"This place is awesome," Tommy said as his head turned from side to side. He took in the splendor of the 1800s architecture and design.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Sean said. "Kind of can't believe you've never been here."
Tommy rolled his shoulders as he followed his friend back through the corridor toward the rear of the house. "Never had a reason to until now."
They arrived at a little room that was previously a pantry when the house was still used as a primary residence. Now, the door hung open revealing a small desk, chair, a few bookshelves, and a man sitting inside checking his email on a laptop.
Mr. Johnstone heard the two approaching and turned to look out the door. His head had a rim of hair around it from one ear to the other, encircling a shiny bald pate. His thick mustache bristled when he twitched his lips. He wore a tweed jacket like so many university professors might.
"Ah, good morning, Sean. Back again, I see?"
The slim museum curator stood up and shook hands with the two visitors.
"Who's your friend?"
Sean slapped Tommy on the back. "This is my friend Tommy. He's the founder of the IAA."
"Oh my. I'm so sorry. I should have known that. You've done so much incredible historical work all over the world. I apologize."
"Trust me, it's fine," Tommy said. "I usually try to stay out of the spotlight, except when we find something big. Very few people know who I am."
"Well, I think your agency has done so many wonderful things, and I appreciate everything you do. So" — Johnstone looked from one to the other—"what brings you back to the Seward House?"
"Same reason I was here before," Sean said.
"Still looking for that lost Seward treasure?" Johnstone said with a mischievous grin.
"Sort of. I mean, we still don't know what it is we're looking for in that regard, but there's definitely something out there."
"We were hoping to take a look at any maps you might have on display, or even if you have a few in some archives that aren't available to the public," Tommy said.
"Certainly," Johnstone said, beaming with pride. "Although I don't believe we have any maps tucked away in a secret place. Our archives are relatively small. I'd be happy to check our catalog, though. Follow me. I'll show you the ones we have on display, and while you're looking at those I'll see what else we have."
"That would be great," Sean said. "Thank you so much."
Johnstone led the two through the home and up the stairs near the foyer. When they reached the top, they turned left and walked down the hall, turning right into a small room that looked like it was once an office.
"This is where Secretary Seward did most of his work. The desk and other furnishings are originals, as are the maps encased in glass over there, and there." He pointed at two display cases sitting next to each other. "You can see we had to block off the windows since sunlight would have faded everything on paper."
Sean and Tommy noticed the window on the far wall had been covered with a solid sheet of wood and then disguised with a painting of the Appalachian Mountains.
"Good thinking," Tommy said.
"Make yourselves at home. I'll be back up as soon as I find anything… or not."
"Thanks, Mr. Johnstone."
"Please, call me Gary."
The slim man strode out into the hallway with his blazer flapping behind him.
"Nice guy," Tommy said.
"Yeah, he's been very helpful. Let's take a look at these maps."
They sidled over to the display cases against the interior wall. The maps inside were clearly originals, the paper brown with age. Some of the lettering had faded a bit but not so much that the words were illegible. One of the maps was of the United States as it existed during Seward's time. Sean and Tommy noted the date in the bottom corner: 1866.
Next to the map of the country were three additional maps, all showing the Territory of Alaska.
"It's amazing how detailed cartographers were so long ago. I have no idea how they got things so accurate," Sean said with admiration.
"You're right about that. I've always thought that was an incredible talent."
Sean pointed at the maps. "None of these would fit that note we found," he said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Tommy shook his head. "Nope. They're all too big. Is this all of them?"
There was one more display case in the corner. They stepped over to it and looked inside. It housed a map of Alaska, but it was much smaller than the others and too small to be the one to match the note.
They searched the rest of the room, wandering from one corner to the other until they'd exhausted all possibilities.
Tommy stared at the desk. "You don't think there's something hidden in this, do you?"
"No," Sean said with a shake of the head. "I already checked it the last time I was here."
"Johnstone opened it for you?"
Sean's cheeks flooded with red. "Something like that."
Tommy snorted. "You looked without his permission, didn't you?"
"Maybe. Doesn't matter. The point is, none of these maps work. Let's hope Gary can find something. Otherwise, this trail is going to come to a sudden and disappointing end."
"Not to mention a wasted long drive all the way to western New York."
They hung out for another few minutes in the office, reading over some of the documents encased in glass and inspecting the desk to make sure they weren't missing a secret compartment.
When the sound of Johnstone's shoes on the wood floor began tapping their way down the hall, the two friends moved away from the desk and back to the maps, pretending to inspect them.
"Find what you were looking for, gentlemen?" Johnstone asked as he entered the room.
"No, sir." Sean shook his head. "Any luck in your archives?"
"Sadly, no. We don't have any maps tucked away in the vault. Do you know what it is you're looking for? Maybe you could give me some more details."
"I wish we had details to give," Tommy said. "All we know is it's about the size of a standard letter, maybe eight by eleven."
Johnstone thought for a minute, biting his lower lip as he looked up to the ceiling. After his momentary deliberation, he returned his eyes to the guests. "Sorry, I can't think of anything that size, and I've worked here for nearly ten years."
"Don't apologize," Sean said, pushing aside the disappointment lumping in his throat. "It's not your fault."
"Will you be needing anything else right now? I have a phone call to make."
"No, sir. Thank you," Tommy said.
"Happy to help. Wish I had what you were looking for."
Johnstone spun around and stepped out into the hall. Sean and Tommy followed, dragging their feet along the way.
They passed paintings of Seward family members down through history hanging from the walls. There were women in beautiful dresses, smartly dressed men in pristine suits and hats, and even a few of children. As the three neared the staircase, Sean caught something out of the corner of his eye and stopped.
He turned and looked at a painting that was different than all the others.
It depicted a man running out of the house, looking back over his shoulder as if afraid someone was chasing him. The home was clearly the Seward house, but the man was unidentified.
"Gary?" Sean said, stopping the curator before he took the first step down the stairs. "What's this painting?"
Johnstone did a pivot, keeping one hand on the banister. "Oh, that's a painting of the night Secretary Seward was nearly killed."
Sean took one step closer to the painting to where he stood within an arm's length of it. Tommy was next to him now, also mesmerized by the picture.
"I didn't really notice this on the way in," Tommy said.