Ruby opened the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and found nothing, not even dust. In the second drawer, also nothing, but when she shut it she heard a soft metallic sound and opened it up again. There, at the back of the empty drawer, was a small silver key. She picked it up, looked at it. A serial number was marked on it, but nothing else. She replaced the key where she’d found it and closed the drawer.

Constance moved fretfully around the room, looking for more places to search. She looked under the bed and made a grunt of frustration.

“Nothing here.”

Inside the open wardrobe, Ruby could see Gregor’s shirts arranged in color order, a row of shoes neatly placed. She moved toward it and started straightening them out where Constance had rummaged.

“What are you doing?” said Constance, still on the carpet, feeling the underside of the bed for hidden pockets. “Help me look, will you? There’s nothing in there—I checked.”

“We need to tidy, though. We’ve got to leave it all the way we find it. Otherwise, he’ll know we’ve been in here snooping.”

Constance rose and wrenched open every drawer in the chest, her search becoming more frantic. “Maybe I don’t care if he knows. Maybe he needs to know.” By the end of the sentence, she’d lost her conviction. She stared down at the mess she’d made, the bundle of underwear she’d thrown to the floor. She dropped to her knees and gathered it all up, folded the items carefully, replaced them with shaking hands. She started straightening out the rest of the drawers. “This was a mistake. We should get out of here, Ruby. It’s not in here.”

“Yes,” said Ruby, “just let me sort these shirts.” She placed each hanger equidistant from the next, then ran a hand down each front and back to smooth them. Soon the wardrobe looked the way it had when Constance first opened it. She was about to close it up when she noticed a wrinkle in one of the middle shirts. This time when she ran her hands down the fabric, her fingers grazed something at the back of the wardrobe. Parting the shirts carefully, she bent to look.

“What is it?” said Constance. “What have you found?”

“I don’t know.”

She pulled gently and the box came toward her. It was about the size of a shoe box, made of metal painted black, and fastened with a small, gold-colored padlock.

“The coat won’t be in that,” said Constance. “It’s not big enough.”

Ruby tried to pry the lid off. As she did so, there was a noise from the front door.

“Is that him?” They listened.

There was the sound of a key sliding into place. Gregor’s key.

“Quick,” said Constance, “Put it away. I’ll get the tape off the camera.”