Chapter Eighteen: Sinners & Saints

Antonio was struggling to keep up with Rudolpho's long-legged strides as they wound their way down a narrow back alley in Prague. 'Can't you slow down?!' He puffed, mopping his brow with an already soaked handkerchief. 'Hmph!' Rudolpho shot him an angry look, and started to walk ahead even faster. 'I am not understanding what we are doing here!' He shouted over his shoulder. 'Why we not helping Francesca? And why,' he snorted into his moustaches. 'Why you think we need the help of that French woman?! Antonio winced a little at this, as he knew very well why he ... why they needed her help. He stopped and watched Rudolpho march ahead and turn the next corner.

Maybe I should let him cool down a little, he thought. Antonio placed a hand into the small of his back, stretched, and looked up beyond the terra-cotta rooftops into the night sky. The were no stars this evening, just blackness. He wiped his brow again, he could tell from the sweet perfume of the nearby forest that they were due for a summer shower. He shuffled up to a door painted over in uneven coats of shiny red paint, and sat down, heavily, on a step worn smooth by too many generations of Bohemian feet. He took off his spectacles, and started to polish them on his shirt cuff. This war against Napoleon feels like it has been going on forever, he thought. Forever and a day.

He had spent the whole afternoon reading, and re-reading the notes Jan Šindel had made for Mikuláš of Kadaň, and almost wished he could have sat them both down in a nice taverna and picked their brains about the Prague astronomical clock's design ... 'And,' he muttered at the toes of his boots. 'Though I am loathe to admit it, I wouldn't really mind if brother Leo were here to help out, as it is his Looking Glass Theory that makes the whole mess tick!' He smiled at this, and then jumped, startled, as violet whorls of smoke suddenly curled in front of his nose.

'Bonsoir, mademoiselle,' he said through a sneeze. Squinting up, he could just make out the blurry shape of Saint Geneviève standing over him.

Saint Geneviève looked down at him, silently exhaling another cloud over his head. 'Here.' She said, producing two glasses from behind her back. 'Have a drink.' Antonio raised his eyebrows, and sniffed at the golden contents of the glass. 'Beer from Pilsen!' He exclaimed, shaking his head happily. 'I really should stop being surprised around you, you know.' He smiled at her, knocking his glass against hers, 'cin-cin.' He took a long sip and smacked his slips. 'Mmmm.' Geneviève couldn't help but laugh at the round Italian. 'Ah, dear Antonio, you have a little 'baffo' here, she gestured at the foamy moustache resting on his lip. 'You look a little like a very old, and jolly Rudolpho.' She said with a giggle. The Saint took another sip, and looked up and down the street. 'And where is your little brother?' 'Hmm?' Said Antonio. 'This is really very good,' he said, 'exceptionally good! ... Ah.' He shifted his bottom on the step. 'Rudi went off that way.' He motioned across the cobbles with a pudgy thumb, and then looked back up at Saint Geneviève.

'You know, I believe you hurt his feelings a little today.'

Geneviève raised an eyebrow over her own glass, while she swallowed. 'Really? But Antonio, my dear, your brother is grown man, a -' She mimicked holding a sword out in front of her. 'Ow do you say? He is a warrior, non?' Antonio sighed again. 'Yes, yes, but be that as it may Geneviève, you can't just go around challenging a man to an arm wrestle willy-nilly!' He tried to look serious, 'Never mind beating him six times in a row.' He took another sip of his beer. 'It is ...' He paused, sloshing the beer round in its glass ... 'Impolite.' He looked up at her, but the sparkle in her eyes was too much for him, and they both started to laugh out-loud with glee.

'Six times ... in a row!' He chortled. 'Oh my!'

***

Rudolpho, suddenly surprised at finding himself alone, slowed down and gave an angry kick at a loose stone among the uneven cobbles in the alley. The unfortunate stone flew off into the blackness, and cracked against a wall half hidden behind piles of rubbish, disturbing a small cat, or very large rat, that jumped at the noise, and ran off in the opposite direction. Blinking into the darkness, Rudolpho frowned at the backs of the Baroque buildings around him. They reminded him too much of Italia, and oh, how he would love to be back in Roma right now, where men were men, and women didn't arm wrestle!

A fresh breeze found its way between the buildings, and tickled at his nose. He twitched his moustaches, inhaling the sweet smell, the smell of a nearby garden, and started off in the direction it came from.

'This city, with its little streets, and big walls needs a nice osteria where I can find a good Italian food!' He said to himself, turning into an even smaller alley, and then sliding between two cracked, brick buildings, as the smell of citrus and roses led him forward.

Rudolpho may have been the best fighter in the entire Empire, but he still loved to stroll through a nice, fragrant garden from time to time. He finally ended up at a crossroad, two alleys, and their too steep walls bisecting one another, like great, crumbling daggers.

He looked up. The garden was behind a rough, red stone wall. He walked beside it, his long fingers trailing over the uneven rocks, and he thought, searching for a way up over the wall. Rudolpho started whistling to himself, stopping beneath a slender branch that was weighed down with bright, green pears. That, he thought, that will do. He took a few steps back, and then hopped up, stretching his arms out toward the branch, as if he were about to embrace a long, lost love, and ...

He missed.

He grunted in pain, his arm hit a sharp outcrop in the wall as he slipped backward. A dozen pears silently rained down around him, rolling, and bouncing along the cobbles beside his black boots. Rubbing his elbow, he got up, and warily circled the branch, this time determining the optimum jumping up spot.

Decided, he hopped up again, and this time grabbed a handful of sticky branches, leaves ... and a pear. He swung his legs up against the wall, dug his boots into the brick, and suddenly found he was sitting atop the narrow wall. The perfume of fruit and flowers nearly overpowered him up here. 'This is nice,' he smiled. 'Veramente, truly beautiful.' He straddled the wall, trying to get comfortable, and then pulled his knee up, so that he could rest his chin atop it. He looked around, and decided that it was a more secure spot to enjoy the view over the garden, than sitting in the pear tree itself, and then he lay back along the edge of the wall with a contented sigh, and closed his eyes.

'I suppose ...' Rudolpho's eyes snapped open at the voice. It was Antonio's disapproving voice. 'I suppose,' Antonio continued. 'That walking the extra three metres to the gate was too much trouble for you?'

Rudolpho rotated his head, and squinted down at his brother. Saint Geneviève stood next to him, an amused expression on her face, and what looked like a glass of beer in her hand. She held it up to him. 'Peace?' She said. Rudolpho turned his face back toward the sky, and crossed him arms. 'I am not takin' the gifts from you!' She exchanged a worried look with Antonio, who rolled his eyes, and shrugged. 'Per favore?' She said, pouting a little. Rudolpho snorted through his moustaches.

'Not even in Italiano, I am taking your gifts!'

'Well, that is just rude ... Rudi,' said Antonio, taking the glass from Saint Geneviève, and slurping at it loudly. 'Because, my dear brother, it really is very tasty.' Rudolpho somehow managed to turn only a single eye downward at the glass. It did look good. Antonio took another slurp.

'Mmmm'

'O-kay! Basta!' Rudolpho sat up again, and leant forward, grabbing hold of a branch, and then dangled upside-down so that he could take hold of the edge of the glass from his brother's outstretched hand, he got it! He held it up above his head with a grin. 'For Prague!' He loudly proclaimed, and then, 'cin-cin!'

He slurped the beer even more noisily than his brother had. 'Rudi?' Antonio said a little testily, 'aren't you forgetting something?' 'Mm?' He responded, licking foam from his lips and fingertips. 'Ah, si.' He looked sheepishly at Saint Geneviève. 'I am forgiving you ... peace?'

She smiled back up at him then, and discreetly nudged Antonio with her elbow. 'Peace, bon! Now how about you toss me a pear?' 'Eh?' Responded Rudolpho. 'Toss?' 'She means throw her a pear Rudi, drop us some fruit.' 'Ah, o-kay,' he said, plucking a pear, and dropping it down to her outstretched hand. 'So what we going to do Antonio?' He asked, while noisily gulping another mouthful of beer. 'I think, if you are agreeable, brother, we are going to visit the Stary kralovsky palac.'

Rudolpho stared ... 'Eh?'

'The old Royal palace,' continued Antonio. 'Oh,' nodded Rudolpho importantly. 'The old Royal palace, and where that is?' Antonio pointed at the wall next him, the wall Rudolpho was seated upon. 'Beside you Rudi!' Rudolpho turned his head sideways, and looking out over the garden, he could just make out the pink, five-story chateau between the distant branches of an over-large apple tree. Evenly spaced torches along the front of the palace flickered in the summer breeze, throwing uneven golden shadows up against its large, rectangular windows.

'And why?' Asked Rudolpho again. 'Why we want to go to the old Royal palace?' Antonio hesitated a moment, but as he opened his mouth to answer, Geneviève held up a small hand, and shushed him. 'How does stealing a little bit of Royal treasure sound to you?' Antonio winced, he knew his brother, and recognised Rudolpho's frown. Rudolpho gave her a very concentrated look. 'Stealing,' he said. 'Is a thieve's work Mademoiselle, not a soldiers. I think, perhaps, you are confusing me with the young Gaspard!' And with that, Rudolpho downed the rest of the beer, tossed the empty glass to his brother, and hopped over the other side of the wall.

'Oh bother,' said Antonio, taking Geneviève by the arm before she could produce another one of her cheroots from thin air, and led her to the garden gate. 'How about I explain it to him next time, hmm?' Geneviève opened and closed her pretty mouth, for once she was quite speechless.

***

They passed through Vladislav Hall, marveling at the intertwining ribbon vaults that crisscrossed the ceiling high above them. Saint Geneviève, with a green Baedeker's guide in her hand, excitedly whispered facts about the room as they tiptoed along the wall. 'It says,' she breathed excitedly. 'That these represent le absolute top of the late Gothic style of architecture!' She stopped, staring upward. 'Look Antonio, the ceiling looks like it is covered in enormous flowers, non?' Antonio smiled at her, she was thoroughly enjoying this trip away from Paris.

Rudolpho, now committed to their endeavour, when told he was to be their personal guard, scouted ahead, making sure there were no soldiers behind any of the immense, open window shutters. 'And,' continued Geneviève, turning over another page of the guide book. 'It was the largest secular space in medieval Prague.' She ran a pink, lacquered nail down a paragraph, her lips moving as she silently read to herself. 'Also,' she chirped again, brushing aside her blonde fringe, and looking back up at Antonio. 'It was built between 1492 and 1502 ...' Antonio nodded distractedly, trying to keep his eyes and ears focused on the mission at hand. 'Does your Baedeker say anything about why dear brother Leo had to hide his key to the clock chamber inside the old Royal palace?!'

Geneviève snapped the book shut, and clucked her tongue at him. 'Monsieur Antonio, I would be ever so grateful if you did not bark at me like a ... a poodle.' She turned from him, and stormed away, a fresh, violet cloud of tobacco smoke suddenly trailing up behind her. Antonio stopped, blinking in surprise. 'I did not bark,' he muttered to himself, and then a little louder. 'I did not bark, Geneviève!' Rudolpho turned around and gave him a stern 'be quiet' look from the end of the hall. 'Antonio!' He hissed. 'If I can hear you, the palace soldiers can hear you too ...' and then he sheepishly stopped himself when he heard his own voice echoing around the great hall.

Saint Geneviève caught up to Rudolpho, and stopped by the last window at the of the chamber. The shadows of the trees in the garden reflected over her delicate features in the uneven glass. She studied herself for a moment before turning back toward Rudolpho with a smile. 'I am not so old looking, am I Rudi?' Rudolpho quickly turned the shade of an elegant rosé wine, and casually swished his sword back and forth, nearly toppling a vase of purple Forget Me Nots, and then succeeding in beheading them instead. Antonio walked up amidst the beheaded blossoms, surveying the destruction.

'Bravo, Rudi,' he said with a smirk. 'Those flowers won't be troubling you anymore, now will they? The three of them all shared a look and then started to laugh uncontrollably. 'Basta, basta,' said Rudolpho waving a large hand in front of their faces. 'We have to be quiet, shhh!'

'Hehehee,' Antonio daubed his eyes with his handkerchief, and then almost had a heart attack when Principessa Pesca suddenly appeared, as from nowhere, right atop his shoulder. 'Che?! Aaack!!!' 'HAHA ...' Rudolpho fell to the floor, almost peeing himself with laughter. 'Y-y-your face, when the little c-c-cat, hoo, hoo, heee!' Geneviève shook her head at Antonio, and quietly plucked the poor, little orange cat from Antonio's shoulder, and cradled her in her arms.

'Ciao piccolina,' she whispered. 'Have you found us the key?' Geneviève looked into the cat's large, yellow eyes, nodded at her once, and kissed the cat on her orange head. 'She says she has found us the key!' Antonio stood up, busily brushing the dust off his trousers, while glaring at Rudolpho at the same time. 'Wonderful,' he said. 'Ask her if she would be so kind as to lead the way, will you?'

Principessa Pesca stood up, leisurely stretching herself on Saint Geneviève's arm, and, with a frosty glare at Antonio, hopped to the ground, and lightly ran back across the floor of the great hall and into a large, ebony wardrobe at the opposite end of the room.

'Well?' Said Geneviève, to the two, stunned brothers. 'Follow the Principessa!'

***

Antonio grunted, and pushed Rudolpho's bottom out of his face. 'I am,' he huffed. 'Constantly amazed that Leo is able to find places such as these at all! I mean, think about it. Here we are in Bohemia ... ouch!' 'Rudolpho bent his head round. 'Mi dispiace Antonio, but ...' He lowered his voice to a whisper. 'Santa Geneviève,' he pointed ahead of him with his nose. 'Is not going so fastly.' Antonio bit back a comment about women, and pushed a heavy, winter coat to one-side. 'So, I ask you,' He continued. 'How does he find a wardrobe with a false back, in a palace in Prague?!' Antonio didn't like confined places like these very much at all. He was never one to play in a cupboard when he was younger, and he liked being in a wardrobe even less now that he was ... older. He frowned at the thought.

The inside of the wardrobe opened into a narrow corridor of rough, damp stone. Antonio, the last to step through, stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. It would have been completely black, if not for slits cut high up in the grey wall, that allowed light from the torches in the garden to filter the dull, yellow light in. 'A great place for bats,' he said to nobody in particular. 'Rats too ...' offered Rudolpho, who was already squeezing past a startled Saint Geneviève, to see where the corridor led.

'Stop!' Said Geneviève, a little shrilly, for she wasn't the biggest fan of bats ... or rats for that matter. 'We must see where the Principessa is.' They all stopped, and concentrated, staring hard into the gloom to make-out the shape of the tiny, orange and white cat.

'I see her,' offered Rudolpho after a minute's silence. 'She is four metres ahead, you can see her too?' Antonio and Geneviève, both squinted past him, and nodded, but he was already on his way, his sword noisily scraping against the damp stone wall. 'It really is a wonder no one in this castle has heard us,' murmured Antonio into the darkness. He kept in stride, behind Geneviève, her heavy perfume all but canceling out the pervading smell of mould.

Principessa Pesca suddenly stopped halfway down the passage, and sat down upon her orange bottom. She glanced back at them, decided there was sufficient time for a quick sharpening of her front claws, and a re-fluffing of her tail, and quickly set to work at both. 'And so?' Said Geneviève, as she caught up to the little cat. 'Why 'ave we stopped here?'

Antonio had a clever retort at the ready, but Rudolpho spoke up first. 'There is a door here,' he said quietly, his nose up against the stone. 'I can feel the ... outline, but ...' He went silent for a moment. 'There is no, come se dice? Handle.'

Antonio frowned. 'May I?' He tapped Geneviève on the shoulder, and then sucked in his belly, so that he could squeeze by her. 'Seriously,' he whispered to Rudolphooo. 'How did Leo fit in here?' He ran his fingers over the stone wall, tapping at it with his knuckles. 'Have you got your dagger on you?' He asked Rudolpho, who pulled out a half-dozen daggers of various shapes, and sizes from all over his person. 'Ehm, grazie,' he smiled, selecting a round-tipped Pattisa from India. 'Where did you get this?' He asked, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Rudolpho thought a moment. 'You know? I believe that one is Gaspard's, he dropped it in the Louvre in Paris.' 'Well, we'll have to thank him later,' smiled Antonio. As it is just what we need.' He nudged his brother with his elbow. 'See that?' He said, pointing. He had found a small hole in the wall.

Antonio inserted the dagger into the hole, until there was a soft 'click' and a narrow ray of light outlining a door suddenly shone all over them. 'Voila!' He said, turning toward Geneviève. 'Normally I would say "ladies first" but here I think we will allow Rudolpho to ...' But before he could finish, Principessa Pesca stepped her way over Antonio's feet, placed her tiny orange and white paws against the door, pushed, and, with a satisfied 'mew' happily cantered in. Saint Geneviève, grinning at Antonio, laughed, and placed another cheroot between her lips. 'La Principessa is still a lady, after all, and she is the first, non?' She laughed, following the little cat through the door.

***

'Huh.' Was what came out of both Antonio's and Rudolpho's nonplussed mouths at the same time when they saw the room. Geneviève, however, wasn't perplexed, nor shocked, or even surprised. She had no reason to be, not having paid much attention to Leo's study at 25 Rue de la Fontaine, but this room could have been a perfect copy of his work space!

There was the capacious, and crooked cabinet, all but overflowing with cracked leather-bound volumes of all shapes and sizes. There was the same large oak desk, sagging in the middle from over-use. A familiar heavy stone mantle clung above a well-used, and blackened fireplace that you could almost walk into ... and ... Antonio almost squeeled with joy! Why, there is even the big, brass pot for making coffee! He lifted another container from the mantle and stuck his nose into it. He looked up at Rudolpho, and he was grinning from ear to ear. 'And there is coffee too!'

After a round of "real Italian café" had been distributed (none of that horrid, bitter French stuff) the siblings happily surveyed their suroundings once more. 'Huh.' Both brothers repeated again. 'I guess ...' Said Antonio, scratching at his shining scalp. 'This is where he gets his work done when he isn't at home, why ... look!' He hopped up and walked over to the desk, and picked up an iron ring, with a small, gold Breguet pocket-watch dangling from it. 'Here's the key we need, and ...' He put it into his pocket, and picked up some papers on the desk and flipped through them. 'Look!' He said again, a curious expression on his face. He held up a piece of parchment with a series of colourful sketches all over it. 'This here is a diagram of all our attempts at the excelo-chronometre.' He put down the parchment, shaking his head in disbelief, and flipped through a large, brown, leather diary. 'Well, this is certainly the place to find the answers to our questions about the Prague astronomical clock, eh?'

Rudolpho walked around the room absently sipping at his café lungo, while Saint Geneviève settled herself into a low, but really, rather comfortable méridienne, and busied herself with grooming Principessa Pesca.

Antonio, smiled at her and Principessa Pesca. He finally had to admit it. 'That is some cat,' he said grudgingly, taking the pocket-watch out again. He studied it, letting it swing back and forth between his fingers, the tiny gold numbers reflecting off his spectacles, before, with a sigh, he sat down at the large oak desk, and began to read all he found there.

***

Have you ever seen the Prague astronomical clock? You'd be surprised to discover it isn't the average, everyday clock that you find around your town. This clock is set into an unremarkable, and yet, obviously ancient, and grey, squat tower at the end of the town hall. It stands resolute, with the weary air of a man with too much on his mind, but never so much that it forgets its duty to watch over Prague's spacious town square.

The biggest surprise, however, even unto the clock itself, is the fantastic spectacle that the clock provides. The clock, as I have said previously, was built into the tower in 1410, and is the only astronomical clock still functioning. This is why I was there, and why Antonio and Rudolpho are here now, but all the clock cared about at that moment was the audience that had gathered beneath its nose to see the show!

The clock is divided into two parts, upper and lower. The top half has a parade - a parade! Imagine?! Twelve Saints appear from within it, every hour on the hour, dazzling all, with their timely shenanigans. Amazing ... but for us, the most important of the twelve parading Saints is the Saint Peter. He is the patron saint to clockmakers and locksmiths (useful to those of us that want to pick a lock now and then.)

***

The clock tower faces south, which makes it perfect for warming its face on sunny, late summer mornings. 'Our plan of battle,' said Antonio, as he busied himself lathering a perfectly crumbly brioche with strawberry preserves. 'Is to walk in there -' He pointed with a strawberry-covered finger at the tower, golden in the morning light. 'Like we have lived there all our lives.' He looked at his brother and Geneviève. 'And then find our way to the clock chamber, which ...' He took another bite of the deliciously, still warm and buttery brioche.'Mm, that's good.' He continued. 'Which is where we'll be needing this little gem of a key.' He said, patting the small pocketwatch in his jacket with a crumb-covered hand.

The three of them were breakfasting at a café along the west side of the town square. 'Allora,' said Rudolpho, pouring himself another cappucino from a dented, silver coffee pot. 'I no unnerstand bene, how this clock can stop Napoleon?' Saint Geneviève, who was still nibbling at a pain au chocolat, patted him on the hand, and, picking up her napkin, and wiped her slightly stained lips.

'Le clock,' she began. 'Is remarkable because it is, if your brother Leo is correct?' She looked at Antonio, who shrugged while munching another mouthful of brioche, 'It can, so to speak, close the door on Napoleon's army.' Rudolpho's eyes began to glaze over the way they always did when the conversation turned ethereal. 'Look,' she said, spooning some sugar onto the table, and making a little circle in it with her finger (much to the annoyance of their waiter) 'Everything outside the circle is us, ok?' She waved her pain au chocolat over her head. 'Everything inside the circle is ...' Antonio stopped her, tapping his finger inside the circle of sugar. 'Inside,' he whispered to his brother. 'Is where we kept our secrets, where we kept Marie Antoinette safe, and where we built up our resistance to Napoleon ...'

'But,' said Saint Geneviève. 'Now Napoleon has somehow discovered how to enter the inside of the circle, and he knows Marie Antoinette is still alive ...'

'And,' Antonio interrupted. 'He is not happy. Because if we can bring Marie Antoinette to Paris, there will be a true royal to claim the throne!' Antonio looked at his sibling, to see if this was sinking in. He frowned, taking a sip of his coffee, he didn't think it was sinking in. 'Listen,' he tried again, sounding impatient. 'If we can turn off the clock, we can stop Napoleon from being inside the circle.' He tore off a piece of brioche and popped it in his mouth. 'And then,' he said chewing, his delight at the fresh brioche side-tracking his explanation. 'Oh, that really is good ...' Geneviève shook her head, and turned to Rudolpho. 'And then, he won't be able to stop Marie Antoinette from arriving in Paris. You see?'

Rudolpho blinked, and stared at them a moment. He leant back in his chair, and tugged at his moustaches. 'So ...' He began. 'So ...' He regarded the sugar on the table carefully. 'So ...' He looked at Antonio, and Geneviève, and then back at Antonio again. 'The sugar is why it always snow in the other place?'

Antonio stared at him long, and hard, in disgust. 'How is it possible?' He glared. 'How is it possible we have the same parents?! Are you really my brother?' Rudolpho tipped his chair back against the café wall, smiling. 'Certo I am. Bravo, eh?!' Antonio snorted, ripping his last brioche in half, and dipping it in the last of the preserves. 'Listen.' He sprayed crumbs over the table as he spoke. 'The clock portrays the earth as being at the centre of the universe, all right?' Rudolpho, knowing too well that his brother was in a mood, bit back a witticism, and nodded a serious nod.

'Good.' Continued Antonio. 'This clock was created to show the presumed rotation of the sun and the moon around the earth, but in reality it has a secret, and that secret will allow us to get to the other side, ok?

Rudolpho suddenly let his chair fall forward as something clicked. A sparkle of comprehension appeared in his eyes as it dawned on him.

'If we go to the other place, we can help Francesca too, no?'

Antonio leant against the back of his chair, and tried tipping it against the wall, but finding he was too heavy (and that Geneviève was beginning to giggle at his exertions) he settled forward on his elbows instead, steepling his fingers in what he thought might be an intelligent-looking manner. 'Yes, Rudi, I believe we can, so long as we can find her, and that devil of a doppelgänger, and ...' He bent over to one side, and started rummaging in a small, worn, leather bag that was sitting on the ground at his side. 'Ah,' he said pulling out the diary he had found in the old Royal palace. 'According to Leo, we must ...' He paused, quickly flipping through the first, few pages. 'We must be in the tower, and in the other place before ten in the morning ... otherwise it won't work.' He frowned at the diary, and turned over another page. 'It's not clear why, however ... but, in any case ...' He tugged the iron ring with the small, gold Breguet pocket-watch out of his pocket, and placed it face up on the table. 'Now we have this key, eh?'

Rudolpho noisily shifted his chair closer to Antonio's and whispered into his ear. 'But, if we go to other place, Saint Geneviève must stay here to turn off clock, no?'

'Yes, Rudolpho, I must.' Said Geneviève, picking up the pocket-watch and handing it to Rudolpho, who after a minute's inspection held it tightly in his large palm. Geneviève exchanged a look with Antonio, while running a finger through her golden hair, and pulled a cheroot out from behind her ear. 'Antonio and I agreed from the beginning that someone had to stay behind to turn off the clock.' She inhaled, the smoke racing up her tiny nostrils. 'And turn it back on again to help us get home,' said Antonio, pushing Rudolpho out of his face.

Rudolpho nodded, and then frowned, as he remembered something. 'And what about the curse?' He asked. 'Curse?!' Repeated Geneviève with some concern. 'You did not mention a curse Antonio!' He shushed them both, and looked longingly at a tray of cakes their waiter was carrying by. 'Listen,' he said finally. 'The curse said anyone that tampered with the clock would go missing, but that is the whole point of this endeavour!' Rudolpho's moustaches twitched, and Antonio sighed, turning to Geneviève. 'The curse said whoever tampered with the clock would go missing ...' He repeated, emphasizing the word, and scrunching up his nose for affect. He waited ... and waited, but then thought he could see a glimmer of understanding in Geneviève's deep, green eyes. 'Of course!' She shouted triumphantly. 'I see now! What is one man's curse is another man's blessing.' She beamed looking from Antonio to Rudolpho, and then seeing his deepening frown, she grabbed him by the arm. 'But don't you see, Rudi? The curse sends those that tamper with the clock to the other side, but that is exactly where we want to be!'

A slow, dawning of comprehension gathered itself along his face, and finally shone out through his ebony eyes, he looked down at the bright, little pocket-watch in his hand, it was already nine-thirty! 'Bene,' he said jumping up. 'Well then, let us go!'

***

Getting into the tower wasn't as difficult as Antonio had thought it might be, as he kept forgetting what an extremely beautiful asset Saint Geneviève was to their endeavour. A 'swish' here, a batted eyelash there, and before you could say "pane grattugiato" they were walking through the magnificent Gothic door at the front of the building.

Her dense perfume, almost a visible floral vapour, swirled in the bright sunlit hall, causing noses, old and young, big, small, red and squashed to curiously turn upward into the air. Saint Geneviève led the way, her plum-coloured dress radiating out from her lilliputian waist, while silver, tiny tinkling bells sang from its hem as she strode through the high-ceilinged building. 'Bewitching,' whispered a young clerk, as she passed by his desk.

'It's like we are invisible,' said Antonio to his brother. The two siblings walked in her fragrant wake, hands ever so discreetly placed on their sword handles. 'How she know where to go?' Enquired Rudolpho. Antonio smiled as he passed an officer who was busying himself with rearranging the long plumes on his helmet. 'Rudi, my dear, one never asks why, or wherefore of a woman.' Geneviève pretended not to hear that comment.

'Excuse me?' Antonio noticed him first. 'Not so invisible as we would think,' he muttered to himself. A small, pale-haired, pale-eyed clerk with a high forehead and a rumpled, light blue suit was calling out to them. 'Excuse ...' He made eye contact with Saint Geneviève. 'Yes, you Mademoiselle ... stop!' Geneviève stopped, turning a perfectly arched eyebrow his direction. He almost tripped upon seeing her expression, but side-stepping a chair stacked high with envelopes, he made his way over to her.

Geneviève turned her attention elsewhere, toward an over-large, glazed window and watched the farmers in the town square selling their fruit and vegetables in the morning sunshine. He arrived in four, short, determined steps, but felt increasingly intimidated as each step he took into her halo of perfume accentuated the Parisienne charisma that radiated around her.

'Uhm ... ' He suddenly wasn't sure where to look, or why he had called. He nervously started hopping from foot to foot, fidgeting at the large brass buttons at the front of his jacket. 'Ah, y-es.' He snuck a quick glance up at Geneviève. Those eyes, those deeply enchanting emerald eyes! He instantly felt a blush racing like a wildfire across his cheeks, and up over his ears.

'Why 'ello,' said Geneviève, looking perhaps a little too stern. 'How may I assist you, young man?' He may have hiccuped just then ... thrice. 'We are ... that is ... you are ...' He stammered and wheezed, and then recoiled in terror as he noticed the black mane and moustaches of Rudolpho leaning into the conversation. Squeaking, he frantically searched his person for a handkerchief to mop the sweat that had been fountaining so freely from his large, porous forehead.

Antonio watched the poor functionary in amazement, before a piteous look from Geneviève finally forced him to hand over one of his own slightly scented Belgian kerchiefs to stave off the flood of perspiration that was now being kept in check only by the natural dam of the man's rather exceedingly prominent eyebrows.

'Th-thank you,' he spluttered from behind the lace hankie.

Antonio smirked, alluding to the the man's half-covered face. 'He looks rather like a spectacularly unattractive Moorish Christian, don't you think?' He declined the return of the lace kerchief, and started to giggle as Rudolpho loudly snorted at the poor man's discountenance.

The official hesitated, allowing a respectable silence to fill the heavily scented air between them. 'And they are to ...' He tried again. 'That is, they are not,' he risked a quick glance back at Saint Geneviève, and turned shades from puce to pea as she placed a cheroot between her deeply rouged lips. 'NO!' That was apparently going too far. His eyes bulged. 'You CANNOT smoke!' He exploded, and then, feeling faint, finished with a whimper. 'Nor should any of you be here.'

Geneviève's eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind her blonde fringe. 'Well,' she breathed in surprise. 'Well, well, well, you are a firecracker, aren't you?' The hall had suddenly gone quiet at the man's outburst, all eyes turning toward their small party. Rudolpho twitched his cotton shirt free from his trousers, and prudently loosened his rapier from its sheath.

Saint Geneviève, wrapped her arm around the young man's waist, pulled the cheroot from between her shining lips, and carefully placed it into his protesting mouth. 'Listen,' she said quietly, backhandedly accepting a matchstick from Antonio, and lighting the earthy tobacco. 'We are going into the clock tower, and you are going to lead us there like we are all the ...' she hesitated and turned a questioning look toward Antonio. 'Meilleurs amis?' 'Best friends,' he offered, while keeping an eye on the gathering crowd. 'Ah bon?' She said, turning back toward the trembling official. 'The best friends ... all right?'

The young man nodded, and coughed out a thick cloud of smoke. 'Very good.' Geneviève smiled, removed the cheroot from the man's mouth, and placed it back between her pearly teeth. She turned,and took Rudolpho's sword arm in her own, and steered the two of them back around, and toward an inconspicuous door at the end of the hall.

'Sorry for the disturbance,' offered Antonio to the curious onlookers. 'Just have a little bit of ...' He leant over, grabbing at an important looking piece of paper, and held it up over his head. ' ... business to take care of.' He spun on his heel, and started off after his brother, Geneviève, and their new acquaintance, but before he could catch up to them a powerful hand grabbed him by his collar.

'I think, Monsieur, that you and your friends may have some explaining to do after all.' Antonio slipped backwards, cursing under his breath. It was the soldier he had passed just minutes earlier. Rudolpho turned around, but Antonio whispered at him fiercely. 'Vai Rudi, go!' Rudolpho glared at the soldier holding his brother, and pulled free from Geneviève, his sword suddenly appearing in his hand as he marched toward them.

Geneviève quickly ran up, and stepped in front of him, blocking his way, while dragging the poor official with her. 'Look at me Rudi!' He ignored her. 'Look - at - me.' She said again. This time his eyes flicked down to hers, and the fire he saw there held his own. 'We can't wait, understand?' She tugged at him. 'Your brother is able to take care of himself.' She tugged him again. 'Think about Francesca.' His glower softened, and he nodded over her head.

Antonio was in a deep discussion with the soldier, and waving his hand behind his back, pointing his nose at the clock on the wall in a not so subtle attempt at giving Rudolpho and Geneviève signals to get away safely into the clock tower, and on time.

It was already a quarter to ten.

'Bene,' said Rudolpho, finally turning around and grabbing the official's other arm, almost lifting him from the ground as he strode back toward the door. 'Why,' he asked Geneviève, are we taking this one?' Geneviève, almost running to keep up with him, smiled at him. 'Insurance, Rudolpho, insurance!'

The soldier, suddenly noticing their retreat, pushed Antonio aside, and barked orders over the confused crowd. Three more of the Bohemian military suddenly burst into the hall via a side-door, wildly looking around to see what the commotion was about. 'Come on, Signore Insurance,' said Rudolpho swinging the official back and forth. 'Let us see if you are worth anything!'

Geneviève tugged impatiently at the door handle, and finding it locked, glared at their new friend. 'Would you be so kind?' She snapped under her breath. Rudolpho pushed the man at the door. 'You open now, unnerstand?' He did understand, and, fumbling over a string of keys he had pulled from his breast pocket, he raised a long, brass one up in front of their eyes, and suddenly smiled. 'It is this one!' But seeing the lack of amusement in their eyes, he quickly thrust it into the keyhole, and twisted. The door opened with a satisfying click. Rudolpho shoved him in after Saint Geneviève, and took a last look behind him. Antonio was now completely surrounded, which actually took some effort given his girth, and the remaining guards were running, swords held out, right at him. Rudolpho sighed, waved at Antonio, and, closed the door, barring it behind him.

***

The inside of the clock tower seemed much, much smaller than he had imagined. It was dark, damp, dusty, and had timbers that criss-crossed the walls and ceiling in what must have been centuries of ill-planned engineering at keeping the walls from falling in on themselves.

Geneviève took a few steps into the centre of the tower and swore as a small group of pigeons suddenly flew up over her head and into the darkness. 'It smells a little like home,' she said looking back at the puzzled looking official.

A loud bang! resonated from behind, reminding them all that a few, very angry guards had just arrived at the door and found it locked.

'May I leave now?' Asked the functionary quietly. 'No, Signore Insurance,' said Rudolpho. 'You may not.' He turned around surveying the dank space, and pushed him toward a solitary block in the corner of the room. 'Sit, per favore,' he ordered, ignoring another loud crash from the door. The man looked up at Rudolpho. 'My name is Kryštof,' he offered suddenly. 'Eh?' Said Rudolpho, looking down at him. 'Well,' he smiled. 'Signore Kryštof, you may call me Rudolpho!'

Saint Geneviève had ascended a narrow, wood ladder in the middle of the tower, and looked down at them from a large, oak beam. 'Rudi?' She called. 'The clock room is up this way.' 'It's closed,' whispered Kryštof. 'Locked. No one has ever entered that room, not ever ...' He frowned, stared at the floor, and then looked up at Geneviève. 'And besides, it is invisible.'

Rudolpho grabbed Kryštof under his arm, and walked him to the bottom of the ladder. 'Up you go!' He ordered. 'What?' Kryštof shrunk away from it, dropping and sitting cross-legged opon the ground. 'I am most certainly not going up there!' He squirmed and looked down at his knees shamefacedly, and then whispered. 'I am afraid of heights.' 'Oh, per - please ...' Rudolpho corrected himself. 'Do not be a little girl.' 'Rudi, be nice,' said Geneviève. 'Not everyone can be brave like you.'

There was was another louder crash at the door this time. The sound of swords clashing, and splinters of light were beginning to shine through the cracks in its frame. Rudolpho looked exasperated, it sounded like a battle. He hated missing a good battle! 'Geneviève, we have no time for this!' He shoved at Kryštof. 'Stop being stubborn, and just try!' 'No, uh, uh, absolutely not,' he responded, suddenly grabbing hold of Rudolpho's leg. 'I am staying here until help arrives!' Rudolpho rolled his eyes, and started dragging himself up the ladder one rung at a time, taking Kryštof up with him. 'C-ome o-n,' he huffed. 'U-p-w-e-g-o!'

Step by step he climbed, pulling the protesting Kryštof with him, until they reached the beam Geneviève stood upon. 'Take-him-off-me!' Rudolpho grunted at Geneviève. 'Afore-I-kick-him-into-the-wall!'

'Tsk.' Cooed Saint Geneviève at the frightened official. 'It is non so bad, come, open your eyes and see for yourself.' He did open his eyes. Ever so slowly he opened them, and with each eyelash that came unhinged he found himself almost nose to nose with the Parisienne Saint. 'Goodness.' He breathed in her perfume, a mixture of amber, jasmine ... and lavender. 'Heavenly, you're just heavenly,' he smiled at her. 'I know,' she replied with a little smile of her own, as Rudolpho looked on in disbelief. 'I really am, you know.' She said with a giggle. 'Now ...' She tickled him under his chin. 'I need you to do something for us.' He nodded slowly, but then shook himself, scowling, and looking up at Rudolpho. 'Not for him, I'm not!' 'All Right,' she said quickly, holding up a hand to silence Rudolpho. 'Not for him, but for me?' He smiled again. 'For you, I would do anything.'

Smiling into his eyes, she took his hand, and led him away from a disgusted looking Rudolpho. They carefully picked their way along the beam until they reached the bottom of an archaic, elliptical staircase that was so filthy, so covered in dust, debris, cobwebs and pigeon feces that they both gagged, and sneezed at the same time. 'Oh my,' said Geneviève holding a hand up in front of her nose. 'This is ... disgusting.' Kryštof just stood there, shakily holding onto the staircase banister, trying not to think about the height. 'Come, Kryštof,' said Geneviève as another great crash sounded beneath them. She gently gave him a little shove, and they continued upward.

***

The staircase wound its way up in tighter, and tinier circles of rusted iron steps, right up into the cimmerian centre of the ancient clock tower. 'Bene, bene,' said a smiling Rudolpho, his arms now around Geneviève and the young man. 'With stairs it is easy going, no?' Each step took them higher, and with each step it grew darker, colder and calmer as the incessant crashing below had stopped as suddenly as it had started. 'Arrêt!' Geneviève held up a hand, stopping them. 'We are here.'

They stood almost halfway up the staircase. A metre over the rail there was a large, rough wood door that tried to hide among the stones in the wall. It had grown black with age and mildew, neglected and forgotten. 'Oh,' whispered Kryštof. 'But, but how did you ..?' 'Shh!' Geneviève shushed him. 'Rudi, did you hear anything?' Rudolpho cocked an ear, and concentrated ... 'No.' ... Or? 'Yes!' He could make out the humming, the whirs, the clicks and clacks and ticks and tocks of the clock's engine beyond the door. He looked out over the rail, stretching a long arm toward the door. 'I cannot reach it,' he grunted, his fingertips just brushing over the knotted timber. 'Your fingers,' said Geneviève. 'Are not what are supposed to reach.' She wrapped an arm around him until her hand was in his breast pocket, and, after a quick rummage, pulled out the small gold pocket-watch by its chain. 'This is,' she finished, holding the Breguet up, and watching it brightly spin in front of her green eyes. Rudolpho, grateful that the darkness hid his blushing cheeks, cleared his throat, and nodded at the same time. 'Well certo ... yes,' he coughed. 'Of course ... but I no see a keyhole,' he squinted back at the door. ' Nor a pocket-watch hole neither!' Geneviève, without taking her eyes off the pocket-watch, nodded. 'But you know something we don't, eh Monsieur Kryštof?' Kryštof, without letting go of the rail, nervously looked away. 'No Mademoiselle ... ' God, he felt faint. 'No I don't!'

Geneviève suddenly turned toward Rudolpho. 'Did you hear that Rudi?' She happily chirped. 'He called me mademoiselle!' She tucked a long strand of gold hair behind her ear. 'Moi!' Rudolpho grunted. 'Fantastic, Mademoiselle, but we are running out of time, no?' 'Mm, indeed.' She bit her lip and turned back to Kryštof. He shrank away from her gaze, and started shuffling along the rail, careful not to look down. 'I don't know anything, I am just a clerk, I shouldn't have tried to stop you, I ...' A loud crash, followed by yelling interrupted him, and surprised Rudolpho and Geneviève. The door at the base of the tower had been knocked in, and from all the screaming and shouting they heard, it sounded like the entire Bohemian guard were mounting the ladder in the darkness below.

'Zut!' Geneviève whispered furiously. 'This is not a good time for distractions!' Rudolpho stepped between her and the steep stairs with a growing grin on his face, his rapier suddenly in hand. 'Au contraire,' he smiled toothily. 'There is no a bad time for a fight!' The staircase began to bounce and hum as the soldier's heavy boots hammered into the first steps below. 'Hup! Hup! Hup!' They yelled together as they stampeded up the narrow staircase. Rudolpho jumped down a flight, the yells, grew louder still, followed by the loud crackcrack of pistol fire. He quickly glanced up behind him to assure himself that Geneviève (and even Kryštof) were safe from the deadly, iron balls that were ricocheting around the tower walls. 'Idiots.' He muttered as the first group reached the bend just beneath him.

'Ho!' He yelled at the running soldiers. 'Stand where you are or feel my blade.' He scraped it along the metal rail above their heads, showering rust and bright, silver sparks over them.

They didn't stop.

They continued running madly, swords out, pistols blazing a hellish noise ... and, odd, thought Rudolpho calmly, as he braced himself for the first of them. They almost seem to be chasing down their leader.

Ten paces ahead of the group he came running, nay, charging up the stairs like his life depended upon it. 'Hold!' Yelled Rudolpho, the enemy rounding the last step that led to his position.

He yelled again. 'Hold, or die!' Smiling wickedly, Rudolpho slashed through the darkness at the great, round guard. His blade struck flesh! He cut into his fat cheek.

'God Damn, Rudi!' Antonio almost knocked his surprised brother over. Shakily, he grabbed at the iron rail, and jammed two, pudgy fingers into his brother's chest, shouting, 'Don't ...' He wiped his brow. '... think, for a minute, I am going to let this one go!' He pressed a hand up to his cheek, wet with blood, and grimaced. 'Now,' he snarled, 'you stop them, and then you follow me!' He looked behind him, and ducked as a pistol fired brightly in their direction. 'And be quick about it!' Rudolpho just stood there blinking stupidly at his him. 'A-Antonio! My dear brother ...' 'Basta, Rudi!' He shouted back, jumping up the stairs. 'Not now!'

The first group of soldiers stopped a pace in front of the great black shadow of Rudolpho, suddenly unsure how to fight this wall of a man. Should they shoot him down where he stood, or cut him out of the way? Rudolpho, however, didn't let them think very long. With a last confused look over his shoulder, he turned toward the guards, and, yelling at the top of his lungs, he jumped into them, sending them screaming over the rails, and barreling back down the stairs like rabbits before a fox. He slashed and cut them away, parrying away the blade of one, hammering the butt-end of a pistol into a second, knocking two unfortunate heads together between his great hands, and all the while, he laughed aloud like a madman.

A tiny soldier appeared on the steps and, seeing the Italian, fired his pistol. Bang! The lead ball burnt into Rudolpho's arm. His eyes widened in surprise at the little Bohemian guard that fired at him. 'Ho ho ho!' He laughed through his moustaches. 'Come here you little runt, for I shall eat you for dinner.' The soldier, terrified at the prospect of being eaten for anyone's dinner, never mind this big, black dog of a man, glanced only once over the edge of the rail before deciding it best to jump into the darkness below.

'Rudiii!' Geneviève was calling to him from above. A quick inspection down the staircase told him he had won ... at least no other seemed keen on coming any closer, so he turned, and bounded back up the stairs two at a time.

Antonio was leaning dangerously out over the rail, his arm outstretched, dangling the Breguet pocket-watch from its chain in front of the large, clock tower door, while Kryštof was desperately holding onto to the back of Antonio's trousers, looking like he might burst a vein in his forehead at any moment.

'Vien ici!' Geneviève called out to him. 'Come here and help Rudi!' Rudolpho ran up, grabbing hold of his brother with his good arm, and steadying him as he leant out closer to the door. 'There!' Shouted Antonio. 'It's touching now, and just in time too!' It was a minute to ten, and the tower began to shake itself awake as the mechanism behind the door started to grind to life for its hourly display of priestly pageantry.

The tiny Breguet in Antonio's hand, and the very large clock on the other side of the door seemed to recognise one another, they both paused, clicked, and then clacked a Good morning! and How do you do? as their diverse cogs and dials, springs, weights, pendulums and pulleys suddenly spun and whirred in sync ... perfectly in sync, as if they were part of the very same machine and movement.

The door popped open with the chime of a bell.

'Success!' Smiled Antonio, and then, he almost slipped over the edge as he turned his head. 'H-hey,' said Kryštof through gritted teeth. 'C-can you stop m-moving?' He looked at Rudolpho. 'Tell him!' Rudolpho, holding his brother a little tighter, nodded. 'Hey Antonio, stop moving, you are no so light, like you think.' Antonio frowned, and ignored this comment. 'Look Rudi, lean me to the edge of the door frame so I can pull it ... there!' He got his fingers around the edge of the frame. 'Now pull!' They pulled, and the door slowly opened all the way.

They all gasped, even Geneviève forgot to breathe, which was no small feat, given she wasn't really alive. The cogs, the wheels, the pulleys, weights and pendulums, the bells, chains, screws, bolts, absolutely everything inside the chamber shone in gold! All the machinery, and all of the apostles glistened.'But ...' Breathed Antonio. 'How?' The whole of the inside of the tower was grey, grey and black and damp and ... so very old. He screwed up his eyes, and stared into the golden chamber, suddenly crying out. 'Rudi! The Apostles have begun to move!' And indeed they had begun to move. The clock's movement spun the magical procession to life. Right before their eyes, all of the saints, Saint Paul, Peter, Thomas, Mathew, John, Juda, Jacob, Bartholomew ... even Barnabas, all of them jerked into motion.

Antonio's eyes bulged behind his spectacles, they had to move, they had to go! And before the saints were gone into the morning light! 'Hurry Rudi!' He yelled.'Toss me over!'

Rudolpho blinked, his good arm was hurting just from holding Antonio's backside, and his shot arm was, well, shot! 'Che?' Had he heard correctly? Throw ... Antonio? He started to laugh. Antonio turned round, a look of desperation on his face. 'Come on Rudi! Quickly now! We mustn't let Saint Peter pass us by!' Geneviève shared a worried look with Rudolpho. 'Why, pray tell, must we throw you to Saint Peter?' She asked. 'Because!' Antonio almost screeched, and the statues, now oblivious to all, whirred and clicked and rocked, as they promenaded round the tiny room. 'Because Saint Peter, he ...' Antonio blinked sweat from his eyes, wobbling dangerously back and forth over the emptiness. 'He is the patron saint of clockmakers AND locksmiths!' He huffed, as Kryštof desperately grabbed at his coat-tail. 'Only he can open the door for us to the other side!' Geneviève looked skeptical at this. 'Just how -' She started, but Antonio cut her off. 'We need to put the pocket-watch in his hands!' He yelled, spraying sweat and spit everywhere, and then shrieked again. 'NOW!'

The clock tower had begun to chime, its bells tinkled, jingled and bonged, playing an ecclesiastical delight to the gathering farmers, shopkeepers, tourists and pilgrims alike. The Astronomical Clock of Prague was putting on its show! All noses, ears and eyes were turned upward, as the town square was showered in silver tintinnabulations.

'NOW!' Repeated Antonio, and then Rudolpho did the uncharacteristically, unexpected, he turned to Kryštof, and he asked for help. 'Could you?' He asked, 'Can you?' He asked again. Kryštof steeled himself, nodded, and together they huffed and tugged, they pulled, lifted, turned and twisted, ... and then? They heaved! They tossed! They threw Antonio across the emptiness, and into the clock chamber!

Antonio hit the side of a huge whirring cog, and bounced back to his feet with a swiftness that belied his years. The room was indeed tiny ... he felt like Tom Thumb trapped inside a grandfather clock! He smiled at the thought, but a bump from a passing apostle snapped him out of his reverie. He looked over the heads of the statues. Now he could see that they were half-figures, delicately painted torsos that rotated on a chain around the room. He ran, stumbled and tripped, the pocket-watch dropped from his hand. He watched it roll across the floor and fall out of sight behind ... Death. 'Really?' He groaned. 'Death?' He got onto his hands and knees, and carefully crawled over the spinning cogs and wheels, ducked under a pendulum, and, reaching Death, slid onto his belly and stretched his hand out to snatch at the small Breguet. 'I ... have ... you!' His fingers curled around the chain of the watch, and he pulled it back toward him.

Carefully standing up and inspecting each of the animated statues, he saw Saint Peter led the procession, a small key in hand ... he cursed, Saint Peter was already almost out the tower! Antonio jumped between Saint Juda and Thomas, grabbing at Saint Peter's arm, trying to hold him back. The entire clock movement groaned in protest, the wheels sparking, desperate to continue in their spinning. Antonio tugged back harder still at, and carefully placed the gold Breguet pocket-watch into the Saint's open hands and then, kissing the head of the statue for luck, he let the Saint go.

What transpired next, he absolutely swore happened. The entire chamber was suddenly lit from within, all the golden cogs, pulleys, weights, and wheels shone so brightly he had to squeeze his eyes shut for fear of being blinded, but through his tightly closed lids he saw that the statue of Saint Peter had stopped. It slowly turned its wooden head round to consider this funny, round Italian man and the little pocket-watch he had placed in its hands.

The Saint inspected the key in its palm and, pressing it up against the back of the pocket-watch, a keyhole appeared! The Saint pushed the key in, and turned it three times to the left, and then, looking up at Antonio with a smile ... the statue winked. A sudden rush of blue filled the room. It rushed, bubbled, and boiled in, crashing into Antonio, knocking him back toward the door. He opened his mouth to yell out, but found he couldn't make a sound, he couldn't even breathe.