Thorn grabbed her hand. 'Do what you want; the shares in the company are yours.' He knew he sounded desperate. He needed those shares to protect the interests of his two sons. ‘But when you're in my house-'

‘I'm your guest,' she finished the sentence for him. 'I know. But this is my room, and I'll have to ask you to leave. Now.'

Thorn sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. He was usually so calm, even under the most difficult of circumstances. But this one old woman could really get to him. He leaned down and gave her a swift kiss on the top of her head. 'Murray will have the car ready for you in the morning.' Then he turned to join the others downstairs.

Aunt Marion waited until he had disappeared into the shadows at the end of the corridor before she broke into a triumphant smile; she marched into her room, slamming the door behind her.

***

By the time Richard joined Ann and Dr Warren in the den, they had already set up the slide projector and a screen so that Charles could give them a preliminary glimpse of the new exhibition he was bringing to the Thorn Museum in Chicago.

Thorn had inherited a love of archaeology from his father, and had continued to support the undertakings Reginald Thorn had begun in that field. One such venture had been a risky dig outside the small town of Acre, which produced the most startling find of the last twenty years. Although it was Reginald Thorn who had been responsible for initiating the excavation, it was Richard who was to reap its rewards.

He dimmed the light as Charles Warren set the projector in motion. 'A good many of these things have already been packed and sent on their way,' Charles said. 'We should have the first shipment shortly.'

The first few slides were of vases and small statues. Looking at them, Thorn seemed to forget all about Aunt Marion. Ann looked over at her husband and smiled. His enthusiasm and the intensity with which he responded to the few people and things that he cherished had had a lot to do with her marrying him.

Charles interrupted Ann's musing. 'Here's something that'll interest you,' he said. She looked back at the screen and gasped involuntarily. The slide was of a fairly large statue, hideously detailed and in vivid color; it showed a licentious woman, clothed in purple, scarlet, and gold, wearing many jewels, triumphantly astride a seven-headed Beast. Each head was attached to a long, scaly neck, and had horns and fangs and a thin, forked tongue. The woman's head was thrown back, her long hair wild and twisted, and she seemed drunk with the contents of the golden cup held in her hand.

'Oh, dear,' Ann murmured.

'Yes,' said Charles, 'she is a bit frightening.'

‘The Whore of Babylon?' asked Richard.