The Geometry of Secrets

The fourth-floor corridor was exactly as Mira had promised: opinionated.

The portrait in question was a large oil painting in a heavy gilt frame, depicting a knight in full plate armour who was, at the moment of their arrival, in the middle of what appeared to be a very involved argument with a painted dog. The dog was not arguing back. The knight did not seem to notice.

“ - and I say to you, as I have said on no fewer than fourteen occasions this fortnight, that a hound of your bearing ought to conduct himself with rather more dignity than - ”

He stopped. Turned. Looked at Dave with the particular expression of a man who has found something unexpected in his soup and is deciding whether to be offended or merely puzzled.

“You,” he said.