Gabriel exhaled. “Focus on the positive, Lia. No matter where these paintings came from, your grandmother kept them safe when so many others were destroyed.” He gestured to the painting on the dressing table. “Kirchner had hundreds upon hundreds of his works destroyed after being labelled a degenerate artist. Works that are gone forever. This one has been saved.”

Lia leaned back against the wardrobe, looking unconvinced.

“None of these paintings prove your grandmother was a collaborator,” he said. “Though if you happened to have found the Portrait of a Young Man by Raphael in that wardrobe behind you, I might have questions.”

“Very funny.”

“No Painter on the Road by Van Gogh inside? Caravaggio’s Portrait of a Courtesan wasn’t left behind?”

Lia rolled her eyes but at least she was smiling now. “There was almost nothing in this wardrobe except a half-dozen couture gowns.”

That stopped Gabriel short. “The dressing room was filled to overflowing but the wardrobe was almost empty?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think that’s unusual?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot of things as of late,” Lia mumbled. “None of them good, most of them unusual.”

“May I take a look?”

Lia shrugged and pushed herself away from the wardrobe. “I’m telling you, there was nothing in it except the dresses.”

“I believe you.” Gabriel swung the wardrobe doors open wide and stepped into the interior, stooping awkwardly.

“If you fall in, say hello to the White Witch for me. And maybe ask her about the paintings.”

He chuckled, the sound bouncing around the wooden interior. He ran his fingers along the interior edges, not really expecting to find anything. But given the hoard of paintings in the bedroom, it was worth a shot. “Three years ago in Limoges, a colleague of mine found a Chagall hidden behind the false back of a wardrobe similar to this one,” he said over his shoulder. “Also a work that had disappeared during the war—”

A loud click made him freeze.

“What was that?” Lia asked from behind him.

Gabriel withdrew from the wardrobe. “It opens,” he said to Lia.

“What?”

“The back of the wardrobe opens.”

Lia followed his gaze. The back of the wardrobe was actually a hinged door that opened, revealing an unseen space beyond. The wall behind the wardrobe was not a wall at all.

“I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I want any more of my grandmother’s treachery on my hands.”

“We can wait.”

Lia laughed, a humourless sound. “For what?”

“Until you’re ready. These secrets have all been here for over seventy years. They’re not going anywhere.”

Lia pressed her hands to her temples. “There is probably just more art behind there.”

“Probably,” Gabriel agreed.

“I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re being human.”

Lia let her arms drop. “And you’re being kind.”

“Human,” Gabriel corrected with a gentle nudge.

“You’re right.”

“About?”