‘Can’t you go any faster?’ came Lil’s voice from behind her. ‘We’re running out of time!’

  Sophie looked up to where her friend was jigging about impatiently. ‘I’m cracking a safe, Lil, not boiling an egg. I can’t just do it in three minutes flat!’ She paused to wipe her sweating hands. ‘Look – you go over to the balcony and keep an eye out for the others. Listen for the owl hoots – they’ll signal if there’s any sign of Lyle coming back.’

  She turned her attention back to the safe. Carefully, she turned the dial around until it was positioned opposite the place that the clicking sounds seemed to be coming from. That was called parking the wheels, she remembered Samuel saying. Then she turned the dial back all the way around once more, and when she passed the park position, she heard a distinct, loud click. That was the first wheel engaged.

  ‘One . . .’ she breathed aloud, as she turned the wheel again. ‘Two . . . three . . . four . . .’ But the fifth time she turned the dial, there was no click to be heard.

  ‘Four numbers!’ she exclaimed, looking up excitedly at Lil. ‘There are four numbers in the combination.’

  Lil stared at her. ‘You mean it took you all this time just to work out that? But – Sophie – it’s almost five o’clock. Lyle could be back at any moment!’

  Sophie blew out a long breath of air. The next stage of the process was far more complicated, and Lil was right – they were running out of time. Then she remembered what the old cracksman had told her. ‘You know, the best way to crack any safe is to know the combination. Most people ain’t that clever when it comes to setting it – so think of a number what matters to your mark. If you know his kiddie’s birthday – or his wife’s – then try that first. Nine times out of ten it’s something you can guess, if you only use your loaf.’

  Could Sophie guess the combination? Lyle didn’t have a child, or a wife, or any family as far as she knew. She couldn’t really think of anything that mattered to him very much – except for paintings. She tried a few of the combinations that Samuel had told her people sometimes used out of laziness – like 1234, or 1111 – but none of them worked. She stared around the room desperately, hoping for inspiration, looking at the paintings hanging on the walls. Could he have used the year that a favourite painter had been born? Or the date that a famous picture had been painted? She wished that Leo or Jack were here – she didn’t know nearly enough about the history of art to take a guess.

  Just then, her eye was caught by the painting that Lil had removed from the wall – the vase of flowers. For the first time she noticed that the vase in the picture was a blue and white jar, painted with a design of Chinese dragons. Whether he had done it deliberately or not, Mr Lyle had hidden the painting in the safe behind another dragon image. The Green Dragon was at least one painting she knew about, she thought suddenly – and it was certainly one that was important to Mr Lyle. For a moment, she thought back to what Leo had told her about The Green Dragon. Carefully, she began to turn the dial – and then she pulled the handle.

  There was a loud clunking sound, and a moment later, the safe door swung open.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  At his desk in the office above Sinclair’s, Detective Inspector Worth was working busily, reviewing his notes. There was no doubt about it, this case was a puzzler. Something about all the different information he had gathered just didn’t add up – but he was jiggered if he could see quite what it was. He frowned, and turned back yet again to the notes from Mr Lyle’s interview.

  Just as he began to read, there came a nervous tap on the office door.

  ‘What is it?’ barked Worth, annoyed at yet another interruption.

  ‘Er – there’s someone here to see you, sir,’ came Potts’s tentative voice.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Mr Sinclair or Mr Lyle then tell them to go away again. I’m busy!’

  ‘But they’re insisting they see you, sir. They’ve got some important information about the case.’

  Worth heaved a sigh. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Send them in.’ He was sick of well-meaning members of the public coming to him with tall tales about shady characters who might or might not have stolen the painting – but he didn’t want to risk missing even a shred of real evidence. Not that anyone had brought him the least bit of that so far.

  To his astonishment, a child came into the room and stood before his desk, where she bobbed a small curtsey. A Chinese child, plainly but neatly dressed in a striped frock and a pinafore.

  ‘Er . . . hullo,’ said Worth, quite startled by this vision.

  ‘I’ve got a note for you, sir,’ announced the girl in a distinct Cockney accent. ‘It’s important.’

  She handed Worth a small envelope. It was neatly addressed For Detective Inspector Worth Only – Urgent.

  ‘Did you write this?’ he asked the girl in surprise.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m just here to make sure you read it,’ she said.

  More baffled than ever, Worth ripped the envelope open. Inside was a brief note – unsigned:

  ‘Whatever’s this?’ demanded Worth. The note was attached to a small square torn from a map of London. A red cross marked the Chelsea Physic Garden. He frowned and looked up at the child to see if she could offer him any kind of an explanation, but she had vanished.

  He glanced at his pocket watch: it was a quarter to five. ‘Probably just another wild goose chase, but you never know,’ he muttered to himself, as he shrugged on his jacket. Then: ‘Potts!’ he yelled authoritatively. ‘Stir your stumps! We’re going to Chelsea.’

  In Mr Lyle’s apartment, Sophie was gazing at the safe in delight as the door swung open.

  ‘You did it!’ gasped Lil. ‘You cracked the safe! But – what on earth was that number?’

  ‘1-4-5-5. In other words, 1455 – the date that The Green Dragon was supposed to have been painted,’ said Sophie triumphantly. ‘It had to be something to do with the painting. That’s what matters to Lyle, you see.’

  Together, they pushed the big door all the way open and peered into the dark crevice. Lil reached inside, pulling out a sheaf of official-looking documents – envelopes sealed with red wax. Beneath was a bag that proved to contain a surprisingly large number of gold sovereigns. Behind them were a couple of large, flat parcels, each carefully wrapped in paper. She pulled out the top one, and with shaking hands, together they pulled the wrappings off.

  ‘It’s the painting!’ squealed Lil in excitement.

  Sophie stared down at The Green Dragon. It was extraordinary to think that such a small painting could have caused so much trouble. But as she looked at it, she began to see why Leo had been so intrigued by it. The bold green and gold paint; the inscrutable expression on the dragon’s face; the painting was at once strange and beautiful. She gazed at it, almost spellbound as it lay on the floor of Mr Lyle’s apartment, surrounded by a jumble of papers, and a velvet bag spilling out coins.

  ‘Sophie!’ exclaimed Lil, and then she heard it too. Somewhere outside, someone was hooting like an owl.

  The Sinclair’s delivery van might have left Mr Lyle’s mansion block – but it had not gone very far away. Just around the corner, out of sight of the apartment, it came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘D’you think they’ve got out all right?’ asked the boy in the driver’s seat, taking off his Sinclair’s cap and anxiously running a hand through his thick curly hair.

  ‘Of course they have,’ said Billy stoutly. ‘And Connie is on the lookout for Mr Lyle at the front of the house. If she catches sight of him, she’ll signal.’

  ‘I still think we ought to have come up with a better signal this time,’ said Joe, shaking his head. ‘Funny sort of owl, hooting before it’s even got properly dark.’

  ‘Never mind about that now – we’ve to get going,’ said Billy, climbing down from the seat. ‘We need to be ready for Sophie and Lil as soo as they’ve got the painting.’

  A sudden volley of yelps was heard from inside the van, and Joe heaved a sigh as he jumped down too. ‘Why did you bring Lucky?’ he demanded. ‘You know she’s only going to make a nuisance of herself.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it!’ exclaimed Billy indignantly. ‘Miss Atwood said I had to take her out – and I couldn’t very well say “oh no, sorry, I’ve got to go and rescue the stolen painting”, could I? Besides, Daisy’s here.’

  ‘Yes, but Daisy is a trained police dog, isn’t she?’

  ‘I think you’ll find that actually Lucky is the one who helped me find Mr Lyle’s message. And actually now I think about it, she also tried to attack Mr Lyle’s trouser legs. So really . . .’

  Jack emerged from the back of the van. ‘Er – if you two have quite finished bickering about your pets, I think we’d better hurry,’ he said. ‘Leo thinks she heard an owl call.’

  ‘We have to get out of here!’ exclaimed Sophie. ‘Quick – you go first and take the picture. If I close the safe again, and hang this painting back over the top, maybe Mr Lyle won’t immediately notice that The Green Dragon is missing.’

  Lil nodded, and clutching the painting, still in its paper wrappings, she dashed over to the balcony door. Behind her, Sophie hastily stuffed papers and sovereigns back into the safe, pushed the door swiftly closed and turned the handle to lock it. She could hear the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and men’s voices approaching.

  On the balcony, Lil was looking anxiously for Joe and Billy. To her relief, she saw the two of them slipping stealthily through the garden, keeping to the shrubbery. ‘Hurry!’ she called out in a low voice. ‘Lyle’s here!’

  When they were directly beneath her, she leaned over the balcony, and carefully dropped the painting into their waiting arms. Billy took it and darted off back through the garden, while Joe took a length of rope from around his waist, and tossed one end of it up to the balcony. Lil caught it deftly and fastened it to the balcony railing, with one of the knots that Joe had taught her. Carefully, she climbed over the edge of the balcony and gripped hold of the rope.

  ‘Even if I wasn’t top of the class for anything else – it’s a jolly good thing I came first in gymnastics,’ she muttered to herself. She looked back into Mr Lyle’s room before she climbed down, and saw to her astonishment that Sophie was still kneeling on the floor in front of the safe. ‘Sophie – come on!’ she hissed, alarmed. ‘What are you doing?’

  But Sophie didn’t move. As the voices came closer up the stairs, she became more and more certain that she knew one of them. She had heard that voice before; it was a voice that she had heard many times in her nightmares; and it was a voice that she had known that she would hear again. I daresay we’ll meet again, the voice said in her head.

  The door began to open. Lil gave a little squeak of horror, but had no choice but to begin clambering down the rope. On the other side of the room from the balcony, Sophie got to her feet and darted quickly into Mr Lyle’s bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Where’s Sophie?’ hissed Joe urgently, as Lil jumped down from the rope.

  ‘She’s still in there!’ said Lil anxiously. ‘Everything went just as we planned it until Lyle turned up – and then she just froze. I don’t know what happened!’

  Inside the apartment, Sophie was standing behind the bedroom door listening with all her might, her heart thumping so fast and loud that it almost deafened her. The Baron is here, the Baron is here, the Baron is here, her heartbeats seemed to be saying.

  ‘What’s this doing here?’ came a startled voice – Mr Lyle’s of course. He had seen the crate. ‘I wasn’t expecting a delivery.’

  ‘Everything seems to be in rather a mess, doesn’t it?’ came the familiar voice.

  ‘I hired my manservant for his abilities as a security guard, not a domestic,’ said Mr Lyle tightly. ‘But wherever has he got to now? I gave him strict instructions to stay here. ‘I say – whatever can this be all about? This crate is open. And – it’s empty.’

  ‘Where’s the painting?’ came that voice again – suddenly incisive and sharp. The very sound of it made Sophie turn cold all over.

  There was the patter of footsteps as Lyle hurried across the room. ‘It’s here – in the safe of course – just as always,’ he said, sounding rather frightened. She heard him entering the combination, and the clunk as the heavy door opened. ‘Look – here it is – it . . .’ his voice faded suddenly away.

  ‘Where’s the painting?’ came the Baron’s voice again, louder this time.

  ‘I – I – it’s gone,’ whispered Lyle. He sounded as though he was going to be sick. ‘But – it can’t be!’

  ‘You fool,’ snapped the Baron’s voice, hard and cruel. ‘You’ve been hoodwinked. That empty crate is a Trojan horse, you imbecile. I would have thought that you of all people would remember your Greek myths. Someone’s used it to get in here. No doubt they were hiding inside.’ Sophie heard him step over to the window. ‘Luckily for you, it’s not too late. I see them – a couple of young ruffians, down in the garden. I daresay they tricked your fellow into leaving the painting unguarded. Randall, I’m sure you can take care of this.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ came a third voice – a deep grunt. ‘Leave it to me.’

  Red Hands Randall! Sophie felt a stab of horror. He was here with Lyle and the Baron too – and now he was going after Lil and the others, while she was trapped here in Lyle’s bedroom.

  Lyle was still talking, his voice shaking. ‘It isn’t possible!’ His voice sounded so frightened that it made Sophie cringe. ‘The painting was hidden away in my safe – I promise you, Black, I . . .’

  It was all Sophie could do not to gasp aloud. The Baron was the Black Dragon – the leader of the Fraternitas Draconum! He had been the one who had instructed Lyle to take the painting.

  ‘I’m not interested in your excuses,’ came the Baron’s voice. ‘Deal with this. We must check the premises. We need to make sure that the place is secure.’

  Sophie froze as his footsteps turned in the direction of the bedroom door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sophie heard the door handle turn. There was only one place to hide: she threw herself to the ground and rolled under Mr Lyle’s bed.

  The carpet was thick with dust and she had to swallow down a cough. She pressed a hand over her mouth to stop herself breathing in any more of the stuff. There were voices above her, and she tried to lie perfectly still, so she could hear what they were saying.

  ‘Who could it be?’ Lyle was saying, in a panicky voice. ‘Has someone betrayed us? It couldn’t be one of the Fraternitas – could it?’

  ‘I sincerely doubt it. They have sworn an oath – as have you,’ came the Baron’s cool voice. ‘We shall come to that later. For now all that matters is that we get the painting back. I have been waiting for this moment for months and I’m not going to let some young hooligans stand in my way. Is Randall out there?’

  She heard their footsteps going over to the bedroom window. They had turned away from her, and were talking in voices so low she could no longer hear what they were saying. She looked sideways: she was close to the door, which now stood open. Did she dare to slip out and try and make her escape while Lyle and the Baron were looking the other way?

  She would have to try. She could not risk staying here. Without giving herself time to think better of it, she shuffled a little closer to the door – and then squeezed from under the bed, leaped to her feet and made a dash for the balcony door.

  The two men spun around at once.

  ‘Randall!’ cried Lyle.

  But Sophie was already sliding down the rope, taking most of the skin off the palms of her hands in the process. A second later, she was running across the garden – but Red Hands Randall was running after her.

  ‘What the devil are you doing here?’

  As Detective Worth came striding towards the pond in the Chelsea Physic Garden, Mr McDermott looked up from the note he was examining in some surprise.

  ‘Listen, McDermott – if this is your scheme –’

  McDermott gave a short laugh, as if he was surprised – but rather pleased – to see Worth there at all. ‘Come on, Worth. You know me of old. Lyle can drip poison in your ear as much as he likes, but you know I’m no more interested in schemes than you are.’

  ‘Well, look here, if it’s not anything to do with you, then what’s this all about? I got some anonymous missive, sending me down here if I wanted to get back The Green Dragon. A child brought it – and then vanished. It said to bring reinforcements. I’ve got a couple of men searching the gardens as we speak.’

  McDermott shrugged. ‘I don’t know any more about this than you do. I got a note too. The only difference is that my note was signed.’

  ‘Signed by who?’

  ‘Miss Sophie Taylor.’

  ‘And who the blazes is that?’

  ‘A young friend of mine – who I rather think I have disappointed already this week. I thought the least I could do was do as she asked me.’

  ‘Well, it appears that your girl has sent us both on a fool’s errand,’ said Worth in a tetchy voice. ‘It’s a quarter past five – and there’s not a soul here. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time standing about chatting in a park, you know.’

  ‘How’s the case going?’ asked McDermott.

  ‘The case is a headache,’ snapped Worth. ‘I’ve got newspapermen on my tail wherever I go. I’m surprised they haven’t followed me here – I daresay they’ll pop up any moment, flashbulbs going off in all directions.’

  ‘Ah well, you get used to that when you work for Mr Sinclair,’ said McDermott with a grin.

  For the first time Worth looked a little awkward. ‘Look here, McDermott – I’m sorry Lyle has been so bullheaded over this case. I’d have liked your help, you know. We always did work well together.’

 

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