Page 12 of Empire of Shadows

His words were cut off by the crash of a few hundred papers flying to the floor.

Mr. Henbury emitted an alarmed squeak, and Ellie took a fascinated step closer.

“That simply isn’t…” Mr. Henbury started before stammering to a halt. “You—You can’t possibly…”

His words were partially drowned out by the further rush of papers being kicked aside. Ellie jumped back a step as a pair of folders slid partially through the crack at the bottom of the door.

Wills and marriages, she thought automatically, glancing down at them.Gloucestershire. ER 3. Box 12.

The man behind the door—Jacobs—was violently searching for something… something that had until recently been buried in the pile of neglected work on Mr. Henbury’s desk.

The map crinkled against the fabric of Ellie’s skirt as the ferocious rustling from within the office settled to a halt.

A crunch of paper sounded from beyond the door.He is walking on top of them, Ellie thought with distant alarm.That intimidating man is walking on top of the records.

The notion snapped her out of the fog of surprise. She straightened as a burst of outrage cleared her thoughts.

She absolutely could not stand by and eavesdrop when someone waswalking on the records.

“Not here,” the resonant, chilling voice concluded.

Ellie strode forward, raising her hand to give the door a firm knock. Before she could strike, the slab of wood shuddered with the impact of something roughly the size and weight of Mr. Henbury.

Ellie froze. What sort of person resorted to tossing people around in the otherwise civilized confines of the Public Records Office?

Certainly not a fellow archivist. Such intimidation was the sort of thing one might expect from a criminal—but how would a criminal have come to know about the artifacts in the psalter?

The answer to that question was obvious. There was only one way the well-spoken, calmly violent Jacobs would know that there was anything worth looking for in Mr. Henbury’s office.

Mr. Henbury had told him.

None of the other records in Mr. Henbury’s pile had any real financial value… not like the sort of value one might find in a map that potentially led to a previously unknown city full of precious artifacts.

Ellie’s hand instinctively moved to her pocket as a theory whirled into shape in her mind.

The psalter must have come from an uncategorized box of records. Lord knew, there were plenty of them about, as the British government continued to work to consolidate all its old papers under the umbrella of the PRO. One of her colleagues must have come across the psalter and dumped the item on Mr. Henbury’s desk.

By some arcane chance, Mr. Henbury had actually bothered to open the book—and when he saw what it contained, instead of properly logging and assessing it, he had determined to try to hawk it for a quick bit of dosh.

As a hypothesis, it was all too terribly plausible. If the man inside the office did not do away with Mr. Henbury, Ellie would be sorely tempted to murder him herself.

“Who has been inside of your office since we spoke?” Jacobs asked.

The question was unsettlingly composed. One might almost think that tossing high-ranking public officials against their office doors was the sort of thing Jacobs did all the time.

“Nobody!” Mr. Henbury spluttered.

Jacobs’ reply was cool, controlled, and entirely confident.

“That isn’t entirely true. Is it, Mr. Henbury?”

“What?” Mr. Henbury sounded genuinely confused. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re—”

There was another shudder of impact against the door.

“Wait—wait!” Mr. Henbury hurried to reply. His tone hiked up to a brighter note of panic. “There was that woman! She was here! She was here all by herself for ages! She must have taken it.”

Ellie’s outrage heated into the sort of inferno which had last seen her chaining herself to the gates of Parliament.