Dodson started to protest, but he could see it was indeed futile. This man knew everything. “The crown is nothing to me. If I give it to you, I must have your word that you will let my housekeeper go. She has no knowledge of any of this.”

“I have no use for the old woman. Take me to the crown."

“Very well,” Dodson said. “Follow me.”

Dodson led the way to a hallway and opened the doors of a walk-in closet. He cleared out the winter jackets and other clothing hanging in the closet, then he pushed boots and shoes aside and stepped in. He lifted a section of floor and pressed a button set under the wood. The back wall of the closet slid noiselessly aside. Dodson turned on a light, and with Razov close behind, he descended a winding staircase made of stone blocks. They were in a stone-walled chamber about fifteen feet square. Rusty iron brackets stuck out of the walls.

“This is the original Roman cellar. They used it to store wine and vegetables.”

“Spare me the history lesson, Lord Dodson. The crown.” Dodson nodded and went over to a pair of brackets set in the wall. He twisted them both clockwise. “This is the unlocking mechanism.” He ran his hands down the stones until his fingers found a depression. Then he pulled and a section of wall, actually an iron door faced with inch-thick stones, creaked open. Dodson stepped back. “There's your crown. Exactly where my grandfather put it nearly a hundred years ago.”

The crown sat on a pedestal that was covered with purple velvet.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” Razov ordered.

He bound Dodson's hands and ankles with duct tape and pushed the Englishman down on the floor so that he sat with his back to a wall. Then Razov tucked his pistol in his belt and reached inside for the crown. It was heavier than he thought and he grunted with exertion as he hugged it to his chest.

The sparkle of the diamonds, rubies and emeralds covering the domed crown was matched by the glitter in Razov's greedy eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “I always thought it was a bit gaudy myself,” Dodson said.

“Englishmen,” Razov said with contempt. “You're like your grandfather, a fool. Neither one of you could appreciate the power you held in your hands.”

“On the contrary. My grandfather knew that with the tsar's family dead, the appearance of the crown would inflame passions and bring out any number of claimants, legitimate and otherwise.” He looked pointedly at Razov. “Other countries would be drawn in. There would be another world war.”

“Instead, we got more than half a century of communism.”

“It would have come in time, anyway. The tsarist regime would have withered from corruption.”

Razov laughed and placed the crown on his head. "Like

Napoleon, I crown myself. Behold, the next ruler of Russia."