Jean slipped into a chair and began flipping through the book. Nemo glimpsed color reproductions of paintings that all had one thing in common—they all depicted the Adoration of the Magi, three wise men bringing gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the infant Jesus. With Andrea simply standing there, he suddenly felt out of character. How could she not see that he was not a scholar or a man with even an iota of knowledge about old books? How could she mistake him for Peter Byerly, whoever that was (Jean had tried to explain to him on the walk to the library, but Nemo had been watching for tails and had not paid much attention). He felt he should be making some sort of comment about books or manuscripts but he had no idea what to say or where to begin. And, though he knew it could only have been a minute or two since she sat down, Jean seemed to be taking forever with that damn book. He supposed he should sit down and look at some of the other books from Himmler’s library that Andrea had brought—make some small attempt to have it appear that they had not come with any single-minded purpose vis-â-vis the Ripley Scroll, but as soon as he thought this he feared he would somehow betray his ignorance about books by mishandling one of these treasures. Finally, he decided to take advantage of the fact that Andrea seemed unwilling to leave them alone and address her directly.

“Strange that someone else called about the Ripley Scroll on the same day we did.”

“Not particularly,” said Andrea. “Even with six million items, that sort of coincidence happens all the time.”

But Nemo feared it had been no coincidence. He felt certain that Ingrid Weiss had somehow found out what they already knew. “I wonder if it was someone I know,” he said, feigning absentmindedness.

“If you’d like to wait,” said Andrea, “maybe I can find out. My colleague said she was driving in from Germany later today.”

“Oh goodness,” said Jean, suddenly pushing back her chair and leaping up. “I’ve completely lost track of the time. We have that luncheon engagement, remember, dear?” She took Nemo’s arm and, being sure that Andrea couldn’t see, squeezed it hard. Nemo got the message.

“Oh, you’re right,” he said. “I’m so sorry we have to run, Andrea. Perhaps we can stop by later this afternoon or tomorrow to look at the other books?”

“I’ll keep them set aside for you,” said Andrea. “Would you like me to show you out?”

“I’m sure we can find the way,” said Jean, pulling Nemo toward the door. Neither of them spoke until they were back in the warm sunshine of Prague and had pushed their way through the crowds into the open space of Old Town Square. There, just past the ancient astronomical clock, Jean finally turned to Nemo.