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generously rewarded the Gypsies for their loyalty, his frequent gifts to them barely touched the treasure hidden in these walls.
    If only she could remember where he'd deposited the rings and gems and gold of their victims. He hadn't hidden the places from her. Oddly, just before he left for England, he'd told them where to look.
    It only she'd paid attention to that or any of his advice on traveling over land and sea. Instead, she had let her mind wander in the past, when she had been young and the sun released the scent of flowers.
    If only…
    She wandered the narrow passages, picturing him in her mind, until she could finally recall a place where they had stopped and he had pointed out…
    A darker section of wall, filled in with muck from the damp stone floor. She dug her fingers into the seal, not surprised to find it still wet, and crumbling against their pressure.
    The cache was a good one, judging by the weight of the leather bag. She held it tightly and moved on, finding three more caches before returning to her chamber.
    She'd found a treasure. One of the bags held rubies, emeralds, and stones whose names she did not know. She emptied another onto the floor and watched gold coins roll away from her. Scurrying on hands and knees, she scooped them up as if they were prey and would escape her. The third bag was more interesting, holding exquisite gold settings. Some had been stripped of their jewels, but there were occasional pieces left intact… a signet ring, a necklace with diamonds and black onyx, a dragon-shaped brooch with amethyst eyes.
    The last she pinned to her tattered black dress and vowed never to part with it. The dragon was on their family crest. Shouldn't she have some reminder of that?
    Tepes , she thought again, and laughing finally from nervous joy, she invaded her brother's library and rummaged among the papers. Since she'd never learned to read and had no idea which were valuable, she loaded any that appeared recent into the sack with the jewels, adding his seal and some wax for good measure. Night's work accomplished, she retreated to her chambers, barred her door, and fell into the dawn sleep.
    When it was dark again, she rummaged among the boxes of earth and pair of wagons that the Gypsies had left behind. They were not discards, but had been intended for her and the others at some future time.
    She took what her brother had said was the best of them—a wooden box so roughly made that no one would have much curiosity about its contents, but which hid much. There were tiny compartments, cleverly concealed, where she deposited jewels and coins. There was another, smaller, where she could hide the key to the rusty lock that would keep the case locked day and night. An old harnass attached her horse to a wagon. Without looking back, Joanna started down the treacherous winding road that would take her past Bukovina. Her destination was the port city of Varna. She had absolutely no idea how to get there except to travel east to the sea.

Three
    Mina wired Jonathan that she was leaving for London but had no time to wait for his reply. Since the reading of the will was to be Tuesday morning, she had to arrive in London the night before. Though the money Quarles sent would be more than enough for a room at one of the city's better hotels, she decided to take the time to visit old friends instead and wired Arthur that she was coming.
    He met the evening train at the London station. He was easy to spot amid the crowds of passengers and friends. He was taller than most, and his fair hair shone even in the dim station lights. She'd expected Van Helsing to be with him, but Arthur came alone. "Is the professor still staying with you?" she asked.
    "More often than not, but he's off to Dublin, of all places. Meeting with a colleague, some writer who claims to be an expert in the arcane. We'll be staying in Kensington tonight. Three of Gance's old friends are using my Mayfair flat. They're here for the will, as