Chapter Seven

The inside of the museum was hardly less fantastical than the outside. Harry magnanimously paid the entrance fee of one shilling each, and together they started through the exhibition rooms.

Rows of glazed cabinets held curiosities from around the world, including those brought back from the South Seas by Captain Cook, and large naturalistic displays showed such wonders as taxidermy kangaroos, birds, and giraffes.

"I came here a few months ago," Ellie said, "to see Napoleon's carriage. Bullock had a special exhibition. It was a terrible crush."

"A pickpocket's dream," Harry said with a smile. "Scores of people all pushing and shoving, paying no attention to their personal belongings."

"I wouldn't know," Ellie said primly.

The Grand Hall, lined with even more pillars, was (according to Ellie's guidebook) a replica of the avenue of the sphinxes at the Karnak Temple, near Luxor, and included an alabaster sarcophagus from the tomb of an Egyptian pharaoh.

It was there that Bullock met them, and after a brief greeting, he got straight down to business.

"You're here, Mr. King, to investigate a brazen theft," he said, directing his attention to Harry. "This way, if you please, and I'll show you the scene of the crime."

He led them into a smaller, considerably less crowded part of the museum and unlocked a door hung with a sign that read EXHIBIT TEMPORARILY CLOSED .

Ellie immediately saw the issue: the glass to one of the cabinets had been smashed, leaving a hole with jagged edges. She and Harry both stepped closer to investigate.

"That's odd," she murmured.

The case contained several gold brooches, a carved medieval chess piece, and some silver Roman coins, but only one label seemed to be lacking a corresponding artifact. "The thief left quite a number of precious items behind. Perhaps he was disturbed before he could steal it all?"

Harry shook his head. "A good guess, Miss Law, but I'm afraid that's incorrect."

Ellie raised her brows. "Oh, really?"

He sent her a beatific smile that made her want to stamp on his foot. "May I present my theory?"

"Please do," she said with false sweetness, conscious of appearing subservient to her "employer" in Bullock's presence. "I bow to your superior knowledge of such things, Mr. King."

His lips twitched at her dig.

"This is a very inelegant theft," he said. "It is not the work of a professional." He gestured at the broken glass with a disapproving shake of his head. "A professional would have been more careful, more subtle. This is brutal. Amateur work."

He turned to Bullock. "I tell you, Mr. Bullock, all the artistry has gone from thieving nowadays. People are so impatient. Nobody cares to learn the beauty of picking a lock, or to become expert at anything, because it takes a huge amount of time and dedication. To cheat at cards, for example, takes hours in front of a mirror learning sleight of hand: how to hold the cards correctly, how to palm them, to deceive the watcher, all accompanied by a seamless flow of conversation and witty repartee to distract and entertain. It's a lost art."

Ellie snorted. "You sound as if you admire such things."

He turned to her with a smile. "I admit I have a certain professional respect for an elegant thief. I once encountered a man in Italy who stole a silver tea service, but tipped the contents of the sugar bowl out onto a napkin instead of emptying it out on the floor, so as not to make a mess."

"How considerate," Ellie said drily. She was sure the thief he was talking about was himself. "But wouldn't it have been more considerate not to steal the silver in the first place?"

"Of course," he agreed amiably, turning back to Bullock. "This may have been a crude smash-and-grab, but our thief was no opportunist. This was a targeted burglary. He or she wanted that one particular item. What exactly was stolen?"

Ellie bent closer to the cabinet in an attempt to read the writing on the little card, then cast vanity to the wind and fished her spectacles from her reticule and put them on.

"It says it was a jeweled Book of Hours once owned by the French king Fran ? ois the First, Henri the Fourth, and Cardinal Mazarin," she read aloud.

Harry turned to Bullock. "There are thousands of items here in your museum, Mr. Bullock. Why would someone steal this particular book? Was it very expensive?"

"Well, yes, it was." Bullock frowned. "It had a gold cover decorated with jewels and precious stones—rubies and turquoises and whatnot. And inside it was very pretty, with colored pages and little paintings in the borders. But it was quite small, maybe six inches by four. There are plenty of other things here in the museum worth considerably more."

"Perhaps the small size made it appealing to the thief? Easy to hide in their clothes," Ellie suggested. "Maybe they plan to remove all the jewels from the cover and sell them?"

"Perhaps," Harry said, but he still sounded skeptical. "Certainly, something so rare would be difficult to sell on the black market, because it's so recognizable."

"It could have been stolen to order, for some avid rare-book collector who wants it in their own collection," Ellie countered. "How did it come to be in your possession, Mr. Bullock?"

"I looked back at my purchase notes this morning to check that very thing," Bullock said, "and it turns out it once also belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte himself. I bought it from a military man, who said he'd got it in Russia. His regiment captured the emperor's personal baggage train when he retreated in such haste from Moscow, and the book was found inside."

"Ah," Harry murmured. "Now we could be getting somewhere. What else did the soldier say, about it, Mr. Bullock? Can you recall?"

Bullock's bushy brows knitted as he considered the question, then he gave a laughing snort. "Ha! He actually said the damn thing was lucky! Fat lot of lies that turned out to be."

"Lucky in what way?"

"He said the book was Bonaparte's lucky charm, that he never went anywhere without it. And you know, perhaps it was true, because everything started to go wrong for Old Boney almost as soon as it left his possession, didn't it? His attempt to conquer Russia was a disaster, and he ended up losing everything to Wellington at Waterloo."

Bullock shrugged. "Don't see what that has to do with it being stolen, though. My guess is it was just someone who saw something shiny and expensive-looking and took it."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He slid his fingers into the breast pocket of his coat and withdrew a silver quizzing glass, then raised it to his eye and leaned in, toward Bullock's cravat.

"Speaking of shiny and expensive, that is a very fine tiepin, sir."

Bullock puffed out his chest at the compliment. "Why, thank you. The diamond belonged to Napoleon too. A stash of 'em were hidden in a tea caddy in his carriage when it was seized at Waterloo. The carriage itself is on display right now in the other room, along with all manner of other items, but I bought this diamond from Mr. Mawe, the diamond merchant in the Strand. He got it from a Prussian, Baron Von Keller. I had him fashion this pin for me."

"A lovely piece," Harry murmured, and as he tucked his quizzing glass away, Ellie shot him a sideways glare that clearly said Don't you even think about stealing it .

His dimpled smile was hardly reassuring.

Ellie turned back to Bullock. "Oh, that reminds me. I have your pocket watch, sir."

"You do? How? I thought some devil had pickpocketed me at Lady Chessington's last night."

She reached back into her reticule and handed it to him. He turned it over, opening it to make sure it was, indeed, his.

"You dropped it as you walked away from me last night, but by the time I'd picked it up, I'd lost you in the crowd." She sent him a sheepish look and gestured at the spectacles she still wore. "I'm afraid I'm as blind as a bat without these, but I don't like wearing them in public. They make me look too much of a bluestocking."

Bullock accepted this shameful fabrication with genial condescension, as if foolish female vanity was entirely expected of her.

"Thank you, Miss Law. You are a credit to your employer." He sent a jovial smile to Harry. "Not that I needed proof that an employee of King and Company would be anything other than trustworthy."

Ellie almost rolled her eyes at the irony and managed a sweet smile. "You're very welcome, Mr. Bullock." She turned to Harry. "Shall we go, sir?"

Harry offered his arm. "Indeed."

With one last glance to make sure Bullock's diamond tiepin was still there—it was—she allowed Harry to lead her from the room.