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“In places. Though I admit I was getting a bit fed up with hiking across the dullest of little islands under the blazing sun, when we finally found what we were looking for.”

“How did you know where to look? Was it mere chance?”

“Lord, no. Papa had an actual map—though it helpfully omitted any names or compass bearings. He got it from some old sea dog—I think he’d sailed with Papa on earlier expeditions until he got too ill.

Papa looked after him a bit, and in gratitude the old fellow gave him his treasure map.

Anyone else would have said a polite thank you very much and burned it with the rubbish, but not my father.

He believed him, and as it turned out, he was right. ”

“It must have been very exciting.”

“It was certainly funny,” Sydney said. “I had to eat my own words of doubt, which had become increasingly loud over the preceding week, and for once I was more than glad to.”

“I suppose you were owed a share of the treasure?”

“I was,” Sydney said fervently, “and I don’t mind telling you it would have been damned useful.”

“May I ask what you meant to spend it on?”

“Wine, women, and song, of course. Preferably without the song. Either that or to set up in photography. I believe that will be a valuable business investment. Such a useful science, and artistic in its own right.”

“Really?” Solomon said. The various processes he had come across were clever, but he had never thought the end results either artistic or useful. Stern portraits without character or spontaneity, landscapes without color. “Perhaps I should look further into the matter.”

“Get my father to show you his photographs from the expedition. They were delivered last night.”

“I will,” Solomon said. “Do they show the treasure?”

“They do. Well, just the chest in most, but there are a couple with it open, where you get a pretty good view of the contents.”

“Your little sister seemed very disappointed that she never saw the actual treasure.”

Sydney smiled wryly. “Papa’s little joke. Not that it makes any real difference who saw it.”

So Rachel had told the truth. “I had the impression before today that you had all seen it.”

Sydney’s eyes slid away to the window. “Oh well, we none of us like to spread about Papa’s less successful jokes. Some of them can seem almost cruel to strangers. Papa does not mean them that way, of course. He’s just teasing and thinks everyone is as entertained as he is.”

“Were you?”

“Not really. Mama and the girls would have loved to see it. I do hope you get it back for us.”

“So do I. Do you or your father have any enemies, any ill wishers who might have stooped to robbery?”

Sydney rubbed distractedly at the side of his nose. “Not unless his seamen decided they deserved more pay. Or there’s Terrance, I suppose.”

“Who is Terrance?”

Sydney grimaced. “Mark Terrance. Boring, ill-natured old duffer who fancies himself as a collector of valuable antiquities. He rants against my father’s knowledge whenever anyone will listen—mostly because Papa refused to bid at auction for some vase or other than Terrance paid a fortune for.

It turned out to be fake, and Terrance insisted my father knew and kept quiet deliberately. ”

Sydney stretched out his legs and yawned. “Which he might have, to be fair, but it’s hardly Papa’s fault Terrance was gammoned. Anyway, I don’t see how either disgruntled seamen or Terrance could have got into the house, let alone opened the strong room.”

“Was Mr. Terrance a frequent visitor to the house?”

“Lord, no, shouldn’t think so. Not after the vase incident, anyway. A couple of years ago, that was. I do remember his popping up here occasionally before that. You should ask my mother.”

“I will,” Solomon assured him. “I believe Benjamin Devine is a friend of yours?”

A hint of amusement crept into Sydney’s eyes, though he kept his face straight. “So far.”

“Meaning your father might banish him for his interest in your sister?”

“Be fair, sir. Jemimah’s only sixteen years old.”

“It wasn’t a criticism,” Solomon said. It had, in fact, been a deliberate provocation to see if Sydney would defend his father. “I merely wondered if Mr. Devine is interested in antiquities too.”

“He’s interested in beauty,” Sydney said. “So he might be, if his father didn’t keep him on such a short leash. Wants him in the family mill, but Ben’s more of a poetry man. You don’t suspect him, do you?”

“We can’t rule out anyone familiar with the house.”

Sydney met his gaze, the amusement more pronounced now. “Especially those who live here and know where the keys are kept? Want to search my room, Mr. Grey?”

Solomon smiled back. “I have no such authority, Mr. Lloyd, nor, at the moment, any such interest.”

“No point anyway,” Sydney said. “My father’s already roared through every room in the house.”

Well, that explained why the servants were so uppity. A mixture of outrage and fear, and yet still loyal. Solomon hoped his client was worthy of that.

“I say, it’s dashed cold in here, isn’t it? Shall we go somewhere warmer? I daresay it will be more comfortable in the drawing room. Will the charming Mrs. Silver be joining us today?”

“Not this morning,” Solomon said, rising and picking up his hat to follow.

Surprisingly, Sydney said, “Give me your hat and coat, sir. Garrick can’t have thought you were staying.”

“Wishful thinking, no doubt. Thefts often lead to difficult times for domestic servants.”

“Very tolerant fellow, aren’t you?” Sydney said, leading him upstairs. “I suppose you have to be… In your line of work, I mean,” he added hastily.

On the landing, Sydney opened the double doors of the drawing room, which was indeed considerably warmer than the reception room below.

A fire blazed welcomingly in the grate. Solomon was glad to take the chair next to it when offered.

“Want some tea?” Sydney asked, hovering. “Something stronger?” He made a half movement toward the decanter on the cabinet near the fireplace.

“Not for me, thank you.”

If Sydney was disappointed not to have the excuse of brandy well before eleven o’clock in the morning, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he sat in the chair opposite Solomon’s and asked amiably, “How does one come to the career of a private agent of inquiry?”

“I imagine former policemen are very good at it.”

Sydney’s lip curled. “Yes, but you were never a policeman, were you?”

“No. I rather fell into it by degrees after some property was stolen from me. It became something of—er…a hobby before I had the notion of making it a business interest.”

“Not many men marry their employees,” Sydney drawled.

“You might be surprised there. But Mrs. Silver is not my employee. She is my partner.” Solomon fished Juliet Silver’s list of collectors from his pocket, unfolded it, and leaned forward to pass it to Sydney. “Might I ask you if you know any of the names written here?”

Looking faintly amused once more—whether at Solomon’s partnership or the list before him was not clear—Sydney cast a quick glance at it. “Can’t say I do. Who are they?”

“Collectors of antiquities.”

“I see.” He read the names again more thoroughly and began to look more thoughtful. “You know, this fellow sounds familiar for some reason. Arthur Fenwick… Fenwick…”

The drawing room doors opened again and Mrs. Lloyd swept in with her elder daughter, saying briskly, “I am not saying that, my dear, merely that Mr. Devine will be treated with the same respect as any other visitor to our house and not left to find—Oh.” She broke off, actually halting in her tracks as Solomon rose and bowed.

“Mr. Grey. Good morning. I was not told you were here.”

“Garrick told me instead of disturbing you,” Sydney said easily. “Come and look at these names, Mama. Don’t we know an Arthur Fenwick?”

“I don’t believe so. Who is he?”

“I believe he collects antiquities,” Solomon said, giving his seat next to the fire to Mrs. Lloyd, who was now reading his list, with Jemimah peering over her shoulder.

She waved at him to be seated once more. “We know the Graftons, though.”

“Are they frequent visitors? Old acquaintances?”

“Not so very old, only in the last few years or so. Mrs. Grafton and I are friends. She calls occasionally for tea. We dined with her family last month, and the month before they dined here.”

Jemimah nodded. “He loves Egyptology. She always looks harassed by the thought of dust on the millions of objects displayed in their drawing room. They have a daughter a couple of years older than me who always looks down her long nose at me.”

“If it’s that long, she probably can’t help it,” Sydney said helpfully, ambling toward the door. “I’ll bid you good day, Mr. Grey. I have an appointment to keep.” With a casual wave of the hand to his mother, he departed.

“I don’t believe we are acquainted with any of the others on your list,” Mrs. Lloyd said, returning the paper. “But my husband may know them.”

“I shall certainly ask when I next speak to him. I believe you are acquainted with another collector, a Mr. Terrance?”

“The vase man,” Jemimah said with a wicked grin.

“I heard about the accusation he made against Mr. Lloyd,” Solomon said. “What sort of a man is he?”

Mrs. Lloyd sighed. “Lamentably quick tempered, but there is no harm in him.”

“Then he does not bear a grudge against your husband?”

“Oh no. He and his wife came to dinner in… When was it, Jemimah?”

“August, I think,” Jemimah said, perching on the arm of her mother’s chair. “It was a very warm evening, anyway. He was charming. If you ask me, Papa provokes him deliberately. He’s quite different when Papa isn’t around.”

“Have you ever discussed with anyone in his family such matters as security? The strong room, for example.”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Lloyd looked shocked. “I doubt anyone knows we have one.”

“When they came for dinner,” Solomon pursued, “did either of them have any reason to go upstairs? To a retiring room, perhaps, or to make use of your boudoir?”

“Oh, no. You cannot suspect our friends, surely!”

“It must be someone who knows your household well,” Solomon pointed out. “Someone who knew about the strong room and the keys and the precise night the treasure arrived there. There are surely a limited number of people who could possibly have committed this crime.”

“Oh dear. Oh dear!” The poor woman sounded so distressed that Solomon began to feel guilty.

Her daughter, however, while patting her shoulder, did not seem unduly disturbed. In fact, the gleam of curiosity in her face resembled her little sister’s.