The fairgrounds were huge, with ninety buildings and half a dozen parks. There was a Machinery & Transportation Building, the Electricity Showcase, and a Temple of Music. Caroline was most eager to see the Liberal Arts Building, for the program noted that it included an exhibit on the Wonders of the Ancient World. It was the most likely place to find someone who could read Hebrew.

Thankfully the president’s speech meant crowds were thin, letting her scurry down the center aisle of the Liberal Arts Building, scanning both sides in search of the Wonders of the Ancient World. She passed exhibits on Shakespeare, a display of Renaissance tapestries, and one on advances in modern cookery. She finally spotted two massive reproductions of Egyptian columns framing the ancient-world exhibit. A tweedy-looking man with bushy sideburns looked eager for someone to talk to.

“Are you here to see the mummy?” he asked. “We open the sarcophagus twice a day, and the next opening will be as soon as the president’s speech is over.”

“No, thank you,” Caroline said. “Do you perhaps read Hebrew?”

The question took the tweedy man aback, but he gamely introduced himself as Professor Mayfield and offered to help her find someone who could. “I only have middling abilities in Hebrew,” he said. “My colleague from Princeton is completely fluent and will be manning the exhibit tomorrow, if you’d like to return.”

The president’s train returned to Washington tomorrow, and besides, the unsettling need to know what Luke had written clawed at her. She presented the letter to the professor.

“You can see there is only a single line at the bottom,” she said. “Can you make any sense of it? Please?”

Professor Mayfield took the note from her, frowning as his eyes scanned the text for several moments.

“This is very odd,” he finally said. “It must be my poor understanding of Hebrew, because this line doesn’t make sense.”

“What does it say?” Caroline asked, her mouth suddenly dry and heart thumping.

“It says, ‘Stop talking to Holland. He is dangerous.’” Professor Mayfield handed her the letter. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Holland is a country, not a person, but the writer calls it a ‘he.’”

Caroline’s blood ran cold. Captain Holland. Luke had somehow figured out she had been talking to Captain Holland, and she shouldn’t have been. Realizations came cascading in. Luke had told her to beware of the Dutch. He warned her of the Flying Dutchman and its corrupt captain. All of it was veiled warnings about Captain Holland, but she’d been too blind to see it.

She still didn’t know how to cut the link in Key West, but perhaps Nathaniel or Gray could help.

“I have to run,” she gasped, snatching the letter back.

“You don’t want to wait for the opening of the sarcophagus? It won’t be long now.”