The Case of the Feathered Mask

by Holly Webb

  “It’s for the professor,” she told him with a sigh. “He’s so upset about the mask being stolen that he’s not eating very much. Gran wants to make him some beef tea.” Maisie made a face. “Rather him than me.”

  George looked confused. “I saw that story in the paper. But it said he was giving the mask to some museum, didn’t it? Why’s he so bothered about losing it if he was going to give it away anyway?”

  Maisie frowned. “I know it’s odd. But he wants other people to be able to see it, because it’s so beautiful. And he really loved the people who gave it to him, I think. It was a thank-you gift – he rescued someone from an enormous snake!”

  George wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t look beautiful to me. Scary old thing.” He glanced at her sideways. “You going to find it then, Little Miss Detective?”

  “I wish I could. But I can’t find where to start, George. All we’ve got is people turning up with fake masks all the time. No one knows anything about the real one.” Maisie sighed. “For ages I couldn’t remember anything about that night, and who knocked me down. And now – well, I think the bump on the head might have sent me a bit silly. Don’t laugh!”

  George snorted. “Sent! As if you weren’t already. Go on, what is it you’ve remembered?”

  “A giant,” Maisie said, in a small voice.

  But George was looking at her thoughtfully. He hadn’t hooted with laughter, the way she’d expected. “A giant… You never know, Maisie…”

  “Not a fairy story, up-to-the-clouds sort of giant,” Maisie added. “But really, really tall. As in, half as tall again as a normal person. I did wonder if there was a circus somewhere close by, but I haven’t heard about one. You’ve not seen anything like that, have you?” she asked, not daring to hope.

  “Might have done…” George nodded. “I do a delivery over at that old theatre – the one on the other side of the park, you know where I mean?”

  “But it’s closed down,” Maisie said.

  “It was, but now it’s been turned into a museum. Not like the museum that wants your professor’s mask, this one’s called Dacre’s Museum of Curiosities. It’s full of odd things. There’s the most tattooed man in the world – Frank, one of the assistants at the butcher’s shop, told me. And a mermaid, swimming in a great big glass tank. I thought I might go and see. Costs thruppence to go in, mind. It’s a lot. Anyway, there’s a giant on the posters they’ve got outside. And someone there’s eating an awful lot of bacon and chops.” He looked at her triumphantly.

  Maisie squeaked and hugged him, which was a shock for both of them. George nearly knocked his bike over.

  “All right,” he muttered. “Don’t get excited.”

  “But it’s a lead! It’s definitely a lead, George.”

  “Could be,” George agreed modestly. “Want to go and have a look around? After I’ve done my deliveries, of course.”

  “Yes, please.” Maisie nodded seriously. She wanted to be a proper detective, and there was a bit of her that said it was feeble to get George to go with her. But all the rest of her said quite firmly that the giant had already knocked her down once, and there was no point being stupidly brave. Besides, all detectives had faithful assistants. Usually she thought of Eddie as hers, but just for today she would have two of them.

  George came back a couple of hours later, and Maisie and Eddie slipped quietly out into the yard. She was glad to go. The whole kitchen stank of the beef tea stewing on the stove. Even the dirty backstreets smelled nicer, despite the horse droppings and piles of rubbish.

  It was early afternoon, and fairly quiet. “Will it be open, this place?” Maisie asked, as they hurried along, with Eddie scampering ahead. George had left his bike hidden behind the outhouse in the yard at Albion Street.

  “Yup, I asked Frank, and he said it’s open all afternoon and evening, but you pay more if you go for the proper shows in the evening – that’s when the owner introduces all the Curiosities, and they perform. But I don’t reckon we need that. And besides, I haven’t got sixpence for the evening show. It’s still thruppence if you just want to go and have a look around, mind you.”

  Maisie nodded. Luckily, she did actually have enough. She still had the money from Mr Lacey, and the professor had given her a whole shilling, as he said he felt dreadful that she’d been hurt trying to stop a burglar who was taking his mask. “I can pay for us both,” she offered.

  George sniffed proudly. “I can pay for myself,” he told her, standing up a little straighter.

  Maisie decided not to argue. “Is it a real mermaid?” she asked, as they walked through the park, and she saw the old theatre, its outside now decked in brightly coloured banners and flags.

  “Dunno.” George shrugged. “Can’t be, can it? No such thing … but Frank said it looked real.”

  “Hmmm. Oh! I see the poster, with the giant.” Maisie sped up. “That could be the person I saw… I don’t remember his teeth being like that, though…”

  The giant on the poster was wearing a leopard skin, and his top teeth were sharpened to points. His eyes were wild, and he looked as if he were growling.

  George sniffed. “That’s all for show, isn’t it. I bet he isn’t even that tall.”

  Maisie s shivered. “He was big.”

  “Are you two coming in or not?” someone called, and Maisie jumped. She hadn’t noticed that there was a little box outside the main doors, just big enough for a wizened old man in a gold-braided uniform.

  “Thruppence each,” he said.

  Maisie gulped. “Here you are.” She handed him her shilling, and George passed over three sticky pennies.

  “Making my fortune, doing this,” the old man grumbled. “All right then, here’s your tickets, in you go.” He handed them Maisie’s change and two little slips of pasteboard, and waved at the heavy doors.

  Maisie and George heaved them open, and tiptoed into the shadowy space of the foyer. It was nothing like the theatre where Maisie had worked as a dresser for an actress friend of Miss Lane’s, a couple of months before. There the foyer had been glittering with mirrors and lights and flowers.

  “They want it a bit dark,” George said under his breath, “so you can’t see too close. I bet half these Curiosities are fake.” He peered at another set of posters, advertising a girl with wings. “Sewn on, I should think. Stuck to her dress.”

  “Let’s go in, anyway,” Maisie whispered. The ghostly space was having an effect on her. She dreaded pushing open the next set of doors, which were made of heavy wood and very tall. They loomed up in front of her, dark and menacing.

  But George didn’t seem to be frightened – or at least he was very good at pretending that he wasn’t. He shoved the doors open briskly and disappeared into the great dim space beyond. Maisie hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone. She didn’t believe in ghosts and monsters and things like that, but the Museum of Curiosities was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  The theatre auditorium was divided up with wooden partitions so that there were booths all round the outside, draped with velvety curtains and lit by flickering gas lamps. Strange figures loomed out of the light, and Maisie felt George’s hand fumble for hers. Eddie was pressed tightly against her leg, a comforting warmth.

  “This is spooky,” George muttered. “Are you scared?”

  “No…”

  “Me neither.” But he was holding her hand very tightly, Maisie noticed, and he jumped just as violently as she did when something whirled past them, skimming over their heads in a whoosh of wings.

  “What was that?” Maisie yelped, and Eddie pressed closer against her, whimpering.

  “A bird,” George said. “Look.” He pointed up to the top of one of the booths, where a strange, hunched creature was now peering down at them.

  “But it’s got a face!” Maisie whispered. “It’s a person. A girl! Like on the poster!”

  “Don’t be stupid. Flying people? That’s even more silly than mermaids.” But
George sounded doubtful, all the same.

  It was a girl. She was sitting perched on the wooden wall, grinning down at them. Great feathery, leathery wings were folded behind her, and her nails were like claws.

  “This place is horrible,” Maisie hissed. “Let’s just find the giant.” She pulled George after her around the line of booths, peering in at a bearded lady and the mermaid, who was in such a dark tank that it was impossible to tell if she were real or not. There was a swirling in the water, and a flick of tail – but that was all.

  “Look!” George stopped short. “There he is. Blimey. He is big.”

  Maisie followed him slowly as he walked towards the booth. She had suddenly realized that the giant, if he really was the one who had broken in and taken the mask, might recognize her. The thought of being chased through this shadowy place by an angry giant was terrifying. She peered nervously around George at the massive figure, swathed in a sort of tunic, and seated on a heavy wooden throne in the middle of the booth. He must be at least seven foot tall, she thought. But the huge man simply stared back at the children and winked. He took another bite of the massive bacon sandwich he was eating, and wiped his mouth on a tablecloth-sized napkin. His teeth didn’t look particularly sharp – just huge.

  “Told you! I probably delivered that bacon,” George pointed out rather proudly. “One giant, as promised. Think he’s the one, Maisie?” he added in a whisper.

  Maisie gulped and nodded. The professor’s Indian memory technique had worked even better than she had realized. She recognized the crinkly blond hair, and the huge, blue-green eyes, now she saw him again. This bacon-eating person had picked their front door lock, stolen from the professor, and knocked her down. But he looked perfectly pleasant, even if scarily big. “Yes. And look.” Turning away from the giant, she pulled the scrap of fabric out of her pocket, and George nodded, letting out a low whistle. It was proof. The pattern matched the ragged red and yellow tunic wrapped around the giant’s massive torso. It is very tatty, Maisie thought. A bit could easily have torn off.

  “What do we do now?” George hissed. “I’m not going to ask him if he nicked a mask from your house. He might eat us alive! Did you see the size of his teeth?”

  “I don’t really fancy asking him, either,” Maisie murmured. “Let’s keep walking. I don’t understand why he’d steal the mask. He must have sold it to someone, I suppose…”

  The next booth held The World’s Most Tattooed Man, according to the banner, but he was asleep, with a newspaper over most of him. They could see his legs, though, with a great ship sailing up one leg, and a sea monster entwined round the other.

  They headed on to a large booth in the corner of the theatre, which was painted with a forest scene. The walls were covered in huge trees, dripping with vines, with an enormous spotted cat snarling from behind one of them. Sitting on a rock, which Maisie suspected was made of papier mâché, was a bored-looking boy. He had skin the rich-brown colour of tea and straight, jet-black hair, and he was wearing nothing except a piece of fabric wrapped round his waist and some sort of feathery necklace round his neck.

  No wonder he looks chilly, Maisie thought.

  The boy saw them standing there, and rather sulkily he got up and drew a long, thin pipe from a sling across his shoulder. He put it to his lips and posed, ready to blow through the pipe at the painted cat.

  “What’s that, a penny whistle?” George snorted.

  “No…” Maisie breathed. “It’s a blowpipe. For poison darts. Ones that make you fall down stiff as a board…” She looked at the sign above the booth. “‘The Child of the Darkest Jungle’. Oh, I wonder… The Amazon jungle?”

  She didn’t think the boy could have heard her, but he lowered the pipe and turned to stare curiously into her eyes. Maisie gasped as the dim light fell full on his face.

  It was the boy from the professor’s photograph.

  “All right, so tell it to me again…” George said, scowling. They were sitting on some iron steps in the alleyway that ran down the side of the theatre, peering at each other in the gathering darkness. Maisie was trying to explain the professor’s story to George, who said it was so far-fetched it sounded like something out of a penny dreadful. Maisie wouldn’t know – her gran wouldn’t let her read those sorts of magazines.

  “Just keep an ear out for anyone coming,” Maisie reminded him. “The Curiosities must go out sometime, for fresh air or to get some food. So, the professor saves the chief of the Amazon tribe from a huge snake, you see? And in return they give him the mask. And there’s a photograph of the professor and the chief and the chief’s grandson in the professor’s room. It’s that boy! Um – Daniel, the professor said he was called. I’m sure that’s who he is! I recognized him. He had a necklace on, just like in the picture. He’s a bit bigger now, but he would be, wouldn’t he?”

  “So you reckon he got his mate from the show to do the burgling?”

  “Mmmm. The lock was picked, we think. Maybe the giant knows how to do that…” Maisie frowned. It was hard to imagine the giant as a soft-footed cat burglar, but the burglary in Albion Street would have gone perfectly if it hadn’t been for Eddie. Maisie glanced round, checking where the little dog was. He had been snuffling about, looking for rats, but she hadn’t seen him for a few minutes.

  “Shhh! Someone’s coming,” Maisie whispered, as the door began to open.

  They drew back into the shadows of the wall, but it was only the tattooed man. As he walked past they could see the extra eye painted in the middle of his forehead.

  George gasped, suddenly sure that third eye could see him, and Maisie shivered. But the man hurried away down the alley.

  George shook himself crossly, embarrassed to have shown Maisie he was scared. “What I don’t get is why he’d want the mask back. Your professor said the tribe gave it to him. So what happened – they just changed their minds?”

  “I don’t know,” Maisie said grimly. “That’s what I’m going to try to find out. Where’s Eddie, can you see him?”

  George looked down the alleyway. “Nope. Probably gone off to steal sausages from some poor lad.”

  “He only did that once!” Maisie said defensively. “Eddie! Eddie, where are you?”

  Eddie suddenly bolted out from behind a pile of old wooden boxes, with his tail tucked between his legs and all the fur on his neck standing up. After him came a great grey rat, which was actually bigger than he was.

  “Ugghh!” Maisie yelped, jumping up. “That’s horrible! Eddie, here, it might bite you.”

  Eddie shot up the steps and hid behind Maisie, his whiskers quivering with a mixture of terror and excitement. The rat stopped at the bottom of the steps and eyed the three of them curiously. Then it turned round and walked slowly back to its den in the boxes. Maisie could have sworn it was swaggering.

  “Look.” George nudged her. “The door’s opening again. Someone’s coming.” He hurried down the steps – staying as far away from the boxes as possible – and Maisie followed him. Eddie stayed safely halfway up the steps, still shivering.

  The two children ducked behind the steps, where they could watch the door without being too obvious, and waited.

  “It’s him!” Maisie whispered.

  “You sure?” George peered doubtfully at the figure. The light was going now, and it was hard to see.

  “Yes, of course, he’s just got normal clothes on, that’s all. He couldn’t go out in that little bit of cloth, he’d freeze.” She jumped out from behind the steps and ran at the boy. “Hey! What have you done with the mask?”

  “Great,” George muttered. “I’m glad we’re not being obvious about it.” But he stood behind her, trying to look fierce.

  The boy glared back at Maisie and pulled something out of his sleeve like a conjuring trick. It was a long wooden pipe, which he raised to his lips.

  His dark eyes fastened on Maisie’s as he puffed out his cheeks, ready to blow.

  “Maisie, get down!” George ye
lled, pulling Maisie’s arm. “He’s got those poison-dart things.”

  Maisie stumbled sideways, staring in horror at the boy, at his glinting eyes and puffed cheeks. She wondered what sort of poison was on the feathered dart he had tucked into the end of the blowpipe. The professor had said that some tribes made poison out of roasted frogs…

  Then, from out of the corner of her eye, Maisie saw a little white and brown ball leap into the air, and the boy let out a shout of surprise as the blowpipe was snatched out of his hand. Eddie trotted back to Maisie and spat it out at her feet, wagging his tail proudly. Then he turned round, sat down in front of her and glared hard at the boy.

  “G-good dog,” Maisie said. “Good boy, Eddie.”

  The boy looked down at his hand, as though he didn’t quite understand how the blowpipe wasn’t in it any more, and then he sighed.

  “Can I have it back, please?” he asked, in clear, slightly accented English.

  “Are you joking?” George demanded. “You were going to shoot us! With poison darts!”

  “No, I was not.” He shrugged. “They are not poisoned. It is just for the show. I only wanted you to leave me alone. Look.” He pulled a tiny, feather-topped sliver of wood out of his pocket, and pricked the tip of his thumb. “There. See?”

  “Oh…” Maisie let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “But I will not give you the mask,” the boy added.

  “Please! You have to, Daniel.” Maisie gazed at him, pleadingly. “My friend Professor Tobin is so upset that it’s gone. You know him! He told me about you, he was the one who taught you to speak English. You can’t want to hurt him.”