The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow (13 page)

Just outside, he heard the great clock in the Entrance Hall striking. He had been away from his duties for a long while, he realised – he ought to hurry back to work, before Uncle Sid noticed his absence and kicked up a fuss about it. All the same, he couldn’t resist turning back one final time to examine the big cabinet where the clockwork sparrow had been displayed. He used the copy of
Boys of Empire
that was folded in his pocket to gently sweep away some of the shards of glass on the floor in front of it, and then caught his breath. There was actually something down there. Something so small, so insignificant that it must have been overlooked, caught in the narrowest of cracks in the smooth parquet floor.

Carefully he pulled it out and examined it, holding it delicately between finger and thumb. It was a long, narrow silver pin, its head fashioned into the unmistakable shape of a rose. He had done it – he had actually done it – he had found a clue!

Bursting with excitement, Billy turned and ran out of the room.

T
he pin with the silver rose lay in the palm of Sergeant Gregson’s outstretched hand, and Sophie felt her heart drop to her boots. ‘Well?’ he asked again, a note of triumph in his voice.

‘It’s mine,’ said Sophie, grimly.

Mr McDermott was watching her gravely. Of course, they must already know that the hatpin belonged to her. It was no use pretending that it didn’t. She knew precisely what Sergeant Gregson would make of this. No matter that the pin could have fallen from her hat at any time, under perfectly innocent circumstances. The fact that it had been discovered in the Exhibition Hall, right beneath the cabinet where the clockwork sparrow had been displayed, would be more than enough to secure her guilt in his eyes.

‘I see,’ said Gregson, with satisfaction. ‘I thought as much. And how exactly do you propose to explain this, Miss Taylor?’

‘I don’t attempt to,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t have any idea how it came to be there, but I don’t believe it proves anything.’ She was determined not to let Gregson intimidate her. ‘I wear it often. I could have dropped it any time. You already know that I saw Mr Cooper in the Exhibition Hall on the way out of the store. Perhaps I dropped it then. It could easily have fallen out of my hat without me even noticing.’

Gregson contemplated her steadily. Beside him, Mr Cooper looked on with a solemn face, whilst in the corner of the room, Mr McDermott’s expression was impassive.

‘It seems odd that your men didn’t notice it when you searched the Exhibition Hall before,’ Sophie went on. ‘Perhaps someone put it there.’

‘Miss Taylor, please,’ Gregson snapped. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that someone intends to frame you?’

‘I don’t know. All I do know is that when my lodging-house room was searched – by your men – some of my things went missing. It seems rather convenient that my hatpin has now been found here, don’t you think?’

Gregson’s face clouded over. ‘I am not sure exactly what you are implying, but I don’t care for your tone, Miss Taylor. And what is all this about your lodgings being searched?’

‘I’m sure you already know all about it, Sergeant.’

‘On the contrary.’

‘It was yesterday evening,’ said Sophie, suddenly disconcerted. ‘Some policeman came to my rooms when I was out and they turned the place upside down. I assumed you had sent them.’

Gregson was staring at her. ‘There has been no search of your lodgings authorised by me,’ he said shortly. ‘I can assure you of that.’

Sophie looked back at his stern face, confused. ‘But – my landlady said they were policemen.’

‘Did she really?’ said Gregson sarcastically, looking as if he was entirely convinced the whole story was no more than her own ridiculous fabrication.

Awful fingers of cold dread began to sweep over her. It was clear that they didn’t believe a word that she was saying. Gregson was writing notes; Mr Cooper wouldn’t even meet her eye. What if they actually arrested her? Surely they couldn’t do that – surely they wouldn’t, not without any real evidence? Visions of dank police cells swam suddenly before her eyes.
Keep calm, keep your head, keep a stiff upper lip
, she told herself.

‘Please listen to me – I didn’t steal anything. I had nothing to do with this,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘But – but I think I can tell you who did,’ she finished, a note of desperation creeping in.

Gregson looked up suddenly from the notes he was writing. ‘What?’ he barked out.

‘We were going to wait until we had found out more, but – well, we discovered something. A note, written in code.’ She turned to Mr Cooper. ‘It was in the stable-yard. Right where Bert was shot,’ she added. ‘It mentioned the sparrow and seemed to be from someone called “Baron”.’

Mr Cooper glanced away, as if embarrassed. Gregson stared at her for a long moment. Then he suddenly began to laugh scornfully. ‘Nonsense!’ he said, finally. ‘Utter poppycock! Coded messages – really Miss Taylor, this is beneath you. A man has been shot – this is a very serious matter. Please do not waste our time with this sort of bunkum. I have had quite enough for one day.’

Sophie’s cheeks burned scarlet with mortification, but the sergeant wasn’t even looking at her any more, instead he was blotting his paper with fastidious care. He nodded briskly to Mr Cooper, and the two left the room. Sophie could hear the buzz of their voices outside the door, but not what they were saying. The room was completely silent, but for Mr McDermott coughing once, a low, hollow sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the two men returned, but Gregson did not sit back down. ‘That will be all for today, Miss Taylor,’ he said shortly. ‘But do not be deceived. We are watching you closely.’

He picked up his papers from the table and went out of the room again. McDermott nodded briefly to Sophie and Cooper and then made his exit too. Sophie was trembling, but she knew that it was more from anger than it was from fear. How dare he speak to her like that – and dismiss what she had to say with such contempt? Mr Cooper was still sitting watching her gravely and she struggled to keep her composure.

‘May I go now, sir?’ she asked. She began to rise, but Cooper shook his head and gestured for her to sit back down.

‘Sophie,’ he began, placing his hands together, and her heart fell again at the sombre tone of his voice. ‘I hope you realise that all this puts me in a most difficult position. You have already shown you are a very capable member of our staff. But all this suspicion is not good for the store. It is not good for the other staff. Sinclair’s is the finest store in London: we simply cannot have this kind of atmosphere.’ His voice dropped lower. ‘If I could make an exception for you, I would. But the standard cannot be allowed to slip. I must be able to trust all my staff completely. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I am going to have to let you go.’

Sophie gazed at him, dumbfounded. Of everything that could have happened, she had never expected this. ‘But I didn’t have anything to do with it, Mr Cooper! You must know I didn’t! It’s just . . . silly speculation, that’s all!’

‘I’m sorry, Sophie,’ said Mr Cooper again. ‘It’s probably best that you leave at once. Here are a week’s wages.’

Sophie gazed disbelievingly at the long envelope he had placed in her hand, addressed to her in neat copperplate handwriting. After everything she had done to work hard and do the best she possibly could – all it came down to was this envelope. She was suddenly filled with a fiery desire to rip it into a million pieces in front of him.

Finally, as if conferring a great favour, Mr Cooper added: ‘Perhaps I could send a letter of recommendation to Huntington’s store?’

Huntington’s! Sophie felt ill. She had heard that the salesgirls there were expected to work fourteen-hour days and to sleep in communal dormitories above the shop, but were paid only a few meagre shillings a week.

‘You can go now,’ said Cooper, rising from his chair. ‘We shall be in touch if the police need any more help with their enquiries.’

Sophie was speechless. Somehow she found herself out of the office, still holding the envelope crumpled in her hand. Billy was there, catching hold of her arm, saying something to her in an urgent voice, but she couldn’t distinguish any of his words.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she managed to mumble. ‘They’ve let me go.’

All she could think was that she had to get out of the store as fast as possible, before anyone could see her. She hurried down the stairs, taking the most direct route through the shop. Everything seemed to blur around her: the looking-glasses, the palms, the cloud-painted ceiling. The light from the chandeliers fragmented and smeared before her eyes, but she didn’t stop, elbowing her way past shoppers, muttering ‘excuse me please,’ dodging a porter with a stack of boxes, and finally pushing through the door that led to the cloakrooms. She put on her hat and coat and gloves and picked up her umbrella as if she were walking in her sleep. As she hurried towards the staff entrance and went down the steps, the shocked whispers of the shop girls and the salesmen, the porters and the drivers, seemed to boom and resound in her ears.

‘They’ve dismissed her!’

‘They’ve given her the old heave-ho!’

‘Blimey, do you reckon she really
did
do it, then?’

It was only as she joined the crowds out on the street that Sophie realised she would never go back to Sinclair’s again.

‘B
illy!
Billy!
’

Billy could hear Uncle Sid cursing him out in the yard, but he didn’t move from the stable. He knew he would be in trouble when his uncle finally tracked him down, but he stayed where he was, close beside Bessy’s comforting warmth as she quietly crunched sugar lumps from his palm.

‘I thought you might be here,’ said a voice behind him. Lil came up to stroke Bessy’s nose too. ‘Your uncle’s making a jolly big row out there, looking for you.’

‘He can chuck it,’ said Billy furiously.

Lil looked at him keenly. ‘It wasn’t your fault, you know,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have had any idea that pin belonged to Sophie.’

‘I should never have taken it to them.’

‘How could you have known they would dismiss her? It’s perfectly ghastly of them,’ Lil shook her head, as if in disbelief. ‘I wish I’d been able to see her before she left. I’m going to go round to her lodgings just as soon as I’ve finished with the dress show and make sure she’s all right.’

‘I tried to go after her, but she just rushed off,’ Billy went on, sounding rather mournful now. ‘I just . . . really thought I could do something to help.’

‘Well maybe you still can,’ said Lil. ‘You mustn’t give up now. You’re the one who knows about this sort of thing, aren’t you? You’re the one who guessed that message was a code. So buck up, and help me think. What do we do now?’

Billy looked up, surprised to hear the purposefulness in her voice. For a moment he looked unsure, then the wisp of a smile came over his face. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I will. We ought to go and talk to Joe.’

‘Joe?’ Lil’s brown eyes flamed with interest. ‘The one who saw the shooting? Is he still nearby, then?’

Billy had forgotten that Lil and Sophie didn’t know he was hiding Joe in the basement. If he told Lil, she might want to go and report him to Mr Cooper. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to trust her. Then he made up his mind.

‘He’s in the basement,’ he said briefly. ‘He’s hiding there.’

‘Why?’ asked Lil.

‘Nowhere else to go. He was in a gang and now they’re after him. I found a place for him to hide out – just until his arm gets better, you know.’

‘Gosh – but what if Cooper finds him down there?’

‘I don’t think he will. Joe’s good at hiding.’

Lil took this in for a moment. ‘Can I come and meet him?’ she asked.

Billy shrugged. ‘If you want,’ he said.

Once again, they descended into the basement, and went along the deserted corridors towards the empty storerooms. Lil was following Billy this time: it was obvious that he knew his way much better now. He led the way down a couple of long, snaking passages, until they came to a room with two high windows that let in slanting rays of light. It looked deserted, so Lil was startled when Billy gave a low whistle and a boy appeared, as if he had materialised out of the shadows. He looked equally surprised to see her standing beside Billy, and immediately took a step backwards.

‘This is Lil,’ said Billy, gesturing to her in an awkward attempt at an introduction. ‘She’s a friend of Sophie’s. This is Joe.’

Coming closer, Lil took in the young man. He was probably about sixteen, her own age, tall and square-shouldered, but very gaunt and thin. His dark hair was messy and tangled, and his dark-shadowed eyes slid quickly away from hers. His injured arm was bound up with a dirty cloth, and the rest of his clothes looked old and shabby. He glanced at her uncertainly, and sensing his discomfort, she sat down on a box in the corner of the room, letting Billy talk. He was already telling Joe about all that had happened in the last few hours: the hatpin, Sophie’s dismissal and the coded message. As Billy related what it had said. Joe looked astonished, and all at once, his wariness seemed to fall away.

‘I don’t believe it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t blooming believe it! I came all the way over here to be rid of him, and blow me if the Baron ain’t here too.’

‘But who is he – this Baron?’ asked Lil, finally losing her struggle to stay quiet.

‘He’s the man that Joe used to work for,’ said Billy. ‘He’s the boss of a big East End gang.’

Joe snorted. ‘Not just any boss.
The
boss. The Baron’s the biggest fish there is – finger in every pie. I suppose he’s got a finger in this one too. I should’ve known.’ He gazed at them both for a long moment, then shook his head. ‘I can’t believe that neither of you has ever heard of the Baron.’

‘This must have been his instructions,’ Billy was saying, taking out his piece of paper again. ‘A coded message, telling someone to steal the sparrow that night.’

Lil gazed at it, intrigued. ‘I wish we understood what the instructions mean. It’s so jolly mysterious. Do you think
underground
might mean the underground railway?’