“We have to open it,” I said.

My grandfather nodded slowly, his hand tightening on his silver-handled cane.

“Let him in,” Elias said. “Let us see if he has the courage to look me in the eye.”

Julian walked down the stairs first, his steps deliberate on the cold marble.

I followed close behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Mrs. Gable was already standing near the entrance, her hand hovering over the lock.

She looked back at us, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“Should I, Mr. Julian?” she asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Gable,” Julian said. “Open the door.”

She turned the heavy brass key.

The lock gave a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet space.

As she pulled the door open, a rush of freezing air swept into the foyer.

Snow drifted across the threshold, melting instantly on the polished stone floor.

Thomas Sterling stepped inside.

He shook the snow from his dark wool coat and pulled down his collar.

He looked older than the portraits hanging in the locked library upstairs.

His hair was entirely gray, and his face was lined with deep creases.