurants.’
    ‘Not around here,’ said the waiter. ‘You’re going to go hungry.’
    ‘Oh really,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘This is all a fuss about nothing.’
    ‘Then why won’t you tell us what’s in your bag?’ crowed the waiter. ‘Put an end to the dispute.’
    There was a silence. All eyes were turned to von Igelfeld, who looked fixedly ahead.
    ‘I suggest we leave,’ said Ophelia, after a moment. ‘Our lunch is spoiled.’
    They rose to their feet and returned to the car. Not a word was said for at least ten minutes as they continued their journey south. Then Ophelia turned to face von Igelfeld in the back seat.
    ‘Did you remember your bag?’ she enquired.
    Von Igelfeld sat bolt upright.
    ‘Stop!’ he cried. ‘Please turn round immediately.’
    The waiter was expecting them.
    ‘Hah!’ he said. ‘Did we forget something? Did we forget a little black bag?’
    ‘Please give it to me this very moment,’ said von Igelfeld.
    The waiter turned to retrieve the bag from behind the reception desk. Smirking, he handed it over to von Igelfeld.
    ‘So it’s bones,’ he said. ‘What a fuss over a few old bones.’
    ‘You looked!’ said von Igelfeld. ‘You looked in my bag!’
    ‘Well,’ said the waiter calmly. ‘It was my patriotic duty. If you had been carrying contraband, I should have had to report you to the Carabinieri. I had to satisfy myself that you were not carrying something illegal.’
    ‘You are an extremely insolent man,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘I am very surprised that anybody comes to this appalling restaurant.’
    ‘Very few do,’ said the waiter.
    Von Igelfeld stormed out, followed by Prinzel, who had come in to help retrieve the bag.
    ‘Bones,’ mused Prinzel, as they made their way to the car. ‘Very strange, Herr von Igelfeld. Bones.’
    Von Igelfeld sighed. He had no alternative now but to let the Prinzels in on the secret. It was a relief, in a way, as the responsibility for the relics had begun to weigh on him, and he was appalled by his own carelessness in leaving the bag in the restaurant. How could he have faced the Patriarch with the information that he had abandoned his precious charge in a restaurant, where the box was at the mercy of a prying, self-opinionated waiter? Perhaps once the Prinzels knew what was in the bag they would help him guard the reliquary.
    The Prinzels listened carefully.
    ‘What an extraordinary story!’ said Prinzel, once von Igelfeld had finished his account. ‘We shall have to be very careful.’
    Ophelia shuddered. ‘I feel quite concerned,’ she said. ‘I can just imagine those schismatics! Moritz-Maria, you are a very brave man!’
    Von Igelfeld nodded, acknowledging the compliment.
    ‘We must be vigilant,’ he said. ‘
Rome has ten thousand eyes
.’
    The Prinzels said nothing. They were busy digesting this last comment, which made the innocent Italian landscape, normally so benign in its aspect, seem so strangely threatening. Ahead lay Rome, with its great weight of history and intrigue. What had been intended to be an entirely ordinary month of quiet work in the cool depths of the Vatican Library now threatened to be a month of furtive watchfulness. Von Igelfeld was not sure if he relished the prospect, but he had undertaken to perform a duty on behalf of the Coptic Church and he would carry it out to the letter. The bones would be guarded carefully, and it was only when the Patriarch