The pocket watch was heavy, with a scratched gold case and a chain that left a dark line across my palm.

The thimble and the earrings sat in their slots.

Tucked under the cushion beneath the watch was a folded slip of paper.

It was thin, nearly onionskin, folded twice over.

I unfolded it under the desk lamp.

The memo had no letterhead.

It had four lines of numbers and a note in Gregory’s small, slanting handwriting.

“PC Holdings — hold until year end — route through 4471 and 8829 — no names.”