“I’m afraid not.”

Releasing a sigh, Francis said, “Very well. Give me a moment.” He stood and took up the book he was reading, along with one other from the pile, holding them against his chest. “We’ll go upstairs.”

As they walked, Sydney made the introductions. “Francis Williams, this is Guy Nolan. His father is a watchmaker in Old Town. These are his friends Miss Daly and Mr. Smith.”

Francis inclined his head. “Lovely to meet you.”

Back at the entrance, Catherine slowed, pausing at the foot of the stairs.

Guy, noticing her hesitation, said, “Miss Daly?”

There was a man she recognized heading down the opposite corridor. He wore a dark frock coat, his light-brown hair slicked down and curled at the sides. She’d seen him a few times at the print shop, though he had no place there.

Mr. Boyd, proprietor of the Journal.

When Guy said her name again, she picked up her skirts and started after him.

On the fourth floor, Francis opened the door to his room. It was rather plainer than Catherine had expected. The arrangement was similar to her room at the print shop, though the furnishings were a fair bit nicer, and he had it to himself instead of having to share it with another student. A spray of flowers graced the windowsill, and everywhere else there lay books and papers, pens and inkpots.

Francis placed the books he carried on his desk. Turning around, he said, “What is it, then?”

Sydney opened his mouth, then closed it. His gaze flickered to Guy, to Catherine and Owen. “Perhaps you might explain,” he said vaguely.

Catherine looked over at Francis. “We’re searching for a timepiece.”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Sydney mentioned that. In fact, someone else was here making inquiries about it just yesterday.”

“What?” said Sydney. “Who?”

“A man from the Invercarn Chronicle, I believe. I didn’t speak to him myself.”

Catherine cast her eyes down, jaw clenched. Ainsworth. Ainsworth had been here. And if he was asking about the timepiece, did that mean he no longer thought she had it?

Guy asked, “What do you know of this timepiece, Mr. Williams?”

“I know it’s powerful magic.” Francis tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk. “It’s not the sort of enchantment one could make on one’s own, is it?”

“Do you have any knowledge of where it might be?”

“I mean…” Francis frowned, rubbing his chin. “Some fellows here think it’s somewhere in the public cemetery, but there are others—others who say it’s still with whoever made it, tucked away in a shop drawer or some such place. That seems the more likely possibility to me, at least. If it was in the cemetery, surely someone would’ve come across it by now.” His gaze shifted from Guy to Sydney. “Is this all you wished to discuss? I’ve a lecture in”—he took out his pocket watch, checked the time—“less than half an hour.”

Catherine looked to Owen, as did Guy and Sydney. He was quite pale, his grip tight around the hat in his hands. He gave a small shake of his head and fixed his attention on his boots.