By the late nineteenth century British goshawks were extinct. I have a photograph of the stuffed remains of one of the last birds to be shot; a black-and-white snapshot of a bird from a Scottish estate, draggled, stuffed and glassy-eyed.

The car ride was long, and it was late when they reached Esplanade Street. Arobin asked permission to enter for a second to light his cigarette—his match safe was empty.

He sat in a rotating chair behind a broad table, which was covered with books, maps, and diagrams.

In my efforts to get The House of Habsburg on line, I have discovered I don’t know how to add hacheck (spelling) accents to c’s for some of the town names in Czech.