The knowledge that she might never be able to prove her innocence suddenly hit her with overwhelming force, making her realize the priceless gift of having a good name. What a pity one did not appreciate its worth until one had lost it, she thought bitterly, and knew she had lost more than her name tonight. She had lost Filippo too, for even if he eventually believed in her innocence, she would never be able to forget he had doubted her.

'Filippo!' She cried his name aloud. 'If only you had more faith in me!'

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Erica was so reluctant to go to the shop the next morning that she almost didn't get out of bed. But her unwillingness to stay alone in the apartment was something that she disliked even more, and she forced herself to dress, drank a cup of black coffee and hurried down the street The beauty of the day was lost upon her, so intent was she on her own thoughts. Not that they were any more coherent than they had been the night before: hours of sleeplessness had still not brought her nearer a solution. She was certain Claudia alone had had the opportunity to steal the emerald but she knew she would never be able to prove it.

Casually she inquired of her neighbours on the ground floor if they had seen any visitor call on her, but the shake of their heads only confirmed her belief that Claudia had been too clever to allow herself to be seen. No doubt she had chosen the siesta hour during which to sneak into the building, and more than probably worn something un.o.btrusive in place of her usual elegant clothes. Even if she could find someone who would say they had seen a woman enter her apartment, she still had no way of proving who it had been.

Signora Botelli had already opened the shop when she arrived and was busy refilling the window. Aware of her employer's curious eyes upon her, Erica knew she was expected to recount further news about her engagement. But short of telling the Signora the truth - which she could not bear to do - she had to remain silent.

For the next hour she busied herself around the shop, dusting the counters, polishing parts of the gla.s.s where yesterday's clients had left their fingermarks, and then going into the inner office to sit at the desk and look at her designs. It was only as she did this that she knew she would have to tell Signora Botelli what had happened. If Filippo and the Inspector judged her to be a thief, she could not expect the Signora to let her go on working here.

Before she could change her mind she jumped up and ran into the shop. 'I must talk with you, signora. I have something to tell you.'

'I have been waiting to hear it,' the woman beamed. 'The wedding day has been set, si?'

'No,' Erica corrected. 'It's over. Finished. He thinks I'm a thief... that I stole the emerald.'

In a rush most of the story came out, though she omitted her belief that Claudia was the guilty one.

'The emerald was found in your bedroom?' Signora Botelli gasped. 'But that is impossible! Someone has - how you say it in English - has framed you. You have been made to look guilty.'

'Filippo and the Inspector think I am.'

'Stupido! Not even an inspector of police can be such a fool! He has only to look into your face to see your innocence. I will go and talk to him at once - and the Conte too. They are both mad, mad!'

'You mustn't go and see them.' Agitated, Erica caught the Signora by the arm. 'It won't do any good.'

'It won't do any harm either for them to know I think they are crazy!' She burst into a spate of Italian, using an argot which Erica could not follow and which told her much more of the woman's original peasant background than could be guessed from her present rich and sophisticated position. Only when she had exhausted her temper at the stupidity of men did she lapse into English again.

'Who did it?' she asked abruptly. 'We know you didn't, so that means someone else did.'

Erica was so overwhelmed by the Signora's defence of her that she could have wept. Instead, she hugged the plump shoulders and stammered her thanks.

'Thank me later,' the Signora said brusquely. 'First we must work out how the real emerald was taken.'

'I think I know.'

'Then why haven't you-?'

'Because I can't prove it.' Quickly she recounted her suspicions, explaining not only how she thought the emerald had been subst.i.tuted but also why.

'I think you have hit the hammer on the head,' said the Signora, her usual fluency in error. The only thing that puzzles me is where Signora Medina got such an exact replica made. She must have had it done in Rome or Milan. It would have been too dangerous to have gone to anyone here.'

'It must have been very expensive too,' Erica added. 'She obviously intended switching stones and selling the real one.'

'That means that even before you came on the scene she was not so sure of capturing the Conte as a husband.' Signora Botelli shook her head in amazement. 'She must hate you very much indeed, to have done such a thing. Not just to switch die jewels but to plant the real one in your apartment. She had to make certain you were known to be guilty.'

'A million lire worth of hate,' Erica sighed. 'It's frightening, isn't it?'

'But what if the Conte hadn't given you the brooch to mend? How would she have managed to make the changeover?'

'Perhaps she was hoping he would let her wear it one evening.'

'Of course. I think she may even have had a copy of the whole brooch made. Then she could have subst.i.tuted the entire piece.'

Erica's admiration for the Signora grew. 'I never thought of that.'

'I would have made a better thief than you,' the woman said drily. 'It is the obvious solution. The entire brooch was going to be switched, but when she discovered you were going to re-set the emerald, she changed her plans in order to make you look guilty.'

Erica nodded. Everything was falling into place. But best of all she was pleased to think that Claudia had planned to steal the brooch a long time ago, for it meant Filippo had never indicated a desire to marry her.

'If she had changed one brooch for another the theft might not have been discovered for years,' Signora Botelli said. 'And by then no one could have suspected Claudia Medina.'

'They don't suspect her now,' Erica said bitterly. 'Claudia has convinced herself that once she has discredited me Filippo will turn to her.'

'The Conte will not go on doubting you. When he has had a chance to think clearly he will-'

'You didn't see his face yesterday... the way he wouldn't look at me.'

'You are misjudging him.'

'Am I?' Erica whispered, and glancing over the Signora's shoulder saw a tall dark-haired man and a pet.i.te, curvaceous woman beside him. 'I don't think so,' she added, and stepped behind the counter as Filippo ushered Claudia into the shop.

Had her misery not been so strong, Erica could almost have laughed at die look of astonishment on Signora Botelli's face. The small mouth opened in surprise and the double chins trembled, making the woman look like an agitated hen.

'C-Conte Rosetti,' she stammered. 'Wh-what can I do for you?'

'We have come to look at the designs Erica has prepared for Signora Medina.'

Signora Botelli's astonishment increased and she flung Erica a look as though warning her to say nothing. But had her life depended on it, Erica could not have spoken, for Filippo's effrontery in coming here with Claudia had rendered her speechless. He was now asking to see her jewellery designs even though he believed she had stolen his emerald. Worse still, less than seventy-two hours ago he had professed undying love for her, but now he had his arm resting delicately on Claudia's, his eyes looking at her with warmth. Fury engulfed her and it took all her will power not to lash out at him, either physically or verbally.

'I am surprised you wish to utilize my services,' she said coolly. 'You surely don't expect me to forget what happened last night?'

'I am the one who should have the most difficulty in forgetting,' Filippo retorted, and kept his voice low, as if unwilling for Signora Botelli to hear.

'You needn't whisper,' Erica said loudly. 'I have told Signora Botelli about the stolen emerald and she believes I'm innocent.'

Claudia Medina laughed, the first sound she had uttered since she had come into the shop.

Erica fixed her with a cold stare. "You find that difficult to believe?'

'Not difficult, Miss Rayburn. Impossible.'

Erica's control began to slip and blindly she turned towards the office. 'Please let Signora Botelli serve you,' she said raggedly.

'We want to see your designs.' Filippo's voice caught her back. 'Please show them to us.'

'No!' she cried. 'I can't work for you or Signora Medina. You can't expect me to.'

'Please get the designs,' he repeated, and blindly she plunged into the office and bent to the drawer.

She rummaged in the bottom one and then returned to the shop with the drawings in her hand. 'I have no intention of making them,' her voice was so soft that she could hardly hear it herself, but she knew Filippo had heard, for the look he flung her was unexpectedly compa.s.sionate. Her heart began to pound and she closed her eyes and looked away.

'Please give the drawings to Signora Medina,' he said quietly. 'If she likes them as much today as she did yesterday, then-'

'I won't make them up,' Erica repeated. 'I'm leaving Venice anyway. Unless you are going to have me arrested?'

'Filippo doesn't want the publicity.'

Claudia spoke before he could do so, and Erica was surprised he should allow any woman to answer for him. Yet perhaps he had finally decided that Claudia wasn't any woman, but the special one. It was incredible to think he could change his allegiance so quickly, and she prayed they would leave the shop before her control gave way and she shamed herself by bursting into tears.

'I don't think I like the designs after all,' Claudia said.

'Not even the bracelet?' Filippo pointed to the sketch.

'Look at it again, Claudia. Pick it up and take it to the light.'

With a shrug Claudia did so, stiffening perceptibly as she saw the dapper figure of the inspector of police standing in the arcade. At once Filippo went to the door and opened it. 'Just in time, Vittorio,' he called.

The Inspector nodded, entered the shop and took the sketch from Claudia. He held one corner of it only, then carefully took a plastic bag from his jacket pocket, blew into it and dropped the sketch inside.

'What are you doing?' Claudia asked.

'I do not wish to obliterate your fingerprints, signora.'

'My what?'

'Your fingerprints. We wish to compare them with the one we found on the emerald.'

Claudia looked at the Inspector as though he were mad. 'Do you know what you are saying?' she demanded.

'Indeed I do. I am saying it would be in your best interests to make no comment on my actions for fear of implicating yourself further.'

Claudia swung round to Filippo. 'What's all this about? Do you know what this - this policeman is doing?'

'Yes, I do. He is following my suggestion.'

Only then did Claudia show genuine horror and, seeing the look on her face, Filippo's own grew unexpectedly sad.

'You are a foolish woman, Claudia. Not just wicked but foolish. Did you honestly think you could make me believe Erica was a thief?'

'There is no question of thinking it,' Claudia said haughtily. 'You had the proof given to you last night when you found the emerald in her apartment. You told me so yourself, or was that a lie?'

'You know it wasn't a lie, Claudia, because you put it there!'

Claudia flung back her head and laughed. 'Have you taken leave of your senses, Filippo? Why should I wish to do a thing like that?'

'You do not need me to give you your reasons.'

She went on smiling. 'I suppose the next thing you are going to say is that you found my fingerprints on the jewel box?'

'We didn't,' he replied, 'because you wore gloves. But you didn't wear gloves when you subst.i.tuted the false emerald for the real one when you came to the shop.'

Claudia's eyes were two liquid pools of reproach. 'If I didn't know you better, Filippo, I would be angry with you. As it is, I am sad because you have obviously allowed your infatuation for this English girl to blind you to the truth.'

'My love for Erica,' he stressed the word 'love', 'has shown me the truth. I know she cannot be guilty, and since you were the only other person who had the opportunity of stealing the emerald-'

'What about Signora Botelli?' Claudia interrupted angrily. 'Do you love her so much that you a.s.sume her innocent too?'

'Her fingerprints weren't found on the emerald. But yours were.'

'What's so surprising about that?' Claudia demanded. 'I picked up the brooch when you showed it to me at the Palazzo weeks ago. Why shouldn't my fingerprints be on it?'

'Because when I gave Erica the brooch to repair I wiped it carefully with my handkerchief.' He glanced at Vittorio. 'All the jewellery was photographed for insurance purposes and in order to lessen the glare from the platinum and gold it was brushed with powder. The pieces were cleaned again after the photographs were taken, but the emerald brooch still had the traces of powder on it. I noticed it when I was giving it to Erica and so I wiped it again.'

'You dusted it,' Claudia said imperiously. 'That would not have obliterated my finger marks.'

'I did more than dust it,' he stated. 'I polished it'

'I appreciate that you are trying to prove Miss Rayburn innocent.' Claudia was angry and made no attempt to hide it 'But I refuse to let you put the blame on me.'

'It will be easy to verify if your fingerprints were put on to the emerald before the Conte wiped it clean,' the Inspector said suddenly.

'I tell you he did not wipe it clean!' Claudia almost spat out the words. 'If he did, my fingerprints would not be on it at all.'

'Fingerprints fade with time,' the Inspector a.s.sured her, 'and if yours were done when you say they were, then our a.n.a.lysis will show it.'

'What do you mean?'

The mark of your forefinger and thumb are on the emerald. The Conte maintains they were put there yesterday when you possessed yourself of the stone. However, you maintain that your fingerprints were put on it some weeks ago. Our own spectrum a.n.a.lysis will show us who is speaking the truth.'

'Your what a.n.a.lysis?' Claudia demanded.

'Spectrum,' said the Inspector. 'It is a method by which the date of a fingerprint can be given almost to the hour.'

'So you have nothing to worry about, Claudia,' Filippo said quietly. 'If I have misjudged you I will repay you handsomely for having doubted you.'

'And if you have not misjudged the Signora, then you will keep your promise to us, Conte, and press charges?'