by Holly Webb
She was still clutching one of the newspapers that had been on Miss Dacre’s floor. As she stared down at it, trying to come up with a plan, the words “Disastrous Fire in London Street” caught her eye. It was an article about the fire she had witnessed herself, a couple of days before. All those poor people, clutching the treasures they’d saved from the flames. Maisie’s mouth curled at the corner. If she was right, and Miss Dacre really did have those rubies hidden somewhere in her bedroom, then wouldn’t she try to save them from a fire? They were so valuable – and she had cared enough about them to pull them out of the scarab.
Dacre House, despite being full of ancient artefacts, was very modern and lit with gas-mantle lamps everywhere. Maisie bit her upper lip nervously as she folded part of the newspaper into a long spill, and held it over one of the wall-mounted lamps. It burst into flame horribly fast, and Maisie dropped it on to a marble-topped table and fed it with more newspaper, until she had a smoky little blaze.
Then she wafted the smoke towards Miss Dacre’s bedroom door, screamed “Fire!” as loud as she could, and waited, hoping that she wasn’t going to end up burning down Lord Dacre’s house and all his precious Egyptian treasures. She really ought to have made sure she had a jug of water ready before she started this, Maisie thought, eyeing the burning paper anxiously and hoping it wasn’t too close to the velvet curtains.
There were footsteps now, racing up the stairs, and pattering inside Miss Dacre’s room. The fire was dying away to wisps of blackened paper already, and Maisie blew on it, hoping to raise a bit more smoke.
Professor Tobin and Lord Dacre came racing along the passageway just as Miss Dacre burst out of her room, with the little china pot clutched in one hand.
“Where’s the fire? Are you hurt, Isis?” Lord Dacre yelled.
“I don’t know…” Miss Dacre looked around wildly, and then caught sight of the papery ashes. “Is that it?” She glared at Maisie. “What on earth did you do? I thought you were going to see if the doctor had arrived.”
“Maisie, are you all right?” Professor Tobin asked, panting. “Was it you that shouted?”
Maisie nodded. “I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, Professor. That’s all the fire there is,” she said, pointing.
Then, as everyone stared at the ashes, she darted sideways and snatched the china pot out of Miss Dacre’s hand, pulling off the lid. She tipped the rubies out on to the marble tabletop, where they glittered among the powdery ash.
Lord Dacre stared down at them, and then he turned and shooed away the servants, who were hurrying up with buckets of water. “A misunderstanding! So sorry! Er, Fincham, give everyone the evening off.” Then he picked up the rubies with shaking fingers, and took his daughter by the elbow, leading her towards the stairs. “You had better come with us,” he muttered to Maisie and Professor Tobin.
“Thank you for coming to rescue me, Professor,” Maisie murmured, as they followed him.
“Was this all a clever trap, Maisie?”
Maisie sighed. “Yes. But now I wish I hadn’t done it. Lord Dacre looks more upset than he ever was about the scarab. I suppose at least Mr Travers will be let out.”
“If this really was Isis, then Leggy needed to know. There must have been a reason…” But even Professor Tobin looked pale and horrified, and Maisie only felt worse.
Inside the library, Miss Dacre was sitting in an armchair by the fire, crying silently, and her father was gently wrapping a blanket around her knees.
“I’m not ill!” she sniffed. “It was all pretend. I’m perfectly well. You don’t need to fuss over me, Papa!” But then she reached up and caught his hand. “When you heard that girl call fire, you came for me.”
“Well, of course I did!”
“Not for the pharaoh’s jewelled pendant first? Or that wonderful papyrus in the library? Or the crocodile armour?”
“Isis, dearest, of course not!” He ducked his head. “I admit, once I was sure that you were safely outside, I might have gone back…”
“But you came for me first.” She shook her head, disbelievingly. “I’m so sorry, Papa. Max said…”
“Where is Max?” Lord Dacre looked around worriedly. “Someone ought to tell the poor chap there isn’t a fire after all.”
“I’m afraid he’s gone, Leggy.” Professor Tobin snorted disapprovingly. “As we came running up the stairs, he left by the front door.”
“He didn’t even wait to see if I was safe?” Miss Dacre sat up straight, two patches of colour burning in her cheeks. “The wretch! He said he loved me!” She sniffed again, and dabbed her eyes on Lord Dacre’s handkerchief. “He said he loved me far more than you did, Papa. That you only cared for your treasures. He said that you’d be off on another expedition soon. He told me that you were planning it, even when Dr Epps had said you mustn’t. And I was so lonely when you went away! That’s why I…” She hung her head miserably.
“You stole it – my scarab? But why?” her father said sadly.
“I should never have listened to him. And I hated that Max had to throw it away, but he said it was too risky to keep it in the house. I’ve felt so awful, seeing how upset you were. I just wanted you to stay at home, and not go off travelling and make yourself ill!”
“So you tried to frighten your father instead, even though you knew he had a weak heart?” Maisie said, stepping closer to Isis, her voice flat and cold.
Miss Dacre’s pale blue eyes filled with tears. “It was terribly silly of me,” she agreed. “But Max said…”
“How long do you think you would have lasted, once Max had frightened your father to death and then married you and got his hands on all the money?” Maisie said, and Miss Dacre stared at her in horror.
“He wouldn’t…”
“I bet he would. He didn’t exactly come rushing to save you from the fire, did he?”
“I’m so sorry,” Miss Dacre whispered.
“I shall go and send a telegraph to the police, telling them to let Travers go at once,” Professor Tobin said, heading for the door.
“Oh, poor Mr Travers!” Miss Dacre wailed. “I felt so dreadful when he was taken away!”
Lord Dacre patted her hand comfortingly, but Maisie rolled her eyes. She had never, ever met anyone so feeble. “So you should,” she muttered. “The police will be here soon. You can tell them to go after Max Dacre instead. They just need to look out for someone with an idiotic little pointy beard.”
“It’s very fashionable!” Miss Dacre protested, before she remembered that Max was a criminal who’d been trying to trick her into murdering her father. “Well. Yes, I suppose it is a little bit silly.”
“A gold sovereign?” Gran eyed it admiringly. The gold coin was glinting on the little table in the professor’s rooms. “I haven’t seen one of those in quite a while, Maisie.”
“It’s well deserved, Mrs Hitchins,” the professor said proudly. “Very well deserved. Your granddaughter was a marvel. Lord Dacre was most impressed.” He smiled. “I shouldn’t be surprised if he mentions your name to his smart friends, Maisie. You may find yourself with all sorts of high-society clients.”
Maisie giggled. She couldn’t really imagine them all coming calling at 31 Albion Street. She ran her fingers over the queen’s head on the coin and sighed. It would be lovely to spend it. She could buy several new dresses, so that people like Isis didn’t think she was scruffy and unimportant. But even though her purple dress was faded, it was still perfectly good. It kept her warm. She was thinking of those thin, grey-faced children down at the edge of the river. A sovereign would buy them all warm clothes. Or hot meals for weeks. She would go and give it to them, she decided, a little sadly, the pretty dresses fading from her mind.
“And it was his daughter, all this time?” Gran asked, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.
The professor nodded. “The bond between a father and a daughter can be very special, Mrs Hitchins,” he said, eyeing Maisie thoughtfully. “Lord Dacre hasn’t just sent
you the money. Look at the rest of your parcel.” He held out her pendant and a piece of paper. “He must have managed to work out what it says.”
Maisie took the necklace and the letter, and began to read.
My dear Miss Hitchins,
My daughter and I thank you for your brave and ingenious service. You will be glad to know that I will not be travelling to Egypt again. Instead, Isis and I are planning to work on my book, with the help of dear Mr Travers.
I have examined your pendant – a most meaningful gift from your own father. The lines are in fact a picture, as you suspected, and I have drawn them here more clearly, so that you can see they form an eye.
This is the eye of Horus, a god, and it is a symbol of good health and protection. The message on the underside is a prayer for safety of a loved one. Your father may not have known what he was sending you, but I am sure that it is exactly as he would have wished.
With my most sincere thanks, I remain,
Your servant,
Adolphus Tremayne Dacre
Maisie cupped her fingers tightly around the precious necklace and smiled. She was sure that Lord Dacre was right. It would be odd to have her father home again – very odd. But she liked the idea that even though he was far away, he was thinking about her and Gran.
She would write and tell him what it meant, although she wondered if somehow he already knew.
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2015
Illustrations copyright © Marion Lindsay, 2015
First published in Great Britain in 2015
eISBN: 978–1–84715–628–0
The right of Holly Webb and Marion Lindsay to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library.
www.littletiger.co.uk
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Maisie loves to look at the amazing objects her friend Professor Tobin has collected on his travels around the world. But when a thief steals a rare and valuable wooden mask, leaving only a feather behind, Maisie realizes she has a new mystery on her hands…
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Alice’s father is having a run of bad luck – several of his ships have disappeared and he has lost a lot of money. Maisie is determined to solve the mystery herself, so she heads down to London’s docks to investigate. Can she discover what is going on and save Alice’s family from ruin?
For sneak peeks, fun facts and more, visit:
www.maisiehitchins.com
