She turned the frame over and studied it carefully, trying to take in every detail she could so she could describe it to Barrow and Gaston. Holding it in her hands, she found they were shaking. This portrait appeared to be smaller than Sylvie on the Steed, but it could be an optical illusion since this frame was much smaller. From Barrow she knew to look at the canvas—which, after she flipped it over, seemed identical to the one that Barrow was now studying. “Why did you bring me here?” Lara looked up at the man.

“This painting was of Le Cirque Secret. The owner keeps it in here. It is his favorite.”

“This is a very valuable painting, you know.”

The man shrugged. “It does not matter to him.” He pointed to the desk that seemed to belong to the head of Le Cirque de Fragonard. “He calls her his tragic muse.”

“Tragic?”

He nodded. “The woman in that painting died right after she posed.”

“But that’s not possible…” Lara leaned in to study the woman’s face. If Cecile Cabot had died, then who was the woman claiming to be Cecile in Kerrigan Falls? Looking down at the painting, Lara felt a connection to this woman. This Cecile Cabot. The platinum hair. This was the woman who had written the journal.

Lara put the frame back up on the wall. “Thank you. Is there anything more? Archives or anything?”

“Oui.” The man nodded and led her back to the railcar. As Lara stepped up into the car again, watching for the ponytailed lady, she saw the old man bent over, pulling out boxes of papers. “All circus memorabilia.”

Lara knelt down. “Is it okay if I look through this?”

The man nodded. “I have more cleaning to do.” He motioned around the courtyard.

All she wanted to do was run back into that office, pull that painting from the wall, and take it away to the institute.

Furiously rummaging, Lara discovered about ten other boxes containing photos, costumes, programs—everything from the French, British, Spanish, and German circuses before World War II. Two boxes labeled FRANÇAIS seemed the best bet to find anything on Le Cirque Secret. The first box contained a bunch of tickets to other circuses as well as photos—many of them of haunting oddities, like clowns making themselves look like otherworldly creatures with makeup and wigs.

The second box contained circus programs. She was midway through the second box when she spotted them: familiar aged composition books, two of them, with weathered, almost leathery beige covers bearing the name CECILE. Flipping through them, she recognized the familiar handwriting.

She smiled. “A scavenger hunt, huh?” She looked around the railcar. This entire day had been one big scavenger hunt.

The man returned thirty minutes later to find her on the floor surrounded by circus memorabilia.

“Success?” He wiped his forehead with his hankie.

“Oui,” said Lara, holding up the two books.