“Hmmm.” The old man nodded, sizing it up. He pulled binoculars from his coat. “There’s a second-floor window around the side looks promising. Ledge looks large enough for me to jump up and get a grip. Think you could climb that marvelously convenient ivy? I reckon it should take your weight.”

“You want us to break in?”

“Seems the thing to do.”

“But are you—” Alex looked from his grandfather to the somber house and back. “Are you up to it?”

“Now, listen. Don’t start trying to wrap me in cotton wool, Alex,” his grandfather muttered, surveying the building. “Lots of life in this old dog yet. Okay. I’ll jump up and pop the window open while you climb up after me, and in we go. The question is whether there will be anybody in that room. But we can deal with that when the time comes. If we’re lucky, though, the place is big enough that we should be able to prowl around in there undetected for a while if we’re careful.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. Depends how many people are inside, of course. But back in my house-breaking days, this is exactly the kind of place Harry and I liked doing best. I’ll teach you a trick for walking quietly.”

Alex was doubtful in the extreme. The plan didn’t seem particularly solid, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because of his grandfather’s “fog on the brain,” or his usual recklessness. He glanced again at the drab château. The bleak afternoon light gave it a menacing aura, like a place waiting for bad things to happen. Birds were singing in the trees above. He wished they would shut up.

“But then what? We don’t even know what this painting looks like.”

“Ha, well. Decent point. But we’re not going to learn that sitting here. I’m rather hoping it might all make itself clear once we’re inside,” the old man whispered, raising the binoculars again.

“So, essentially,” Alex said after a moment’s more processing, “the plan is: break in and see what happens.”

“That’s the idea. Improvise. Now, let’s get moving.”

Alex made no reply. He was more concerned with the enormous dog staring at him from the shadows beyond his grandfather’s elbow.

It was a German shepherd, so large that the top of its blocky head came almost to Alex’s chest. It regarded him silently with sad dark eyes set in a black mask of fur. As Alex took a reflexive step back, the dog bared its teeth. Alex’s movement caused his grandfather to lower his binoculars and look down at him. His eyes widened.

“Ah, don’t make any sudden movements, Alex, there’s a good chap.”

“What?” Alex spun around, to be met with a discouraging bark from another, even bigger dog at his back. These eyes were reddish brown, highly intelligent, and not friendly.