The Midnight Peacock. Katherine Woodfine

but the boy detective’s intrepid adventures did not really catch her attention. Instead, as the train gathered speed, rattling and bumping its way through the London suburbs, she stared out of the window as streets and the untidy backs of houses gave way to a landscape of bare trees and empty fields. It was a long time since she had been out of the city, and she found herself gazing at the black silhouettes of birds swooping against pebble-grey clouds and rough brown hedgerows, dusted with glittering frost like sugar on a cake.

      The light was already ebbing out of the day, the sky heavy with the promise of more snow to come. Their compartment was only dimly lit and it was quiet too, with no sounds but the rattle of the train, the scratch of Jack’s pencil and the occasional soft flicker of pages turning. After an hour or more had passed, Sophie heard a decorous little snore, and glanced over to see that the old lady had nodded off to sleep over her magazine, her pince-nez still perched on the end of her nose.

      They felt more able to talk in low voices after that, and Lil passed around the packet of chocolate, which had got rather warm and squashy from being in the pocket of her coat. Between them, the two girls quickly told Jack all about Miss Pennyfeather’s mysterious letter – and their plan to pay a visit to Colonel Fairley.

      Jack listened with great interest. ‘Do you suppose this fellow was someone your father knew in the Army?’ he asked.

      ‘I suppose so,’ said Sophie. ‘I know he had a lot of Army friends – they used to come and visit us sometimes. But I don’t remember ever meeting a Colonel Fairley.’ She paused for a moment. ‘The thing I can’t help thinking is – if they really were such awfully good friends, if he was the person we were supposed to go to if we found ourselves in trouble – then, why didn’t he contact us when Papa died? Or come to his funeral? There were notices in all the newspapers, so he must have known about it.’

      ‘Maybe he was away – travelling perhaps?’ suggested Lil.

      ‘Perhaps,’ said Sophie. ‘But then why wouldn’t he have tried to get in touch when he got back home? It all seems so odd.’

      Jack had a sudden thought: ‘Do you suppose – well, it couldn’t have anything to do with your father’s connection to the Baron, could it?’

      Sophie opened her mouth to reply – and then closed it abruptly. She had caught a sudden gleam from behind the old lady’s pince-nez. Her eyes were no longer quite closed, and she suddenly had the peculiar sense that the old lady was listening. Not idly eavesdropping on a conversation, but alert, actively paying attention to every word they said.

      Just then, the train hurtled into a tunnel, and the compartment was plunged into darkness. When the greyish light seeped back in, the old lady was simply drowsing once more, her eyes shut. Sophie frowned. With the other two watching her curiously, she tilted her head in the direction of the old lady and then put her finger to her lips. After a quick, surprised glance, Lil began to talk airily about the new play she would be rehearsing in January. For the rest of the journey they all kept their conversation carefully general, as the train rattled onwards towards Alwick, and Winter Hall.

PART II

       The Case of the Hidden Passage

       Montgomery Baxter tapped the panelled wall sharply with his knuckles. The sound was hollow. ‘I thought as much. Gentlemen – this room conceals a secret passage!’