She nodded again.

“This is quite disturbing,” Colin said. “And is making me believe all the more firmly she’s been taken by the same man who took Cordelia. Having her write letters is just in his vein. He wants her family and friends to worry while they wait. I’m off to Glover at once.”

*   *   *

Once again relegated to waiting, Ivy and I sat, reading aloud from The Iliad. It was our version of seeking comfort, a vain attempt to distract us from what we imagined Lady Glover must be suffering.

“The other chiefs and princes slept soundly all the night long: but not Agamemnon. No sleeps visited his eyes; the lord and commander of that great host had too much to make him anxious.”

“I’m not sure this is making me feel better,” Ivy said. “Perhaps we should try something else. Can’t you read a bit about Hector and Andromache?”

I started to flip through the volume, but was interrupted by Davis.

“Madam,” he said. “A colleague of mine is here to see you. I’ve put him in the blue drawing room.”

I nearly gasped when I saw Mr. Dillman’s butler standing nervously in the center of the carpet.

“I apologize for coming to you like this,” he said. “But I thought you would know best what to do with this. You’ve handled this matter with such thoroughness and discretion. I know I can trust you.” He handed me a folded sheet of paper.


My lovely, sweet girl—


The memory of your ivory skin radiant in the candlelight burns in my heart. To see you tonight was, as always, like a dream, and no one could argue that shade of jade green doesn’t suit you, no matter what that dreadful neighbor of yours says about your new ball gown. I do wish you wouldn’t take criticism to heart, but you are a dear, sensitive thing, aren’t you? It’s part of the reason you’re more valuable to me than gold.

So greet that old dragon with stone silence next time you see her—and worry about her no further. She is not worth any more of your time.

To finish on a lighter note, if, when we’re married, you still insist on having that dreadful bronze statue in the garden, I won’t argue. I want nothing more than for you to be the happiest girl in the world. Which is why, as I hope you’ve noticed, I’ve written this letter on the finest paper I could find. I know how you like that.

I am your most devoted,


Michael


“Where did you find this?” I asked, fighting to keep tears from filling my eyes. I wished Cordelia had been able to read it. I passed it to Ivy.

“I feel quite stupid, really,” he said. “It was in my own ledger book, between the endpapers in the back. I’ve no idea how it got there.”

“Mr. Dillman put it there,” I said, my mind springing to life and vanquishing my sadness. “He hid it in plain sight, figuring that you would give it to Cordelia when you found it.”

“I would have, were she not—” he started.

“And if she’d read it, she’d have known exactly what to do with it,” I said. “Luckily, I do, too.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Ivory, jade, gold, stone, bronze, and paper,” I said. “Clues to what we need to be looking for in the British Museum.”

26

I thanked the butler, and Ivy and I headed straight for the British Museum. In the carriage on the way over I organized my notes. First, I considered the departments: Ancient Egypt and Sudan, Ancient Near East, Oriental Antiquities, and Medieval and Modern Europe. There were two references to both Ancient Near East and Oriental Antiquities, so I expected to need two objects from each. We had six numbers to go with them, and the six materials.

“Pity there’s nothing Greco-Roman,” Ivy said. “You’d have anything identified along those lines in approximately three minutes. But I suppose these things are never easy, are they?”

We piled out of the cab in Great Russell Street and headed for the entrance of the museum. We went straight for the desk, where I asked if my friend, Mr. May, was available. He was an assistant keeper in the department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, but had a vast knowledge outside of his field and a sharp intellect whose match I’d never met. We’d become congenial on my many trips to the museum, and he helped me on occasion with my work on Homer. I explained the situation, and he grasped it at once.

“Let’s start with Egypt and Sudan,” he said. “That will probably be the most difficult as the galleries will be so crowded. I always prefer to get the hardest out of the way first.” I’d copied out the numbers—118, 104, 152, 187, 28, and 930—along with the list I’d generated from Mr. Dillman’s letter, for each of us.

The first room we entered contained mummies and artifacts that had been buried with them. I knew the mummies were not what we sought, but there was plenty else to investigate. We combed through canopic jars and amulets and sarcophagi, but turned up nothing. Our luck proved no better in the next room, either. When we were halfway through the third, Mr. May pulled me aside.

“I think we’re making a mistake,” he said. “How much did Mr. Dillman know about the Egyptians?”

“I can’t say I know,” I said. “He loved the museum, but I’m not sure he would have considered himself an expert in anything regarding it.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. Come.”

Ivy and I followed him back into the second Egyptian room, where he led us to a case holding several examples of The Book of the Dead.

“A layman may have mistaken papyrus for paper,” he said. At once, we all began checking the numbers.

“Here!” Ivy said, beckoning to us. “I’ve found a 104 and think it may be what we need. It’s from the papyrus of Ani.”

The scene on the papyrus was an image of scales—on one side of them sat a human heart, on the other, a tall white feather.

“The Egyptians believed when a person died, his heart would be weighed against the feather of Ma’at—justice,” Mr. May said. “If his heart was too heavy and didn’t balance, he was thrown to the monster you see there.” He pointed to a figure that was part lion, part hippopotamus, and part crocodile. “The devourer, as he was called, would eat him, and he’d be denied the afterlife.”

“Who officiates the weighing?” I asked.

“Anubis—the jackal-headed god standing in front of the scales. If the heart did balance, the deceased was declared justified, and would be presented to Osiris, god of the underworld.”

“Judgment certainly feels appropriate in the current circumstances,” I said. I copied down the full catalog listing, EA 10470/3, and crossed 104 and paper off my lists. “Where shall we try next?”

“Let’s continue in the Ancient Near East galleries. We’ve two things to search for there, do we not?” We marched through several galleries to a room containing objects from ancient Turkey.

“I never spend enough time up here,” I said, astonished at the array of objects before me. As always, the sense of history overwhelmed me. “Perhaps I’m too focused on Greece.”

“It’s impossible to be too focused on Greece,” Mr. May said. In theory, I could not have agreed more, but I was beginning to think perhaps I should consider broadening my horizons.

We split up and began our quest. This time it was easy—in a matter of minutes, I was calling to my friends.

“Here,” I said. “An ivory griffin-headed demon from Anatolia.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ivy said, bending over for a closer look.

“It probably was part of a throne and meant to provide protection,” Mr. May said. “Eighth to seventh century B.C.”

There were two griffins in the case—one black, one white—displayed next to each other. Ours, the white was, in my estimation, the finer, if smaller, of the two. It was more delicate, and the intricate detail was breathtaking. Every feather on the creature’s wings was exquisitely carved, as were the rippling muscles visible on its legs. The darker material of the other seemed to hide more of its detail despite its larger size.

“Protection and judgment. Perhaps Mr. Dillman trying to make a point to Cordelia,” I said.

“It’s so sad,” Ivy said. “But I suppose we must not lose focus. Where to next, Mr. May?”

“I think we should remain here,” Mr. May said. “We’ve got a second reference for this department, do we not?”

He was correct. Unfortunately, however, our quarry was not so easily found this time. Over the expanse of the Ancient Near East galleries, I looked at what felt like hundreds of objects: gold jewelry, stone statues and reliefs, bronze weapons. But nothing had the right numbers. I circled back to where we’d started, deciding to take each substance in turn. I would begin by focusing on stone.

Nearly an hour later, I still hadn’t met with success. I rubbed my eyes and closed them, wanting to make them focus better. Mr. May came up beside me.

“I’ve found it,” he said, leading me to a case on the far side of the room. He pointed to a row of small heads that looked like they might belong to deranged dogs. “Pazuzu. He can be good or bad. He either spreads evil or stops disease. So he provides a bit of protection, when he’s not busy being an underworld demon. Obviously we want the bronze one.”

“He’s frightful,” Ivy said. “I have a hard time believing he’s ever good. Where is he from?”

“The Assyrians worshipped him as did the Babylonians,” Mr. May said.

“It’s hideous,” I said, staring at the menacing face, its eyes set too far apart and its wide mouth partly open to reveal long fanglike front teeth. “But gloriously hideous.” Again, I copied down all the information from the display card, not knowing what might be important.