The Golem's Eye

stopped. "Are you the only one—?"
    "I would have thought," Kitty said bitterly, "that with an information network as sophisticated as yours, you would know by now." She sighed. "Nick survived, too."
    "Ah? Really? Good, good. And where is Nick?"
    "I have no idea. And I don't care. He ran, while the others fought."
    "Ah. I see." Mr. Hopkins toyed with his spoon again. Kitty stared at her lap. She realized now that she did not know what to ask of him, that he was as nonplussed as she was. It was no good: she was quite alone.
    "It is of course inconsequential now," Mr. Hopkins began, and something in his tone made Kitty look up at him sharply. "Given the nature of the tragedy that has taken place, it is inconsequential and irrelevant, of course, but I suppose—what with the unexpected dangers you encountered, and the misfortune of losing so many of your admirable companions—that you did not manage to bring anything of value out of the tomb?"
    This statement was so rambling and circuitous that it immediately had the opposite effect of what its cautious speaker intended. Kitty's eyes widened in disbelief; her brows slowly lowered into a frown.
    "You're right," she said crisply. "It is irrelevant." She ate the iced bun in two mouthfuls and took a sip of her milkshake.
    Mr. Hopkins began stirring his coffee again. "But then, nothing was taken?" he prompted. "You were unable..." His voice trailed off.
    When Kitty had sat down at the table, she had had the vague intention of mentioning the staff to Mr. Hopkins; it was, after all, of no use to her, and it was possible that the benefactor, who had wanted it for his collection, might be prepared to give her some payment in return—money for survival was now uppermost on her mind. She had assumed, under the circumstances, that Mr. Hopkins would draw a decent line under the whole business; she had not expected to hear him pressing her so openly for booty from the haul. She thought of Anne, death hard on their trail in the darkened nave, agonizing about dropping her bag of treasures. Kitty's lips became a hard line.
    "We loaded up with the contents of the tomb," she said. "But we couldn't escape. Perhaps Nick managed to get something out; I don't know."
    Mr. Hopkins's pale eyes studied her. "But you yourself—you took nothing?"
    "I dropped my bag."
    "Ah. Of course. I see."
    "I had the cloak in it, among other things. You'll have to apologize most profusely to your informant; that was one of the objects he wanted, wasn't it?"
    The man made a noncommittal gesture. "I don't recall. I don't suppose you happen to know what became of Gladstone's Staff, do you? I believe he did have his eyes on that."
    "I imagine that was left behind."
    "Yes.... Only there was no mention of its being located in the abbey, nor any sign of it in the skeleton's possession as it traveled about London."
    "Nick took it then.... I don't know. What does it matter? It's not valuable, is it? According to you." Kitty spoke casually, but she was watching the other's face as she did so. He shook his head.
    "No. Quite so. My informant will be disappointed, that is all. He did so have his heart set on it, and he would have paid lavishly to have it in his hands."
    "We're all of us disappointed," Kitty said. "And most of us are dead. He can live with it."
    "Yes." Mr. Hopkins tapped his fingers against the tablecloth; he appeared to be thinking. "Well," he said, brightly, "what of you, Kitty? What are your plans now? Where are you staying?"
    "I don't know. I'll think of something."
    "Do you require help? Somewhere to stay?"
    "No, thank you. It would be better if we stayed out of each other's way. The magicians have traced my family; I don't want to put you—or your informant—at any risk." Nor did Kitty wish to associate herself any longer with Mr. Hopkins. His evident unconcern at her colleagues' deaths had startled her; now she wished to be as far removed from him as possible. "In fact"—she pushed her chair back—"I should probably leave now."
    "Your concern does you credit. I obviously wish you continued fortune. Before you go, however"—Mr. Hopkins scratched his nose, as if wondering how to phrase something a little difficult—"I think perhaps you should hear something I've learned from one of my sources. It affects you quite closely."
    Kitty paused in the act of rising. "Me?"
    "I'm afraid so. I heard this little more than an hour ago. It is very secret; most of the government doesn't know about it