Chapter 20: The Ring Changes Hands—Incorrectly

The clock at the end of the gallery had been disagreeing with itself for the better part of an hour—its face read nine minutes past eleven, but the sensation of time in the east gallery had become unreliable in the way of all things connected to the Hadley estate, where the architectural commitment to almost-correct extended apparently to chronometry as well. Petra had stopped consulting it shortly after Stormcroft arrived.

In the interval between *shall we begin* and the present moment, a considerable amount had been accomplished.

Miss Chase had moved the ring from the cabinet to her notebook, which she had then closed and placed inside the silver reticule she wore over her wrist, an action performed with the unhurried efficiency of someone returning a library book. She had then produced, from some other part of her person that propriety declined to specify, a replacement object of roughly equivalent size and visual weight—a flat stone from the Scottish Highlands, she explained, when Fennwick asked, which she had been carrying since the sea-loch on the grounds that one never knew. Fennwick had opened his mouth. He had then closed it again, in the manner of a man who has learned, through repeated instruction, that some things about Miss Chase are best received rather than interrogated.