He took out a newer five-dollar bill and laid them side by side. “This particular bill was printed in 1923. See here how they placed the portrait of President Lincoln in a nice round circle? And how they outlined the border with the words ‘The United States of America’? That’s why they called these porthole notes—because it looks like the porthole on a ship.”

He looked up at Coralis. “Are you sure you want to give these up? They’re probably worth more than five bucks.”

Coralis gave no indication if he was mad at himself for choosing outdated currency. Henry imagined that much of the currency the man had collected over the years must be priceless, but the bill in question looked innocuous enough. He never would have guessed it was anything special.

“Will they get us to Chicago?” Coralis asked.

“Oh, indeed they will!”

Coralis winked conspiratorially back at him. “Then they’re all yours.”

The cashier printed the tickets and handed them to Coralis with a business card. “The name’s Harry. Harry Wilson. Let me know if you ever have any more gems like this you want to get rid of.”

“You’ll be the first to know. Now come along, Henry. We have a train to catch.”

As they turned to leave, the cashier said hopefully, “Don’t you need a return ticket?”

“Afraid not, good sir. From Chicago, we’re bound for the Southwest Chief to Arizona,” said Coralis.

The smile on the cashier’s face lit up almost as bright as Henry’s wand. “Well, you’re in luck! I can sell you those tickets from here, too. And I can give you some tips for the ride. I used to be a conductor on that line years ago. My son took my place.”

“Well then, you’re in luck,” mimicked Coralis. “I just happen to have a few more of those certificates.”

By the time they left, they had more useful information than anything written in Mrs. Verrity’s diary. “It’s amazing what you can learn just by being nice to someone,” said Coralis.

“It didn’t hurt that you just gave him something he can sell on eBay,” piped in Brianna. Coralis’s eyebrows arched quizzically.

Henry and Brianna shared a giggle. “We’ll explain it to you later.”

Randall awoke to pitch-blackness. Slowly his senses returned. His body was tightly bound and his beak clamped. A blindfold wrapped his head. Yet from the continuous jostling motion and muffled voices, he determined he was in the trunk of a car.

His talons were not bound, which gave him some hope. But as he moved one, he understood why. A small bell had been loosely tied to one of his legs, and it immediately jingled. The noise was very small but clearly enough to alert Viktor, sitting in the backseat, who screeched a warning like a junkyard dog.