“It was taken only a few weeks ago,” Señora Linares said. “Quite remarkable-Ana is so full of life and energy, and it is rare to find a photographer who can capture the true spirit of a child. But this man succeeded quite well, wouldn’t you say?”

Both the Isaacsons gave the picture what you might call the quickest of glances, and then Lucius, not knowing quite where to put it, looked my way. “Stevie-would you-?”

I jumped down again to retrieve the photograph and return it to Miss Howard, who was once more busily taking notes. Pausing just a second or two to look at the thing, I was kind of-well, struck, in a way. I’ve never had much experience with babies, and as a rule I’m no sucker for them. But this little girl, with her swatch of soft dark hair, her huge, nearly round black eyes, and her big cheeks swelling around a smile that said she was game for just about any amusement life could throw at her-well, there was something about it that kind of tugged at you. Maybe it was because she seemed to have more of a personality than the usual infant; then again, maybe it was because I knew she’d been kidnapped.

As I returned to my windowsill, Marcus-his eyes still on his watch-murmured, “Good,” very slowly. Then he finally let go of the señora’s hand and stood up. “That’s very good. Now, señora, I think you should rest. Cyrus?” Cyrus finally let up on the piano and stood to cross to Marcus. “Mr. Montrose will, I’m sure, be happy to see that you get safely to the Astoria. You have nothing to fear under his protection.”

The señora looked at Cyrus with gentle confidence. “Yes. I sensed that.” Confusion came back into her features. “But what of my daughter?”

“I will not lie to you, señora,” Marcus said. “This is a very difficult case. Your husband’s forbidden you to go to the police?” Señora Linares nodded miserably. “Easy, now,” Marcus went on, guiding her to the door as Miss Howard fell in with them. “That may, in the long run, turn out to be an advantage.”

“But you are policemen yourselves, yes?” the señora asked in confusion, as Cyrus opened the elevator grate for her. She put on her big black hat, fixing it to her hair with an eight-inch, stone-headed pin.

“Yes-and no,” Marcus answered. “The important thing is that you mustn’t give up hope. The next twenty-four hours will, I think, be enough time for us to give you an idea of what we can do.”

The señora turned to Miss Howard, who only added, “Please trust me when I say that you couldn’t be in better hands than those of these gentlemen.”

Señora Linares nodded again, then stepped into the elevator and pulled her veil down. “Well, then-I shall wait.” She studied the office once more and then quietly added, “Or rather, I think, we shall all wait…”

Mr. Moore looked at her in some surprise. “ ‘All’? What shall we all wait for, señora?”

The Linares woman indicated the room with her umbrella. “There are five desks, no? And you all seem as though… yes. I think we shall all wait. For the man who sits at the fifth desk. Or once did…”

I don’t think there was one of us who didn’t shiver a bit at the sound of her quiet words.

Without even trying to argue the point, Marcus nodded to the señora and then spoke to Cyrus: “Straight to the Astoria, then meet us at the Lafayette. We’ll be on the outdoor terrace. There are questions that only you and Stevie can answer.”

Cyrus nodded and pulled on his bowler as Miss Howard gave Señora Linares a final encouraging look before closing the office door. “Try to have hope, señora.” The señora only nodded, and then she and Cyrus were gone.

Marcus began to pace as Lucius packed up the medical instruments. Miss Howard turned to the front windows and walked toward them, staring kind of sadly down at Broadway. Only Mr. Moore seemed particularly anxious.

“Well?” he said finally. “What did you find?”

“A great deal,” Lucius answered quietly. “Though not enough.”

There was another pause, and Mr. Moore’s arms went up high. “And are you going to share your information, gentlemen, or is it a secret between you and the señora?”

Marcus chuckled once thoughtfully. “She’s one smart lady…”

“Yes,” Miss Howard added from the window, with a little smile of her own.

“Smart?” Mr. Moore asked. “Or just crazy?”

“No, no,” Lucius answered quickly. “A long way from crazy.”

Mr. Moore seemed just about ready to bust. “All right. Look, are you people going to tell me what’s on your minds or not?”

“We will, John,” Marcus answered. “But let’s get to the Lafayette first. I’m starving.”

“That makes two of us,” Lucius said, picking up the instrument satchel. “Stevie?”

“I could eat,” was all I said. The truth was that I, too, was anxious to know what the detective sergeants were thinking; but I’d also felt the full hit of Señora Linares’s parting words, and wasn’t in what you might call an optimistic mood.

Miss Howard turned to take a small jacket off of a wooden rack near the door. “Let’s go, then. We’ll have to take the stairs-nobody left in the building to bring the elevator back up.”

As we filed toward the back door, Mr. Moore fell in behind us, still frustrated. “What’s gotten into all of you?” he demanded. “I mean, it’s a simple enough question-is there a case here or not?”

“Oh, there’s a case,” Marcus said. He turned to Miss Howard. “You got your wish there, Sara.”

She smiled again, still looking melancholy. “One really must be careful about wishes…”

Mr. Moore put his hands to his hips. “Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean? Look, I’m not going anywhere ’til somebody gives me some idea of what’s happening! If there’s a case, why are you all so damned dejected?”

Lucius groaned as he pulled the satchel over his shoulder. “The short version is this, John: there’s a case, all right, a very perplexing one. And I hardly need to tell you that, given the players involved, it could turn into something very big. Very big-and very ugly. But the señora was right. Without him”-Lucius turned to look at the desk that sat to the right of the other four-“we don’t have a prayer.”

“And given what he’s been through,” Miss Howard added, as we all filed on toward the fire stairs near the kitchen, “I don’t think any of us can really say that he’ll do it. Hell, I’m not even sure it would be right of us to ask.”She paused and turned to me. “Questions, as Marcus says, that only you and Cyrus can answer, Stevie.”

I felt all attention in the room settle on me-not the kind of position I’ve ever been comfortable with. But it seemed like I had to say something. “Well-I should wait for Cyrus, I guess, but-”

“But?” Marcus asked.

“But,” I answered, “for my money, it all hinges on tomorrow morning. How he takes leaving the Institute. And you’re right, Miss Howard-I don’t even know that it’s right to ask…”

She nodded and turned away, disappearing through the black stairway door; and in that somewhat uncertain state of mind, we all started the long, dark descent to Broadway.