I set my mug down and hold up three fingers, keeping to the discipline you've been pressing on me all afternoon.

"Observed — things I saw or did myself. We are in the Black Archive reading room, just the two of us. A17 is sealed and uncracked, locked in the counter drawer; I checked it when we returned. Custody is mine. No receipt exists and nothing has been delivered. The card names both streets in the same hand, in close succession, with the glitter in the Marsh Lane line — I saw all of that directly. The accession entry's main hand is not mine; I examined it at Tamsin's desk. Your slips and the unsent note to Rowan are on this worktable. The note has not been sent. Nobody has applied for vault access — we asked only about the process."

She folds one finger down.

"Reported — things Tamsin told me, which I take on her word. Her countersign attests only to witnessing Rowan's signature, not to receiving or inspecting the parcel; she has never seen A17. The entry records the parcel as received from Black Archive intake this morning, courier Rowan Fen, recipient ward records office, with no street in the address column. She also reported gaps in the older accession numbers, around nineteen years back, and that the office's explanation was a consolidation she's never seen documented. Whether her account is accurate is her responsibility, not something I verified."

Second finger down.

"Hypothesis — labeled as such. That the entry was written in anticipation of a transfer that hasn't happened, or is inaccurate. That the glitter means filings mixed into ink, borrowed from an old forgery case. That Marsh Lane was renamed, abandoned, or erased — I have no evidence for which, only the absence of the paperwork any of those would leave. And that whoever wrote the entry did so under my roof. Even that is inference; I can't yet prove where the hand held a pen."

Last finger folds.

"As for the noticeboard: I saw you reading it through the window, nothing more. I don't know what was posted or what you took from it. If you want to tell me, I'll listen. If not, it stays yours."

I pick the mug back up. "That's the whole ledger, balanced. Anything to add or correct before I top up the pot?"