“As these two young ladies are without living relatives,” the lawyer continued in his precise, cool way, “they are declared wards of court and taken into custody.”

Charlotte gave a little cry. Lucy took her hand and the two of them shrank together, a little apart from the rest of us. We watched helplessly.

“However,” Meister Haifisch went on, “there is a complication. I have established that the late Count Karlstein had no true title to the estate.”

A gasp from everyone, then—except for me, for I’d heard it before, of course. But I hadn’t expected this public announcement. Did they have something up their sleeves, this amazing pair? Miss Davenport was looking particularly smug. The audience was all ears, wide eyes, and open mouths, waiting for the next revelation.

“The true heir,” said the lawyer, looking around in a way that made a courtroom of the village green and a learned judge of the Mayor, “was stolen from his cradle at birth, taken to Geneva, and abandoned. He was brought up in a foundlings’ home, and then became a groom, and then a soldier, and fought Napoleon at the Battle of Bodelheim.”

“Well, I’m blowed,” said Max. “Who’d have thought it?”

“After the war,” said the lawyer, “he became a coachman, and then a humble servant—”

“What d’you think of that?” said Max, looking at Eliza. “Ain’t that amazing? I wonder who he is?”

Meister Haifisch treated Max to a long cool look, as if to say, hold your tongue, my man, or I’ll clear the court. Then he went on:

“The identity of this man is still in question. Fortunately, there is a certain way of telling. I have here”—he produced something, too small to see, from his waistcoat pocket and held it up—“the broken half of a silver coin, the other half of which was placed upon a chain and hung around his neck by the unhappy woman who stole him. She intended to hold him for ransom, but died before she could complete her plan. This coin”—he handed it to the Mayor, who peered at it closely—“and all the details, in her diary, were hidden away in an attic in Geneva and only recently found. So if the other half of the coin is traced—there is the new Count Karlstein!”

Something had been happening to Eliza in the last ten seconds or so—something that made her wriggle and thrust her hand down her neck and make little squeaking noises, as if a beetle had got down her dress. People were giving her very odd looks, but these changed to amazement when she held up a chain in the air and called: