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uardian Hope did not know why the Fugleman wanted them to search this ugly little building. ‘Tell them you’re looking for the missing girl,’ he had said when he called them to his office earlier that morning. ‘But keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. Anything out of place, or strange.’

No offence to His Honour, but the only out-of-place thing that Hope was interested in was the runaway girl, and she was probably holed up somewhere in the Old Quarter of the city, near where she lived. Which meant that one of Hope’s colleagues would have the pleasure of catching her when it should have been Hope herself.

But when Sinew confessed that the museum didn’t have a Resident Guardian, a worm of curiosity uncoiled inside Hope. She didn’t let her interest show on her face. She was too cunning for that, oh my word yes. Instead, she kept questioning Sinew about the girl, as if that was the true reason for their being here and not just a pretence.

And now she was on a mission from His Honour! She could hardly wait to carry out his instructions. She stalked through the drab rooms, peering into every corner, poking behind the broken display cases, looking for things that were out of place, or strange.

At the same time, she allowed a corner of her mind to slip into her favourite daydream, the one where she was part of the Fugleman’s inner circle, where she had power and importance and influence. If she did this job properly, that dream might well come true . . .

‘Haven’t we been through this room already?’ said Comfort.

‘What?’ said Hope, jolted out of her fantasy.

‘Look at that cupboard with the smashed doors. We were here just a few minutes ago.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Hope, glad of the excuse to needle him. ‘We haven’t retraced our steps, have we, colleague? We haven’t turned aside at any point? We haven’t been spirited away by demons?’

She laughed briefly at her own wit, then settled back into seriousness. ‘I think you’ll find I have an excellent sense of direction. Keep your mind on the job.’

Comfort’s face closed in a barely concealed sulk, and he strode through the nearest doorway without waiting to see if Hope was following.

Twenty minutes later, Hope found herself standing in front of the broken cupboard once again.

‘There,’ said Comfort smugly. ‘I told you so.’

‘Self-righteousness,’ said Hope, ‘is a sin. I’d hate to have to report you, colleague.’

‘I wasn’t being self-righteous, colleague,’ smirked Comfort. ‘I was merely pointing out that we’re going in circles. That’s a fact, is it not? It’s clear enough to me.’

‘What’s clear to me, colleague, is that you have brought us astray. It was you who led the way out of this room, was it not? You must’ve taken a wrong turn. Perhaps you weren’t concentrating.’

Comfort’s sallow face reddened. ‘I’d like to see you do better, colleague.’

‘And so you shall, colleague. So you shall.’

Hope fully intended to take them back to the office. Despite what she had said to Comfort, she found the rooms confusing. If she could get hold of a floor plan, it would help them to be more efficient in their search.

She didn’t realise straight away that they were lost. She led the way through room after room, retracing the way they had come. But somehow, instead of reaching the office, they ended up back at the broken cupboard.

Hope snorted in surprise and annoyance. She set off again, back through the gloomy rooms with Comfort hurrying along behind her. Around the glass cases. Through this doorway. Through that doorway. Turn right here. Turn left there . . .

And there was the broken cupboard again! Hope glared at it, suspecting that it was mocking her in some way.

Comfort cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps it’s time to summon help—’

‘Ridiculous,’ said Hope. ‘Ridiculous!’ And she set off once more. Back through the gloomy rooms. Around the glass cases. Through this doorway. Through that doorway. Turn right here. Turn left there . . .

In the end, she let Comfort shout for help. She wouldn’t normally have given up like that, but they were wasting time, and so she was not displeased to see Sinew hurrying towards them.

‘These rooms!’ he cried out as he approached. ‘They all look the same! Don’t feel bad, Guardians. Even the keepers get lost almost daily. Sometimes I think we should paint little tracklets on the floors, all in different colours, and then we could follow them to wherever we were going. But what if we got lost while we painted the tracklets, and they went around in circles? Ha ha ha!’

The man was even more of a fool than Comfort, but at least he managed to get them back to the office. Hope commandeered the chair behind the desk and, with Comfort at her shoulder, began to ask questions.

At first she tried to make them sound casual. How old was the museum? Who started it? Where did the exhibits come from?

But Sinew’s answers were so vague that she quickly lost patience with him and began to snap out questions one after the other, as if she was conducting an examination.

Exactly how many rooms were there? What was in them? How many of them were locked? Who had the keys? Where did this door lead to? Where did that door lead to? How many employees did the museum have? How long had they been here? Where did they sleep? Where did they eat?

At last, irritated beyond measure by Sinew’s useless answers, she said, ‘I wish to inspect your records.’

‘Our what?’ said Sinew.

‘In the last couple of hours,’ said Hope, ‘I’ve seen broken glass. I’ve seen loose rocks that any passer-by could pick up and throw. I’ve seen chairs that would collapse under the first person who sat on them. This building is a death-trap, and there may well be an unSeparated child loose on the premises. If I’m to find her, I’ll need your records. Your pay sheets. Your floor plans.’

Sinew nodded uncertainly. ‘Will the records for the last five years be enough?’

‘That’ll do for a start. Go and fetch them. Quickly now.’

Sinew wandered out of the office, looking as if he had already forgotten what he was about. Comfort leaned down and murmured in Hope’s ear. ‘Under the desk.’

Hope slid her chair out a little way and peered beneath the desk. And there, tucked into a corner, so grubby that it was almost (but not quite) beyond recognition, was a scrap of white silk Separation ribbon.

‘Ah!’ said Hope. And she pressed her lips together so that Comfort wouldn’t see how pleased she was.