Midnight Jewels

Croft had accepted with enthusiasm. Mercy had winced at the thought of skimming the peaks in a sardine can sized helicopter and had regretfully declined. So now she stood all alone with no one but herself to blame.
    "There you are, my dear." Erasmus Gladstone's voice came from the doorway behind Mercy. "Don't worry about having to miss out on the sightseeing. We all have our little phobias. Isobel is an excellent pilot, but to tell you the truth I'm not all that keen on flying, myself. I use the copter only when necessary. Sometimes in the dead of winter it's the only practical transportation."
    Mercy turned away from the window, summoning up a polite smile for her host. "I'm sure the scenery would be magnificent from the air, but, as you say, we all have our little phobias."
    Gladstone smiled with great charm. His unusual blue eyes seemed to be alight with the force of that charm. "As it happens, I was going to suggest we do some sightseeing of our own. The kind of touring that only people in our field of interest can truly appreciate. How would you like to go down to the vault, Mercy, and spend the afternoon wallowing amid my treasures? I must admit, there's nothing 1 like more than showing them off to someone who can appreciate them."
    Mercy's mood lifted at once. "I'd love it."
    "Good." Gladstone glanced at his watch. "We should have a couple of hours to ourselves. Dallas and Lance seem to have everything in order for this evening's affair and the guests aren't due to start arriving until after four o'clock. Let's escape to our own version of paradise on earth, Mercy."
    It was a pity, Mercy decided resentfully, that Croft hadn't trusted her with a detailed account of the kind of information he sought in the vault. Not that she had encouraged him to do so, Mercy admitted to herself. She had resisted his notions of Gladstone as a crook right from the start. Still, this would be the perfect opportunity to do some investigative work for him. But Croft had not told her what to look for. He'd only said he wanted to see if the contents of Gladstone's collection fit with what he knew of Egan Graves' tastes in rare books. It was typical of Croft to want to limit her involvement as much as possible. He was so damned aloof and independent.
    Nevertheless, Mercy decided to make a mental note of as many titles as possible. Perhaps she could provide Croft with a shortcut in his detective work.
    Forty minutes later Mercy was carefully turning the pages of a fine copy of Fuller's
The Worthies of England
, printed in 1662, when she began to notice the growing warmth inside the vault. It had seemed almost chilly when she and Gladstone had entered earlier. Perhaps having the door open had upset the interior air conditioning system.
    She frowned down at the title page of Fuller's laboriously compiled national biography, studying the roman numeral date and the accompanying illustration of the author. Thomas Fuller, DD, appeared to have been a robust, serious man. He stared out of his portrait with a gaze that told the reader he expected proper attention to be paid to the biographies he had written.
    "Now over here, if I can just find it," Gladstone was saying half to himself, "I have a first rate copy of White's
Natural History of Selborne
. Beautiful binding. Where did I… Oh, yes, here it is." He pulled the volume down from the shelf and started to hand it to Mercy. He frowned in concern. "Anything wrong, my dear?"
    "No, not at all. I was just thinking it was turning a little warm in here."
    "I'm afraid that happens when the door stands open for a while. Throws off the air conditioning a bit. It all returns to the proper temperature when we close the door. Allow me."
    Before Mercy could protest, Erasmus reached out and swung the heavy vault door shut. Instantly the small room seemed even smaller, more the size of a large coffin. Mercy noticed the locking mechanism on the inside of the door for the first time and wondered why anyone would have a lock on the inside of the vault as well as on the outside.
    "Uh, maybe it would be better to leave the door open," Mercy said weakly.
    "Nonsense. We'll get the temperature back to normal in here and you'll be more comfortable." Gladstone moved back to the shelves. "I want you to take a look at this. A particularly fine collection of some of William Morris' private press books. I'm especially proud of his Chaucer. Exquisite, isn't it? When you've finished examining it, I really must show you