They decided the first thing to do was build a camp in Furniture Forest so they could keep a closer eye on the Emporium. Virginia wanted to go up the sycamore tree and see the beetles, but Darkus thought they should wait until Humphrey and Pickering were out, and Bertolt had strongly agreed.

“As there’s three of us on this adventure,” Bertolt said, “shouldn’t we have a name, like the Fabulous Four, or the Famous Five?”

“No!” Virginia screwed up her face. “We are not having a name!”

“But we could be called the Three Beetle-a-teers,” Bertolt said, “like the Musketeers, but with beetles.”

“What are you? Seven? Names are lame.”

Bertolt wasn’t listening. “Or we could be a gang called the Beetle Boys.” He paused. “And Girl.”

“Can I tape his mouth up?” Virginia asked. “He’s getting on my nerves.”

Darkus laughed.

“How about the Bug Detectives?” Bertolt tilted his head, looking hopeful.

“I’d rather eat my own leg than be in a gang called the Bug Detectives.” Virginia shook her head and changed the subject. “Where are we going to build the camp?”

“It needs to be a place far away enough from the Emporium that we can make a bit of noise and not be discovered, but with a clear view so we can see into all the windows,” Darkus reasoned.

“That’s going to be in the back left-hand corner,” Bertolt said. “The sycamore tree obscures the view from the right.”

“We need to make proper paths through the furniture,” Darkus said, “so we can move around quickly and disappear if we need to.”

“Can we make booby traps?” Bertolt asked. “In case someone tries to follow us in here?”

“That sounds good.” Darkus nodded enthusiastically.

“What about explosions?” Bertolt’s nostrils flared at the thought. “In the booby traps, I mean.”

“Er, I think most of this furniture is flammable,” Darkus replied with a frown.

“Of course.” Bertolt scratched his head. “Perhaps just a few firecrackers.”

“C’mon, then.” Virginia moved onto her hands and knees, crawling away through a backless cupboard. “Let’s get moving.”

The three of them set about worming their way around Furniture Forest, mapping its alleyways and dead ends, quietly moving things to clear paths and create a labyrinth only they knew the secrets of. They signaled to one another in silence as they moved chairs, lifted boxes, and slid shelves around, creating hidden doorways, wider tunnels, and paths to nowhere.

At the southern corner of the yard, as far away from the Emporium as possible, they constructed a room against the yard walls, using tall pieces of furniture and sheets of tarpaulin for the roof. They dragged in the grandfather clock, complete with resident mouse, and used the black door with the silver 73 to make the entrance.

“We should call this place Base Camp,” Bertolt suggested as he pushed a circular coffee table into the middle of the floor. “That’s what you call the camp on a mountainside, just before you get to the top.”

Darkus was rearranging shelves in a metal unit to make a wall. “Base Camp.” He tried out the name. “That’s good.”

“Look at all this amazing stuff I’ve found.” Virginia came through the door with an armful of goodies, which she unloaded onto the sofa. “A telescope for spying, an oil lamp, some string—always useful—a mirror, and a car battery.”

“This is nice.” Bertolt picked up the brass telescope and peered down it. “We could use it to see into the Emporium.”

“They don’t call him Einstein for nothing,” Virginia teased.

“I wonder if Pickering and Humphrey got into the bedroom last night,” Darkus said. He’d been worrying about the beetles all day. “That armchair is really heavy and I wedged it under the handle so they couldn’t turn it.”

“We could take the telescope and see.” Virginia grabbed it out of Bertolt’s hands.

Darkus nodded, looking about. “We’ve pretty much got the camp built now.”

Bertolt shrugged. “Okay.”

They made their way through their newly constructed tunnels to a lookout post in line with what appeared to be Humphrey and Pickering’s kitchen window, up on the second floor.

“Ooo, look at that!” Bertolt pointed at a languishing crystal chandelier poking out of a suitcase. “Can we bring that to Base Camp on our way back?”

Virginia had climbed up on top of a tall chest of drawers and poked the telescope out through a hole in the tarpaulin. “I can see one of them in the kitchen,” she whispered. “He’s putting his coat on.” She turned. “Do you think he’s going out?”

“We could go around the front and check,” Darkus suggested.

Virginia shimmied back down the chest of drawers. “Go, go, go, or we’ll miss him.”

The three of them scrambled over to a ladder they’d strapped to the wall. Scaling it and dropping down the other side, they ran through Uncle Max’s flat and out into the street. Looking up and down, they could see no sign of the neighbors, so they bolted across the road and burst into the empty Laundromat, throwing themselves on the ground behind the row of machines in the window.

“There he is!” Darkus said, breathless, pointing across the street. “That’s the skinny one. His name’s Pickering.”

Virginia and Bertolt peered over the top of a washing machine as a tall bony man, dressed in a tatty raincoat, emerged from the door beside the boarded-up shop and scurried away up the street. Darkus suddenly remembered that in a moment of blind panic he’d told Pickering he lived next door. He hoped Pickering still believed he was lying, or had forgotten what he’d said. He was about to tell Virginia and Bertolt when the gray door opened again. He grabbed them and pulled them down behind the machine.

“That’s the other one,” he whispered. “That’s Humphrey.”

“He’s ginormous!” Bertolt gasped, peeping through a gap in the machines.

Humphrey plodded off in the opposite direction to Pickering.

“I know,” Darkus agreed. “He’s the one who said he wanted to put me in a pie.”

“Wait!” Virginia looked at him. “If they’re both out, surely now is a good time to meet the beetles and see the mountain?”

Bertolt swallowed. “Um, isn’t that breaking and entering?”

“Only if we break something,” Darkus said, grinning at Virginia.

“We’re not going to steal anything—and if we’re quick, we can be out of there before they get back,” Virginia said, trying to reassure Bertolt.

“It’s dangerous,” Bertolt pointed out.

“Danger is my middle name.”

“No it isn’t,” Bertolt muttered, fidgeting nervously with a loose thread hanging from his blazer cuff. “It’s Winifred.”

“C’mon, Bertolt,” Darkus cajoled. “I swear, you’ve never seen anything like this before, and it might help my dad.”

Bertolt gave the tiniest of nods with the unhappiest of faces.