The sacristy was dustless and spotless; and when the cupboards were opened every inch of embroidery and every ounce of plate were found in their places as described in the inventory. At the sight of the gold and silver and precious stones the Viscount's eyes glittered like glass beads. He would have taken the holy vessels in his fat hands to fondle them had not the Prior sternly repelled him. By way of revenge, as well as to mislead the captain, the Viscount then set himself to depreciate everything. The triptych was not Limoges, and he had his doubts about the rubies. The vestments were falling to pieces. As for the Gran Vasco, who was Gran Vasco, after all? He was a painter whom not one collector in a thousand had ever heard of. Besides, the painting was certainly a copy. To these remarks the Prior did not pay the smallest heed. When everything had been verified, he kissed with exceeding reverence a reliquary containing the relics of martyrs who had suffered for the Church. Then he replaced this last treasure on its shelf and locked the cupboard. The captain held out his hand for the keys, but the Prior answered: "After you have signed, Senhor Captain. At noon. Till then your guards are keys enough." Together with the four monks he quitted the sacristy, leaving the two men to follow. But they lingered. To get out of earshot of the guards the captain drew the Viscount into the chapel, and muttered hurriedly: "We sign. Then we pack up the stuff and bury it. To-night we send to the Government a report. We tell them how these fellows threatened resistance and tried to win over my soldiers. We tell them how the Abbot is an old miser doting on the gold and silver; that we fear a raid of their sympathizers in force; and that we have thought it wise to bury the treasure. We ask them to send a lock-up van and twenty more men to bring it away. And meanwhile..." "Yes. Meanwhile..." repeated the Viscount, beaming and chuckling. "Meanwhile... By the way, you see these tiles on the walls?" Yes, the captain saw them. The walls of the oblong nave were almost entirely clothed with _azulejos_, or blue-and-white tiles. The multitudinous squares formed large pictures crowded with life-size figures. "If we could get them down some day from the walls," murmured the Viscount, "I know an Englishman who would pay a thousand pounds for them." He was interrupted by Brother Cypriano, who demanded in a peremptory tone: "How much longer are we to wait for your Excellencies?" They did not return through the kitchen and cloister, but followed Brother Cypriano out of the chapel directly into the paved space. The captain looked haggard, but the Viscount was radiant. "The keys are here?" he asked. "Good. Then give me a pen."