I'm not a religious guy. I want that on the table first, because my grandfather was, and because what follows is the most unhinged religious document I have ever held in my hands, and because I'm the reason you're holding it too.

My name is Ambrose Mortimer the Third. Everybody calls me Trey. I run a channel where I flip estate sales: I go into the houses of people who've died, value what's left, and sell it to you on camera… This past spring I had to do it to my own… I was looking for a dining set. I was not looking for a masterpiece. I have never once in my life been looking for a masterpiece.

But there was a needlepoint in the hall I'd walked past my entire life. Cross-stitch, a little Scottish thistle, two words: HOLD FAST. I took it down to wrap it, and it was heavier than a needlepoint has any business being, and taped to the back of the frame, in a yellowed envelope, was a key. It took me most of a week to work out what it opened: a locked steel box, an old archivist's deed box, sitting on the floor of the one room in that house I had never, in my whole life, been allowed into. Inside the box was this.