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"Are you well?" Clara asked, rushing forward to Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard. Both their outlines were as faded as they became when she had not been in the house for a time.
"I feel a bit weak, ma'am," confessed Mr. Willard.
Clara knew that when a man like Mr. Willard admitted to something making him feel a "bit weak", the situation was indeed dire.
"What can I do?" Clara asked, grasping his arm.
"Nothing to be done," said Mrs. Nan, her hand upon her bosom, as if trying to catch her breath. "Perhaps it might be best if we sit down, though."
Clara took them both by the arm, allowing them to each lean on either side of her. Their ghostly shapes were much too light and Clara found herself wondering what she would do if they ever disappeared from her life.
She helped them out of the attic, down the stairs, and into the parlor. She deposited them both on the couch. The fact neither of them made any protest gave Clara even more cause for concern.
What had her husband done? she wondered. Where had he gotten that gem? Was it with the money he stole from the Quatre Portes? She could think of no other explanation. They were not wealthy enough for him to have purchased an emerald of that size as a gift for her, and the fact it held such power made Clara believe, in light of recent events, that Thomas had known exactly what it was. Clara realized she was now the steward of this secret treasure and knew that her life depended on not allowing anyone else to know what lay upstairs in the attic.
"How did that stone get here?" asked Mrs. Nan interrupting Clara's thoughts.
Clara shook her head and walked over to the fire, poking at the embers until a warm glow filled the hearth. "I believe my husband purchased it with money he stole from Peter Nero." Clara looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Where he actually got the stone, though, is beyond me."
Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard exchanged glances. Mrs. Nan still seemed out of breath, despite being a ghost and not needing to breathe. "That thing is terrible. I hope that there are not other emeralds like it around."
Clara thought who might be able to help her. "We made an acquaintance with Dr. Van Flemming..."
"Ah! That poor man with that cursed mummy in his basement." Mrs. Nan clucked her tongue like having a cursed mummy in one's basement was as unfortunate a decision as wearing a morning coat to dinner.
"He worked at the natural history museum," continued Clara. "Perhaps he has friends who are familiar with famous gems and might be able to direct me towards the emerald's history."
"Please do be careful," Mr. Willard cautioned in his rumbling voice. "That thing held such power, I should be frightened if someone with a cruel heart wielded it."
Clara sat down on one of the chairs. "What exactly did it do to you?" asked Clara. Immediately she apologized for having to make them relive it over again in their memories. "I only ask so that I can describe it to Dr. Van Flemming."
Mrs. Nan shivered. "The moment you touched it, it was as if we were nothing but wee kittens, and our mother had grabbed us up by the scruff of the neck and delivered us where she wanted us to go. And then that moment when you told us to be still, why, it was as if someone had put a straight jacket on us. There was no fighting this power."
"Imagine it in the wrong hands!" said Mr. Willard. "The ability to control an army of ghosts! Especially those like us who are solid enough to take form."
Mrs. Nan clucked her tongue. "It is a terrifying thought. That gemstone is a fearful thing."