death may be the work of our enemies.’ For a moment there was silence but for the crackly sound of the music coming from the gramophone – the singing of the strings and the silvery notes of the flute – then the Chief continued: ‘I won’t mince words with you, Miss Taylor. This could be a matter of national security. If you do find evidence that Blaxland was murdered by our enemies, you will likely be in danger yourself. In that event, you must leave Paris and return to London at once and report to me, do you understand?’
Sophie nodded, and C went on: ‘Familiarise yourself with the contents of these folders. They include your instructions, and all the information you’ll need. Your train leaves from Victoria first thing tomorrow morning.’
The overture came to an end with three long notes, and Sophie realised she was being dismissed. She hastily scooped up the two folders, as he added:
‘Oh, one last thing. Miss Blaxland of course travels with a chaperone – normally, I believe, she has a lady’s maid to accompany her. You’ll need to arrange for someone to go with you in that capacity. I’m sure one of your quick-witted young ladies will do the job. Well, very best of luck. Farewell, or I suppose I ought to say au revoir.’
He smiled and turned away to fiddle with the gramophone, but Sophie paused at the door. She was still trying to make sense of all that C had told her, but in spite of that, she had to ask: ‘I . . . I don’t suppose there’s any news of Lil?’
She knew she wasn’t really supposed to ask. When they’d first agreed to work for the Bureau, they’d been told that their work would be top secret; and Lil’s current assignment was especially confidential. Even Sophie hadn’t been allowed to know where Lil was going or what she was doing. All she had been told was that Lil would be away for some weeks – perhaps months – and that she would have no way of keeping in touch. Sophie had sometimes imagined her sleeping in a tent in a desert; trekking through wild jungles; or even sunning herself on the deck of a steam-boat on a faraway ocean. Now she added, feeling rather foolish: ‘I just wondered if she was all right.’
C shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything.’ Her impatience must have showed on her face because he added more gently: ‘Not because I won’t, but because I can’t. I haven’t heard anything from her for a little while, you see. It’s not always easy for her to get reports through. Though last time I did hear from her, she was perfectly well and in high spirits as usual. Your friend is a very courageous young woman.’ He nodded her a brisk goodbye: ‘Bon voyage, Miss Taylor. Good hunting.’
Carruthers was typing very fast and very loudly when Sophie closed the office door behind her.
‘So we’re off to Paris, are we? How nice.’
‘It’s not a holiday,’ said Sophie tightly, wishing Carruthers didn’t always succeed in irritating her. ‘It’s an assignment.’
‘Oh, I know all about it. Someone has to prepare all those reports and dossiers, you know. Though I must admit I couldn’t quite believe it when I heard they were sending you undercover as Celia Blaxland.’ He snorted sarcastically. ‘Good luck!’
‘The Chief seemed to think I’d manage perfectly well. Good morning to you, Captain,’ and before he could say anything else, she swept out of the room.
She didn’t have time for Carruthers now. Her mind was whirling, and she knew she had to gather herself. She had a lot to do if she was to be on a train to Paris first thing tomorrow morning.
Paris! It was a daunting thought, but there was a spark of excitement too. Her mind darted at once to thoughts of artists and writers, the sumptuous outfits created by designer César Chevalier, grand boulevards, splendid architecture, delicious food . . . She’d never travelled abroad before, although she knew that her parents had been all over the world. Paris made her think especially of her mother, who had spent time there as a young girl: Sophie had read all about it in her mother’s old diaries, which she had inherited. She thought it would be rather wonderful to follow in her mother’s footsteps, although of course she wouldn’t have much time for sight-seeing. As she had told Carruthers, this would be no holiday: she had a murder to investigate.
The thought of that made her feel suddenly tight with nerves. She knew she was a good detective, but she’d never taken on a case like this before. If only Lil were here, she’d have made the assignment seem fun and exciting – an adventure in a foreign city. Lil was an actress, and the idea of going undercover in some extraordinary role never daunted her in the slightest. But now Lil was miles away – who-knew-where – and Sophie would have to manage this by herself.
For a moment, she saw Carruthers’ sneering face again, and then heard the Chief say: ‘Your friend is a very courageous young woman.’ Was the implication that she herself was not? But surely that wasn’t fair: her mind flashed at once through scenes of underground passageways and rooftops and standing in an empty office, face to face with the Baron himself. But that had been different, she realised. Then she’d always had Lil by her side.
As she came out into the street and flagged down a cab, she told herself she was being silly. There was no reason at all that she couldn’t handle this just as well as anyone else. She oughtn’t to let Carruthers rattle her; the Chief had faith in her, or he wouldn’t have given her the job.
‘Sinclair’s department store, please,’ she said to the cab driver as she clambered inside.
‘Off to do a spot of shopping, miss? And very nice too.’
Sophie didn’t bother to correct him. She was fairly certain that the cab driver wouldn’t believe her if she explained that she wasn’t going shopping at all, but that in fact the young girl with the blue parasol was the coproprietor of Taylor & Rose detective agency, and even now making arrangements to embark on a secret undercover mission.
A secret undercover mission! Well, there was no turning back now, she thought. She’d told the Chief she would do it, and after all, it was hardly likely that there were any other young ladies working for the Secret Service Bureau who could go undercover as Celia Blaxland.
Besides, it was not as though she’d be entirely alone, Sophie reminded herself. The Chief had said that Miss Blaxland was always accompanied by a lady’s maid. Before she did anything else, she should make sure that she would be too, and luckily she knew exactly the person she wanted to help her.
Taylor & Rose Detective Agency Sinclair’s Department Store, London
‘No. No chance whatsoever. Absolutely not,’ declared Tilly at once. ‘Look around you! I’m far too busy!’
Sophie obediently glanced around Tilly’s workshop, though in fact, calling it a ‘workshop’ made it sound a good deal grander than it actually was. In reality, the little office that Tilly had claimed at Taylor & Rose was scarcely bigger than a large cupboard. But Tilly had been adamant that she must have a place of her own to work, no matter how small it might be. She was a student at University College London, and had a passion for all things mechanical and scientific. When she wasn’t studying, she provided Taylor & Rose with a good deal of technical help with everything from developing photographs to testing for fingerprints. She had even invented several useful and unusual devices to help them in their detective work.
Tilly was presently taking a course in chemistry, which went some way to explaining why the table in front of her was covered with a jumble of glass bottles, jars and test tubes. Behind her, shelves were crammed with thick books, stacks of papers and a framed photograph of Madame Curie, the French scientist who was Tilly’s greatest hero. In the midst of all this was Tilly herself – a tall, brown-skinned girl with a lot of curly black hair. She was wearing a large apron over her frock, and what looked like a pair of old motoring goggles on her head, and her hands were placed firmly on her hips.
‘I’ve got an examination in two weeks. I can’t just go haring off to Paris at the drop of a hat to be a lady’s maid