“Right. Well, I’ll take a look once you’ve typed it up. Who’s next on the schedule?”

“We have a Miss Oona Travis at eleven thirty, then a Miss Catherine Prescott at noon. Nothing after that, so I suggest lunch.”

“Suits me. Shall we take a look at the office next door since we have a free slot?”

“Let’s.”

Iris pushed herself up from her desk, which creaked ominously in protest. She glared at it.

“It’s been doing that more and more,” she said as she walked between the desks to the door. “One of the legs has gotten rickety, but I can’t figure out where the problem is. I’d get Mr. MacPherson to fix it, but he’s been even more rickety lately.”

“It’s what we get for taking what came with the office,” sighed Gwen. “At least your desk has four working legs. Mine has three and The Forsyte Saga supporting the fourth corner.”

“A sturdy choice,” commented Iris as she followed her down the hall. “Have you read it?”

“I keep meaning to,” said Gwen. “It’s very long. That’s what drew me to it for its present purpose. Here we are. ‘Cooper and Lyons, Chartered Public Accountants.’ I wonder what ever happened to them.”

“Any idea of when they last occupied the space?”

“Mr. MacPherson was uncertain on that point,” said Gwen, turning one of the keys in the lock. “As he is on most points.”

She opened the door, peered inside, and gasped.

“Iris,” she said in awe. “There are desks!”

“Let me see,” said Iris, pushing past her. “Oh! How lovely!”

The office itself was wider than their own by some four or five feet, which gave it room for a second window compared to their single one. There were no signs that it had been inhabited by anything human in years. There were signs of inhabitation by smaller species, and the place might have been swept and dusted within living memory, but that was not certain.

What had drawn their immediate attention was a pair of massive matched mahogany desks, one in front of each window. They were broad, sturdy behemoths, resting on thick square columned pedestals, each of which in turn contained a drawer and a cabinet facing the two women.

“Tell me it’s true,” whispered Gwen.

She walked between them, her arms spread, trailing her fingers across the faded burgundy leather inserts, gently wiping the coating of dust from the gold-tooled ornamentations along the borders. She knelt reverentially in front of one of the desks to examine the logos on the drawers.

“Harrods,” she breathed. “Partners’ desks from Harrods, Iris. I could positively swoon!”

There were no keys apparent, but the center drawer had been left unlocked. Gwen slid it open. It was empty.

Iris did the same at the other desk, and grimaced. “Something was living in mine,” she said.

“So you’ve already taken possession of that one,” said Gwen, smiling.

“Well, if we do expand, we should try to get the office furniture thrown into the deal.”