“This letter is from the Inter-Services Research Bureau. Otherwise known as the Special Operations Executive.”

“Special agents.”

“Special agents, spies, saboteurs. Many who operated in France.”

Gabriel dropped back to his knees beside Lia. “You think that this Sophie Kowalski was actually my aunt?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Lia held the envelope gently in her fingers. “The date on the postmark fits the photos we found. And the first name fits, even if the last name doesn’t. Maybe Kowalski was another code name. Like Beaufort.”

“I don’t know.” Gabriel didn’t sound convinced.

“Your grandfather would have searched for Sophie Seymour. Not Sophie Beaufort or Sophie Kowalski. Maybe that’s why he never found anything. Maybe his answers are in here.”

“Maybe.”

“There is one way to find out,” she said, holding out the envelope. “Open it.”

“And if it’s not the right Sophie?”

“Then we will do our best to get this to whatever family Sophie Kowalski might still have left with whatever information we find. Either way, we need to know what is in the letter.”

“All right. But I’m not simply ripping it open here. I’ll take this back to my studio where I can handle it properly. No matter who it belongs to, it is a piece of history and needs to be treated as such. This, and the rest of these documents, no matter who they belong to, should be properly archived.”

Lia made a strangled noise and dropped her head to her chest. “The scientist in me recognizes the rationality of that and approves. The Agatha Christie reader in me wants to shriek and throw something in agonized impatience, and then tear this open with my teeth.”

Gabriel chuckled and took the envelope from her. He bent to gather the rest of the letters. “If this letter indeed turns out to be tied to Sophie Seymour in any way, we will have a new starting point at the National Archives. Patrick, the friend I told you about earlier, is also well acquainted with the archives. He has an uncanny ability to know just where to look for information that would otherwise be missed. I suspect it’s part of the reason he was hired to start with.”

“This is wholly anticlimactic, you know.”

“I’m sorry but not sorry.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“How?”

“Before we go, show me some more of your work. The pieces you have hidden up here in this attic.”

He paused before resuming his task. “No.”

“No?” Lia frowned. “Are you being serious?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“You are serious,” she breathed. “Why won’t you show me?”

“Because it’s personal. And my personal life is none of your business.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you kissed me.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn’t have. Perhaps that was a mistake.”

Lia faltered. “It didn’t feel like a mistake.”