Chapter 5

Professor Finch pulled on the white gloves his assistant handed him, then took out a special chamois cloth.

He didn't go straight for the bottom of the cup. Instead he took up his magnifier and studied the tiny chip on the rim, inch by inch.

"The body is fine and dense, white with a faint blue cast. Classic Macang clay..." he murmured, so low the words were barely a breath, yet in that silent room every syllable carried.

He shone the bright flashlight against the wall of the cup.

Beneath that black layer of grease and grime, the faint outlines of several animals began to show through.

"A rooster with its head raised, a hen bent low pecking at feed, the chicks following behind..." His hand began to shake, faster and faster.

Carefully he dipped a cotton swab in the special cleaning solution and dabbed at the stain on the bottom of the cup.

Crystal stood off to the side, not daring to breathe. She watched the bowl she used for holding garlic slowly give up its true face in the expert's hands.

As the grime lifted away, a blue-framed square appeared on the base.

Inside the frame were six characters in neat script.

Professor Finch's eyes snapped shut. He drew a deep breath, opened them again, and fixed his stare on those six characters.

A soft thud.

The magnifier fell from his hand onto the carpet. He didn't even reach for it. Holding the cup in both hands, he turned slowly, looking around at the room full of people, and finally his gaze landed on Crystal's blank, uncomprehending face.

"Ma'am..." His voice caught. "Did you just say you used this to feed the cat?"

"Uh... sometimes for the cat, sometimes to hold garlic." Crystal answered honestly. "Why? Is the bowl worthless?"

Professor Finch let out a bitter laugh and shook his head.

"Worthless?" the neighbor, Mrs. Ross, cut in. "That's what I've been saying. What treasure could Crystal's place possibly have? It's just junk."

"It's not worthless." His voice suddenly rose, cutting through the whole room with a force that silenced everyone. "It's priceless! An absolute treasure!"

"What?" Everyone in the room froze.

He drew a deep breath and lifted the cup in his hands. "This is a Ming-dynasty Chenghua doucai chicken cup! At the Sotheby's auction in 2014, one just like it sold for two hundred and eighty million HK dollars! And yours, apart from that little chip on the rim, has finer painting and better color than that one!"

"Two... two hundred and eighty million?!"

A roar went off in Crystal's head, her legs gave way, and she dropped straight down onto the sofa.

Two hundred and eighty million. What did that even mean? Her pension was two thousand a month. How many months was that?

"Are you... are you sure you're not mistaken?" Crystal asked, trembling. "That was just given to me by some old beggar..."

"A beggar?" Professor Finch caught the word at once, his face turning grave in an instant. "Ma'am, tell me exactly. What did this old man look like? How old was he? Where was his accent from?"

Just then the phone in his pocket rang. The old-fashioned Nokia ringtone was piercingly loud in the quiet room.

He answered, listened for a moment, and the color drained from his face.

"What? You found it? You pulled the file on that huge relic theft from thirty years ago?"

His hand hung frozen in midair with the phone, his gaze swinging back to Crystal, full of shock and searching.

"Ma'am, that beggar. Did his left hand have only four fingers?"

Crystal blinked, and the memory came back of that heavy snowfall thirty years ago, the old man's hand purple with cold as he took the sandwich.

"Yes... his thumb looked like part of it was gone."

Professor Finch hung up, looked at Crystal, and said slowly, "Ma'am, the man you saved was no ordinary beggar. He was a grand master of the relic restoration team in his day, and a legend who went into hiding and wandered half his life to protect a national treasure during those years of chaos. His name was Cary Cox!"