Chapter 225: Chapter 225

It was nearly lunchtime, and two bored men were still making idle conversation.

The bell on the door chimed, announcing the unexpected arrival of a customer at this hour.

The visitor was a woman in a conservative, long black dress, her face hidden behind a black veil. She wore a matching black hat, adorned with a single white flower.

If he wasn't mistaken, the lady had just come from a funeral.

“Good day, madam. Is there anything I can help you with?”

As the apprentice, Jenkins was the first to speak.

The woman greeted him in a low, subdued voice, which he guessed belonged to someone around forty. Jenkins glanced outside and saw a carriage parked at the curb, confirming his suspicion that she was a wealthy lady.

She began to sob quietly as she spoke. Accepting the white handkerchief Jenkins offered, she thanked him softly and reached beneath her veil to dry her tears.

“He was very fond of collecting... old things. He accumulated quite a collection at home. I can't bear to keep them. Every time I see them, I can't help... I just can't...”

The woman dissolved into quiet sobs again. Jenkins shot a helpless glance at Papa Oliver, who simply gave him a look that said, *You handle it*.

Some hot tea was prepared, and they eventually managed to help the woman compose herself. The maid, who had been waiting in the carriage, came inside and, together with Jenkins, helped the lady into the rocking chair by the fireplace.

The ensuing conversation took place between Jenkins and the maid. She explained that her employers were Mr. and Mrs. David. Mr. David had passed away unexpectedly from a heart condition the previous week, and in accordance with local custom, the funeral had been held today.

Ever since that day, Mrs. David had been consumed by grief, the poor woman still unable to accept what had happened. After a consultation with a specialist, her doctor had advised that she leave Nolan City for a while after the funeral to get a change of scenery and avoid anything that reminded her of her late husband.

That was why she had come here straight from the funeral, hoping someone from the antique shop could accompany her home and provide a preliminary appraisal of the items within.

That was the situation. However, Papa Oliver couldn't leave the shop—Miss Mikhail had made an appointment last week to have him appraise a new antique she had acquired today.

After a brief discussion, they decided that Jenkins would go to the David residence in Papa Oliver's place. Although he was still inexperienced, Mr. David's antiques all came with certificates of authenticity—the mark of a true collector.

Thus, Jenkins's task was simply to verify the existence of the items and report back.

Without even stopping for lunch, the diligent apprentice, Mr. Williams, donned his overcoat and departed in the carriage. Mrs. David's mood remained somber, but she consented to let Chocolate come along.

During the carriage ride, she regaled Jenkins with stories of a cat she and Mr. David had raised over twenty years ago. The tales were interesting at first, but she would inevitably dissolve into tears as she spoke. The middle-aged maid attended to her with care, while Jenkins clutched his own cat, wishing the trip would be over quickly.

For someone as socially awkward as him, the situation was excruciating.

The Davids must have been quite wealthy; their house was even larger than the Williams family home. It was also located in the Sabine District, though a fair distance away.

Cradling Chocolate in his arms, Jenkins stepped down from the carriage, surprised to see a man already waiting outside the house. The man wore a brown hat, a classic three-piece suit, and a dark, long overcoat with the collar turned up. A scarf was wrapped around his neck, a practical and warm attire for the dead of winter.

“Detective Ignaz, you're here so early.”

Supported by her maid, Mrs. David greeted the man. The four of them then entered the courtyard together.

The two ladies walked ahead, while Jenkins and the man followed. Jenkins noticed the detective studying him and his cat with a deep, probing gaze, so he took the initiative and handed over a business card from Pops Antique Shop.

The detective offered his own card in return:

Howard Detective Agency

The detective glanced at the card Jenkins had offered. As a mere apprentice, Jenkins didn't have his own business cards; this was one of the shop's. However, since it had both his and Papa Oliver's names on it, he carried it around to use as his own—absolutely not because he was trying to save money.

“Pops Antique Shop. Oh, I know it. The one on Fifth Queen's Avenue.”

The two men exchanged no further words, following Mrs. David into the house in silence.

The detective seemed to be an ordinary man, so Jenkins didn't find him particularly interesting.

The Davids' financial situation was even better than Jenkins had imagined—they employed three maids. The youngest of them led Jenkins to inspect the items for sale, while the detective accompanied Mrs. David to the study for a private conversation.

Mr. David's collection was extensive, and every item had a certificate of authentication. He had converted a guest room on the second floor into a dedicated showroom, its walls lined with shelves displaying a vast array of antiques.

The maid brought Jenkins a cup of tea, and he settled at the desk in the collection room to meticulously check each item against its certificate. It wasn't complex work, but it was tedious. The young maid, a Miss Baxter, remained in the room—partly to supervise him, which was only proper, but mostly because she was captivated by little Chocolate. Young women always did have a soft spot for such adorable pets.

Chocolate lay curled up to Jenkins's left, one eye cracked open, its amber gaze fixed on his diligently working master.

Jenkins drew up a list, recording the details of each item the family intended to sell. Most of the antiques matched their certificates, but he knew he still had to proceed with caution.

His pocket watch had been broken the day before during the "accidental" discovery of the Doomsday Document, so Jenkins had no idea how much time had passed.

He only knew that as he and the maid were idly chatting about the expense of keeping pets, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed from the hall. The middle-aged maid—the one who had accompanied Mrs. David from the carriage—burst into the room, her face as pale as a sheet.

Jenkins set down his fountain pen and asked softly.

“The mistress... she's...”

Before she could finish, she crumpled to the floor.