Mallett Sterling had just reached the landing of the first floor when dulcet female voices, drifting like perfume up the staircase, met his ears. His pulse quickened, and he paused to listen. These were not the familiar Scottish tones of his sisters. Nor did the soft words belong to Mrs. Wimpole. He crept as quietly as he could down to the ground floor, but the old stair treads groaned under his feet just the same. The voices stopped before he reached the passage. Resting his back against the wall, he remained still and listened. “I should greatly enjoy meeting such a…well, I will say it, such an infamous gentleman as Lord Elgin,” said a voice that was not unknown to Sterling, but he could not dress it with a name. “Certainly I have heard about the Parthenon marbles, but have not had the opportunity to actually view them for myself. It would be most diverting to have the opportunity to discuss their acquisition with Lord Elgin.”
