The Mask of Destiny by Richard Newsome Page A

She leaned over the top of the counter and whispered to the man, ‘ Mon frère est un imbécile .’
    The man studied Sam through his glasses then gave a nod. ‘Evidently,’ he said.
    â€˜Hey!’ Sam said. ‘I understood that.’
    The man ran his finger down a ledger on the desk in front of him. ‘I have a room available,’ he said. ‘But it is not cheap.’
    Gerald pulled out his black American Express card. ‘That’s not a problem,’ he said.
    The man eyed the card narrowly. ‘From young runaways arriving late at night in helicopters, I accept cash only.’
    Gerald returned the stare then peeled off a handful of fifty-euro notes. ‘I hope this will cover breakfast too,’ he said.
    The man thumbed through the wad of cash, his eyes lighting up. ‘For this monsieur, I will lay the eggs myself.’
    Sam looked like he was about to vomit.
    The man gave them a large brass key and Gerald led the way up the narrow staircase to the fifth floor. By the time he jiggled the key into the lock and stumbled into the tiny room, he didn’t know which was feeling heavier: his legs or his eyelids.
    â€˜What about Mr Fry?’ Ruby yawned, plopping down on the bed by the window. ‘Should we have got him a room as well?’
    â€˜He’s big enough to look after himself,’ Sam said. He flopped onto another bed.
    â€˜Do you think that guy downstairs suspected anything?’ Gerald said. He collapsed onto a couch and kicked off his shoes.
    â€˜The way he was eyeing off your cash, the last thing he’s going to do is report you to the police,’ Ruby said. ‘By breakfast, he’ll be your best friend.’

    Gerald bit into his croissant and had the uncomfortable feeling that Ruby’s prediction from the night before was coming true. The old man from the hotel reception had topped up Gerald’s hot chocolate twice already and was hovering, ready to oblige, at the merest hint that Gerald needed something.
    â€˜I wish he’d go away,’ Gerald said to Sam over the table in the crowded dining room. ‘He’s creeping me out.’
    â€˜He’s probably hoping for an enormous tip.’
    â€˜Yeah? Well, here’s a tip. Don’t overcharge for broom cupboards and call them hotel rooms. And which one of you was snoring? Sounded like someone attacking a tin roof with a chainsaw.’
    â€˜That’d be Ruby,’ Sam said. ‘She’d wake the dead.’
    Ruby snapped shut a guidebook that she’d picked up from reception on the way through to breakfast. ‘You may get a chance to test that theory if you don’t be quiet. Now, if you two have finished, maybe we should concentrate on finding the casket and getting the police off Gerald’s back. Okay?’
    Gerald and Sam mumbled agreement.
    â€˜According to this book, the castle is actually an abbey, an ancient church. It was built over a thousand years ago. The battlements have kept invaders out for centuries.’
    â€˜So the casket could be hidden anywhere inside the town or the abbey?’ Sam said. ‘Terrific. Shouldn’t take us more than a zillion years to find it.’
    â€˜Don’t be a clot,’ Ruby said. ‘Gerald, what was the name of the third son? The one who smuggled the ruby casket out of Rome?’
    â€˜It was Lucius Antonius, wasn’t it? Quintus was the father. Gaius took the diamond casket to England and Marcus took the emerald one to India.’
    â€˜And when was that?’
    â€˜About 400AD, Professor McElderry reckoned.’
    â€˜What’s that got to do with anything?’ Sam said.
    â€˜Well, if this abbey and all its spires and walls only started construction around 1000AD, what was here when Lucius popped by on his little holiday six hundred years earlier?’
    Sam blinked at his sister. ‘A bare rock?’
    â€˜Top of the class, Poindexter. I bet Lucius hid