‘I had a question about the Atlas Diamond,’ Hal said. ‘Do you have pictures of the real one and the fake one? I thought I might be able to spot the difference, work out when the switch happened.’
‘The police had the same idea.’ Isaac shook his head. ‘Whoever made that fake was an artist. They really know their stuff.’ Isaac opened his laptop, revealing a grid of images. ‘I’m not sure there’s anything to find. But, here – take a look.’
Hal clicked on a picture of himself getting out of the black car outside Balmoral and enlarged it. He scrolled through the images quickly, stopping when he found the first picture of the princess. She had a hand on Sierra’s shoulder, the two of them laughing at the excitement with the Samoyeds. The Atlas Diamond was splitting light and scattering rainbows. Hal flicked further ahead, to a shot of the royal couple coming into lunch, to another of them getting into their car, boarding the train, greeting crowds at Aberdeen. But Isaac was right. Nothing he saw seemed suspicious – and the necklace looked the same in every single picture.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DRAWING CONCLUSIONS
A patchwork of butter-yellow and avocado-green Shropshire farmland was flying past the window as Hal entered the compartment.
‘Isaac asked me to bring you these. They’re for your article.’
‘Thanks.’ Uncle Nat took the pictures. ‘How did the drawing go?’
‘I had some ideas.’ Hal held up Ernest’s black book. ‘I thought Ernest may have picked up a clue on his recordings, and I dropped in on Isaac to see if there was a difference in the photos of the real Atlas Diamond and the fake.’ He sighed. ‘But there wasn’t.’
‘There’s been another development in the case, although I don’t know what it means.’ Uncle Nat looked sombre. ‘Before we left Crewe, Inspector Clyde produced a bracelet and asked who it belonged to. No one seemed to recognize it. It remains unclaimed. It was discovered in the Highland Falcon’s tender, hidden among the coal. The Inspector seems to think it’s proof that Mohanjit and Lenny are guilty.’
‘Did it look like this?’ Hal opened his sketchbook and held up his drawing of the bracelet from Milo’s compartment.
‘Yes! But …’
‘Lenny saw a bracelet in Milo’s room. I drew what she described.’
‘It’s an astonishing likeness.’ Uncle Nat blinked. ‘But then, why didn’t Milo claim the bracelet? Inspector Clyde was most put out when no one came forward.’
‘It must be Sierra’s. They’re keeping their relationship a secret.’ Hal looked down at his drawing. ‘If the bracelet was in Milo’s room when Lenny was in there, and then she was caught and taken straight to the luggage cage, then this picture is proof she couldn’t have taken the bracelet and hidden it in the tender. Mr Singh couldn’t have done it either because he was driving the train.’ Hal looked up at his uncle. ‘The Magpie must have planted the bracelet in the tender to frame the Singhs! I need to show the detective my drawing.’
‘Inspector Clyde is unlikely to admit an undatable drawing as evidence of their innocence, Hal.’
‘No,’ said Hal, sinking on to the sofa. ‘I guess not.’ His face fell. He’d followed every lead he could think of and had still found nothing to help Lenny.
Cheerful strings of bunting fluttered past the window as they chuffed into Shrewsbury station, and Hal felt a blanket of sadness envelop him. He hated thinking of Lenny locked up in that luggage cage. He hoped she wasn’t frightened.
‘I’m no good at being a detective,’ he said.
‘That not true, Hal,’ Uncle Nat reassured him. ‘You’re asking good questions and noticing important details. You’re seeing things no one else is.’
‘But it’s getting me nowhere.’ Hal half-heartedly punched the sofa cushion.
‘Two heads are better than one.’ Uncle Nat pulled down the blind. ‘Why don’t you pretend I’m a stranger who knows nothing about what’s happened on this train, and you tell me everything as you see it? It might help to say everything out loud, rather than have it all swirling about in your head.’
‘OK.’
‘I’ll put the desk up, and we can sit on the floor. Different place, different head space.’
Hal sat cross-legged on the thick blue carpet and laid his sketchbook and Ernest White’s book in front of him. Uncle Nat sat opposite, placing the railway map between them.
‘Start with the facts,’ Uncle Nat said, picking up his fountain pen.
Hal noticed he had a knobbly callus on his middle finger where the pen rested.
Uncle Nat opened his journal. ‘What do we actually know?’
‘The first thing I noticed was the newspaper story about a thief who had stolen a ruby ring at a charity gala.’ Hal took out the torn-off front page from the back of his book and laid it out on the floor. ‘It says the thief has stolen other things in the past, all from fancy houses or at posh parties.’ He looked at his uncle. ‘Then jewellery aboard the Highland Falcon started going missing. I thought this thief –’ he pointed at the article – ‘might be aboard the train. But it could be someone else, or a copycat pretending to be them.’
‘Excellent.’ Uncle Nat wrote this down in his journal.
‘I don’t know enough about the other robberies to draw connections,’ Hal said, ‘but you said you were at the Duchess of Kent’s charity gala where the ruby ring went missing …’
‘I was.’ Uncle Nat nodded. ‘And so were the baron, his son Milo and Sierra Knight – who brought her assistant Lucy. The Pickles were there too, and made a great show of bidding for everything at the charity auction without going as far as trying to win any of the lots. Lady Lansbury put in an appearance, and Isaac told me he was there taking pictures, although I didn’t see him. It was a huge affair.’
‘The first theft on the train was Lydia Pickle’s brooch, which had to have been taken by someone in the observation car on that first evening.’ Hal opened his sketchbook, pointing to the picture. ‘A few minutes after this moment, she said she’d lost it. Either it fell off, or it was stolen by the Magpie. If it had fallen off, it would’ve been found by now – which means that the Magpie must be one of the people that was in the room.’
‘Who else was there?’
‘All of the guests, Gordon Goulde, Amy and Lenny.’
‘Lenny?’
‘She was hiding under the drinks trolley.’
‘I see. Who wasn’t there?’
‘Rowan Buck – and all other train staff.’
‘Right.’ Uncle Nat made a note.
‘The next crime was the theft of Lady Lansbury’s earrings,’ said Hal. ‘We know they were taken from her compartment that same night, but we don’t know anything else about the crime.’
‘Very well. Crime three – the big one – the mysterious theft of the Atlas Diamond necklace. We’ve gathered from the police that the princess didn’t take the necklace off until she got into her compartment as the train pulled away from Ballater.’
‘Hadrian was standing guard by her door all the way to Aberdeen,’ Hal said. ‘I saw him. He was there until she left the room.’
Uncle Nat tapped his fountain pen against his lip. ‘So, whoever switched the necklace for the fake must have been hiding in the compartment before the princess went inside – and they must have stayed inside unseen all that time.’
‘Lots of the guests have alibis. I saw Ernest and the baron playing billiards. Lucy was in the library reading a book, and Isaac was in the observation car taking photographs. I saw Lady Lansbury talking to Rowan in the gentlemen’s lounge. Ooh, and that was where Amy brought me the scones – so we can rule her out too.’
‘If we cross out everyone you saw from the list of people who could have taken Mrs Pickle’s brooch, where does that leave us?’
Hal flicked back to the first drawing, mentally scribbling out the faces of the people with alibis for the journey from Ballater to Aberdeen.
‘Milo and Sierra don’t officially have alibis, but I thin
k that’s because they were with each other. That leaves four people: Gordon Goulde, Mr and Mrs Pickle … and you.’
‘Marvellous. Do me first. I’m rather taken by the idea of being an international jewel thief.’
‘Well, you say you were here, having a nap, but I left you before the princess got on the train. You could have run along to the royal compartment, somehow opened the door, and hidden in the wardrobe.’
‘I could have.’ Uncle Nat nodded. ‘I have absolutely no alibi.’
‘You were also standing next to Lydia Pickle when her brooch went missing.’
‘It’s looking very bad for me, isn’t it?’ Uncle Nat chuckled. ‘Anything else?’
‘There’s the bracelet …’ Hal said, his voice trailing off.
‘What about it?’
‘You could’ve broken into Milo’s compartment, not knowing Lenny was hiding in there, and taken the bracelet. And then, after I left, you could have heard the police arresting Lenny and seized the opportunity to throw the bracelet into the tender …’ Hal caught his breath, staring at his uncle. ‘You could have done all of the crimes,’ he said in a small voice.
‘And what would my motive be?’
‘Er … money? Because it can’t really be true you can make a living writing about trains.’ Hal felt sick. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a detective any more.
‘Brilliant! So, I’m the prime suspect.’ Uncle Nat looked untroubled, which reassured Hal. If he was the thief, then surely he’d be worried. ‘Now let’s consider the others.’
‘Um, Steven Pickle definitely didn’t take the bracelet, because he was with me.’ He looked at his uncle. ‘Although he has a strong motive for stealing the Atlas Diamond. He’s desperate for money.’
‘Really?’ Uncle Nat blinked. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Ernest has recordings of him asking Lady Lansbury and the baron to invest in Grailax.’
Uncle Nat sat back. ‘You’re a better journalist then me!’
‘But I don’t think he’s the Magpie. Can you imagine Steven Pickle hiding in the princess’s wardrobe? Darting out and switching the real for the fake?’ Hal shook his head. ‘He stomps everywhere, has hands like hams, and he doesn’t know how to whisper.’
Uncle Nat laughed. ‘To be honest, I can’t imagine anyone hiding in the wardrobe all that time – but I get your point.’
‘It can’t be Lydia Pickle either, because if she were planning to steal the Atlas Diamond, she’d be crazy to steal her own brooch first and make such a fuss about there being a thief.’
‘So really, I’m the only person with the opportunity and motive to have committed all the thefts.’ Uncle Nat summarized. ‘The next question, of course, is where have I hidden the jewels?’
‘I don’t know.’ Hal flicked through the pages of his sketchbook. ‘The police have been through the train with a pack of sniffer dogs. They’ve looked everywhere.’ He sat back and scratched his head.
‘Why don’t you ponder it over supper?’ Uncle Nat got to his feet. ‘I don’t know about you, but all this investigating is making me hungry. I say we go to the dining car and ban talk of the Highland Falcon thief until we’re back in the compartment.’
‘But what if I can’t find proof you’re not the Magpie?’ Hal asked nervously. ‘Aren’t you worried?’
‘Not a bit,’ said Uncle Nat, helping Hal to his feet. ‘I have absolute faith in you. Now come on – let’s eat.’
After dinner, Hal changed into his pyjamas and clambered into his bunk with his sketchbook. Isaac’s picture fell out of the back, and he looked at it, smiling, glad to have an image of the Highland Falcon. He pushed it back inside the book. If I were the thief, aboard this train, where would I hide the jewels? He gazed out of the window as the train pulled away from Shrewsbury, trundling through a junction to make its way down the Welsh Marches line, heading for the south coast.
Where is the Atlas Diamond? Flicking through the pictures in his book, he couldn’t help feeling he was missing something that was staring him in the face. Time was slipping away one chuff at a time. Harrison Beck, Harrison Beck, the clacking rails called his name. Harrison Beck, Harrison Beck. He couldn’t let Lenny and her dad go to prison. Harrison Beck, Harrison Beck. He imagined his friend in the luggage cage, hugging her knees. Harrison Beck. He saw Ernest with his microphone trying to catch the chuffs; Milo desperately writing love letters; Uncle Nat in handcuffs; Bailey with sad blue eyes; Sierra Knight stealing a lipstick from Inspector Clyde, who was too busy playing with Penny Mouse to notice.
‘Wake up, Hal.’ Uncle Nat was shaking him gently, and sunlight was streaming in throughthe window. ‘It’s morning.’
‘Oh no! I didn’t mean to go to sleep.’ Hal sat bolt upright, pushing back his covers. His sketchbook fell to the floor, its pages splayed. ‘There’s not much time left. We arrive in London today.’
‘Calm yourself.’ Uncle Nat looked at one of the wrist watches on his left arm. ‘There are nine whole hours till we arrive in Paddington, and it’s three in the morning in New York. Half the world is still sleeping.’
Hal wriggled out of his pyjamas, pulling on his jeans and T-shirt.
‘We’re in Swansea, about to turn around.’ Uncle Nat went to the sink and splashed water on his face. As he dabbed his face dry with the hand towel, there was a knock at the door. He put his glasses on and went to answer it.
Amy stood on the threshold holding a large silver tray. ‘Breakfast!’ she said brightly, coming in and setting it down on the desk.
‘We didn’t order breakfast,’ Uncle Nat said.
‘Boiled eggs for Harrison Beck. Kippers and toast for Nathaniel Bradshaw, with a pot of coffee and orange juice,’ Amy said, lifting the silver covers from their plates.
‘Well, that does look rather good.’ Uncle Nat leaned over the tray, closing his eyes as he breathed in.
Amy looked at Hal with wide eyes. She stared at the boiled eggs – and then back at him – gave a tiny nod of her head and promptly left.
‘How odd,’ Uncle Nat said, forking a bit of kipper on to a corner of toast and popping it in his mouth. ‘Mmmm.’
Hal lifted his plate on to his lap. The two boiled eggs sat in two tiny steam train egg cups. He cracked the top off one and saw a perfectly sunny runny yolk. He brought his silver spoon down on the second egg, and it collapsed. It was hollow. He frowned, lifting the battered shell. Inside, he found a rolled-up piece of paper.
‘There’s a note in my egg!’
Uncle Nat stopped pouring the coffee. ‘I beg your pardon?’ Hal pulled the note out and read it to himself:
‘Hal? Are you OK?’
The mess of clues that had seemed as scattered as children in a playground were coming together in patterns. The whistle blew. Lines gathered and criss-crossed and met at points. They made shapes. They made sense. Hal looked at his uncle.
‘I know who did it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ARRESTING BEHAVIOUR
‘I need to get to Lenny.’ Hal pulled on his jumper, jamming his feet in his trainers and grabbing his sketchbook. ‘Don’t try to stop me.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘But there are police officers guarding the royal carriage, the luggage cage and the footplate. They’ll never let you through.’
‘I have to try.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Uncle Nat knocked back his coffee and stood up.
‘My plan won’t work if you’re with me.’
‘Oh, right.’ Uncle Nat sat back down, looking crestfallen. ‘Well, if I can do anything …’
But Hal was already running to the dining car. He peeped in. Inspector Clyde was sat at the near end with her back to the door. He side-stepped into the hot and noisy kitchen, where Amy was standing by the coffee machine.
‘What are you doing in here?’ Amy hissed, as she frothed milk in a silver jug.
‘I need to get to Lenny,’ Hal said.
Amy shook her head. ‘I
mpossible.’
‘You did it. You brought me a note.’
‘I’m allowed to take her breakfast, lunch and tea,’ Amy said, removing the jug and wiping the steam nozzle with a cloth. ‘But I’m supervised by an officer the whole time. This morning, I took her boiled eggs. She put the note in the egg and winked at me. I read it and brought it to you.’
‘You’re a good friend. Lots of grown-ups wouldn’t do that.’
‘Who wants to be a grown-up?’ Amy shrugged. ‘Not me, that’s for sure.’
‘I think I can prove Lenny and her dad are innocent, but I have to get into the luggage cage. Is there another way in?’
‘No, they load in luggage from the outside door, but it’s been locked the whole trip. The only accessible door is the inside door, and Sergeant Prattle sits right outside it.’
‘Guess it’s going to have to be Plan B, then.’
‘What’s Plan B?’
Hal marched to the table where Inspector Clyde was sitting. She looked up at him.
‘Can I help you?’
Hal thrust both his hands forward. ‘I’m here to confess. I’m Marlene Singh’s accomplice. We stole the necklace together, and I’m turning myself in. You must arrest me at once.’
‘Indeed?’ Inspector Clyde pursed her lips. ‘Well, this is very serious. Come with me.’
She grabbed Hal by the wrist, leading him out of the dining car. His heart beat wildly, but his plan was working. Inspector Clyde suddenly stopped. Hal bumped into her as she knocked at his own door.
‘Your nephew is playing silly beggars, Mr Bradshaw,’ she said as Uncle Nat opened the door. ‘He’s told me a load of nonsense about being an accomplice and wanting to be arrested.’ She let go of Hal’s wrist. ‘Now I like a joke, but the boy doesn’t seem to understand the severity of this situation.’ She fixed Hal with a cool stare. ‘If you really want to be arrested, I’ll have a squad car waiting at the next station to take you away to prison.’
The Highland Falcon Thief Page 14