In London, Max hung up the phone, having learned that, in addition to still going on the trip to Singapore, they would be staying with the MacGregors until they left. Ed would pick them up on Saturday morning so they could go home and pack, and they’d visit Cordelia before their flight that evening. Max wondered how Magoo and Tippie felt about having them for another couple of nights.

‘Did you get a chance to speak to Autumn at all today?’ Kensy asked her brother. She had pulled some books out of her bag and was now attempting to do her homework while she sprawled all over the double bed.

‘No,’ Max shook his head. ‘But then I was avoiding talking to anyone – which was silly because that only makes people suspicious.’

‘I tried to chat to her but she blew me off again. I know there’s something going on. She didn’t even ask why we’d had to go and see Mr MacGregor after assembly,’ Kensy said.

Max shrugged. ‘Just leave it, Kens. She’ll tell you when she wants to.’

The boy shuffled off the edge of the bed and reached into his bag, spying his notebook stuffed down the side. He’d ask Mr MacGregor if he could have a look at his library of books on codes and ciphers tonight. He might as well use his time wisely.

There was a knock on the door and Tippie poked her head around.

‘Hello, you two, dinner’s ready,’ she said. The delicious waft of roasting meat had followed the woman upstairs. Mrs MacGregor spied the cat stretched out in the middle of the bed. ‘Oh that’s where you got to, Mr Pippin. I’m sorry. He can come back down with me.’

‘He’s more than welcome to stay – we’ve been enjoying the cuddles,’ Max said.

‘Well, you must bring your books down to the dining room – we hardly ever use the table in there, but it will be much more comfortable than being all cramped in here. You’ll end up with sore backs sitting on the bed like that,’ Tippie said. ‘And you’ve certainly won that old boy over. He doesn’t often gravitate towards guests. I hope he hasn’t bitten you yet; he does that to people he really likes.’

The children grabbed their books and followed their hostess down to the dining room. Tippie quickly spread a cloth on the antique table and suggested the twins leave everything there until after dinner.

They found Mr MacGregor in the kitchen, stirring a pan of gravy on the stove. The rest of the meal had already been dished up and was in the oven keeping warm.

‘Hope you two are hungry. My gorgeous wife has whipped up a feast tonight,’ Magoo said. He leaned across and kissed Tippie’s cheek as she opened the oven door and removed two of the plates.

Kensy looked at Max and poked her tongue out, pulling a face that made the boy giggle. He attempted to cover it up with a cough.

‘Sit down, you two, you don’t want to make the place look untidy,’ Magoo instructed as he decanted the gravy into a small silver jug and carried it to the table. Tippie set the steaming plates in front of the children and went back for hers and Magoo’s.

The dinner tasted every bit as good as it looked and for the first few minutes there was barely a word spoken.

Max looked up and saw Mrs MacGregor eyeing him and his sister. ‘This is delicious, thank you,’ Max said. Kensy nodded and murmured her agreement.

‘Thank you, Max. It’s hardly gourmet, but nothing really beats a good roast, does it? Though I imagine, with all the help you have, you two are used to eating like royalty most of the time,’ Tippie replied with a dimpled smile.

Kensy shook her head. ‘Are you kidding?’ She didn’t like the way the question had been posed as if, because of who their grandmother was, they had special privileges or something. Fitz was a pretty decent cook but their mother and father were terrible and they only had proper gourmet food when Song came to stay – which wasn’t as often as she would have liked.

Max nudged his sister. She was beginning to sound rude again. It was time to change the subject. ‘Mr MacGregor, I was wondering if I might take a look at some of your books on coding and ciphers?’ the boy asked.

Magoo glanced up from where he was loading some meat, a piece of carrot and a lump of potato onto his fork.

‘Haven’t you got homework?’ Magoo said.

‘A bit,’ Max said. ‘But not too much . . .’

Magoo cut him off. ‘Another time then.’

Max felt slightly stung. Yesterday, Mrs MacGregor had been bragging about her husband’s extraordinary collection and tonight the boy was given short shrift on the subject. He wondered where the books were anyway. The front rooms of the house contained a formal lounge and dining area, but there were no bookcases. Perhaps Mr MacGregor had a study upstairs.

Kensy was one step ahead. ‘You must have to do a lot of work after school, Mr MacGregor,’ the girl said. ‘Do you have a study at home here somewhere?’

Magoo looked over at her, his now empty fork hovering in the air.

‘No, I have a rule not to bring work home – which is why I’m often still at school until the wee hours,’ the man replied. ‘But I shan’t be going back tonight.’

Kensy glanced at Max. She’d tried to find out where he kept the books, but it seemed Magoo was tight-lipped this evening.

‘Have you worked out any of that sign up there yet?’ Magoo said.

‘No,’ Kensy replied.

Max shook his head.

‘I didn’t think you would. It’s really not for mere mortals, that one,’ Magoo said, a smug grin settling on his face.

‘Well, it’s certainly not for kids who don’t have any access to brilliant coding books,’ Kensy quipped.

An uneasy silence hung in the air until dessert, when Tippie produced a spectacular chocolate pudding with ice-cream that sweetened the mood ever so slightly.

Max lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d awoken with a start and was surprised to see that it had only just gone midnight. It felt as if he’d been asleep for hours. Beside him, he could hear Kensy’s deep, even breaths. She’d been out to it by the time he’d brushed his teeth after dinner and then he’d nodded off as soon as his head hit the pillow. Now he was wide awake and no amount of counting sheep was making him feel even remotely tired. It didn’t help that there were a thousand thoughts swirling through his mind.

He pictured his grandmother lying in that hospital bed, the poison still coursing through her veins. The thought of losing her brought tears to his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.

He was thinking about Mr MacGregor too, and how the man had rebuffed him when he’d asked to see his collection of books on codes and ciphers.

Max felt thirsty. He pushed back the covers and grabbed his phone from the bedside table, along with his notebook, which he’d stashed under his pillow. He might as well see if there were any symbols on the sign in the kitchen that matched what was in the note he had tucked inside. Max tiptoed to the door, hoping to avoid any creaky floorboards. Kensy mumbled something he didn’t understand. He stopped in his tracks and waited to see if she woke up. A second later, she rolled over and snuggled back under the covers. Max turned the handle then scurried outside, pulling the door shut behind him.

His eyes had already adjusted to the low light and he quickly crept downstairs, with thankfully only the odd squeak. Once he reached the bottom he illuminated the torch on his phone.

Max wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

He leaned against the sink and for the first time since they’d arrived he properly studied his surroundings. The MacGregors’ kitchen seemed relatively new but had been built in an old-fashioned style with pale green shiplap doors and cream ceramic handles. There were black and white tiles on the floor in a chequerboard pattern, and a dark green AGA cooker stood centrepiece in what would once have been an open fireplace. There was a modern oven too. It was actually all quite stylish, though he hadn’t really thought about it until now.

There was a door opposite the range. Curious to see where it led, Max pushed it open and immediately regretted that decision when a flash of white fur dashed out between his legs. Of course, it was the utility room – he should have known that.

‘Mr Pippin!’ the boy whispered. ‘Come back.’ But the cat was not going to be told what to do, and now Max had to catch him or risk waking up the whole house. Max grabbed his notebook from the bench and followed the creature down the hallway, where the cat turned left into the sitting room. Max held up his phone and put the torch on again, scanning to see where the errant feline might be hiding. Finally he spotted a white tail swishing from under a couch. Max reached down to pull the cat out when it took off, racing into the hall.

‘Come back here,’ the boy whisper-shouted, speeding after it. This time the cat ran past the staircase towards the kitchen but instead of turning left it continued to the end of the passageway and stopped.

Max had him cornered now. All he had to do was make sure that the cat didn’t run again. The boy edged closer. ‘Hello, Mr P,’ he whispered. ‘Aren’t you a lovely fellow?’

The cat stood up on its hind legs and pressed its front paws against the wall. Max wondered what on earth it was doing when all of a sudden there was a click and a secret doorway pivoted open. Mr Pippin disappeared through it and Max ran to catch the panel before it closed up again.

Max peered through to the other side and saw a set of stairs leading down, most likely to a cellar.

The boy took a tentative step and shone the torch around, but the staircase went much further than he anticipated. He wondered if the MacGregors’ home had some sort of underground facilities like they did at Ponsonby Terrace. Though Mr MacGregor didn’t look as if he worked out that often, apart from riding his bike to school. Perhaps it was Tippie’s space – she seemed very fit.

Max continued on his way, hoping that Mr Pippin would suddenly turn around and run back towards him but the cat had disappeared.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and shivered. This was far from your typical musty London cellar. And it was nothing like the training room and workshop the twins had at home. Max shone the torch around and realised he was in the most beautiful library – probably where Mr MacGregor kept all of those books on codes and ciphers. It looked like something from a stately home, with polished mahogany bookshelves and a ladder running around a rail. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, it was almost an exact replica of Granny’s library at Alexandria, though a fraction of the size. There was an antique desk off to one side with a luxurious green leather chair and two chesterfield sofas to match. A Persian rug covered the polished floorboards and there was a globe on a stand and an automaton too. Different to Alexandria’s elephant – this one was a carousel – but an automaton nonetheless.

‘Wow!’ Max breathed. He cast his eyes over everything and saw that Mr Pippin had wedged himself between some books in the middle of one of the shelves and was now staring at Max from on high.

The boy decided it must be a favourite hiding spot – as he climbed up the ladder he noticed bits and pieces of fur here and there.

‘Come on, you naughty boy.’ Max reached out for the cat, hoping that he was in an agreeable mood.

Mr Pippin let Max stroke his head and give him a nuzzle under the chin, but when the lad tried to pick him up, the cat struck out. Max recoiled and the animal missed its target, but it was clear this wasn’t going to be as easy as just grabbing Mr Pippin and trotting back upstairs.

Max spotted a large vase full of peacock feathers. He was about to go and grab one to try and entice the cat to play when he noticed a whole row of books on codes and ciphers on the bottom shelf. Max had to take a look – it was too good an opportunity, even though he was eager to get back upstairs in case anyone else in the house woke up. Max scurried back down the ladder and pulled several volumes out, spreading them across the desk. He opened his notebook and lay the coded message he’d found in Magoo’s study at school beside them, then clicked on the desk lamp.

For the next half hour, Max immersed himself in the various codes, finding several clues that should be able to help him decipher the note. He was on the verge of a breakthrough when the hallway floor creaked above him.

He held his breath and looked around for Mr Pippin, hoping he was responsible for the noise, but the cat was still wedged between the books up on the shelves.

He hurriedly scooped up the books, returning them to the shelf and quickly checked that nothing looked out of place, before switching off the lamp. Maybe he could use Mr Pippin as an excuse for why he was down here if he had to – though the puss was now sound asleep, so it was obvious Max had been here for a while. He needed to get out . . . but he was too late. There was a sliver of light on the stairwell and a voice.

He thought for a moment. If the library was as close a replica to their grandmother’s as it looked, there would be a small space at the top of the shelves, large enough to wedge himself in and be hidden by the cornice. Max knew that because he’d used it as a hiding place when he and Kensy and Song were playing hide and seek one rainy day. No one had found him, despite their searching the room high and low. He scurried up the ladder and to his great relief found he was right. The boy lay on his stomach, face down, hoping that the pounding of his heart wouldn’t give him away as footsteps came closer.

‘I don’t have time for any more mistakes,’ Tippie said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. It sounded as if she was walking towards the desk and was on the phone, given Max didn’t hear anyone reply. She switched on the lamp.

‘It’s his birthright. He should have what’s his,’ the woman said. ‘There’s a big payday coming for all of us so long as you finally get things right.’

Max’s ears pricked up at the word birthright. It was in the note.

There was a squeaking sound – like she’d sat down on the leather chair – and a bump as if she’d placed something on the desk. Given Tippie had stopped speaking, it was probably her phone.

She didn’t stay put for long. There was the sound of wheels rolling on the timber floor and then footsteps approaching the bookcase.

Max could feel a cramp starting in his leg but he had to tough it out. There was no way he was going to be caught down here.

He could hear the woman pulling books out and sliding them back in again.

There was a loud thud, then the shuffling of pages before Tippie spoke.

‘What’s this?’

Max held his breath and listened for every word.

‘Tippie,’ a voice carried into the cellar. ‘Are you there, darling? I woke up and you were gone.’ There were more footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of Magoo walking across the room.

‘Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t sleep. There’s a lot going on. And then the phone rang and I didn’t want to wake you.’ Max heard Tippie reply.

‘Was it the clinic?’ Magoo asked. ‘Has anything happened?’

‘No,’ Tippie said. Max detected a hint of disappointment in her voice. ‘It was a supplier from overseas I’d been trying to get hold of for weeks.’

It sounded as if they were standing right below Max. He realised that, if he wriggled back slightly to where the cornice had a fancy carved niche with a small gap, he could see the pair below.

Tippie reached down and picked up a piece of paper from the floor. Max’s heart thumped when he realised what it was. He couldn’t remember if he’d hidden the coded note inside his notebook or in one of Magoo’s books. That must have been the thud: one of the volumes had fallen onto the floor and the page had flown out. Ironic, given that’s the way Max had found it in the first place. He hoped it hadn’t been his notebook, or he was in big trouble.

‘What’s this?’ Tippie asked, holding the page out to her husband, who took it from her.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake – so that’s where I stashed you. I tell you, Tippie darling, sometimes I think I’m almost too clever for my own good,’ Magoo said.

‘What is it?’ Tippie asked.

‘Something I thought I’d lost ages ago,’ Magoo replied. ‘I was just playing with some codes and ciphers – trying to outsmart myself really. I thought it was in my study at school, but oh well. Clearly I was wrong.’

‘Why don’t you come back to bed?’ Tippie said. ‘I’ll give you one of my special foot rubs.’

Max shuddered at the thought. The room fell silent and Max could hear the sound of smooching. He pressed his eyes shut, not wanting to witness a romantic moment between the headmaster and his wife.

He opened his eyes when footsteps sounded. Tippie had twirled around and looked as if she was about to leave when she stopped and stared up at the shelves.

‘Mr Pippin, what on earth are you doing down here?’ the woman said.

Magoo frowned. ‘But I locked him in the utility room. I know I did.’

‘Well, he’s always been a bit of a Houdini but this takes the cake,’ Tippie said. ‘Unless someone else let him out.’

Max could feel his heart pounding. He was trying not to breathe as Tippie scaled the ladder and grabbed the cat from his hiding spot.

‘Back to bed for you, little man,’ she cooed. Max could see her stroking the cat’s head. ‘And I’d better check on those other two as well.’

‘I must admit I’ve quite enjoyed having them stay,’ Magoo said. ‘Although Kensy can be prickly. A bit like her mother, I suppose.’

Max was glad his sister hadn’t heard that.

‘I still think it would have been much easier to stay at Ponsonby Terrace,’ Tippie said. ‘Anyway, what about I make us some cocoa before we go up? It always has a wondrous effect on your snoring.’

Max watched Magoo tuck the page into his dressing gown pocket. It was fortunate that he’d made copies. They were in the back of his notebook, which he was fairly certain was still stashed on the shelf. Tippie switched off the lamp and the pair walked to the stairs. Max waited until he heard footsteps above him before he emerged from his hiding spot.

He flicked on his phone’s torch and reached into the bookshelf for his notebook to find it wasn’t there. But he hadn’t seen Magoo or Tippie with it either, and neither had said anything that led him to believe they had it.

‘Where is it?’ Max whispered to himself. He could feel his skin prickling with a cold sweat.

He reached his hand into the case as far as he could and realised there was a gap at the back of the shelf. His notebook must have been pushed off – that was the thudding noise he’d heard. There was no way he could reach it.

Max felt sick to his stomach. He’d worked for months and months and now it was all gone. He didn’t want to leave it. Kensy wouldn’t be happy about it either. She’d want to know why he’d had all of the copies together in the notebook – and she’d be right to ask.

Max heard footsteps again above him. If Magoo and Tippie were going upstairs he was in trouble.

Max took one last look into the shelf and realised that the only good thing was that if his notebook was stuck somewhere out of reach, then Mr MacGregor wouldn’t likely find it either.

He was about to leave when he spied a huge framed family tree on the wall. Max shone his phone torchlight on it and was surprised to see the name Spencer a few generations back. Was Mr MacGregor related to his family? The floorboards creaked again. Max quickly aimed his phone at the document and took a photo, then shot off upstairs into the hall. He could hear the headmaster and his wife in the kitchen. He needed to get past the room and to the stairs without alerting them.

‘No squeaky floorboards, please,’ Max muttered to himself. He reached the doorway and saw a shadow heading towards him.

‘Magoo, would you take mine up as well, darling,’ Tippie asked, and the man turned back and headed into the kitchen. ‘I’m just going to set the table for breakfast – then perhaps I can sleep in a little.’

Max took the opportunity to flee. By the time Tippie MacGregor checked on him and Kensy, they were both tucked up in bed, Kensy snoring her head off while Max closed his eyes tightly and did his best to feign sleep.