to realize that an overly enthusiastic witness could in its own way be as much of a problem as a stubbornly taciturn one.
Campbell beamed. “Where shall we start? The attics? The basement? The parlor?”
“How about back here?” said Sebastian, crossing the jumbled old hall to the low archway beside the stairs. Reaching out, he turned the handle of the first door on his left. It was still locked.
“Do you have the key to this room?”
“Unfortunately, no, my lord. Mr. Eisler always kept the key to this particular room. Neither Mrs. Campbell nor myself was ever allowed inside it.”
“When Mr. Perlman searched the house, did he have a key?”
“He did, my lord. I believe he discovered one in Mr. Eisler’s office safe. But I’m afraid he carried it away with him.”
“I see.” Sebastian took off his driving gloves and thrust them into a pocket. “Very well. Thank you. I’ll ring if I need you.”
Campbell’s face fell with disappointment. But he bowed with a sigh of resignation and tottered away.
Sebastian waited until the old man had shuffled out of sight. Then he removed from his pocket a set of metal shafts on a ring. It was called a picklock, a device with which Sebastian had become adept during his time as an exploring officer. It required only a keen sense of hearing and a deft touch, both of which Sebastian possessed. Easing the appropriate bent tip into the lock, he carefully slid aside the lock’s gates.
The door popped open.
The room beyond lay in near total darkness. Closing the door behind him, Sebastian crossed to the window to jerk open the thick curtains, then turned.
The chamber was empty except for a trunk and a long table upon which a small number of objects were neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was scrupulously clean, the walls freshly painted, the worn flagstone-paved floor well scrubbed. There was no rug. Instead, a design had been traced onto the floor with what looked like chalk.
His muscles oddly tense, Sebastian walked slowly toward it.
He was standing on the edge of an enormous circle superimposed on a square, with three smaller circles inside it. Four even smaller circles occupied what he suspected were the compass points, each containing a strange geometric symbol within it. More symbols were strategically placed between the second and third inner circles, along with what looked like a verse written in a strange script. At the very center of the figure stood an earthenware vessel filled with burnt charcoal; the scent of frankincense and aloe, vervain and musk hung heavy in the air.
Sebastian felt a faint, inexplicable chill run up his spine.
Turning, he let his gaze rove over the objects laid out on the long, narrow table. Two knives, one with a white hilt, the other with a black hilt, lay beside a short lance. The tips of all three were stained dark with what looked like blood. Beside the blades rested a trumpet flanked by two white candles.
Frowning, Sebastian went to throw open the lid of the trunk and found himself staring at a white linen robe with a series of curious geometric symbols embroidered on the breast in red silk thread. Beneath the robe lay a pair of white leather slippers covered with more strange designs also in red, and a square package wrapped in black silk.
Opening it gingerly, he exposed a pile of snowy white, newly made vellum sheets. Each sheet contained a single figure composed of circles, symbols, and geometric forms similar to that on the floor, but differing in subtle ways. Some were drawn in brilliant blues and reds, others in gold and green or black and silver. He flipped through them, pausing at one in particular that seemed to both repel and attract him at the same time.
At its center lay what looked like a spinning disk within a triangle. Around the triangle were drawn two circles, one within the other, between which was written what looked like a verse. He hesitated a moment, then rolled the parchment like a scroll and thrust it inside his coat. Replacing the remainder of the vellums and the white garments, he lowered the lid of the chest and went to close the curtains.
He found himself wondering what Samuel Perlman must have thought when he first unlocked the door to this room. Or had Perlman already known of his uncle’s peculiar interests before he began searching the house on Fountain Lane?