After that, there was very little conversation. Julien and Calvin were similar in that they both loved food almost as much as they loved women.
“Let’s retire to the library,” suggested their uncle, after breakfast. “I will endeavor to answer the many questions I’m sure you wish to ask.” He turned to Mrs. Murphy with a courtly bow before leading the way upstairs.
“Let’s all have a seat by the fire,” Calvin suggested. “It’s so cold outside, and I can feel it creeping into the house.” He knelt by the hearth and arranged the kindling, and soon the fire was blazing merrily. Mrs. Murphy entered the room only to set down a pot tea, leaving them to talk in private.
“Now then,” Julien began, clearing his throat. “First I must tell you how I came to be here this morning.”
“Yes, please do. I’m very curious,” Natalie urged.
“Well, I told you that Richard invented a device. That device was triggered by something you touched in this library. I was called electronically by his ingenious little gadget, but don’t ask me how it works or where it is. It was Richard’s invention, and I never understood it. He told me about it many years ago, but when I asked him why it was necessary for him to have such a thing, he was annoyingly vague and said, ‘I have my reasons. You’ll just have to have faith in me.’ All I really know is, he was adamant that when I was summoned in that fashion, I must immediately come to England, to this house, and to the library specifically.’”
Calvin and Natalie glanced at each other, absorbing this. Finally Natalie spoke.
“The gadget that called you to us must be connected to the hidden compartment we found. At first we couldn’t open it, but we finally found a trigger on the door. You must have been alerted as soon as we unlocked it. We did hear something click, didn’t we, Calvin?”
Her brother nodded in agreement.
“I see,” Julien said slowly. “But what was in this compartment you speak of?”
Calvin answered in a somber tone, “We found what looks like the original handwritten manuscript of Paradise Lost.”
Their uncle had been leaning forward in his armchair, listening, but now, he leaned back and stared fixedly at his niece and nephew, with his mouth agape. “It can’t be an original can it?”
Natalie jumped up excitedly. “That must be why you’re here, to help us find out! You are a world-renowned authenticator. Uncle Richard must have known we’d need you. What better person could help us determine if this finding is legitimate? But why he went to such great lengths to help us find something that he could easily have shown us himself is very perplexing.”
Uncle Julien looked thoughtful. “Richard was always very secretive. I used to think that maybe he missed his military days, and was acting the spy.” He smiled sadly. “Now it seems he was guarding a very big secret indeed, if this manuscript turns out to be authentic.”
“So, how do we find out if it’s the real thing?” Calvin asked impatiently.
“Well, first you must let me have a look at it,” replied Julien archly.
~
“I’ll get my Leatherman,” Natalie said, and rummaged around in a desk drawer while Calvin showed Julien the panel. They had replaced the books in front of it as a precaution.
“This is very exciting,” he said as Calvin revealed the safe once more. “I feel like Howard Carter at the threshold of King Tut’s tomb.”
“This does seem like something that only happens to other people, or to a character in a movie,” Natalie agreed. “But it is helping to distract us from our sadness.”
“That’s true,” said Calvin. “But, now it makes me feel closer to Uncle Richard.”
Natalie inserted the hex tool into the knot again and turned it. After pushing on the door and watching it recede into the channel, she turned to her uncle.
“Well, here it is,” she said, and brought forth the portfolio. She passed it to Julien, who took it from her with shaking hands. “This is beautifully wrought,” he observed, looking at the design on the leather cover. “C’est le paradis perdu, je pense.”
“We thought it might depict the Garden of Eden as well,” said Natalie, nodding. Her uncle often lapsed into French when he was either overly tired or impassioned. She reflected he must be experiencing the latter emotion, as he always did when looking at something beautiful or precious.
He opened the cover carefully, making sure not to touch the paper inside, and studied the script at length. “Mes enfants,” he said, finally, “I can’t say for an absolute certainty just yet, but, my first impression is that this is the handwriting of John Milton.”
“Couldn’t it be a forgery, Uncle?” Calvin asked. “John Milton was blind when he dictated the poem to his daughters. It’s impossible that he could have written this with no sight whatsoever.”
Their uncle sighed. “You’re correct, Calvin. He was indeed blind at the time Paradise Lost was supposedly written and published. If this is actually his handwriting, therefore, it follows that he wrote this particular manuscript no later than 1652, before he lost his sight. That’s at least fifteen years earlier than the publishing date of 1667; but I have studied his work for a large portion of my adult life, and I feel almost certain that this is in fact his hand.”
Natalie looked skeptical. “There are incredibly talented forgers out there, Uncle. They have ingenious ways of fooling even the most talented authenticators.”
“Believe me, I am well aware of that,” he replied. “I have personally caught out many of the scoundrels. I may be a little past my prime, but I still have my wits about me, and I am nearly convinced that you and your brother are in possession of the original.”
Natalie looked slightly abashed. “I certainly didn’t mean to suggest you were losing your touch, Uncle. I just wondered how you can know, just by looking at it.”
“I understand, mon cher, and I take no offense. You’re a scientist, and I know scientists are more comfortable with tangible proofs. Being an authenticator, I too use science to try and prove something is real or fake. But one thing I can tell you, and many of my colleagues will agree with me, I assure you, is that one’s first impression very often proves correct. When you’ve been tracking down forgeries all your life and you suddenly come across the real thing, it becomes instinctual, and you just know. Of course, there are always exceptions, and I’ve made my share of mistakes, but in general, you can trust your instincts … especially when they are as finally honed as mine!” he concluded, winking mischievously.
Natalie nodded. “I understand what you mean about instincts. When I’m doing investigative journalism, I often know when I’m on the right track, without any real reason, at times. It’s just a gut feeling. And other times,” she frowned, struggling to explain her point, “sometimes, I almost feel as if I’m being guided.”
“Very good,” her uncle smiled. “I’d hate to think that you or your brother didn’t trust those feelings. They’ve always served me well. However, now that I’ve given you my first impression, I think it’s best if we study this document in greater detail. Let’s take it to the table and delve into this most beautiful poem.”
~
Calvin brought three pairs of the cotton gloves to the table.
“I see you’ve taken the right precautions,” Uncle Julien commented with approval.
“Well, we don’t want to go down in history as the buffoons who destroyed the original copy of Paradise Lost,” replied Calvin.
“No,