Lara leaned over the portrait while Barrow donned gloves and began to carefully unwrap each layer. If Lara closed her eyes, she could almost hear the audience whispering and murmuring to each other while the horse galloped around the arena. The sophisticated dress of the seated patrons was a reminder that the circus in Paris during this time was not the same as its traveling American carnival cousins, like the Margot or even the Rivoli. Here women wore pearls and furs. Circuses in France were considered art and were treated as such. While not as prestigious as a trip to the opera, a night at the circus was still considered a glamorous evening out.

“Beautiful job removing the frame, Gaston,” said Barrow, taking the painting in his gloved hands.

“It was a later frame,” said Gaston. “Likely the 1940s. Monstrous bastard.”

“Ugly, too,” added Lara.

Barrow spun around to another table with a lamp, just missing a stack of art books that sat on the floor. He pulled out a loupe and began to study the painting carefully, examining every edge and adjusting the light in places. Lara held her breath. If he didn’t think this was a real Giroux, then her Paris adventure was over barely thirty minutes after it began. Lara blinked, trying to keep her heavy lids open after the flight. The room was silent as Barrow turned the light as he went. She wondered if they should have dealt with the painting tomorrow, allowing themselves to rest for a day while they held on to the magical idea that they might be in possession of a famous missing masterpiece.

In the corner was a box of hardback books. Lara picked up the top one. Émile Giroux: A Perspective by Edward Binghampton Barrow. While Lara had been a music major in college, she’d minored in art history. Yet until she heard Gaston talk about Giroux, she couldn’t recall seeing any of his works. Then she spied The Vampire. There wasn’t an art student in the world who didn’t recognize The Vampire.