The Venetian Venture by Suzette A. Hill Page A

feel a little sick. Perhaps she was right – a walk might do him good. He hesitated, not sure which way to choose … Ah yes, he could go via the Rialto and take the opportunity to check Pacelli’s opening times. Apparently the bookseller kept erratic hours and was in the habit of posting his schedule on the door. It would be annoying to turn up the next day and find the man notthere. He set off slowly – it didn’t do to rush things.
    Gradually the night air and exercise started to take effect and the pangs of nausea subsided. By the time he reached the right spot (having stumbled down two wrong turnings) he was feeling better though still rather muzzy. She was right, he really had had a skinful!
    He made his way up the darkened passage. The shop was in the cul-de-sac at the far end, and as he drew nearer he was surprised to see a dim light from inside. Was the bookseller a night owl? It was nearly two o’clock, quite late for Venice. Perhaps the thing had been left on by mistake. He took a few more steps. And then the light went out, and moments later the shop door banged and the figure of a man came running out, clearly in a hurry. In fact so much in a hurry that he collided with Edward who, still in a fragile state, had to cling to the wall for support. The man said nothing but rushed on oblivious of the staggering form he had left behind.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ Edward exclaimed rubbing his arm. He stared angrily after the figure, the noise of pounding feet echoing in his ears. The collision must have stirred things up for he started to feel unwell again. A wave of nausea swept over him and he was violently sick.
    His head ached, he felt cold and it had started to rain. To hell with the book and Pacelli. All he craved was the benison of bed and a packet of aspirin! He turned and slouched back down the now silent alley.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    It was six o’clock and Felix had just returned from his shopping spree in the Mercerie: three Fortuny silk shirts, a cravat, a pair of braces with embroidered gondolas (vulgar but irresistible!), some monogrammed lawn handkerchiefs for Cedric, a Commedia dell’Arte carnival mask and an enormous treasure trove of handmade chocolates. Eager to dazzle his friend with his purchases he went straight into the salon, where the wares were exhibited, discussed, gloated over and four of the chocolates consumed.
    ‘Well you’ve certainly been busy,’ Cedric remarked, ‘but what you propose doing with that mask I cannot for the life of me imagine – hang it in the spare loo to frighten the clients?’
    Felix pouted and then winked. ‘Actually I thought I could wear it on Walpurgis Night – it might give Sloane Street a stir.’
    Cedric smiled and then said, ‘As a matter of fact while you’ve been buying up half of Venice I’ve had quite aneventful time myself; made a discovery in fact. Odd really.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Felix pouring the drinks, ‘why odd?’
    ‘It’s something I found wedged behind
Alice in Wonderland
on one of your cousin’s shelves. She keeps her books in such disarray and it seemed to have slipped down.’ He took the proffered martini. ‘Somewhat curious.’
    ‘What, like Alice?’
    ‘No. Like Rosy Gilchrist – or rather her researches. You see it appears to be the Horace thing she’s after.’
    ‘
Here
? How odd!’
    ‘Precisely, just as I’ve said. Take a look,
if
you can tear yourself away from those shirts.’ He passed a small leather-bound volume to Felix, its dark cover worn and shabby.
    The latter flipped through the pages and then scrutinising the outside, observed, ‘Well it may be a first edition but it’s hardly pristine. I doubt if the dealers will be impressed.’
    ‘Immaterial. It’s not for the dealers but for that Stanley man at the British Museum. Rosy implied he was mad keen to get it. And so is she – angling for promotion I daresay. She was terribly cut up when the Rialto bookseller tried to fob her off with the wrong one;