“It is the wise person who knows when not to speak, don’t you agree, Mr. Poe?” said Mrs. Hamilton.

“Quite,” said the man with the offensive forehead. He and Mrs. Hamilton clinked glasses over Miss Millie’s plate, which Miss Millie thought was exceedingly rude.

“I’d be happy to excuse Miss Millicent,” said Miss Theresa Morningstarr, gesturing with a bony hand. “Through those French doors you’ll find a parlor with a balcony, my dear. Please, take in as much fresh air as you like.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Millie as meekly as she was able, which was not meekly at all. On her way out of the room, she almost crashed into the clanking suit of armor. “Lance,” according to the engraved panel on his iron lapel, stepped aside and swept a creaking arm out, welcoming her to pass. As she did so, she heard the pretty young woman in the plain dress ask if she could see Lance’s insides after dinner.

It was all extremely vexing.

But once Miss Millie found the parlor, she didn’t bother opening the doors to the balcony. Instead, she threw herself in an overstuffed velvet chair to sulk. It simply wasn’t fair of her mother to drag her here against her will and force her to converse with such odious people about such tedious things. It wasn’t as if her mother enjoyed the company. Both Miss Millie’s parents had dined with the Morningstarrs once, years ago, before Miss Millie was born, and her mother had claimed that the evening was a perfect horror.

“Why would you want to repeat it, then?” Miss Millie asked.

“Because your father needs their support,” said her mother. “One good word from them and investors will come flocking.”

Dr. Munsterberg was a great scientist but a mediocre businessman. “He’s not even coming to dinner with us!”

“All the more reason to be on your best behavior.”

Miss Millie thought she was behaving rather well, considering.

She cast her eyes about the room. It was a grand enough parlor, with a marble fireplace, a large crystal chandelier overhead, an ornate carpet at her feet. Next to her, on a claw-footed table, sat a small silver cube. She picked it up to examine it more closely, and then gasped. Here were the jewels missing from Miss Theresa Morningstarr’s fingers and wrists: The surface of the cube was studded with sparkling rubies and sapphires, emeralds and diamonds, pearls and onyx. If these stones were real, the cube was worth a fortune. Who would leave such a priceless item just lying around for anyone to pick up, especially with all these strangers in the house? At the dinner table in the other room, there was an Arab sheik, a Cherokee trader, an Indian rug maker, and an actor! Even Miss Millie knew you could never trust an actor.

A voice behind her said, “It’s a puzzle.”