“Hmm? Oh, didn’t I say? Yes, they only have eight. Harry got one back. Way to Beziers. It’s over there in my bag.”

Kingdom and Metz looked shocked all over again.

“You have it here?” Metz said.

“That’s right.” The old man slapped his hands. “What say, before we take your painting down, we get this other one out and try holding it up alongside it? Maybe if we see two together in the flesh, something might become clear.”

The pair sat speechless.

“Okay?” Alex’s grandfather said, striding across to his Gladstone. “Alex and I have come up with so many theories I’ve lost count. Maybe it’s something in the paint, maybe it’s a map, maybe it’s something to do with the trees . . . More trees in this new one, Alex. To be honest, I can’t see the woods for the trees anymore, ha-ha.”

As the old man stood happily unrolling the painting, Kingdom was first to recover her voice. “Did you miss the part where we mentioned we were members of a secret society who have taken a sacred oath passed down the centuries to devote our lives to keeping these paintings from ever being brought together?”

“Oh, pshaw,” Alex’s grandfather said. “What’s the worst could happen?”

Metz and Kingdom’s anxiety was genuine, and contagious. Alex had joined them in staring at the old man in silent apprehension. Seeing their faces, Alex’ grandfather hesitated, glancing from the picture in his hands across to the painting on the wall. The lonely mountain road. The old house shrouded in mist.

“Ah . . . just what is the worst could happen, do you think?”

The air filled with a deep, low pulsing sound that set Alex’s teeth on edge. The dogs sat up. Flat and ominous, the vibrating tone seemed to be coming from all directions at once.

“What’s that?” Alex said. “What’s happening?”

Metz drew himself unsteadily to his feet, face ashen.

“The alarm,” he said, sounding already defeated. “It seems they are here.”

XXVII.

LAST STAND AT CHÂTEAU DE SAINT-CLEMENT

Alex’s grandfather and Kingdom ran from the room toward the front doors of the house, dogs following. The pulsing noise continued.

Alex shrugged his coat on, shoved the toy robot deep in a pocket, and joined Metz where he stood, gazing at the bank of TVs. On the screens, numerous small white blips were gathering together to form large, vibrating white dots at the center of each stretch of the wall around the house, north, east, south, and west. After a moment, the large dots began breaking up again, spreading into swarms of spots that started closing in on the central gray block representing the building.

“The end of it,” Metz whispered.

The front door slammed and there came the sounds of keys and of bolts being rammed home. Kingdom, the old man, and the dogs reappeared, all looking serious.