Matthew watched as Julian picked up the case from the floor. “Damned heavy. More than important papers, for sure.” Julian inserted the key, unlocked and opened both snaps. Then he sat down on the floor across from Matthew, opened the satchel’s pouch wide and with a violent—nay, contemptuous—thrust expelled its contents upon the boards.

Out clattered ten gold bars, each one about the length of an index finger and two fingers in width.

They glistened in the room’s lantern light, as both Matthew and Julian stared at what had to be a very considerable fortune.

After a moment, Julian spoke. “How much do you suppose those are worth?”

“I have no idea,” Matthew answered, “but I imagine they would buy at least a year’s worth of Grand Suites. Maybe more than one Grand Suite.”

Julian retrieved the satchel and peered inside. There was an arrangement of ten leather pockets sewn to the interior’s dark gray leather lining. He pushed the satchel away. “Interesting that they brought gold bars, instead of coins,” Julian mused. “Why do you think that might be?”

Matthew had a thought. “The polar bear coat,” he said.

“What?”

Matthew was already struggling up. His first step almost sent him face-first to the floor again, but he maintained his balance and went into the bedroom where a marble fireplace burned logs. There on a gold-trimmed lounge chair next to the canopied bed with its ceiling-high headboard of a carved forest scene was the count’s bulky white fur coat. “Whatever Pellegar showed to the guard at the gate … he put back in his coat,” Matthew called to Julian. When he picked up the coat he marvelled that any man had the strength to wear such a beast. He went straight for the inner pockets. Only lint in the one on the right, but in the left his fingers found both the room’s key and a square of parchment paper as stiff as a gentleman’s greeting card. He withdrew the paper and took a look, aware that Julian had entered the room and was coming up beside him.

Written in a spiky penmanship were words in the Prussian language, which neither man could read, yet three items were clear to understand: the address, Number Fourteen Endsleigh Park Road, and a date and time, 20 December, 7:30 Abends.

“What’s that word mean? Abends?” Julian asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to assume this is an invitation to the house day after tomorrow at seven-thirty in the evening. I doubt these gentlemen were early risers.”

“So Pellegar showed this to the guard to get past the gate?”

“Yes. As you said, Pellegar and Brux had likely just arrived by ship and they went to the house to learn where they were staying for the night. And obviously they’re booked in here for the night of the 19th and likely the 20th and beyond.”