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He meant to do nothing more than gather facts with the question, but Electra seemed immediately full of consternation. She fiddled with the buttons on her gloves and cast her gaze out the opposite window.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered a moment later.

“Do not apologize.” He edged forward, leaning across the space between them, resisting the urge to reach for her. To comfort. Reassure. “I value all of your observations and am in awe of your abilities.”

Her shoulders seemed to lower an inch at that, and the warmth in her gaze when she looked back at him made his pulse thrum in his throat. He couldn’t look away, and he was tempted to get lost in that warmth.

“Based on what Seaton said, I begin to doubt whether her intended destination Monday was in fact the museum,” she said, sounding far more unaffected than he was.

“It does seem as if no one is certain,” he admitted. “And it is clear that Iris never confided in him regarding the man she spoke about to Beatrice Longfellow.”

She hummed in agreement. “Do you still think that man and Seaton are one and the same?”

“No. I initially thought Seaton’s vehemence was overwrought, but his eagerness to hand over his ring to you convinced me of his sincerity.”

Before they could continue their discussion, the hired cab stopped on Great Russell Square in front of the British Museum, with its impressive Greek Revival portico and massive stone columns.

“You’ve been once before, yes?” Gideon remembered her mentioning the fact years ago. He had been considering whether to invite Electra to accompany him for a visit. He had never been. And when he’d brought up the topic, she mentioned that she’d been once with her mother. That had brought an odd heaviness to the conversation, as Electra’s mother was not a common topic of conversation in the Poole household.

“Yes, just the once.” She peered over at him. “And you?”

“Never. I have thought of it.” He glanced at her, noting that a hint of that warmth was still in her gaze. “Thought of asking you to join me.”

She let out a breath of surprise and grinned. He rather loved eliciting that sound and reaction from her.

“And now I am,” she said. With a look at him, she added, “Perhaps we could return together when it’s not a visit regarding a missing young lady.”

Gideon couldn’t repress a grin of his own. “I shall hold you to that.”

They entered the front doors, spoke briefly to a greeter, and then were handed off to another employee once Gideon offered his title and asked to speak to Archibald Kerrigan, Keeper of Medieval Antiquities. Another employee, a youthful tow-headed young man led them back through the displays to an unassuming door that led into the museum’s back halls.

A few museum employees moved down the hall with quiet efficiency. Even one man transporting a cloth-covered object made little noise as he pushed a rolling cart ahead of him.

They passed door after door, some ajar. Gideon spotted a few young men and one lady with their heads bent over their various tasks.

Finally, the attendant who’d led them stopped at a door marked with Kerrigan’s name. He rapped, but no one responded. After a moment he tried again, but no one answered, so the young man drew a set of keys from his pocket. He shuffled through them, found the one he sought, and inserted it into the lock.

He opened the door and called out, “Mr. Kerrigan. Visitors to see you, sir.”

The young man stepped into the room, and Gideon got the sense that they weren’t invited to follow. Still he crossed just over the threshold. The space was unoccupied, and the gaslights were turned down low.

“He doesn’t appear to be in, Inspector.”

The redheaded young man drew up behind them. “Looking for Mr. Kerrigan, are you?”

“Yes, we are,” Electra told him.

“He’s not in. Hasn’t been in at all today. I suspect the shock has struck him. He had two assistants, you see, but they aren’t here anymore. One passed and the other has gone missing, I’m afraid.”

“Did you know the young ladies?” Gideon asked.

The boy nodded. “Calliope, er, Miss Collier, and Miss Delacourt.”

“This is the inspector investigating the disappearance, Sam,” the attendant who’d brought them back to the hall told the young man. “You’ll want to tell them anything that might assist them in finding Miss Delacourt.”

“Of course,” Sam agreed.

“I must return to my duties, Inspector. Sam can show you the way out.” He gestured toward Kerrigan’s room. “You may sit at the table, if you like, but I must ask that you touch nothing. Once you’ve gone, I’ll lock up.”