The House of Puzzles

by Richard Newsome

  The chunky four-wheel drive rocked to a stop about ten metres in front of them, blocking the path.

  The driver’s door popped open.

  Out climbed Sir Mason Green.

  ‘Hello there,’ he called. ‘Fancy bumping into you two all the way out here.’

  Chapter 13

  A shrill whistle erupted from the kettle on the camp stove. Sir Mason Green looked up from his stool and nodded towards a teapot on a foldaway picnic table. ‘Professor?’ he said, ‘Be a good chap and do the honours, will you?’

  Professor Knox McElderry shuffled across to the stove and lifted the kettle from the gas burner. Fingers of steam curled from the spout as he filled the teapot.

  Gerald and Felicity sat in a glowering funk on a fallen log while the professor readied the afternoon refreshments. The horses were tied up a dozen metres away, their ears upright and alert.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t have a cup, Gerald? Miss Upham?’ Green asked as the professor handed him a steaming mug. ‘He makes a very good brew, for a Scot.’

  Gerald’s hatred for the silver-haired billionaire had never been so intense. ‘Don’t treat him like that,’ he said, his eyes like daggers. ‘He’s not your slave.’

  ‘Says the thirteen-year-old with his own butler,’ Green said, blowing gently on his tea. ‘Such hypocrisy.’

  ‘Mr Fry is an employee,’ Gerald said. ‘That’s not even close to being the same thing.’

  ‘It’s only a question of degree,’ Green said. ‘Now, have you solved that code yet?’

  Gerald looked down at the ground. ‘We’re getting close,’ he lied.

  Green stared at him, then slid his blade an inch from its scabbard. ‘You’ll need to do better than “close”,’ he said.

  Gerald’s pulse raced.

  He had to give Green something.

  Anything.

  ‘We think it’s a keyword cipher,’ he said. ‘Ruby is trying to find out more about Jeremy Davey today.’

  Green pushed the sword back into place. ‘Good thinking.’ He looked at the professor, who stood staring into a stand of trees. ‘I need hardly remind you of what is at stake.’ He placed his mug on the ground and reached into a leather satchel by his feet. He pulled out a cardboard tube and tossed it to Gerald.

  ‘You recall we were rudely interrupted in our last conversation,’ Green said. ‘I was about to ask you a favour.’

  ‘A favour?’ Gerald said. ‘Since when do you ask for favours?’

  ‘Favour. Order. Whichever makes you feel more comfortable,’ Green said. ‘You are going to New York in a few weeks to the Billionaires’ Club, I believe?’

  Gerald screwed his eyes shut. ‘How could you possibly know about that?’

  A thin smile creased Green’s face. ‘As I have told you, I have eyes and ears everywhere.’

  Gerald felt a great weight press down on his shoulders. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I assume that old fluff Jasper Mantle has told you about the club’s founder, James Kincaid? About his acquisitive habits and strange collections? He was a latter-day Rudolph II with his cabinet of curiosities. You remember Rudolph, I’m sure.’

  Gerald said nothing.

  ‘Yes, I thought that might be the case,’ Green continued. ‘When you have your night in the Billionaires’ Club, you must find something that is hidden there and bring it to me. The coded note should provide the information you need, along with the contents of the cylinder in your hand.’

  Gerald’s eyes fell to the cardboard container in his fingers. ‘What is it I’m meant to be looking for?’ he asked.

  ‘You remember my room at the Rattigan Club?’ Green said.

  Gerald’s mind shot back to the musty old clubrooms in London, where he first learned of Mason Green’s obsession with his family. ‘What about it?’ he asked.

  ‘On my desk there was a wooden box. It was painted a gloss black. Do you recall it?’

  Gerald’s stomach turned. He knew the box only too well. ‘There was a human skull inside it,’ Gerald said flatly.

  ‘That’s the chap,’ Green said. ‘Somewhere in the Billionaires’ Club in New York there is an identical box. I want you to find it and deliver it to me.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ Gerald asked. ‘It’s not another skull, is it?’

  ‘You do not need to know the contents,’ Green said. ‘Just bring the box to me, and then your friend the professor walks free. We will be in New York waiting for you.’

  Felicity stared hard at Green. ‘Aren’t you meant to be on the run?’ she said. ‘How are you going to get to New York?’

  Green flashed her an oily smile. ‘You underestimate my genius, young lady.’

  Gerald turned the tube in his hands. ‘What’s in here?’ he asked.

  ‘A little something with an interesting history,’ Green said. ‘Open it up.’

  Gerald slid a thumbnail under the red plastic cap at one end and was about to flick it off when the sound of singing floated through the air. Green turned his head to look down the path. ‘We have company,’ he muttered. ‘Some of your fellow hikers, I expect.’ Green snapped his fingers at the professor. ‘Come, McElderry. Into the vehicle.’ He pulled the car keys from his pocket and spun around to face Gerald. ‘You know what will happen if you don’t find me that box.’

  Green climbed into the Land Rover and the four-wheel drive roared off the path and over a hill. A moment later, Kobe Abraham, Charlie Blagden and two girls Gerald recognised as Cailyn and Emma rounded the bend. The four of them pulled up short at the sight of Gerald and Felicity sitting at a fold-up picnic table in the middle of the path, sharing a pot of tea.

  Gerald held up a mug. ‘Cup for you, Kobe?’ he asked.

  Chapter 14

  The cardboard tube sat in the middle of the table with the unassuming presence of a stick of dynamite.

  The other students had filed out of the dining hall for after-dinner activities, leaving four disconsolate figures seated around the latest offering from Sir Mason Green.

  ‘I suppose you should open it,’ Ruby said. She gave the tube a prod. It rolled across and stopped in front of Gerald.

  Gerald blinked at it. ‘I suppose I should,’ he said. He made no move to pick it up.

  ‘What’s stopping you?’ Ruby asked.

  Gerald reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the red marble that he found on the trail where Marjory had spooked. ‘Someone is doing all they can to stop me from doing the Triple Crown,’ he said. ‘First the Hello Kitty mugging on our first day here; then this morning someone tried to knock me off a horse by firing this into its rump.’

  Ruby looked at the red ball curiously. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Let’s just say I got to see a bit more of the Scottish highlands than I’d planned,’ Gerald said.

  Sam reached out, took the marble from Gerald’s palm then popped it in his mouth.

  Ruby wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘What are you doing?’

  Sam tilted his head and smiled at her. ‘Peppermint,’ he said. ‘My favourite.’r />
  ‘It’s a sweet?’ Felicity said.

  ‘Sure,’ Sam said, chewing. ‘Red Bombs. I love ’em.’

  ‘Someone tried to knock you off a horse with a peppermint?’ Ruby said. ‘Who would do that?’

  ‘Someone who wants me to quit the Triple Crown,’ Gerald said. ‘And we can rule out Mason Green as a suspect in that mystery.’

  Ruby clicked her tongue. ‘I’m sick of mysteries.’ She picked up the tube, flicked off the end cap and tipped it up. A rolled bundle fastened with brown string slid out. She untied the knot and a square of rough canvas, about thirty centimetres across, unfurled on the table.

  ‘What is it?’ Felicity asked. She shuffled closer to Ruby to get a better look. ‘Is that…paint?’

  Ruby ran her fingertips across the surface of the material: an expanse of dull blue with a gold crest in the centre.

  ‘See?’ Felicity said. ‘That looks like brushstrokes.’

  Ruby suddenly snatched her hand back.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Oh my gosh,’ Ruby said, her eyes widening. ‘It’s from that painting.’

  ‘What painting?’

  ‘The one from the Louvre,’ Ruby said. She reached out a finger and prodded at the canvas as if to make sure it was dead. ‘The one that was vandalised.’

  Sam looked at his sister as if she had recently arrived from Mars. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t you ever read the newspapers?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Nothing past the sports pages.’

  Ruby gave him an exasperated look. ‘It was in the news just before we left for Scotland. A man sliced a piece from a famous painting at the Louvre in Paris.’ She prodded the canvas square again. ‘This piece.’

  ‘What painting was it?’ Felicity asked. She stared at the canvas square in wonder.

  Ruby closed her eyes and a wrinkle crawled across her forehead. ‘Oh, what was it?’ she muttered. She turned to Felicity. ‘You know the one: a woman is holding the French flag during the Revolution.’

  Sam blinked at his sister. ‘Do you mean Liberty Leading the People by Eugène Delacroix?’ he asked.

  Gerald, Ruby and Felicity looked at Sam as if a baboon had sauntered up to the table and asked for directions to the public library.

  ‘What?’ Sam said. ‘Gerald might doze his way through history lessons, but I find all that stuff interesting. Weren’t you listening to Mr Bassingthwaighte in the first week of term? The second uprising of the French people against the monarchy? That’s what that painting is all about—there’s a picture of it in our textbook.’

  ‘There is?’ Gerald said. ‘I really have to stop sleeping in class.’

  ‘Who’s Mr Bassingthwaighte?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Our history teacher back at St Custard’s,’ Sam said. ‘He was banging on and on about the three glorious days of July 1830 and the people revolting against the crown.’

  Gerald nodded as he remembered the lesson. ‘It was a pretty miserable story, actually,’ he said.

  Felicity stared at the canvas square and tightened her jaw. ‘Shouldn’t we tell someone that we’ve got this?’ she said. ‘I mean, doesn’t this count as being in possession of stolen goods, or something?’

  Gerald picked up the hank of canvas and inspected it. ‘If we’re not going to bother contacting the police when a crazed billionaire threatens to kill Professor McElderry, then I hardly think being on the receiving end of a bit of high-end vandalism is too much to worry about.’

  Felicity did not look convinced. ‘We have a piece of one of the most famous paintings in the world and we’re about to do a favour for the man who probably ordered it to be sliced up like a Christmas turkey. What happens to us if someone finds it?’

  ‘I think it’s a safe bet that the French police are not going to raid a school camp in the back blocks of Scotland as part of their investigation,’ Gerald said. ‘Don’t worry so much. I’ve got it under control.’ He flipped the painting over and found the back was covered in a mottled pattern of black ink. He grunted. ‘It looks like somebody used this to mop up an oil spill. How is this supposed to help us find that black box for Green?’

  ‘Maybe the coded message will give you a clue,’ Felicity said. She stared at the piece of the Delacroix painting like it was a ticking time bomb. She turned to Ruby. ‘Did you find out anything about Jeremy Davey?’

  Sam barely managed to control a grin. ‘Yeah? How was your very first detention?’

  Ruby glanced at Sam the same way she might inspect the sole of her shoe if she had stepped in something revolting. ‘Time spent in a library is never wasted,’ she sniffed.

  ‘You mean you actually found something about Jeremy Davey?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s a library at an outdoor education camp in the wilds of Scotland, not the Bodleian. The only books they’ve got here are about tying knots, shooting deer and salmon fishing.’

  ‘So how was it not a waste of time?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Because, beetle brain, the one useful thing they do have is an old encyclopaedia.’

  ‘What? Made from paper?’ Sam said.

  ‘A real paper set of books,’ Ruby said, shaking her head in wonder. ‘There was so much dust in them I almost popped a lung from the sneezing. So while Miss Whitaker sat there planning her lessons for next week, I flicked through the volumes and came across a history timeline. Do you know what was happening around the world in 1835 when our friend Jeremy was throwing his bottle into the ocean?’

  Felicity, Sam and Gerald waited in anticipation.

  ‘Not a whole lot, actually,’ Ruby continued. ‘It was a pretty dull year. Someone tried to shoot the American President, Charles Darwin sailed to the Galapagos Islands and the city of Melbourne was founded in Australia.’

  ‘Melbourne was founded?’ Gerald said. ‘You’re right. That was a dull year.’

  ‘What help is any of that to us?’ Sam asked.

  ‘None at all,’ Ruby said. ‘But it helped to pass the time. Speaking of which, what did you achieve, mastermind? Solve the secrets of perpetual motion, did you?’

  Sam gave his sister an indignant look. ‘I’ll have you know I have made significant advances. Take a look at this.’ He ducked under the table and retrieved a cardboard box. He carefully took out an elaborate assembly of cogs, flywheels and gears.

  Gerald, Felicity and Ruby leaned in to get a better look. ‘What’s it do?’ Gerald asked.

  Sam beamed. ‘Watch this and prepare to be amazed,’ he said. He put it on the table and extended a finger to start a flywheel spinning. The wheel whirred in place, setting the contraption into a gentle hum. Then a large cog on one side started to rotate. That in turn wound a spring tighter and tighter. Two other gears sprang into motion, and soon Sam’s invention was a buzzing blur of activity.

  Then a sprocket shot out the top and pinged off Sam’s right eyebrow.

  ‘Ow!’ he yelped.

  The machine burred into a frenzy, bouncing on the table, shedding bits in a metallic storm of self-
destruction. Felicity dived under the table and Ruby grabbed Gerald for a human shield as bolts, springs and sprockets sprayed everywhere. Gerald wrapped his arms over his face to ward off the flying machine parts until Sam’s invention farted out its final flywheel, leaving a scene of devastation across the table and floor. Felicity emerged from her hiding place, Ruby released her death grip on Gerald’s shoulders and Gerald unwrapped his arms from around his head. They all stared at Sam, who sat unmoved in his seat, his front littered with metal debris.

  ‘I may have wound it a bit too tight,’ he said.

  Ruby shook her head. ‘You are a loveable doofus.’

  ‘You certainly got the motion going,’ Gerald said as he swept a pile of bits into the cardboard box. ‘But you might need to work on the perpetual bit.’

  Sam plucked a large spindle from his hair and dropped it with the other remnants. ‘I probably should be helping you solve that code,’ he said. ‘But it’s a bit hard when all you’ve got is a message from 1835 and a torn piece of painting.’

  Ruby paused in her cleaning up. ‘Sam, when did you say that revolution took place in France?’

  ‘The three glorious days?’ Sam said. ‘In July 1830.’

  Ruby thought for a moment. ‘And Gerald, when did you say the Billionaires’ Club was formed?’

  Gerald thought back to the meeting that took place in Dr Crispin’s office with Jasper Mantle. ‘I’m pretty sure Diamond Jim Kincaid started it in 1830,’ he said.

  ‘It’s interesting that the note from Jeremy Davey, the Delacroix painting and the Billionaires’ club all came into being round about the same time, don’t you think?’

  There were many things that Gerald had found interesting since arriving at the Oates Outdoor Education Centre: being attacked by Hello Kitty for a start, the return of Sir Mason Green, the threat to Professor McElderry’s life. The seeming coincidence of dates around a coded message, a vandalised French masterpiece and the club he was about to join would just have to go on the bottom of the list.