‘Bloody hell,’ said Theo.
‘What?’
‘I’ve never seen that photo. But that’s Robert Louis Stevenson! And that chap, unless I’m very much mistaken ...’
He googled on his own phone and showed Mirren that it was, unmistakably, the artist.
‘Mirren! You’ve found evidence they met!’
He zoomed in, closer and closer.
‘Let me see, let me see!’ said Mirren.
In the tiniest gold letters across the bottom of the photograph, long faded by time, and in a poor, small hand, there were the words: Edinburgh. 1892.
‘But I asked about the book!!!’ said Mirren. ‘I asked the beardy guy first thing!!!’
‘They must have been walking past that photo for decades,’ said Theo, marvelling. ‘It’s thick with dust. Probably been there a hundred years. Probably nobody there who even knows who they are. Philistines.’
‘Show-off,’ said Mirren.
‘Well, how did you know to take it?’
‘I saw loads of pictures of Robert Louis Stevenson when I thought I’d be able to find the book online,’ said Mirren. ‘I thought ... I don’t know. I just thought, in that moment, that the photo looked like him.’
‘Good work, detective! It’s him all right! And with the artist.’ Theo shook his head. ‘This is amazing.’
He went in closer still. In the artist’s hand there was something, smudged by the long exposure of the old daguerreotype.
‘I think he’s holding something in his hand,’ said Theo. ‘It might be a book.’
‘We can go back tomorrow and take a look,’ said Mirren eagerly. ‘A proper look.’
Theo looked at her slightly oddly then, but in her rather merry state she didn’t notice.
‘Mind you,’ she added tipsily, ‘I was told that it might be dangerous!’
‘By whom?’ asked Theo pleasantly.
‘Oh, another bookseller.’
‘So other people do know about it,’ said Theo, almost inaudibly. Then he collected himself. ‘Well, it’s probably best we don’t go back in, tip them off ...’ he said, still staring at the picture, now zoomed up to its greatest extent on Mirren’s phone. ‘But I’ll wager he’s holding the book. I think this is why they’re getting together for a photograph. You couldn’t just snap things in those days, you know. It was a big occasion, took ages. And if it was a big occasion, with the two of themthere, both of them famous, both of them busy in ... well. I think you can draw some conclusions.’
‘But what does itmean?’ said Mirren.
‘What does it mean?’ said Theo, his face uncharacteristically pink. ‘I think it means we’re going to Edinburgh!’
Chapter 16
‘Theodore?’
The voice was not calling to wish him many happy returns of the season, that much was obvious. The phone had interrupted a very pleasant evening, and Theo had excused himself and wandered back into the lovely foyer, staring upwards at the twinkling glow of the huge Christmas tree, even as his uncle’s voice was like steel down the telephone.
‘Hello, Uncle.’
‘I am just looking at my online banking ...’
It was ten o’clock at night. Of course he was.
