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Hans frowns. “What pocket watch?”

“ The pocket watch,” Elena snaps. “The Presidential pocket watch.”

His eyes widen. "Ah. Well, that's serious."

“Of course it’s serious,” she replies. “That watch was commissioned by President Jonas Furrer in 1648. It’s one of Georges Rousseau’s finest works, and it’s missing.”

“When did you see it last?” I ask, trying to keep my voice soothing. Elena’s nearly shouting, and guests are starting to notice.

"I saw it in its display earlier this morning when I opened the museum," she replies. "Right where it belongs. Somehow, within the past six hours, it's gone missing. Where is it?"

I blink. I’m not sure if she’s asking rhetorically or if she actually expects me to give her an answer. She clears that up a moment later by asking, “Do you know where it is?”

I remind myself to remain calm. “I don’t. I don’t recall ever seeing that particular piece.”

“It’s in the Georges Rousseau exhibit. I showed you last night.”

“Oh. You mean the grandfather clock exhibit?”

She rolls her eyes. “He also made pocket watches and table clocks.”

“He made a great many clocks,” Hans interrupts. “I’m sure Miss Wilcox is truly unaware of the watch you’re describing.”

I don’t like the fact that Hans feels a need to defend me. It suggests that Elena is actually accusing me, but that makes no sense. Why would she think me a thief? What possible reason would I have to steal a four-hundred-year-old pocket watch?

She runs her hands through her hair. “That watch is priceless, Hans. It was appraised at over six million francs.”

Ah. Well, that’s a good reason. I have an estate left me by my father, so I don’t need the money, but I could see why she might suspect someone of stealing it. “Perhaps we should call the police.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I’ll call them. In the meantime, I’m closing the museum. No one leaves until they’ve been searched.”

My eyes widen. “Elena, you can’t do that.”

“The hell I can’t!” she snaps.

I take a step back. The pleasant, charming woman I meet last night is gone. In her place is a snarling banshee whose fear has driven her to anger.

“Elena,” I try calmly. “Please listen. You can’t hold people against their will. You have security cameras, yes?”

“I don’t want to catch the thief after he escapes. Or she.”

She adds that last part pointedly, and I take a breath to calm myself before responding. “Call the police. Report the theft. If you hold your visitors here, you risk damaging your museum’s reputation.”

That stops her. Her lip trembles, and she sighs heavily. “ Scheisse . Fine. But so help me God, if I discover the identity of the thief, I will make it my mission in life to ruin them! Oh God, if they damage that watch…”

She leaves unsaid what will happen if they damage the watch, but I imagine it’s a terrifying fate. Hans and I share a grim look when she pulls her cell phone out and dials the police. The guests have gathered at the noise, looking through the archways, eager to get a hint of what’s going on.

“Hello?” Elena says. “Yes, this is Dr. Elena Rousseau of the Chronomasters Museum. I need to report a stolen piece, a pocket watch commissioned by President Jonas Furrer.” She reddens a shade. “Yes, I know that she’s the current President. I’m referring to the former President Furrer, the first President of the Swiss Confederation.” She reddens another shade. “It’s worth six million francs! It’s an antique, a part of our history. Damn it, send someone here now!”

A gasp ripples through the guests. Hans and I share another grim look. Then Hans suggests, “Perhaps you should have this conversation in your office.”

“What, so the thief can take more of my priceless artifacts?” she says curtly. “I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.”

The guests have started to break off and leave the museum. The police are coming now, and the more intelligent among them realize that if they’re still here when the police arrive, they might remain here long into the night.

As for Elena, she is still shouting with the dispatch officer on her phone. “I don’t appreciate how flippantly you’re treating this, Detective.” She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Officer. I just want you to take this seriously. Our history might not matter to you, but it matters a great deal to me.” There’s a brief pause, then she says, “Fine. As soon as you can.”

She hangs up and shoves the cell phone into her pocket. Her lips are so thin they’re almost invisible. She crosses her arms and taps her toes, staring past me at the wall. Behind her, the last of the guests quietly leaves the museum. The foyer door makes a soft click when it closes, and Elena stiffens at the sound. She fixes a deadly gaze on me and says, “You’re sure you don’t know where it is?”

I only just manage to keep my cool. “Ma’am, what possible reason would I have to steal a pocket watch?”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes. That is the question, isn’t it?”

“I would love to hear your answer,” I say drily.

She regards me for a moment. “Have you been snooping through the clocks’ compartments?”

I do not expect to be caught off guard any more than I already am, but that question catches me off guard. “Excuse me? The compartments?”

“Yes. The automata clocks have many compartments that store the automata. Have you been snooping through them?”

“What? No. Why would I do that?”

She looks at me for a long moment. Then she shakes her head. “No reason.”

She leaves without another word, and Hans and I exchange a confused look.

I wonder why she asked about the compartments in the clocks? Could it be that the watch had a compartment too? Maybe it’s not the loss of the watch that Elena is concerned with. Maybe something else was stolen, and the watch is only the shell that hides the true mystery.

***

Ten minutes later, Inspector Jacques Moreau with the Cantonal Police introduces himself to the two of us. He is a tall, handsome man of around sixty with silvery hair and a thick handlebar mustache. Elena practically crows with relief when she sees him. “Jacques! Thank God you’re here! The pocket watch is gone!”

“So I hear,” Jacques replies drily. “You didn’t see who took it?”

“Of course I didn’t see,” Elena whines. “If I’d seen it, I wouldn’t have needed to call you.”

Jacques chuckles. “That’s a good point, I suppose. There, there, calm, Elena. We’ll find it.”

He squeezes her shoulder, then kisses her forehead. She takes a deep breath and relaxes. “Please hurry, Jacques. I’m afraid.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The change in Elena is drastic. She goes from being a polite and well-mannered academic to an emotional wreck to a vulnerable damsel in distress. My first impression of her was quite good. I’m sorry to say that my second impression of her is rather poor.

I know it’s not fair of me to say that. After all, she is missing a very valuable artifact from her museum that clearly means a lot to her. I suppose I am a little offended at her intimation that I might have stolen it.

Jacques approaches Hans and me, wearing a dark frown that I’m sure he means to be intimidating. It only makes him look ridiculous. More annoying is Elena’s triumphant smile. Does she really think she’s about to find the thief?

“Dr. Weber, I know you,” Jacques says, “but I haven’t yet made your acquaintance.”

“Mary Wilcox,” I reply, extending my hand. “Dr. Rousseau has hired me as governess to Sophie.”

Jacques turns to Elena. “Is that true?”

She nods. “That’s true. She started the night before.”

“Is that so?” Jacques asks.

“That’s so,” I say curtly. “I haven’t seen this pocket watch. I just finished today’s lessons with Sophie before coming downstairs to learn more about the family’s history. I was engaged in a lovely conversation with Dr. Weber when I learned of the missing piece.”

“Hmm,” Jacques says, “And you say you’ve never even seen the piece in question?”

“I have said that. Clearly. Several times. I’m not sure how much more clearly I can say it.”

Both Jacques and Elena redden at that. Jacques opens his mouth to say something, but Sophie’s voice interrupts us. “Mama? What’s going on?”

I see an opportunity to leave this uncomfortable situation. “Come on, Sophie. This is a matter for adults. Let’s go upstairs.”

I expect Elena to protest, but she stays quiet as I take Sophie back up to her room. I hear Jacques talking with Hans, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. That’s fine with me. I’d just as soon not be a part of whatever this is turning out to be.

As soon as the elevator doors close behind us, Sophie asks, “What’s wrong, Mary?”

I take a deep breath and smile. “One of the watches is missing.”

Her eyes widen. “Which one? Is it one of the cuckoo clocks?”

“No, sweetheart. It’s a pocket watch.”

“Oh.” She sighs with relief. “I guess that makes sense. It would be pretty difficult to take one of the cuckoo clocks out of here.”

“It sure would.”

The door opens, and I realize that Sophie’s pressed the third floor. “I’m hungry,” she announces.

“I’ll make you some dinner.”

“Okay!” she says brightly.

She leads me into the kitchen. It’s smaller than I would expect from such a large house, but it’s well-equipped, and there’s a separate pantry stocked full with everything a kitchen needs. I have a suspicion that the inquiry into the missing watch isn’t over, so I settle for a ham and cheese sandwich for Sophie and toast with jam for myself.

She thanks me for the sandwich, then asks, “Do you think one of the spies took the watch?”

My brow furrows. “Why would you ask that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. If I were a spy, I would try to take something valuable. Then I would make the enemy tell me what I needed to know before I gave it back.”

“That’s…”

My voice trails off. I replay Sophie’s story about the messages delivered in sealed compartments, and it no longer seems like such a mystery why Elena is so upset and afraid over a missing watch.

The elevator door opens. Jacques and Elena both step out. They’re clearly in the middle of an argument.

“I know, Jacques,” Elena snaps. “But I can’t have that become common knowledge. You know how people are.”

Then Jacques surprises me again. “Miss Wilcox, would you consent to a search of your room and your person?”