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Pixie was surprised that the spirit didn’t respond.

They usually did. On the whole they were eager to make contact and relieved to be seen after having languished between worlds, invisible and alone.

But this spirit was mute. Pixie tried a few more times to communicate, but either the spirit didn’t want to, or it couldn’t.

She closed her eyes again and sat a while without making any further attempts to converse.

She linked into its energy. She picked up the vibration of a man in middle age, with a long, chiselled face and deep-set, dark eyes framed by heavy eyebrows.

His hair was a light-brown colour and tousled, falling slightly over a high forehead.

He was wearing a white collar sticking up at his throat, a tie and jacket.

Clothing appropriate for early Edwardian society.

And then, as faint as a whisper on a breeze, she heard two words.

‘Yes. Lester.’ The name was unmistakable.

He was, indeed, Lester Ravenglass. The question was, why didn’t he want to leave?

Ulysses and Mr Stirling sat at a table in the bar, deep in conversation.

Ulysses was enjoying a Martini, but Mr Stirling, aware that he was on duty, was simply drinking sparkling water with a slice of lime.

When Pixie walked in, they stopped talking and beckoned her over.

‘It is Lester Ravenglass,’ she said, pulling up one of the velvet armchairs and sitting down.

Mr Stirling couldn’t help being sceptical. If he hadn’t told her that Mrs Aldershoff believed the ghost to be her brother-in-law, would she have come out with a different name?

Pixie continued. ‘But he doesn’t want to move on, or he can’t. I need to find out why. That’s going to take a little more time. I suggest I leave it for tonight and give it a proper go tomorrow morning. Might Alma Aldershoff be available to talk to me? It would help to know a little bit about him.’

Mr Stirling sighed. Although he didn’t want to involve that woman, he was prepared to tolerate her if it meant there was a better chance of getting rid of her dastardly relation.

‘I can give her a call. She lives in Brooklyn,’ he said, inwardly grimacing at the prospect of her coming back and taking over.

‘However, she confessed that she never knew him. He might have been her brother-in-law, but he was a good twenty-nine or so years older than her. Plus, he lived in England. Her sister divorced him and returned here. They had no children. Little else is known about him. I’m not sure Mrs Aldershoff is going to be that helpful. ’

‘Lester must have come here at some stage,’ said Pixie thoughtfully, biting her thumbnail. ‘Something is drawing him to the house.’

Mr Stirling shook his head and pursed his lips in irritation. ‘That woman and her Ouija board.’ He sighed again.

‘Yes, she’s given him a portal into our world. But we can encourage him to go to the light.’

Mr Stirling wasn’t too sure what ‘the light’ meant.

It sounded rather trite to him and once again he felt his stomach lurch with doubt.

His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Was he being taken for a fool?

‘If he doesn’t find the light, maybe he can make himself useful and tell us where the Potemkin Diamond is hidden,’ said Mr Stirling with a nervous chortle.

‘I assume you’ve heard the story of William Aldershoff’s famous diamond? ’ he added.

‘I have,’ said Pixie.

‘Well, while you’re in conversation with him, perhaps you might ask him.’ He meant it as a joke, to make himself feel less foolish, but Pixie took him seriously.

‘It’s certainly a possibility,’ she replied, looking at him earnestly.

‘As a soul still attached to the earth plane, any avarice and materialism would remain part of his character. He would be the same, only without a body with which to indulge his desires.’ She lifted her tapestry handbag off the floor and delved inside.

The bag seemed full of things and Pixie rummaged about to find what she was looking for.

At last, she pulled out a small suede pouch and poured an amethyst and chain into her palm.

‘This dowsing crystal will tell us if it’s in the house,’ she said with a grin.

Mr Stirling noticed her crooked teeth. But her smile had a sweetness to it and he felt himself warming to her.

She placed her elbow on the table and let the crystal dangle on its chain from her thumb and forefinger.

‘Let’s ask whether the Potemkin Diamond is in this house, shall we?

’ She trained her blue eyes on the amethyst with intent.

Mr Stirling did not believe in dowsing crystals, but he was willing to go along with it – mainly because Ulysses thought it a marvellous idea. ‘How much is the diamond worth in today’s money, do you think?’ Ulysses asked Mr Stirling.

‘Around four hundred million, apparently,’ Mr Stirling replied. ‘At least, the last time I read about it, that was the figure.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Ulysses gasped, mouth opening wide with astonishment. ‘That’s a hell of a lot of money.’

‘Those Gilded Age tycoons were indecently rich,’ said Mr Stirling.

Ulysses nodded. ‘I’m surprised no one’s torn the house apart to find it.’

‘Trust me, they’ve done their best. You see, William Aldershoff had a quirky sense of humour.

He boasted that he’d hidden it in such a clever place that no one would ever find it.

After his death, jewels and other treasures were found in odd places – for example, they discovered that the ornamental wooden ball at the bottom of the staircase was capable of being opened.

He’d hidden some valuables in the hollow cavity there.

A secret compartment was found in one of the legs of the large sideboard table in the dining room.

There was a hidden drawer in his desk where he’d concealed papers.

It seems, he did not believe in a safe. He used to say, apparently, that the least safe place in a house was a safe, because that’s the first place a robber will look.

I think he took great pleasure in devising clever hiding places that would fool the most seasoned thief.

The trouble was, he and his eldest son, Walter-Wyatt, took that knowledge with them to the grave.

I don’t suppose Walter-Wyatt expected to die young. ’

‘No one does,’ said Pixie. She was staring into the crystal and it was beginning to quiver.

‘What’s it saying?’ Ulysses asked, leaning forward.

Mr Stirling shook his head. This was getting stranger by the minute.

What was Pixie going to pull out next? A crystal ball?

A deck of tarot cards? As much as he was thrilled to be in the company of Ulysses, he was rather wishing he’d given his impulsive invitation to Pixie Tate a little more thought.

He was beginning to fear she was a total fraud.

Pixie gave it a moment, silently asking the question: Is the Potemkin Diamond in this building?

‘No,’ she replied firmly as the amethyst began to circle in an anticlockwise direction. ‘Definitely not. No point tearing the place apart then. It’s not here.’ As much as Mr Stirling doubted the power of the crystal, and Pixie Tate, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed with the result.

‘That’s a shame,’ said Ulysses, pulling a sad face. ‘I was hoping you’d find it, Pix, and make us both rich, for surely with such a find there would be a reward.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t know why you assume I’d share my reward with you.’

He grinned. ‘Because you love me?’

Pixie rolled her eyes and dropped the crystal back in its pouch. She glanced at Mr Stirling. ‘The trouble is, everyone does.’

Mr Stirling smiled at Ulysses. He could quite believe it.

The Aldershoff was the most exquisite hotel Pixie had ever seen.

With its grand marble staircase, panelled walls and doors, oriental rugs and gold-framed paintings, it felt more like a private home than a hotel.

‘It was my most ardent desire to restore this building to its original magnificence,’ Mr Stirling told them as he gave them the keys to their rooms. ‘My intention is that you feel as if you are back in New York’s Gilded Age, but with all the modern conveniences of the twenty-first century. ’

‘I think you’ve done a great job,’ said Pixie, gazing around her in wonder.

However, there was something about the staircase that caused her to stop at the foot of it and gaze up ponderingly.

It might have looked golden to the naked eye, but to Pixie’s psychic eye it looked as if it languished in the shade.

Everything around it shone with a gilded radiance, as if the sun were shining upon it.

But the stair was dull, as if the sun could not reach it.

Something had happened there that had left a decidedly negative energy.

She didn’t know whether it had anything to do with the earthbound spirit. But she would certainly find out.

Mr Stirling, taking her interest in the stair to be admiration, added, ‘This staircase was one of the finest in New York. It was designed by the architect Richard Morris Hunt in imitation of the Chateau de Blois in the Loire. The style is Louis the Twelfth. He also designed the stair for Mrs William B. Astor’s mansion, but I believe this stair surpasses the beauty of even that. ’