I thought it best to move back and also put up a Magician’s Shield, taking the glass of whisky with me, just to be on the safe side. This proved to be the correct decision—it was a quarter of an hour before I moved back to the little table. Erasmus spent all that time tussling with the bonsai. He plunged search spells into the plant, observed it through the Twilight, even withdrawing as far as the third level. He crumbled a pinch of soil from the pot between his fingers and ate it, sniffed at the leaves for a long time—and actually seemed delighted at that: his face lit up, but then he gestured in annoyance and poured himself another whisky. He spent the last minute standing there, toying with a fireball on the palm of his hand as if he was struggling against the temptation to incinerate the pot and the bonsai, together with the table.

But he restrained himself.

“I give up,” Erasmus growled. “Your Gesar is truly great . . . I can’t work out the meaning of his message. Are you sure he didn’t ask you to communicate anything in words?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Erasmus took off his jacket and threw it across an empty armchair. He sat down in another chair, rubbed his face with his hands, and muttered: “I’m getting old . . . Well then, you wished to talk about tigers, Antoine?”

“Yes, and you were expecting me, Erasmus?”

“It’s all interconnected . . .” he said, still unable to take his staring eyes off the bonsai. Then he said: “Antoine, move the plant to the mantelshelf. I’ll deal with it later, try everything I possibly can . . . I’m sure I’ll be able to solve Gesar’s riddle eventually. But meanwhile I can’t bear to look at it, it annoys me. Tell me, how did you find me?”

“The story of your childhood is no secret, esteemed Erasmus,” I said.

“But it is not so very widely known . . .”

“It’s described in a little book that my daughter was reading.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Erasmus, keenly interested. “Did you think to bring it with you?”

“Damn,” I said, embarrassed. “You know, somehow it never occurred to me—I could send it to you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Erasmus said, with a nod. “Forgive an old man’s vanity, I enjoy collecting every reminder of the human period of my life . . . But how did you discover my address? I didn’t think the Night Watch of London had that information.”

“It wasn’t the Watch,” I admitted. “I acquired the address from private sources . . .”

Erasmus waited.

“Anna Tikhonovna works in our Watch . . .”

“Anna!” Erasmus exclaimed. “What a fool I am—I should have guessed . . .” He gave me a sideways glance. “Well, does she still laugh when she remembers how she caught me?”

“Pride and Prejudice . . .” I said pensively.

“What?”