“Really?” said Jeffrey. “I can hit him first?”

“Course you can! Go ahead, enjoy yourself!”

“Thanks, Earnest. That means a lot to me. You’re a good friend . . .”

“Oh get on with it, you big softy. Kick his head in.”

I decided I’d heard about as much of this as I could stand. I took out the Merlin Glass, shook it out to full size, activated the teleport function, and then clapped the mirror over both of the guards in turn, sending one to the Antarctic and the other to the Arctic. Then I shook the mirror down and put it away, and smiled at the empty corridor.

“If you bump into the Vodyanoi Brothers,” I said, “say hi for me.”

I knocked politely on the Matriarch’s door, and tried the handle, but it was locked. I waited for a while, but no one opened it. I knocked again, putting a bit more effort into it, and then the Matriarch’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Who is it? Who’s there?”

“It’s Eddie, Grandmother. I’m back. Can I come in and talk with you?”

“The door is locked. And I don’t have a key.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “All right, Grandmother. I’ll soon have the door open. Stand back.”

“Don’t you dare break my door down, Edwin Drood! It’s a valuable antique!”

I sighed quietly, just to myself. “All right, Grandmother. Give me a moment.”

I knelt down and studied the lock. Old-fashioned, sturdy, no problem at all. I armoured up my right hand, concentrated, and a thin extension of the golden strange matter slipped forward into the lock, shaping itself to fit the interior exactly, moulding itself into a key. The tasks and skills of a Drood field agent are many and varied. I unlocked the door, armoured down, pushed the door open, and entered into the Matriarch’s waiting room.

She was standing right in the centre of the antechamber, all alone. The room seemed very big and empty without the usual attendant crowd of family and friends and well-wishers. The Matriarch herself seemed somehow smaller, diminished. She was doing her best to stand tall and proud, as always, but for the first time I could see the effort. She was dressed formally, but her long mane of gray hair hung carelessly down, instead of being piled up on top of her head. She nodded stiffly to me, a stick-thin old lady with nothing much left but her dignity.

“Edwin. It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Grandmother. May I ask; how did you come to be locked up in your own rooms?”

“I have been held prisoner!” she said angrily, almost spitting out the words. “Harry has kept me under guard for months, forbidden to communicate with the rest of the family.”

“Why would he do that?” I said.