‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s anything dodgy,’ said Joe. ‘This fellow you recognised – he could have been anyone. Some customer who’s been knocking about the store, perhaps?’
Billy shook his head decisively. ‘It wasn’t a customer. There was something awful about that chap’s face . . . I’m sure I’ve seen him before. He looked sinister.’
Joe shrugged. ‘All right – so the fellow you saw seemed a bit off. But the picture of the dragon – that could mean anything. There’ll be all kinds of folks using that symbol. After all, almost every pub you see is called The Red Dragon or The Green Dragon, isn’t it? It doesn’t necessarily mean the secret society.’
There was a hopeful note in his voice. Joe had grown up in the East End, with the shadow of the Baron looming over him, he’d even once worked for him, as a member of his gang, the Baron’s Boys. Whilst none of them were keen to cross swords with the Baron again, Joe more than anyone, hoped that he had gone for good.
But Billy had to shake his head again. ‘It wasn’t just a picture of any dragon though,’ he said doggedly. ‘It was exactly the same symbol – the symbol of the Fraternitas Draconum. I’m certain of it.’
Joe frowned anxiously. ‘All right – so you saw the symbol, and what happened then?’
‘Nothing at all. The fellow put the lamp out and then he left. I’ve been keeping a close eye out since then, but the office has been empty all morning.’ Billy heaved a sigh. ‘I dunno, maybe I am making a fuss about nothing – but it seemed peculiar. I think we ought to go over there and see if we can find out who’s taken that office.’
Still looking uneasy, Joe nonetheless nodded agreement, and accompanied by Lucky and Daisy, the two of them made their way across Piccadilly. Although it was Christmas Eve, the street was as busy as ever, with a hurry-scurry of last-minute shoppers, delivery boys with parcels, one or two brave souls on bicycles and an old fellow selling bunches of holly and mistletoe.
As they approached, they could see the waiters laying the tables for luncheon behind the shiny plate-glass windows of the big restaurant. Just around the corner was the entrance to Miss Beauville’s Dress Agency and the offices that occupied the upper storeys. As luck would have it, Billy saw that the office boy from the fourth floor was standing in the doorway, sorting through a bundle of letters. He was a stout lad, with freckles and a thatch of ginger hair. A folded Christmas edition of Boys of Empire, open to the new Montgomery Baxter story, was poking out of his pocket.
‘Here – d’you work here, mate?’ Joe called out.
The boy turned warily. He took in Joe – a tall, strong young fellow, dressed in rough stable-clothes, with a big Alsatian at his side – and stepped involuntarily backwards.
‘What’s it to you?’ he demanded.
‘Just wanted to know about that fifth-floor office up there,’ said Joe casually. ‘Still to let, is it?’
‘How should I know?’ the boy shot back. ‘Don’t look like no letting agent, do I?’ He made as if he was going to go inside and close the door, but Billy stepped forward.
‘The sign’s come down,’ he said earnestly. ‘Someone must have taken it.’
The boy stared at Billy – his office clothes, the little black pug that was nosing around in the grey slush at his feet. ‘Not any of my business, is it?’ he said uncertainly. ‘Not yours either, I suppose.’
Eyeing the Boys of Empire peeping out of his pocket, Billy tried a different tack. ‘All right. No need to get shirty. Look – we need information. You see.’ He lowered his voice meaningfully. ‘We work for a detective agency.’
The boy’s eyes widened. ‘A detective agency?’ he repeated. ‘Don’t make me laugh. The two of you? That’s a likely story!’
Billy held up his hands. ‘It’s true. I give you my word. We’re gathering information. Think of us as – well, something like the Baker Street Irregulars. I s’pose that’d really make us the Piccadilly Irregulars, though,’ he added in a sudden burst of invention. ‘I’m Billy and this is Joe.’
Still looking unsure, although obviously intrigued too, the boy introduced himself as Stanley.
‘The thing is, Stan, we’re working on an investigation at the moment, and we need to know who’s moved into that office. Could be important,’ explained Joe, tapping his nose and nodding at Stanley, as if to indicate that they were both men of the world who knew what was what. ‘Help us out and we’ll make it worth your while.’
Stanley wrinkled up his forehead. ‘Well – look – I can’t really tell you much. We don’t know who’s moved into the office yet. We haven’t seen much of anyone. There was someone up there last night, moving in a whole lot of crates. But I haven’t seen anyone today.’
Billy and Joe exchanged glances. They knew all this already. But Stanley was now rifling through the letters he was holding. ‘But hang on a sec. Got the post for the whole building here, haven’t I? I’m sure I just saw something. Let’s see – this one’s Miss Beauville’s . . .’ He flipped through the envelopes quickly. Billy looked over his shoulder with interest. Between those addressed to Miss Henrietta Beauville’s Ladies’ Dress Agency he glimpsed one or two addressed to Douglas Webber Publishing. So that was what they did in the office on the fourth floor.
‘You work for a publisher,’ he declared.
Stanley looked up at him, surprised. ‘Blimey! How did you know which office I work in?’ he demanded. ‘Is that one of them Sherlock Holmes tricks?’
Joe grinned at him. ‘We said we worked for a detective agency, didn’t we?’
Stanley stared at them both suspiciously, but turned back to the envelopes. After a moment, he held one out. ‘Here it is,’ he said.
Billy took it eagerly. There was no name on the envelope, which was addressed simply to Lindwurm Enterprises, 5th floor.
‘Lindwurm Enterprises,’ Stanley said. ‘Funny sort of name, ain’t it?’
‘There can’t be many businesses out there called that,’ agreed Joe.
Billy nodded thoughtfully. It was certainly a strange name, but it gave no clue to what the company actually did – or who the man was that Billy had seen the night before. He turned the envelope over, and found a return address. ‘Look. It’s come from Albert Works in Silvertown. Where’s that?’
‘Silvertown? It’s out East – along the river, towards Woolwich,’ explained Joe. ‘There are lots of factories out there. Great big sugar refineries – and a place that makes India rubber.’
That was interesting, Billy thought. If Albert Works was a factory, then could it perhaps be the place that all those stamped crates had come from?
He was still pondering this as Joe tipped Stanley sixpence for his trouble, but then on an impulse, he pulled out a card from his pocket, and scribbled on it with the stub of a pencil.
‘If you find anything out about this Lindwurm Enterprises – or if you see anything queer going on – ask for me here,’ he said, tapping the card. ‘But mind you don’t tell anyone else about it.’
Stanley turned the card over. ‘Taylor & Rose,’ he read. ‘Ain’t that the young ladies’ detective agency?’
‘That’s right,’ said Billy with dignity.
Stanley raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He was still eyeing the card as the two boys headed in the direction of the park.
‘Well I s’pose we know where to look next,’ said Joe.
Billy nodded, decisively. ‘In Silvertown.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘Tell us exactly what you saw,’ said Lil eagerly. ‘What did the ghost look like?’
Leo had arranged for Tilly to come and meet them in the old Nursery. It felt rather peculiar to be doing detective work with a doll’s house on one side, a rocking horse on the other, and a collection of china dolls watching them from up on a shelf – but at least here they knew that they would be quite private, far away from the rest of the Winter Hall house party.
Sophie had recognised Tilly at once as the maid who had served coffee in the
Drawing Room on the previous night. She was a tall girl with curly black hair, and a straightforward, no-nonsense manner that Sophie liked immediately.
‘Jolly good to meet you, Tilly,’ Lil had said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Lil – and this is my brother Jack – and this is Sophie.’
Tilly had stared at her, confused. It was obvious that most Winter Hall guests did not introduce themselves, nor try to shake her hand. But after gazing in surprise for a long moment, she took Lil’s hand and gave it a firm shake. Now, she was telling them all that she could remember about the ghost:
‘It was spooky all right – but it didn’t really look like a ghost at all. Not the sort you read about in books anyway – floating apparitions and clanking chains, and all that. It was more like a big dark figure.’
‘And you heard footsteps?’ asked Lil.
‘That’s right – heavy footsteps. At first, I thought it might be one of the under-footmen, Charlie, trying to scare me for a joke. He’s always playing silly tricks. But it couldn’t have been him. He isn’t big enough.’
‘What about any of the other servants?’
Tilly shook her head. ‘I can’t think who else it could have been. Most of the servants would think a prank like that was a waste of time. We’re most of us too busy for playing jokes.’
Sophie leaned forward. ‘Apart from you, who else has seen – or heard – this ghost?’
‘I did a bit of asking around,’ explained Tilly, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her apron pocket. ‘The problem is that it’s hard to get proper facts out of people. They aren’t very logical. But this is what I found out – I’ve written it all down.’
Sophie and Lil examined the paper:
‘I must say, you’ve been very thorough,’ said Lil approvingly. ‘Our friend Billy, who works with us – well, I think he would be rather impressed.’
‘There’s something else I wanted to show you too,’ said Tilly, looking pleased. ‘The morning after I saw the ghost, I went to the East Wing to have a look around.’
‘Very smart,’ declared Lil. ‘Examining the scene of the crime! What did you find?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary at all – except for this.’ Tilly produced a small blue and white matchbox.
Lil took it and turned it over between her fingers. ‘Could one of the other servants have dropped it?’ she asked. ‘Lizzie, maybe – when she was in there dusting?’
Tilly shook her head decidedly. ‘We always use Bryant & May matches,’ she explained. ‘I’ve never even seen a matchbox like this before.’
‘It’s French,’ Sophie said, pointing to the word Allumettes written on the side of the box. ‘I don’t suppose there have been any French guests in the house – or anyone who has recently been to France?’
Tilly shook her head. ‘Not so far as I know,’ she said. ‘Although I suppose Her Ladyship did go abroad in the autumn.’
‘But she went to Germany. She always goes to Baden-Baden to take the waters,’ Leo explained.
Sophie eyed the matchbox speculatively. ‘Well it’s certainly interesting,’ she said. She turned back to look at Tilly’s notes. ‘The other thing is that every time anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious in the East Wing it’s been at more or less the same time of day. All these incidents have happened in the evening – between 8.30 p.m. and midnight.’
‘Did anyone see or hear anything peculiar before this date?’ asked Lil, tapping the first item on Tilly’s list.
Tilly shook her head. ‘There have always been tales about the house – and rumours about the East Wing especially. That’s only to be expected I suppose, with it being so old. But actually seeing or hearing a ghost? That’s never happened before.’
‘Which means that this “haunting” has only been going on for about ten days,’ mused Lil.
‘When did the house party guests first arrive?’ asked Sophie suddenly.
Tilly frowned, remembering. ‘His Lordship and Her Ladyship came home from a visit to friends about a fortnight ago. Mr Vincent arrived the next day – he’d been in Town. The first guests, Lady Tremayne and Miss Selina, arrived two days afterwards. After that – well, Miss Leo came home on the 22nd, which was also when the Whiteley family and the Countess arrived. They travelled together. And Mr Pendleton motored up from London in his own auto on the same day. It’s a beauty – a lovely new Austin with a four-cylinder 2.5 litre engine,’ she added reflectively.
‘Never mind that now,’ said Leo hurriedly. She knew Tilly could be rather boring when she got on to the subject of engines. ‘So that was the 22nd – and then the three of you and Mr Sinclair arrived the next afternoon.’
‘That’s rather interesting, isn’t it?’ said Lil thoughtfully.
‘I say!’ Jack interjected. ‘You don’t mean to suggest that someone from the house party could be behind this?’
‘Don’t you think it’s quite a coincidence that it began at exactly the same time?’
‘But why would any of the guests bother to masquerade as a ghost – just to frighten the servants? That’s a silly school-boy prank.’
‘But what if it isn’t just a silly prank?’ pondered Sophie. ‘What if the “ghost” has some other reason to secretly visit the East Wing at night – and to keep others away? By frightening the servants, and making it appear that the East Wing is haunted, they would be able to keep everyone away from that part of the house. The only question is why someone would want to do that.’
‘What about burglary?’ suggested Lil. She turned to Tilly and Leo. ‘You said that the East Wing is a kind of show place. It must be full of valuable things.’
Leo nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right! Lots of terribly old antique furniture, and paintings.’
‘But why would any of the house party guests stoop to petty theft?’ asked Jack. ‘I mean, they’re all fearfully well off.’
‘Apart from us,’ said Lil with a giggle. ‘Yes I suppose they are. But I know – what about Miss Selina? I sat beside her at luncheon and she hardly stopped talking about how terribly short of money she is. Perhaps she’s been pinching a few things from the East Wing? She is family, after all – perhaps she thinks it’s fair game?’
‘And Miss Selina is tall,’ said Sophie thoughtfully. ‘Do you think she might have been the figure you saw, Tilly?’
‘I suppose she could have been,’ said Tilly, scrunching up her face in the effort to imagine elderly Miss Selina as the terrifying East Wing ghost.
But Leo was shaking her head. ‘Great-Aunt Selina is perfectly well off. She has plenty of her own money, and Father gives her an allowance too. She’s just greedy. All that talk about her health and how she’s a poor old woman is simply to make him feel guilty and give her more money.’
‘Still – it’s a possibility,’ said Lil. ‘If she’s greedy, maybe she can’t resist the idea of all those treasures in the East Wing. But is there anyone else?’
‘I can’t think of anyone in need of money,’ said Sophie. ‘We all know that the Whiteleys are very wealthy – and Mr Sinclair is a millionaire. Besides, they all arrived after the peculiar noises and lights began. So did Mr Pendleton and the Countess.’
‘There is one person,’ said Leo. Her face had gone rather red. ‘It could be – well, I suppose it could be Vincent.’
‘Vincent!’ exclaimed Lil in astonishment.
Leo’s face went redder than ever. ‘I know it’s awful to accuse your own brother. But he’s had money troubles before – and remember how keen he was to try and play cards for money last night?’
‘Do you think he’s got himself into debt?’ asked Jack.
‘I’m not sure. But I know he’s been gambling and spending lots of money in London with his friends.’
‘But surely he must have a frightfully good allowance? He can’t really have got himself into too much of a fix.’
Leo shrugged. ‘Father keeps him on rather a tight rein. He had to bail Vincent out of some trouble once before, when he was at
Oxford. He didn’t mind so much then – he said it was different when Vincent was a student. But now Vincent’s supposed to be being responsible, learning how to run the Estate and all that sort of thing.’
‘But still – he wouldn’t go plundering his own home, just to settle a few gaming debts?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ said Leo blackly.
‘Well that’s two possible suspects,’ said Sophie. ‘Miss Selina and Vincent. Both of them may have a motive for robbery. Both of them are probably tall enough to be the figure Tilly saw. And both of them were here in the house ten days ago, when people started to notice funny things happening in the East Wing.’
‘But they weren’t the only ones here,’ Lil reminded Sophie. ‘Leo’s parents and Lady Tremayne were here too – although I suppose Lord and Lady Fitzgerald would scarcely steal things from themselves.’
‘And Lady Tremayne is very wealthy,’ said Leo, flying to her godmother’s defence. ‘There’s no reason she would need to steal from anyone!’
‘That’s assuming this is about theft, of course,’ reasoned Sophie. ‘But of course, Lady Tremayne is also rather slender. She doesn’t quite fit in with the large figure you saw, Tilly.’
‘We ought not to forget about the servants,’ Lil reminded them. ‘Might there be a reason any of them would urgently need money? Or perhaps there’s someone new that has joined the staff who has light fingers?’
‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Leo. ‘I’m sure none of the servants would ever steal from us!’
But Tilly was more thoughtful. ‘I can’t think of anyone who has fallen on hard times, if that’s the kind of thing you mean,’ she mused. ‘Most of the servants have been here for years. Sarah, the scullery maid, is new, but she’s scared to death of the East Wing and she’s so small I could just about pop her into my apron pocket – so I don’t think there’s any chance she’s our ghost.’
‘What about the servants who’ve come to the house with the house party guests?’ suggested Sophie. ‘Mr Sinclair has travelled here with his valet, for instance – and Veronica and Mrs Whiteley both have their own ladies’ maids with them. I suppose Miss Selina will be travelling with a maid too?’
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