“What of the nephew?” Tobias asked.

“As far as I know, he vanished for good. Perhaps he changed his name. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he made his way to America or the Continent. I doubt if anyone searched for him.”

“Even though he was the most likely suspect in his aunt’s murder?” Joan asked.

Vale moved one hand in a flat line. “The boy was not well liked. The neighbors feared him. Evidently there had been some nasty incidents with dead animals and some small fires that were attributed to him. In any event, there was no one who cared greatly about justice for the aunt.”

“We have heard that the cameo is an unusual depiction of the Gorgon,” Tobias said.

“It is not an ordinary representation of Medusa.” Vale paused at the end of the row of gravestones and looked at him from the shadows. “Sometime back I came across an old book that made reference to a peculiar cult that flourished for a time here in England in the fourth century. Arcane societies and secret temples were not unusual in the Roman Empire, especially in the more remote provinces such as England. My studies indicate that a number of them existed here. But this one was quite unique.”

“In what way?” Lavinia asked.

“The cameo includes, in addition to the Medusa figure, a wand or rod. It appears to have been the emblem or seal of the cult’s master, who was both feared and dreaded.”

“Why?” Joan asked curiously.

Vale hesitated and then shrugged. “You will not credit this, but the old volume indicated that the master practiced an ancient form of mesmerism.”

Lavinia stopped halfway to another display case and spun around. “Mesmerism? In ancient times? But it is a modern science.”

Vale looked amused. “If animal magnetism is, indeed, a real force in the human body, why should it strike you as strange that techniques for controlling it might have been discovered and lost and rediscovered many times over the course of the centuries? Do you really believe that we who live in this enlightened era are the only ones who manage to stumble onto ancient truths? That we are any more intelligent, insightful, or intuitive than those who came before us?”

Lavinia winced. “I take your point, sir. But you must admit, it is odd to consider that some ancient pagan cult here in England may have practiced a science as advanced as mesmerism.”

“Always assuming that it is a science,” Tobias muttered.

Vale laughed softly and turned back to Lavinia. “Odd and deeply fascinating. And, in this case, more than a little disturbing.”

“Why do you say that?” Joan asked sharply.

Vale resumed his stroll through the relics of the past. “According to the book, the master used his mesmeric powers, which were said to be drawn directly from the stone itself, in dark ways. From what I have been able to discern, the cult was founded on fear, secrecy, and great mystery.”

“Medusa was an obvious choice as a symbol of such an unusual cult, in that case,” Joan observed. “After all, in the legend, she could turn a man to stone with her gaze.”

“More than a symbol.” Vale paused meaningfully. “As I said, the cameo in the bracelet was considered the actual source of the priest’s power. The members believed that the only person who could control it was the one who was imbued with a natural talent for drawing the energy from the stone.”

A solemn silence fell on the gallery.

Tobias shattered the uneasy quiet with a humorless smile. “I trust that your interest in the Blue Medusa is purely scholarly in nature, Vale. I would not like to believe that a man of your education and experience of the world places any credence in the supposed mystical powers of an ancient cameo.”

Lavinia saw Joan frown and glance quickly at their host.

But Vale looked amused. “I assure you, March, I have no use for metaphysics, especially those of a rather unpleasant, long-dead cult. But it never ceases to amaze me how often seemingly intelligent, educated people do fall under the spell of old legends and strange beliefs.”

“And the Blue Medusa offers that enticement?” Tobias asked.

“To some, yes.” Vale walked to a nearby cabinet and removed the iron ring on his left hand. He fitted the small key to the lock and opened the door. “Take this piece of ancient Roman glass, for instance. It is said that men have died because of it.”

He reached inside and removed an intricately carved glass bowl. The object caught the light and glowed a dozen shades of fiery amber in his fingers. Lavinia was riveted. She moved closer to get a better look.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “Was it, too, found here in England?”

“No. I believe that it was brought here from Italy many years ago.”

Joan came to stand beside Lavinia. “Beautiful.”

Vale watched them both with an enigmatic smile.

Lavinia took a closer look at the large cup. Figures had been carved around the vessel in such a way that they stood out from the surface as though attempting to escape the bonds of the delicate net of glass that anchored them.

Lavinia recognized the scene that the artist had caught and frozen in the glass.

“Persephone fleeing Hades,” she whispered. “The Lord of the Underworld pursues her.”

The desperation on the face of the woman and the anguish and loss etched in the god’s features sent a shiver through her.

“It is called the Hades Cup, and some say that it is a dangerous object to own.” Vale smiled wryly. “Not that I believe in such nonsense. Nevertheless, I maintain that I do not actually own the thing. I am merely keeping it safe here in the club’s museum.”

He closed and locked the cabinet door with the tiny ring key.

“I think we have all taken your point,” Tobias said. “Legends develop a strength of their own, and collectors are an odd lot.”

“Indeed.” Vale smiled. “They like nothing better than a good story attached to an antiquity. Some will kill to possess a rare object with a sufficiently compelling legend attached to it.”

Lavinia threw up her hands. “Wonderful. Yet another motive for murder. At this rate, half of London will soon be on our suspect list.”

Tobias sank into the chair across from Crackenburne and reached for the bottle of brandy that sat on the table between them.

“Leg bothering you again today?” Crackenburne asked without looking up from his newspaper.

“It’s not the leg so much as the conversation I just had with a possible suspect.” Tobias tipped the bottle and poured. The clink of glass against glass brought to mind a fleeting image of the Hades Cup. “What can you tell me about Vale?”

Crackenburne hesitated and then slowly lowered the paper far enough to peer at Tobias over the top. “Wealthy. Widowed. Secretive. He’s the head of a very small, exclusive little club of collectors. Writes scholarly papers for the journals. Has a habit of disappearing for weeks at a time to dig up old Roman ruins in the country.”

“I know that much. I also know that he was a close friend of Fielding Dove.” Tobias took a swallow of the brandy and relaxed into the chair. “Which means that he probably was aware that Dove was the head of the Blue Chamber. Think Vale might have been involved in some of its activities?”

“Never heard anything to indicate that he was connected to that criminal organization.” Crackenburne folded his paper and put it aside. “Which is not to say that he wasn’t, of course. In his own way Vale is just as clever and possibly just as dangerous as Dove was in his time. But I think his interests lie elsewhere.”

“Antiquities.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he would commit murder to obtain a very special Roman artifact associated with an ancient cult here in England?”

Crackenburne grew thoughtful. “I cannot say for certain. I’ve heard he is somewhat obsessive on the subject of such British-Roman relics. But I will give you my opinion, for what it’s worth.”