He had dug out his own journal, quite thick now with centuries of accumulated notes that he had bound and rebound many, many times. Some of the earlier pages looked positively ancient. With great care, he gently slid the picture in so it wouldn't get crumpled or otherwise damaged in his travels, before setting it safely back in its little compartment.

He closed up the box, hefting it onto his shoulders, and turned to Arthur for the last time, reaching out to cup his cheek.

"I know," he said softly. "I slipped past a few just the other day."