The older man’s voice was a whisper. “Yes, yes. An original copy Chopin intended for a publisher. Filip thought it would be worth a small fortune.”
“What happened to it after Konstantina’s death?”
Ainscough’s spasms grew more agitated, and Drayco reached over to hold his hand. “Mr. Ainscough, at this point, nothing you say would be held against you. It’s a relief to tell the truth, don’t you agree?”
Ainscough calmed down though his breathing remained labored. “I’ve had a few ethical crises. Konstantina was the innocent object of one. Filip came to me before Konstantina’s American tour, knowing I’d be with her the whole time, and asked—no, demanded—I keep an eye on the manuscript. He was just shy of twenty, but he could be a formidable fellow. He learned she was going to take it with her
