deliver this to you unopened. As you can see, I have obeyed these instructions.” He rose and, holding it in both hands, ceremoniously placed the paper-wrapped bundle on the desk before his host. “I am happy to pass this to your care.”
Thomas made no move to pick it up, but sat with his hands folded before him, regarding it quizzically. “Do you know what is inside the wrapping?”
“No, sir, I do not,” replied Kit. “I was not told. Do you?”
“In part.” Thomas raised his eyes to Kit and then returned to his survey of the parcel. “If it is what I think it is . . .”
Kit waited. The archaeologist neither altered his gaze nor made any move to pick up the packet. He simply sat staring at the string-bound square.
“Dr. Young?” said Kit after a moment. “Is anything the matter?”
“If this is what has been promised, history will change.” He raised his eyes once more, his round glasses glinting in the soft light of the tent. “You know that, do you not? The world will change.”
“Right.” Kit nodded. He could wait a little longer for that.
Outside, the braying of a donkey echoed across the ruins. As if in response to the sound, the doctor drew a sharp intake of breath and pulled the package closer. He lifted it, diffidently balanced between his hands—the very picture of a man trying to delay an action he might well regret. Kit could sympathise. Who could guess what Wilhelmina had put in that parcel?
“The thing must be done, I suppose,” Thomas said and, with trembling fingers, untied the string and peeled open the paper wrapping to reveal a curious assortment of objects: an old shilling coin, a letter, a newspaper clipping, and several printed pages that appeared to have been torn from a book—more or less what might be found in the average scrapbook—nothing that appeared likely to be of much importance, let alone world-shattering consequence.
Kit watched as his host examined the coin, then put it aside and lifted the letter, scrutinising it front and back. The letter was in Mina’s hand and addressed to Christopher “Kit” Livingstone in the care of Dr. Thomas Young. The white envelope was sealed and stamped, but the stamp had not been cancelled. Thomas placed the letter before him on the desk. “This alone would have been enough,” he murmured.
“Sir?” wondered Kit.
“See here,” Thomas said, pointing to the stamp—a simple black postage stamp with an engraved silhouette of a young Queen Victoria with the words one penny beneath—a fairly unremarkable example, to Kit’s eye.
“The stamp, yes?”
“This stamp as you call it”—Thomas touched it lightly with a fingertip—“has never been seen before—at least not by me.”
“May I?” said Kit, picking up the letter. “I see the letter is addressed to me.”
“By all means,” said the doctor. “You must open it at once.”
Kit slid his finger under the flap and drew out a single piece of plain white paper that read: Kit—If you are reading this, you have met Dr. Thomas Young—the last man in the world who knows everything. Trust him with your life. Ever yours, Mina. And that was all.
Thomas, in the meantime, had picked up the coin and now held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning it over and over with a look of bewilderment on his face—an expression Kit guessed was highly unusual for the man. He passed the shilling piece to Kit for examination. The silver coin bore the profile of Victoria on one side and, on the other, a crown with the simple words one shilling beneath. Below Victoria’s disembodied head was the date: 1835.
“Have you ever seen the like?” asked Thomas.
“Yes, I have,” replied Kit, handing back the shilling. “Many times.”
The English gentleman simply nodded and laid the coin beside the letter. He picked up the newspaper clipping, glanced at it, and then looked at Kit. “Have you ever been to Kew Gardens?” he asked.
“Once or twice,” replied Kit. “It is a well-known attraction. People go there for picnics and a pleasant day out.”
The doctor set aside the clipping and, placing his hands flat on the printed pages torn from the book, he said, “This, I believe, will be the ultimate test.”
Kit could not think how to respond to this, so remained silent.
“Unless I am very much mistaken, our mutual friend will have provided me with undeniable proof that what she has claimed, outrageous though it seems, is in fact the naked truth.”