“Your nerves are obviously quite sturdy. Nevertheless, this is not the time or place to discuss the nature of my talent.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

“We have more pressing priorities at the moment. I would remind you that if you did not stab Hollister to death, then it follows that someone else did. That individual may still be in the vicinity.”

She swallowed hard. “Right, then. I’ll save the questions for later.”

“A wise decision,” Owen said.

He stopped so suddenly that Virginia stumbled against him. He did not seem to be aware of the impact. He raised the lantern and held it so that the yellow glare lit the passageway to the right.

“Do you feel some energy?” he asked in low tones.

A strange flicker of icy awareness brushed Virginia’s senses.

“Yes,” she said.

The sensation grew stronger. It was accompanied by a rhythmic clank-and-thud.

A miniature carriage rolled toward them out of the darkness. When it came into the light Virginia saw that it was drawn by two clockwork horses. The toy vehicle stood about a foot tall. The equipage was a work of art, not a child’s plaything. Every detail was exquisitely rendered. The cab was finished in gleaming black enamel and elaborately gilded. Small windows glinted in the lantern light. The horses were realistically sculpted, complete with flowing black manes and tails. Their harness fittings were trimmed with gold.

“Why would someone leave such an expensive toy down here?” Virginia asked.

Owen took her arm again and drew her back a step. “That thing is no toy.”

She could not take her eyes off the carriage. It fascinated her.

“What, then?” she asked.

“Damned if I know.”

Another wave of chilling energy feathered her senses.

“I can sense the power in the device,” she said. “It’s glasslight, the same kind of energy that I read in mirrors. But only humans can generate psychical energy. How is that carriage doing it?”