She leaned over the top of the counter and whispered to the man, â Mon frère est un imbécile .â
The man studied Sam through his glasses then gave a nod. âEvidently,â he said.
âHey!â Sam said. âI understood that.â
The man ran his finger down a ledger on the desk in front of him. âI have a room available,â he said. âBut it is not cheap.â
Gerald pulled out his black American Express card. âThatâs not a problem,â he said.
The man eyed the card narrowly. âFrom young runaways arriving late at night in helicopters, I accept cash only.â
Gerald returned the stare then peeled off a handful of fifty-euro notes. âI hope this will cover breakfast too,â he said.
The man thumbed through the wad of cash, his eyes lighting up. âFor this monsieur, I will lay the eggs myself.â
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 didnât know which was feeling heavier: his legs or his eyelids.
âWhat about Mr Fry?â Ruby yawned, plopping down on the bed by the window. âShould we have got him a room as well?â
âHeâs big enough to look after himself,â Sam said. He flopped onto another bed.
âDo you think that guy downstairs suspected anything?â Gerald said. He collapsed onto a couch and kicked off his shoes.
âThe way he was eyeing off your cash, the last thing heâs going to do is report you to the police,â Ruby said. âBy breakfast, heâll be your best friend.â
Gerald bit into his croissant and had the uncomfortable feeling that Rubyâs prediction from the night before was coming true. The old man from the hotel reception had topped up Geraldâs hot chocolate twice already and was hovering, ready to oblige, at the merest hint that Gerald needed something.
âI wish heâd go away,â Gerald said to Sam over the table in the crowded dining room. âHeâs creeping me out.â
âHeâs probably hoping for an enormous tip.â
âYeah? Well, hereâs a tip. Donât 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
âThatâd be Ruby,â Sam said. âSheâd wake the dead.â
Ruby snapped shut a guidebook that sheâd picked up from reception on the way through to breakfast. âYou may get a chance to test that theory if you donât be quiet. Now, if you two have finished, maybe we should concentrate on finding the casket and getting the police off Geraldâs back. Okay?â
Gerald and Sam mumbled agreement.
âAccording 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
âSo the casket could be hidden anywhere inside the town or the abbey?â Sam said. âTerrific. Shouldnât take us more than a zillion years to find it.â
âDonât be a clot,â Ruby said. âGerald, what was the name of the third son? The one who smuggled the ruby casket out of Rome?â
âIt was Lucius Antonius, wasnât it? Quintus was the father. Gaius took the diamond casket to England and Marcus took the emerald one to India.â
âAnd when was that?â
âAbout 400AD, Professor McElderry reckoned.â
âWhatâs that got to do with anything?â Sam said.
âWell, 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?â
Sam blinked at his sister. âA bare rock?â
âTop of the class, Poindexter. I bet Lucius hid