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“Mr. Townsend will take the rest of the tours this afternoon,” he said.

“Well, Miss Norton and I don’t want to keep you from your duties or get in the way of your other guests,” Aunt Millward said. “We will just slip upstairs to check Mr. Buckland’s office. We won’t be long.”

“Allow me to go for you, my lady.”

Rutherford had obviously practiced polite ways of telling guests that they could not roam freely around the museum.

“No, no.” Aunt Millward dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand and the peacock feathers. “We both know exactly where it is.”

Voices sounded outside. Rutherford opened his mouth, glanced at the door, and then appeared to change his mind. “If you wouldn’t mind restricting yourself to visiting Mr. Buckland’s office only, I’d be much obliged,” he said. “The tours—”

“I understand completely,” Aunt Millward said, already moving across the entrance hall. “We shall be back downstairs before you know it.”

A knock sounded, and Rutherford stepped forward to admit the latest visitors.

“Straight up the stairs, Emily,” Aunt Millward said softly. “We have no time to waste.”

A murmur of voices met them when they reached the landing. It seemed that the current visitors had reached the gallery of antiquity. It would be only a matter of minutes before Mr. Fernsby completed the tour and led them downstairs again.

Turning away from the gallery, they hurried along the landing to Henry’s office. Emily reached it first and gave a light knock on the door before trying the handle.

“It’s unlocked,” she said, pushing it open.

Aunt Millward followed her in, and Emily closed the door behind them. Sunlight was streaming in through the large windows, illuminating dust particles hanging in the air and reflecting off the shiny inkwell on Henry’s desk.

“It doesn’t look like he’s been here for some time,” Aunt Millward said, eyeing the open book lying beside the inkwell. “His quill is dry, and the most recent entry in the ledger is dated yesterday.”

Emily walked around the desk, coming to a halt when she reached the chair.

“He may not have been here today, but he was here last night,” she said, lifting Henry’s satchel off the ground and setting it on the desk. “Henry doesn’t go anywhere without this.”

Aunt Millward joined her and reached for the green scarf draped across the back of the chair. “And he wouldn’t willingly leave this behind either.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emily lifted the satchel’s flap and riffled through the contents.

“The wood carving is gone,” she said. “Henry either put it back with the others, or Fernsby took it.”

“Are Henry’s keys in there?”

“No.”

Were they with Henry, or had they been stolen with the artifact?

“Rutherford will have another set,” Aunt Millward said. “We need access to every room in this building.”

On the other side of the closed door, footsteps and muted voices passed by.

“The tour is leaving,” Emily whispered.

Aunt Millward nodded. “As soon as they’re gone, we’ll go downstairs and talk to Rutherford again.”

Setting down the satchel and scarf where they’d found them, they waited. When it had been at least two minutes since they’d last heard a voice, Emily opened the door a crack. The landing was clear. Pulling the door fully open, she stepped out, waiting for Aunt Millward to follow before she softly closed the door behind her.

“Good day, Lady Millward.”

Emily’s heart leaped to her throat as Mr. Fernsby appeared at the top of the stairs. Dressed in a yellow brocade jacket with blue breeches, he eyed them guardedly.

“Mr. Fernsby!” Aunt Millward placed her hand to her chest. “You gave me quite a fright.”