THE FOG HAD COME ON QUICKLY THAT DAY—THE MORNING HAD BLOSSOMED bright and clear, but just after four, a curtain of blue-gray smoke fell over the land. That was the thing so many people would remark about later, the fog. By twilight, everything was wrapped in a pearly dark and it was difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. The Rolls-Royce Phantom moved through this fog slowly, up the treacherous drive to the Ellingham estate. It pulled halfway up the circular drive in front of the Great House. The car always stopped halfway. Albert Ellingham liked to walk the drive when he got out of the car to survey his mountain kingdom. He stepped out of the back door before the car fully came to a rest. His secretary, Robert Mackenzie, waited the extra few seconds to make his exit.
“You need to go to Philadelphia,” Robert said to the back of his employer.
“No one needs to go to Philadelphia, Robert.”
“You need to go to Philadelphia. We should also spend at least two days at the New York office.”
The last busload of men working on the final stages of construction pulled past them, heading back to Burlington and the various small towns along the way. It slowed so the passengers could raise their hands to their employer in greeting as they left.
“Good job today!” Albert Ellingham called to them. “See you fellows tomorrow!”
The butler opened the door on their approach, and the two men entered the magnificent entry hall of the house. Every time he entered, Ellingham was pleased with the effect of the place, the way light played around the space, bouncing from every bit of crystal, tinted by a well-spent fortune’s worth of Scottish stained glass.
“Evening, Montgomery,” said Ellingham. His booming voice echoed through the open atrium.
“Good evening, sir,” said the butler, accepting the hats and coats. “Good evening, Mr. Mackenzie. I hope your trip was not too arduous in this fog.”
“Took us forever,” Ellingham said. “Robert was bending my ear about meetings the entire way.”
“Please tell Mr. Ellingham that he has to go to Philadelphia,” Robert said, passing over his hat.
“Mr. Mackenzie wishes me to inform you—”
“I’m starving, Montgomery,” Ellingham said. “What’s on for tonight?”
“Crème de céleri soup and filet of sole with a sauce amandine to start, sir, followed by roast lamb, minted peas, asparagus hollandaise, and potatoes lyonnaise, with a cold lemon soufflé to finish.”
“That’ll do. As soon as we can. I’ve worked up an appetite. How many hangers-on do we still have?”
“Miss Robinson and Mr. Nair are still with us, though they have been indisposed most of the day, so I believe it will just be Mrs. Ellingham, Mr. Mackenzie, and yourself, sir.”
“Good. Get them. Let’s eat.”
“Mrs. Ellingham has not yet returned, sir. She and Miss Alice went out for a drive this afternoon.”
“And they’re not back yet?”
“I imagine the fog must have slowed her, sir.”
“Have some men with lights wait at the end of the drive to help her on the path back. Tell her as soon as she gets back it’s time to eat. Don’t even let her take her coat off. March her right to the table.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Come along, Robert,” Ellingham said, heading off. “We’ll go to my office and have a game of Rook. And don’t try to argue with me. There is nothing so serious as a game.”
The secretary was professionally silent in response. Playing games with his employer was a nonnegotiable part of his job, and “there is nothing so serious as a game” was one of Ellingham’s many mottoes. That was why the students always had access to games, and the new Monopoly game was mandatory for students, residents of the household, and staff. Everyone had to play at least once a week, and there were now monthly tournaments. This was life in the world of Albert Ellingham.
Robert picked the day’s mail out of the tray and sifted through it with a practiced eye, tossing some letters immediately back in the tray and tucking others under his arm.
“Philadelphia,” he said again. It was his job to make sure the great Albert Ellingham stayed on course. Robert was good at this.
“Fine, fine. Schedule it. Ah . . .” Ellingham plucked a Western Union slip from his desk. These tiny slips of paper were his favorite medium for writing short notes. “I started a new riddle this morning. Tell me what you think of it.”
“Is the answer Philadelphia?”
“Robert,” Ellingham said sternly. “My riddle. This is a good one, I think. Now listen. What serves on either side, and if you wish to hide, may protect you from your foe, or show him where to go? Well? What do you think?”
Robert sighed and paused his mail sorting to think.
“Serves on either side,” he said. “Like a spy. A traitor. A duplicitous person.”
Ellingham smiled and gestured that his secretary should keep thinking.
“But,” Robert said, “it’s not a who. It’s a what. So it’s an object that works from two directions . . .”
There was a knock at the door, and Ellingham hurried over himself to answer it.
“It’s a door!” he said, throwing it open and revealing his ashen-faced butler. “A door!”
“Sir . . . ,” Montgomery said.
“One moment. You see, Robert, the door can be used from either side . . .”
“And you can hide behind it, or it might show where you’ve gone,” Robert said. “I see. Yes . . .”
“Sir!” Montgomery said. His urgent tone was entirely unfamiliar to the two men, and they looked at him in confusion.
“What is it, Montgomery?” Ellingham said.
“There is a telephone call, sir,” Montgomery replied. “You must come at once, sir. On the household line. In the pantry. Please, sir, hurry.”
This was so out of character for Montgomery that Ellingham complied without another word. He followed to the butler’s pantry and took the phone that was held out for him.
“I have your wife and daughter,” a voice said.