"Mr. Pennyworth?" The curator sounded surprised. He had not expected any visitors at the Hermitage. It was closed to all guests.

Alfred turned and nodded sagely. "Just routine, Laurent. I rarely get to see the silverware myself. I thought I would take a look before the crowds gather." He twisted the wet umbrella in his left hand, and let the water drain into the iron grate on the floor.

Laurent blinked and thought for a second. His visitor was not on any of the security lists, but everyone knew who Mr. Pennyworth was. And often Alfred the so-called butler meant trouble.

"Oui. Of course. You must know that Mr. Wayne's security firm went thru everything with us already today. And the Police Department also had a briefing at lunch-time. They talked to us, mainly about crowding in the street, and we listened. They do not seem very happy with the exhibition at this time. A distraction for them, no?" He flourished an ambivalent palm.

"Si," said Alfred. "But Mr. Wayne must carry on being Mr. Wayne. The local police can carry out their usual duties, which we greatly appreciate. Wayne Star Security will deal with any unexpected problems."

"Oui. Wayne Star are guarding every location, even the restrooms. Is that all, Mr. Pennyworth?" Laurent smiled, his feet ready to move off in another direction.

Alfred sighed, then looked embarrassed. "May I see the exhibition halls? Just a personal indulgence I suppose." His face was as pleasant as could be expected from a retired soldier. It was almost as if Laurent could refuse.

:::

Laurent wiped his mouth as they reached the top of the stone staircase. "So this is the main entrance to the exhibit. We also have a single exit at the top of the other staircase." He mimed awkwardly the circulation of visitors. "People will follow a relaxed trail from one end of the exhibit to the other. Security will be tight, but totally invisible."

Alfred had first ascended the black stone steps with a wide-eyed Master Bruce. The young heir had first marvelled at the natural history and crafts, then, over the years, became bored. "Science and Tech. Take me to the S&T," he would demand. Happy days.

Alfred looked around the balcony, conjuring fanciful scenes. The gap from one side to the other could probably be crossed by the flimsiest of climbing equipment, and the family of mammoth skeletons would be skipped across like stepping stones by the nimblest of athletes. But that was not the point.

Laurent broke into the cloud of speculation by clearing his throat. Alfred nodded and turned to meet the curator's gaze. "I'm sure this takes account of all the elements you can reasonably expect," he said.

"Bien sûr. What else is there?" Laurent's hands slapped slowly against the side of his legs.

"Oh. The non human elements," said Alfred. He stared up at the dark vaulted roof, the paint of its crumbling murals still caked in coal dust and cigarette smoke.

"Ah. But the weather, Mr. Pennyworth. It is outside. We have not had the hurricane for many years. And even so, each case is closed chemically. It may look like glass, but it has the strength of iron." He waved back to the exhibition hall. "The building can collapse, but the silver will be safe."

Alfred had personally observed the military testing of the glass cases. His ears still hurt. But that was not what worried him.

:::

Laurent pulled the security strip across the exit and clipped it into the side of the doorframe.

"I am sorry we only had a few minutes to look at the exhibits this evening," he said to Alfred. "But if you wish a private tour, the guides can take you thru some time next week. I can have an official catalogue sent over to you. I understand you are back at the Mansion."

"We have boxes of the catalogue back at the Mansion," Alfred replied a little sourly. "I never grow tired of handing them out to guests." He offered his hand to Laurent. A distant shadow distracted him. "Who's that downstairs?" Alfred lifted his chin to point over to the central hallway.

"Ah, non, Mr. Pennyworth. The Hermitage is now clear of staff and visitors. I know what it is that you mean. The lights flicker and the shadows look like shapes running. One of the previous curators wrote a little book about the ghosts. I should lend it to you. There are no pictures, but he knew that it was the lights, so there is no excitement. But what is funny is this: they are the same lights. And, so, the same ghosts. Maybe one day the city will pay to update the lights."

"When Hell freezes over they will." He sighed and nodded a certain degree of satisfaction.

"Touché," Laurent nodded. "Perhaps I can let you be on your way now, Mr. Pennyworth? You can be sure that everything is safe-and-sound and I know you have the Grand Ball to oversee. And I still have a lot of papers for FDGC that need to be signed."

"Yes," Alfred started to say. He knew he needed a rest. Another shadow flickered across the far hall. And then a noise. "What is that?"

"Mr. Pennyworth?"

"That growling noise?"

"Ah. That is the heating pipes. No doubt the source of further ghost stories. But we must suffer these too."

"That sounded like an animal." Alfred knew the sounds of the jungle, and he never forgot the sounds of predators.

"Non, non. It is an old building with many structural curiosities." He clapped his hands together, his patience finally dissipated. "And now I must really ask you to leave."

Alfred lifted his left index finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispered. His right hand reached into his long coat.

"Who are you calling?" Laurent mouthed, sure that his visitor was over-reacting.

Alfred shook his head and flipped open the tiny cellphone. "No-one," he mouthed. "I'm going to take a picture."