When I woke the next morning, I made up my mind. I was going to get inside Mr. Wolfe’s suite. I would have to gather all my courage—my stomach was tying up in knots just thinking about it—but I had to do it. I had a feeling that the jewels were there—but they wouldn’t be for long. I needed to move quickly if I was going to catch him red-handed.
But how was I going to sneak into his suite? For sure, Harry wasn’t going to help me. He’d made it clear he didn’t think Mr. Wolfe was a jewel thief. Besides, if it came out that he was involved in any way, he would lose his job. And with his father dead, his mother and younger sisters and brothers depended on his wages. No, I couldn’t breathe a word to Harry about what I was up to. I couldn’t tell Bibi or Peter either. I would just have to wait in the hallway near Mr. Wolfe’s suite, steal in while the chambermaid was occupied, and search his room on my own.
“Käfer, stop daydreaming and eat your breakfast,” Mama said, breaking into my train of thought. “Papa has already left for Croydon. Peter was going to go with him, but he’s decided to stay here and draw today. Bibi and I are going to the Victoria and Albert Museum to see the Van Dyck exhibit. You can come with us. I know how much you enjoy the V&A.”
I couldn’t believe my luck! I would be on my own for hours. Plenty of time, I hoped, to put my plan into action.
“I’d rather stay here, Mama. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
Mama reached over and put her hand on my forehead. “I hope you’re not coming down with something. Perhaps we shouldn’t go.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll read my book and if I feel worse, I’ll find Harry. He always knows what to do.”
After they left, I waited a few moments before I crossed the entrance hall, hoping to slip out without alerting Peter, who was in the bedroom doing pen-and-ink drawings of aeroplanes. He had a good little business going. Lady Eaton had bought two, a gift for one of her nephews; and when a friend of hers saw them, he commissioned Peter to do three more.
My hand was on the doorknob when Peter suddenly appeared behind me. “Off to look for spies?”
I nodded. Though I couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
Peter brushed back his forelock with an inky finger and peered at me. “You’re up to something, Käfer. What is it?”
“Nothing.” I wiped my suddenly damp hands on my trouser legs.
“I don’t believe you. Tell me.” I didn’t want to say anything, but then I thought about how nice he’d been when we were up on the roof together, and I weakened. Besides, if he wanted to, he could follow me out the door. Which might ruin my plan.
“I think I know who stole Lady Eaton’s jewels—”
“The man from the stairs?” He sounded skeptical.
I nodded. “I followed him yesterday to Lyons Corner House—”
“You did what? Papa told you not to leave the hotel on your own!” At that moment, Peter looked just like Papa did when he was angry with me.
“I wasn’t alone,” I replied defensively. “Harry was with me.”
“Harry, the butler?”
I nodded again, sorry I’d said anything to Peter. Now I was going to be trapped here with him, and Mr. Wolfe might sell the jewels before I could catch him.
Peter rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he’s the thief?”
“Because he tried to steal Mama’s jewels.”
“Your imagination is getting the best of you, Käfer!”
“It’s not. Wait here.” I went and fetched the envelope of photographs from my bedside table, pulling out the one of Mystery Man—who I now was sure was Mr. Wolfe—at the hotel in Greenock. I handed it to Peter.
“Look at this! He’s changed his hair colour and style, and he’s wearing spectacles, but the nose is the same and so are the eyes. It’s him, Peter. I know it!”
Peter looked at the picture closely. “Even if it is him—and I’m not saying it is—how are you going to prove anything?”
“I’m going to get inside his suite and find the jewels. I’m sure he had them with him yesterday. He showed them to some man, but he didn’t pass them over to him.”
“And then what?”
“Then I’ll go to the police.”
Peter snorted. “Sounds half-baked to me, Käfer. Have you even figured out how you’re going to get into his suite?”
“I’ll wait for the chambermaid and sneak in while she’s cleaning his bedroom. I’ll hide until she’s finished and then search his suite.”
“That’s your plan?”
“It can work,” I insisted.
He sighed. “I tell you what. We’ll go together—”
“No—”
“Yes!” Peter was emphatic. “We go together or we don’t go at all. It’s too dangerous alone. Besides, I’m bored sticking around the hotel all the time.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve finished my jigsaw puzzle and Lady Eaton has been too busy to borrow another one for me. And I’m tired of sketching.”
Whether I wanted one or not, I had a partner.
***
From my regular surveillance, I knew a chambermaid would be around to make up the rooms in Mr. Wolfe’s corridor in the late morning. Peter and I had argued for so long, I was worried we’d missed our opportunity, but we were in luck. As we turned the corner, I saw the trolley. It was parked right outside his suite and the chambermaid was knocking softly on the door. I recognized her. She was Harry’s friend, Holly.
“Mr. Wolfe,” she called. “Mr. Wolfe, are you there? It’s room service.”
She waited a moment or two, her ear to the door, and when there was no answer, she reached for the pass key, which was on a ribbon tied to her belt. She opened the door, propped it with a stopper, picked up some sheets and towels, and entered the suite.
“What now?” Peter whispered.
“She’s used to seeing me, so I’ll just wander down and take a peek. If she’s busy, I’ll signal you. We can hide behind the curtains in the sitting room. They’re heavy. If we’re quiet, she won’t notice us.”
When I got to the door, my heart was pounding and my hands were damp. I was having serious second thoughts, but with Peter along, there was no backing down. I poked my head in. I couldn’t see Holly, so I took a few steps. If she appeared suddenly and asked me what I was doing, I’d tell her I was looking for Harry. She’d believe that.
But Holly was busy stripping the bed, humming to herself, her back to me. I turned and beckoned Peter.
“Hurry,” I mouthed.
He ran quietly along the corridor, and together, we crept into the sitting room and slipped behind the floor-to-ceiling curtains. How long would we have to wait for Holly to finish her work and leave?
I concentrated on standing as still as possible and hoped Peter was doing the same on the other side of the window.
“Holly? You in here?” I knew that voice. It was Harry.
“What do you want?” she asked as she went to meet him at the door.
“I’m looking for Käfer. His mum told me he had a headache and was staying in, but he isn’t in the suite. And neither is Peter.”
“Don’t worry.” She laughed merrily. “They’ll be looking for spies somewhere in the hotel.” Did all the staff know what I was up to? Were they making fun of me behind my back?
“I hope so,” said Harry, sounding unconvinced. “Let me know if you see them, will you?”
“Sure I will.”
Holly seemed to take forever to make up Mr. Wolfe’s suite, but eventually, she left, locking the door behind her.
Peter and I emerged from behind the curtains, feeling rather warm.
“What now?” he asked.
“Let’s start with the bedroom. You look in his cupboard. I’ll go through his drawers. Make sure you leave everything exactly as you found it.”
Peter gave me a look.
We’d just reached the bedroom door when we heard a key in the lock. Holly must have forgotten something.
Then we heard a voice coming from the hall. “All done? Thank you, young lady…”
Mr. Wolfe! We looked at one another in panic. I grabbed Peter by the arm and we dove under the bed just in time. Seconds later, I saw Mr. Wolfe’s shiny black shoes cross the polished oak floor. The door to the dressing room opened and he stepped in.
“It will only take me a moment to get it,” he called out. Who was he talking to?
My heart hammering, I peeked out from beneath the bed, a dust bunny Holly missed tickling my nose. I had a clear view of Mr. Wolfe as he picked up a wooden box from the top of the chest of drawers. Peter tugged at my shirt sleeve to pull me back. I tried to shake him off, but only succeeded in hitting my head against the underside of the bed with a soft thunk. Mr. Wolfe froze. Did he hear me? Rigid with terror, I lay motionless and held my breath. It felt like an eternity before he turned back to the box. I watched as he pressed both sides and moved a piece. He slid another piece forward and pulled out a key, which he inserted into the safe on the wall beside the dresser. Then he opened the door and removed a manila file folder. Leaving the safe door ajar, the key still in it, he returned to the sitting room.
I stifled a sneeze as I edged back, closer to the bedstead. The safe contained what looked like royal-blue jewellery bags. Lady Eaton’s jewels. I was right about Mr. Wolfe.
“You sure the room isn’t bugged?” Another man was in the suite. He had a plummy voice. That’s how Harry would describe it. I wiggled silently back toward Peter, willing myself not to sneeze.
“Positive. I do a check for bugs every night.”
“Lass uns deutsch sprechen.”
“I’m sure the British Secret Service can translate German to English,” replied Mr. Wolfe, in a flawless Berlin accent. He was no American! I kicked Peter gently. He kicked back.
“I know we can,” the other man continued in German, “but you can never be too careful and I need the practice.”
We? The other man was with the British Secret Service? What was going on? Was Mr. Wolfe a British spy? But then why were they speaking German and worrying about British listening devices?
“As you wish.” Mr. Wolfe sounded amused. “Here’s the list.”
“How many ‘enemies of the state’ have you located so far?”
“Quite a few. In fact, I just discovered one staying here at the hotel.”
“Who’s that?”
“His name is Rifat Avigdor. He’s an aeronautical engineer. Very talented man. Headed up Deutsche Benzinuhren-Gesellschaft, a large aeroplane-parts company in Berlin, before he fled with his family a few years back.”
Papa. An enemy of the state. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. Mr. Wolfe must be a German spy, and he would never have known where Papa was if I’d kept my mouth shut back in Greenock. It was all my fault!
“Interesting,” the other man replied. “Seems Claridge’s is something of a locale of choice for traitors and undesirables.” His voice dripped with distain. Could he really be with the British Secret Service? But they wouldn’t be working with the Nazis. He must be a spy for the Germans too.
Mr. Wolfe didn’t reply. The only sound was pages being turned. The file closed with a snap.
“Good work, Georg. Keep it up. When Hitler invades—and it will be soon now—we’ll be able to round them up quickly.”
“What does he intend to do with them?” Mr. Wolfe asked lazily, as if it didn’t really matter.
“I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m told. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.” I heard him stand up. “Let’s get some lunch.”
“I’ll put the file away.”
Mr. Wolfe had only taken a few steps when the other man spoke. “Georg, you haven’t been up to your old tricks again, have you?”
Mr. Wolfe burst out laughing. “Whatever do you mean, David?”
“Lady Eaton’s jewels.”
“You can’t think I had something to do with that?”
“I know how much you like money, and that theft has your fingerprints all over it. I hope I’m wrong. The work you’re doing for us is too important to be held up by you going to prison for stealing gems.”
“You worry too much.”
“Tell me I have no reason to.”
Mr. Wolfe didn’t skip a beat. “You don’t. Really, David.”
Either I was wrong about Lady Eaton’s jewels being in those bags in Mr. Wolfe’s safe—or he was an accomplished liar.
When Mr. Wolfe entered the bedroom, my heart was pounding so hard I was sure he would hear it. But he didn’t hesitate. He went straight to the safe, placed the folder in it, closed the door, and locked it. Then he put the key back and moved a few pieces of the wooden box. Satisfied it was shut tight, he put it back on the chest of drawers, carefully lining it up with a little silver dish that held loose change. He turned and scanned the bedroom. I put my head down, held my breath, and lay perfectly still. Peter was motionless too. Had we given ourselves away somehow? Suddenly, I felt a sneeze coming on. I pinched my nose hard and willed Mr. Wolfe to leave quickly. If he caught us, there was no telling what he would do. But apparently satisfied, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Achoo! I pushed my nose against the floor and managed to stifle the sneeze. Still, it made a soft, squeaky noise.
On the other side of the bedroom door, Mr. Wolfe stopped. “What was that?”
Oh no! He was sure to find us under the bed now. He would kidnap us and carry us away to Germany. Or murder us. Mama and Papa would never know what happened…
“Now you’re the one imagining things,” said David impatiently. “Can we go and eat, please…”
***
We waited until we were sure they were gone before moving. I was shaking as I crawled out from under the bed, Peter right behind me.
“We’ve got to tell Papa,” said Peter, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice cracking. His face was flushed.
“Tell him what exactly?”
“That the Nazis have found him,” he snapped.
“We can’t just accuse Mr. Wolfe. No one will believe us. We need proof, Peter.”
“But if we tell Papa, he can go to the police—”
“And what if Mr. Wolfe finds out? He could hurt Papa before the police can come and arrest him.” I shook my head. “We need proof.”
“How are we going to get it?”
I thought for a moment. “We need to photograph that list.”
“How will we do that?”
“We have to get back in here. With my camera.” I wanted to kick myself. Why hadn’t I thought of bringing it along in the first place?
“We can’t—”
“We have to. It’s the only way Papa will be safe if the Germans invade before he can leave for Canada. And what about the other people on the list?”
As I talked, I walked over the dresser and picked up the box. Made of mosaic tiles of different-coloured woods, it was beautiful. I ran my fingers over the surface. It seemed like a solid block. I tried to find the pieces and press and slide them the way Mr. Wolfe had. But nothing happened. The box remained shut.
“Darn. We need to get the key from here.”
“Let me see,” said Peter.
I handed him the box.
He looked at it closely. “It’s a puzzle box. I’ve read about them,” he said. “They make a good hiding place because they only open if you can solve the puzzle. Some of them take a few moves. Others are more complicated. Did you see how many moves he made?”
I thought for a moment. “Three, I think.”
“It’s a simple box, then, but still tricky. You have to make the moves in the right order. It may be impossible for us to open it.”
“But we need the key to get into his safety deposit box.”
“Did you see how he did it?”
I closed my eyes and replayed the scene in my head. “I think he pressed the opposite corners of the bottom. Or it could have been the top. There was a click and he moved a long piece to the left. Then he slid another piece forward. I think that’s the piece the key was in. I don’t know. It happened so quickly…”
As I talked, Peter’s long fingers, so like Papa’s, pressed the different corners. At first, nothing happened.
“It’s hopeless,” I said in despair.
Peter just kept concentrating. And then—click. A piece lifted! Peter looked up and grinned at me.
“If this is the first move, then one of these pieces should slide.” He tried one piece after another, until finally, we heard another click, and a piece slid forward, revealing several more pieces. Peter tried unlocking one after another. Success! Below, hidden in a little carved hollow lined in red velvet, lay the key to the safe.
I let out a deep breath—I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it for so long—and gazed at my brother admiringly. “That’s amazing, Peter. You’re so clever.”
“The secret is to not force the pieces. They’ll move easily if they’re meant to. And good for you. I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been such a schnell merker.”
Peter almost never complimented me for being observant—or anything else for that matter. I stood a bit taller. “Can you open the box again?”
He nodded. “I know the puzzle now. Let’s put it back and get out of here. That man is scary.”
“Just a minute. Let’s look inside the safe. I think Mr. Wolfe lied about Lady Eaton’s jewels.”
“Who cares about her jewels? It’s Papa I’m worried about.”
“I am too, but Mr. Wolfe is not going to get rid of the list. It’s the jewels he’s going to sell. And if we can catch him for both—”
“We’ve got to hurry, Käfer. He could be back any minute. We’ve been here longer than you think.”
“Just a quick look. I promise.”
Peter sighed and quickly unlocked the safe. I reached for one of the bags and untied the gold cord around it. A cobalt-blue gem the size of my knuckle sparkled up at me. A sapphire surrounded by diamonds! Lady Eaton’s dinner ring. More jewels lay beneath it.
“Look,” I said to Peter, whose eyes were practically popping out of his face. “I was right about him.” As I went to put the bags back, I spotted a folder.
“Should we just see—”
“No!” Peter put his hand over mine. “Do you want to get trapped in here? Or worse? Mr. Wolfe and his friend are dangerous.”
Peter was right. We locked the safe. He replaced the key and moved the box pieces back until it was solid again. I took it from him, put it carefully on the chest of drawers, and lined it up with the silver dish, just as Mr. Wolfe had done.
“Let’s go,” said Peter.
“We’ll get my camera—”
“We’re not coming back now—”
“No, I was thinking we should look in the restaurant. If Mr. Wolfe is there having lunch with that other man, I can take a photograph of them. For evidence.”
As we headed back to get my camera, we ran smack into Harry.
“There you are! Where have you two been?”
“Looking for spies,” I said. “What I always do.”
“Not you too, Peter?” Harry looked skeptical.
Peter nodded. “It gets boring just sitting around.”
Harry, ready with more questions, opened his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“We won’t keep you. You’ve probably got work to do,” I said.
“Right-o,” he replied, remembering he was on duty. “Your mum should be back soon and perhaps she’ll take you someplace interesting. See you later.” He hurried off.
***
We grabbed my camera from our suite and headed for the restaurant.
“How are you going to take a photograph of the two of them without making them suspicious?” Peter asked as we made our way down the grand staircase. There was something about walking down those wide curving stairs, hand on the wrought iron handrail, that made me feel grown up and in control.
“I was just thinking about that. I’ll pretend to be taking a picture of you, but I’ll really focus on them.”
Peter looked doubtful, but it didn’t matter, because when we got to the foyer, Mama and Bibi were coming in the front door.
“What a lovely welcome,” said Mama with a smile. “Your headache must be better, Käfer.”
“How was the exhibit, Mama?” Peter asked, deflecting her attention.
“It was surprisingly good, wasn’t it, Bibi?”
My sister nodded excitedly. “You should have come,” she said, practically tripping over her words. It was the first time she’d looked truly happy since the Somerville was torpedoed. “It was wonderful. Van Dyck was so talented. And guess what? He painted his first portrait when he was just fourteen! It wasn’t in the exhibit, but they talked about it. I want to be a famous portrait painter like him—”
“You could be, Bibi,” I said, momentarily distracted from the task at hand by her enthusiasm. “That painting you’re doing of Mama—” Peter gave my foot a nudge and nodded in the direction of the restaurant. Mr. Wolfe and the other man, David, were coming toward us. David’s suave looks matched his voice. He was tall and lean, with wavy silver hair swept back elegantly from his forehead. He had a face like one of the Roman busts I’d seen at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Long nose, high cheekbones, and eyes set well apart. His charcoal pinstriped suit fit perfectly and he walked with a confident air that bordered on arrogant.
“Let me take a photograph of you, Bibi, on the day you’ve declared you’ll be a portrait painter.” I spoke as quickly as she had. “Stand here. This will make a better background.” I took her by the shoulders and turned her so that her back was to the restaurant as Mr. Wolfe and David strolled toward us. “Look artistic.”
Bibi giggled and struck a pose. Click. Click. Click. I took three photographs in rapid succession. One of Bibi and two of the men.
At that moment, Lady Eaton approached, her silver-topped walking stick tapping on the marble floor.
As she stopped to chat to Mama, I bent down to pat Alfie, intent on overhearing the two men as they walked past. But Mr. Wolfe just elbowed David, nodded toward us, and murmured something. David looked in our direction and smirked. I glanced back at Mr. Wolfe, and his eyes narrowed.
I felt a chill go down my spine.