Felix picked up a magnifying glass and peered through it, enjoying how everything on the desk came into focus. The delicate marks on the quill pen on the desk. The smudges on a test tube. He rummaged through the objects, keeping the magnifying glass pressed against his eye.
A small gold cylinder rolled out from beneath a dried corsage. Felix lowered the magnifying glass and picked up the cylinder. It was heavy but unremarkable. Except for the odd symbol on one end. Felix frowned, trying to determine what that symbol was. A coat of arms, maybe? The center almost looked like the design on one of his father’s ties, but there were definitely flowers on it, too. And a thin layer of dark red covered it. Paint? Or . . . Felix shivered . . . blood?
Great-Uncle Thorne’s noisy return right then made Felix jump.
“What’s that you’re examining?” Great-Uncle Thorne demanded.
Felix held it up, squinting.
“Hmmm,” Great-Uncle Thorne said. “It’s a seal. You melt wax onto the back of an envelope and then press that into it. Leaves the mark of . . .”
He leaned closer to see what was on the end.
“Ah! That’s the giglio. The emblem of Florence.”
“What’s a giglio?” Felix asked him.
“I’m sure even you’ve seen the fleur-de-lis on flags and coats of arms?”
“Fleur . . . what?”
“Philistines! You and that surly sister of yours!”
Felix studied the symbol again. “Maybe I’ve seen something like it somewhere,” he said.
“Somewhere?” Great-Uncle Thorne repeated, raising his arms and his eyes upward as if praying for help. “The fleur-de-lis has been the enduring symbol of France for centuries!”
“Maybe that’s where—”
“And the arms of the king of Spain!”
“Oh, maybe that’s where—”
“And the grand duke of Luxembourg!”
“Well, then, gee, sure,” Felix said.
“But that is the giglio, which distinguishes itself by showing a blossom, always red, comprised of three main petals and three thin stamens arranged symmetrically.”
Felix smiled, relieved. If this seal was pressed into red wax, then that’s what he saw. Not blood, but the remnants of wax.
“In fact,” Great-Uncle Thorne was saying, “the floral symbol goes back to ancient times, to 59 BC, when Florence was founded around the time of the Roman celebration of spring and the white iris florentina was in full bloom. Why, the Romans even called the city Florentia, and held festivities there to honor the goddess Flora. If you’re ever lucky enough to visit Florence, you’ll see the giglio everywhere. On the Ponte Vecchio and the Duomo—”
“I thought you said the gi . . . gig . . .”
“Giglio!” Great-Uncle Thorne boomed in exasperation.
“Right,” Felix said. “I thought you said it was red.”
“And?”
“Well, you said the iris florentina was white.”
To Felix’s surprise, Great-Uncle Thorne grinned at him. “You’re right! Good observation! The colors were inverted in 1266. The Guelphs took control of Florence and used a red lily on a white background on their flags. And so it has remained ever since.”
Great-Uncle Thorne got that faraway look that often crossed over him.
And Felix took that opportunity to put the seal in his pocket. He would write Lily Goldberg a letter, he decided, and melt red wax onto the back of the envelope, and press the giglio into it. He could picture her all the way in Cleveland puzzling over the symbol. When she Googled it, she’d see that it was a lily! What a perfect plan, Felix decided.
But his delight faded when his very next thought was the Ziff twins’ disappearance.
“Uncle Thorne?” Felix said softly.
Great-Uncle Thorne blinked several times, as if he were blinking away a memory.
“What about Rayne and Hadley?”
“Who?”
“The Ziff twins,” Felix reminded him.
“Very troubling,” Great-Uncle Thorne said. “Bothersome. Potentially catastrophic.”
“Catastrophic?” Felix repeated with a quiver in his voice. He thought about how Hadley’s curly black hair got even curlier in the damp Newport sea air, and how a glimpse of Rayne’s hot-pink braces always made him smile, and how the Ziff twins were the only friends he and Maisie actually shared, and the next thing he knew, Felix burst into tears.
Great-Uncle Thorne looked at Felix, horrified.
“Now, now,” he said awkwardly. “We’ll figure out how to get them back.”
“But how can we possibly?” Felix blurted, which made him cry harder.
“We’ll . . . why . . . You and Maisie can go back to the Congo and get them!” Great-Uncle Thorne banged his walking stick for emphasis, and grinned triumphantly.
But the last thing Felix wanted to do was go back to the Congo. And besides, Hadley and Rayne had the object.
“This is hopeless,” Felix groaned.
“Nothing is hopeless,” Great-Uncle Thorne said unconvincingly.
Felix’s crying slowed. He hiccupped and wiped the tears off his face.
“This is,” he said.
But as soon as he said it, Felix felt the slightest hint of a cool breeze. He could tell Great-Uncle Thorne felt it, too, by the way his eyebrows lifted and his nose twitched.