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dead? And what about the treasure? Mister Grumholdt had said it must be hidden on the topfloor. Hannah smoothed her apron and stepped up to the heavy door of the grand suite. She pulled on the doorbell.
    No answer.
    She pulled harder.
    The door opened, and a tall man filled the opening. He wore a gray robe that brushed the floor, and his long black hair fell to his elbows. He stared down at Hannah with eyes so blue they were almost clear. “Yes?” he said.
    Hannah took a startled step backward before she remembered her manners. She curtsied. “I was sent to see how I could be of service.”
    “Where is Miss Wool?”
    “She’s attending to another matter at the moment and sent me in her stead.”
    The man frowned. “Come in.”
    He opened the door wide and ushered Hannah through the entryway into the drawing room. On the far side of the room, beneath a wide window curtained with lace, a large woman reclined on a chaise longue like an Egyptian princess, but not a beautiful one. The woman might have been attractive underneath her roundness, but her girth filled up whatever space her beauty might have occupied. She wore a black dress, brooched at the neck with an agate cameo, and her hair fell loose about her shoulders. She lifted a silver-handled lorgnette to her face, and the spectacles swelled her eyes within the frames.
    “Miss Wool sent you?” Her voice chimed like a crystal goblet struck by a spoon.
    Hannah curtsied again. “She did, ma’am.”
    “Well then, come closer.”
    Hannah glanced around. Not a tiger or spirit in sight. At the moment, it seemed safe. She crossed the room to the couch and bowed her head.
    “I need someone,” the woman said. “Preferably a young girl on the staff who will be my personal attendant. Can you recommend someone to me?”
    “I’m afraid I can’t, ma’am.”
    “Why not?”
    “I think that’s above my place.”
    The woman lowered the spectacles to her lap. “And what place would that be?”
    “I’m just a maid.”
    “Just a maid. But you’re still a person, aren’t you?”
    “Of course, ma’am.”
    “Capable of forming opinions?”
    “Yes.” Hannah looked up. “But I’ve learned that in most cases it’s best to just keep my opinions to myself.”
    The woman laughed, a tinkling, trembling laugh. “Would that everyone were as wise as you. What is your name, child?”
    “Hannah.”
    “Hannah, I am Madame Constance Bernadette Pomeroy.” She said it as if it were a regal title, not a name at all.
    “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame Pomeroy.”
    A moment of silence followed, filled with the ticking of a grandfather clock. The woman stared at her. Not intensely, but it made Hannah uncomfortable.
    “Sit down next to me, child.”
    “Ma’am?”
    “Sit down. Right there.” She pointed as the fellow in the gray robe brought up a chair. “This gentleman is Yakov. He was a Russian soldier.” Madame Pomeroy leaned in. “A very dangerous man, mind you. I neverreally know what he’s hiding under that coat. He travels with me as a sort of bodyguard, my own golem.”
    “A what?”
    “A golem, child. A man made of clay and brought to life by the spells of Jewish rabbis and mystics. Marvelous creations. Like a golem, Yakov lives to serve and protect. But unlike a golem, Yakov will talk from time to time. And he can predict the future.”
    Yakov held the seat for Hannah. “I shouldn’t,” she said. But she was curious and sat down, anyway. “How does he predict the future?”
    “Through dreams and visions. It’s his gift. Just as I am given the gift of communion with the dead.”
    “Oh,” was all Hannah could say, wary now. She imagined a tiger behind her, ready to pounce, and ghostly fingers reaching out to her neck. She held still without meaning to.
    “There,” Madame Pomeroy said. “Now that you’re sitting, I want to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.” She pulled out a stack of cards. Not playing cards. These were