The canvas was set into a heavy, gilded frame that looked permanent.

“What did you find?” Arthur asked, leaning down to look at the paper.

I quickly folded the parchment and slipped it into my coat pocket.

“A map,” I whispered.

“He left a map of the house.”

Behind us, Victoria slammed a drawer shut.

“There’s nothing in here,” she screamed, her face flushed.

She turned on me, her eyes locking onto the empty metal cylinder in my lap.

“What was in there, Eleanor? Hand it over.”

She took two steps toward me, her fingers hooked.

Deputy Vance cleared his throat loudly, his boots squeaking on the hardwood.

Victoria stopped, her jaw tight as she fought to control her temper.

“You won’t leave this house with anything that belongs to us,” she hissed.

“We have forty-eight hours,” I repeated.

I stood up, keeping my hand over the pocket where the map was hidden.

I needed to get to the portrait, but I couldn’t let them see me do it.

If they realized what was behind the painting, they would tear it off the wall.