Kingdom threaded her fingers and leaned forward, staring at the floor. Her eyes moved slightly from side to side, as though scanning through a list of possible ways to proceed. After a moment, she smiled at Metz with the air of someone who had made up her mind.

“This decision is mine to make,” she said. “The responsibility lies on me. But if you really disagree, I’ll say no more. So: shall we?”

After a moment, Metz spread his hands in resignation. “Why not?” he muttered bleakly. “It seems this is the end of it now, in any case.”

He spoke with such a final heaviness they all fell quiet.

“The end of what?” Alex finally asked, just to fill the silence.

Kingdom paused while refilling her glass and gave him a flat flicker of a smile.

“Of everything,” she said.

XXVI.

THE FISHING CLUB OF LONDON

“What I’m about to tell you is a very old story and a very strange story,” Kingdom continued. “And I fully expect you will not believe a word of it.”

“Might be surprised,” Alex’s grandfather said.

“Yeah.” Alex rubbed a hand wearily over his face. “We kind of specialize in those.”

Kingdom blew out a small laugh. “Well, in that case, gentlemen.” She raised her glass high. “As president, I welcome you to what looks like being the last meeting of the London Fishing Club Limited. Established 1893, and dissolved, well—anytime now.”

Alex and his grandfather looked dumbly at each other, then back at her.

“You’ve never heard of us? Well, no reason why you should.” Kingdom took a sip of cognac. “There was a time when the club was the toast of European society. But the club is not what it once was. It formally ceased to function in 1913, you see, during the buildup to the First World War. The leadership back then decided to take advantage of all the chaos and slip back under the radar. Before that, though, they had advertised widely: ‘Trout Fishing in the Black Forest!’” She waved her glass, giving the line a theatrical flourish. “That was the big selling point, that and the baths: ‘renowned natural healing waters, proven since times ancient for the treatment of rheumatism, gout, and skin disease!’

“To all appearances, it was a health resort, you see,” she continued. “Hidden in a remote valley, not far over the border in Germany. A spot called Bad Boll, outside the small town of Bonndorf.”

“The Black Forest.” The old man nodded grimly.

“Is it near the Kandel?” Alex asked.

“Well, near is a relative concept, Alex,” his grandfather said. “Relatively speaking, the moon is near the earth. But I wouldn’t want to walk it. The place Evelyn is talking about must be a good twenty miles from the mountain, at least. Please go on,” he added to Kingdom, who was watching them with a look of puzzlement.