Sophia’s mouth opened, but she only nodded, nodded cautiously. She pressed her hands awkwardly into her overcoat pockets, pressed her arms to her sides against the cold. Looked away from the young man, looked at nothing, trying to think.

“Miss Endering, you must—” the young man began.

“Let’s walk down to the avenue,” Sophia said. “We’ll find a coffee shop where we can have a civilized conversation.”

The German made a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry. I mustn’t be seen. You mustn’t be seen with me. It would be very dangerous. I am sorry—but I want to be out of the light.” He had edged over her again, out of the gray glow of the street. “I do not threaten you, so help me. I only want for you to understand quickly what I say so I can go.”

Sophia sighed, looked up at him, her heart beating rapidly, her expression composed. “All right,” she said. “Go on. What is it?”

“My name is Jon Bremer. You will remember that?”

“Jon Bremer. Yes?”

“And he will buy The Magi.”

“You really are serious, aren’t you?”

The young man put his hand on her arm. She could feel the urgency of his touch even through the woolen sleeve of her coat. “He is the Devil from Hell,” he blurted, lips trembling, like a child’s. “All the Resurrection Men are dead. The man who verified the panel: tortured—mutilated—murdered. The couple who found the shop in the east, the same. Tortured, killed. Even the shop owner—his body was pulled out of the Elbe three days after the panel was recovered. His eyes … horrible … That’s five people now—five people have had The Magi in their hands, Miss Endering. Four are dead. I am the last.”

Sophia murmured, “Good God.” She knew that it was true—and yet it made the conversation seem unreal to her, nightmarish. The two of them huddled together like this at the edge of the mews. The words smuggled between them, hurried, secretive, menaced. It was all too ridiculous. The Devil from Hell …

“Well, then, you must go to the police,” she said decisively.

“No!” The young man’s head went back, his eyes went wide, frightened. “His people are there as well. They are everywhere. You are the only one we can trust.” His grip on her tightened. She felt his thumb digging into her upper arm. It was painful, but it made her aware of his fear. It made her pity him. She pitied all of them. “It has to be you, Sophia,” he said. “It’s The Magi. You know all the players. You can be there, ask questions, without anyone suspecting. When you see who buys it, when you know—then—carefully—you can approach … the authorities … your friends in the press … someone …”