The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow (25 page)

But whatever Billy was up to, he would put a stop to it once and for all. He’d have him up on the carpet before Cooper, if it came to it, he thought bitterly. Either that or he’d finally give his nephew the good hiding he deserved. Monkeying around the store during Mr Sinclair’s opening party, indeed! Whatever did the boy think that he was playing at?

‘Oh do hurry – we simply must get out!’

Billy groaned. Sophie’s voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere very far away from him. In a daze, he pushed himself upright. He was inside the summerhouse, sitting on the ground. In front of him, he could see Joe crouching down beside the door, examining the lock, with Sophie close beside him.

Lil was leaning against the summerhouse wall. Her face was very white, but she seemed unhurt. ‘I say – they’ve only gone and ruined my best hat,’ she said, though her voice was only a weak imitation of its usual bright sound.

He could feel something dripping down his forehead. He put up a hand and then saw that his fingers were wet with blood. Everything seemed to tilt unpleasantly, then Lil was beside him, holding something soft against his head. ‘I think you’ll pull through,’ she was saying, beginning to sound more matter-of-fact and like herself now. ‘Here. Just hold on to this.’

‘Pass me that hair-pin,’ Joe muttered to Sophie. He was trying to pick the lock, Billy realised as he pressed Lil’s handkerchief to his forehead.

‘Quickly,’ Sophie was saying. ‘There must be almost no time left.’

‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ Joe snapped back, but even as he spoke, there was a sharp clicking sound, and the door opened. ‘Jem should have remembered he taught me how to do that himself,’ he said, a note of pride creeping into his voice.

Sophie was out of the door in a moment, Joe close behind her. Lil pulled Billy to his feet. The men had gone: the roof garden was deserted, the sound of their feet loud as they stumbled out of the summerhouse and across the gravel.

‘What’s happening?’ Billy gasped, still half-dazed.

‘We have to find the bomb – and stop the mechanism,’ said Sophie.

‘But how can we?’ Billy cried in horror. ‘There’s no time left – and the bomb could be anywhere in the shop! We’ve no idea where to find it.’

‘I think I do,’ said Sophie grimly. She didn’t stop to explain what she meant, but instead began to race back towards the stairway.

Back inside the store, the light seemed dazzlingly bright, the colours intense. Everything blurred before Billy’s eyes, as he stumbled down the stairs after the others. There was no thought of a roundabout route now, no time to remain unseen. Instead Sophie led them resolutely downwards, straight as an arrow speeding towards its mark. But Billy’s head was pounding; he was falling behind. The colours began to spin and spiral, and he jumped at the sharp scream and a crash as they tore past a waitress, upsetting the tray of ices she carried. Behind him, he could hear someone crying out: ‘They’re here, Mr Parker! I can see them!’

It was Edith’s voice. Hands reached out to stop him, caught him off balance. He tried to push them away, but everything swirled around him again.

‘Let go of me!’ he tried to say. ‘You don’t understand!’

But it was already too late. Before him, he saw Uncle Sid’s enormous hand settling on Joe’s collar, dragging him backwards. Joe was struggling, trying to wriggle away, but as a porter ran up to help, Billy saw that it was no good. ‘You stupid idiot,’ he muttered resentfully to Edith as he found himself sinking downwards, and for the second time that evening, everything blurred into darkness.

Lil and Sophie were still running. ‘Stop them!’ boomed Uncle Sid.

A porter leaped into their path: Sophie swerved to avoid him, twisting along the passage, through a door and out on to the main staircase that led down into the Entrance Hall. The porter made as if to grab at Lil, but seeing who she was, he stepped back, as if he didn’t quite dare to lay a finger on one of the Captain’s Girls. The few seconds’ hesitation was all she needed and Lil surged forwards after Sophie.

They were back, lost amongst the crowds of the party now. No one seemed to notice them as they flew onwards, snaking their way through the people standing on the staircase. As she ran, Lil felt filled with a sudden, peculiar sense of exhilaration: those horrible moments on the rooftop began to melt away. She had almost outpaced Sophie now. ‘Where are we going?’ she managed to gasp out as she drew level with her.

‘We have to get to Mr Sinclair. We have to tell him that the bomb’s
inside the clock
,’ Sophie exclaimed, pointing ahead to the enormous golden structure before them. But even as she spoke, Uncle Sid’s figure loomed behind her, and he grasped her arm, yanking her away.

‘
Run!
’ shrieked Sophie – and Lil did. She dodged this way and that through the crowd, pirouetting around a waiter with a tray of drinks. She could see the clock directly before her, gleaming with the reflected light of a dozen lamps. The hands stood just a minute away from midnight. Time seemed to slow down. It was all up to her. She was the only one left now and Sophie was counting on her. Behind her, a waiter was racing through the crowd to get to her. Uncle Sid was shouting. Two porters were closing in.

There was only one way left to go. Using a
jeté
she’d learned for one of the dance routines for the show, she leaped, flying down the last few stairs and landed, not ungracefully, right at the feet of Edward Sinclair himself. He was standing amongst a group of smartly dressed guests, raising a glass of champagne in the direction of Miss Kitty Shaw, who was wearing a golden evening gown that glittered as seductively as the great clock behind them. For an instant, Lil froze, but it was only for a moment. Then everything happened at once.

‘I’m terribly sorry to bother you,’ she announced breathlessly to the astonished group. ‘But I’m afraid that there’s a bomb in your clock and it’s going to go off at midnight.’

The words came out of her mouth meaning nothing. She could see the faces around her: bemused, astonished, confused. A society hostess raised her eyebrows in shocked disapproval. Kitty Shaw looked furious. ‘What in heaven’s name do you mean by this?’ Lil heard her say in disgust. Sinclair was merely staring at her, his head tilted slightly to the side, as if she were a strange curiosity he was trying to understand. But it was the figure behind them, whom Lil had barely noticed – the detective, Mr McDermott – who sprang towards the clock just as the doors opened, with a clunking, whirring sound, and the small golden figures emerged, signalling that midnight was about to strike.

This dainty silk boudoir cap in an oriental style is intended for relaxed home wear. The perfect complement to a tea gown, it will both protect the coiffure and ensure elegance whilst relaxing in the boudoir – whether writing letters, reclining on the chaise-longue to overcome a tiresome headache, embroidering or simply resting at the close of a busy day . . .

I
t was a little after two o’clock in the morning, and Elsie, the new parlour maid, was trying to stifle a yawn as she climbed the stairs up to the master’s study, carefully balancing a tray of tea. She wasn’t used to being awake in the middle of the night, and she felt as if she could easily still be dreaming. Surely the housekeeper hadn’t really just awoken her from a deep slumber and instructed her to serve tea and sandwiches to guests in the master’s study, in the dead of night?

As she unloaded the teapot and the cups from the tray, she tried not to stare around her. The doctor was one thing – she could understand how someone might need the doctor at this time. But who were the rest of the master’s guests? She was sure she’d never set eyes on any of them in her life, and they were a rum bunch, too: a lad with a great bandage fastened around his head; a shabby young fellow who looked as though he’d been in a fist-fight; two young ladies wearing evening dresses, but with big shawls wrapped round their shoulders; and a big handsome fellow in a smart uniform. Elsie lingered as she passed him his tea. She’d always been a bit partial to a man in uniform.

‘Thank you Elsie, that will be all,’ said the master in his usual matter-of-fact voice.

‘What d’you reckon that’s all about?’ she demanded of Daisy, the housemaid, who had helped with the trays, the second the door had closed behind them.

But Daisy merely shrugged. ‘Oh, search me if I know,’ she said carelessly. Daisy had been working for Mr McDermott for over two years now, and she wasn’t surprised by much any more. The master could entertain a monkey to tea in the middle of the night, she thought sagely, and she wouldn’t turn a hair.

Back inside McDermott’s study, the doctor had finished attending to Billy’s head. ‘You’ll feel a little uncomfortable for a day or two, but there shouldn’t be any scarring. Just make sure you take plenty of rest,’ he was saying cheerfully, as he packed his instruments back inside his bag and made ready to leave. Opposite them, Lil was curled up in a big leather armchair, helping herself from a plate of Gentleman’s Relish sandwiches and close beside her, Joe, who had a large bruise blooming across one side of his face, was deep in conversation with McDermott himself.

Joe thought that it was the strangest thing to be here in this cosy, comfortable room. He leaned back into the cushioned chair and sipped the hot cup of tea that he had been handed. When McDermott had first brought them here, he’d still been shaking all over. He couldn’t stop reliving the terrible moment when Jem had taken hold of Lil and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop him. He still couldn’t help glancing at her every now and again. It was a relief to see her with her mouth stuffed full of sandwich, leaning forward in her chair to say something to Billy.

It had been even stranger when McDermott had come to sit beside him, and had begun asking him questions. He’d never expected to find himself in conversation with a private detective, and at first he had been cagey, unsure what the fellow was trying to get him to say. But as McDermott had listened intently – pausing now and then to scribble a note, and once even to go over to the telephone to place a call – Joe had found himself talking more naturally. He didn’t think anyone had ever listened so seriously to anything he had to say in his life. Gradually his hands had stopped trembling and before long he was sitting back easily in his chair, swigging his tea and accepting a second slice of fruit cake as if he were quite at home.

Across from him, Billy and Uncle Sid, side-by-side on the Chesterfield sofa, were looking a good deal less relaxed. Uncle Sid kept clearing his throat and taking little sips of tea, whilst Billy shuffled his boots and fiddled with the bandage that had been fastened around his head.

Billy’s mind kept jumping back to different moments. He couldn’t think what had been the most peculiar part of it all: the mad chase through the store; Lil being held at gunpoint by Cooper; coming round, woozy-headed in the Entrance Hall, to hear how McDermott had grabbed the clock hands with mere seconds to spare; or simply this, sitting here, sipping tea at two o’clock in the morning, with Uncle Sid beside him. A muddle of different emotions was sweeping over him: anger that his uncle had persisted in treating him like a waste of space wrestled with a strange desire to explain everything and be forgiven. Mostly though there was just an impossible awkwardness that left him dumb.

He looked sidelong at his uncle and saw that Sid’s face wore an uncomfortable expression of reticence and confusion and could it be – pride?

Billy cleared his throat. ‘Sandwich?’ he stammered, holding the plate out to his uncle.

The gesture hung in the air between them for a moment, and then, after a pause. ‘Well now, I don’t mind if I do,’ said Uncle Sid, picking one up daintily in his enormous hand.

The telephone shrilled and McDermott answered it. After a few short words, he replaced the receiver and addressed them all.

‘That was Scotland Yard,’ he said briskly. ‘They’ve been examining the clock. They have confirmed that there was enough dynamite in there to cause very extensive damage. They’ve also completed a search of the building and confirmed that there are no other devices to be found.’

He turned to Sophie, who was sitting quietly in an armchair to one side. ‘I must say I’m very curious to know how you knew the bomb would be inside the clock.’

Sophie had not touched any of the sandwiches. She had been given the chance to wash, and to tidy her hair, and someone had brought her a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, but although she was now outwardly tidy, inside she was in turmoil.

Looking up at McDermott, she shook her head. ‘It was a guess,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t know anything. But it seemed like the sort of thing that he – the Baron, I mean – would do. He’s obviously fascinated by clocks. There were dozens of them in that room where they had me locked up. And there was something I overheard that man Fitz say too, something about the plan being
like clockwork . . .
’

Her voice faded away. She couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible it would have been if her instinct had been wrong, or if Lil hadn’t managed to get the message to Mr McDermott before it was too late. She stared around at the others, feeling sick at the danger she had put them in. ‘I should have come to you straight away,’ she said to McDermott in a voice heavy with remorse.