They spent hours scouring the pages of the ledger, examining the binding, looking for hidden ciphers and patterns in the rows of figures. They read mind-numbing numbers of grocery purchases for the household—flour, molasses, sugar, brandy, provisions of pork and beef. Salaries for gardeners and smiths. They combed through lists of construction costs: masonry, wood, wages, dwellings for apprentices and servants. They found payments for shoes for Young Bob, Old Bob, and Wiley Dan, and imagined a comic book based on all three.

But it was fruitless.

Jaime took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t see anymore. Take this up again tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Tess and Theo agreed.

“Mind if I take Ono with me? I’ve kind of gotten attached.”

They all looked at the robot, which had been trying to communicate with the stuffed teddy bear in the corner for at least ten minutes. “To the Land of Kings,” it said to the bear. “Kings. KINGS.”

“Come on, Ono,” Jaime said. “We’re going to take a ride on the Underway.”

“To the Land of Kings?”

“To the Land of Broboken. You’ll love it,” Jaime said.

“Oh no,” said the robot.

He said good-bye to the twins and to Aunt Esther, said he hoped that Nine would return by the morning. Then, he and Ono walked to the Underway station and boarded the train bound for Manhattan. He held the little robot close and murmured, “If I let your head peek out of my pocket, will you promise to be quiet?”

In a tiny voice, Ono whispered, “Land of Kings.”

“Good,” said Jaime.

Ono didn’t say another word for the whole trip. Not on the first train, not on the walk to catch the next. And Ono didn’t say anything when they finally reached Hoboken, though the robot did beep irritably when they were almost mowed down by a clutch of suited young bros who apparently didn’t see Jaime at all, or maybe expected him to step aside.

“Watch where you’re going,” said one of the bros, a shiny-faced, sallow young man in a too-tight suit.

“Watch that your pants don’t split when you sit,” said Jaime.

“What?” the bro shouted. But Jaime didn’t turn around, kept walking, straight and tall. Maybe Ono was some kind of magical Transformer, and would turn into a monster truck or a rocket launcher with a face if the bro dared to challenge Jaime further. Jaime really didn’t think so, but the thought was funny enough to be comforting.

His good mood lasted only till he reached the lobby of his building, because Cricket was standing there, talking to the security guard, with an expression he had never before seen on her face. If he didn’t know better, he would have said it was fear.

“Cricket? What is it?” Jaime said. “What’s wrong?”

Cricket managed to choke out one word: “Karl.”