Mr. Chad led the kids south on Baker Street. They passed a library with a tall steeple and rows of tall red brick buildings. Mr. Chad cautioned them to look both ways when crossing at an intersection, for the traffic was particularly dangerous near the Baker Street tube station. He took them to a large convenience store. When they entered through the glass double doors, Mr. Chad gathered everyone around him.
“We’ve got a list of things to find, but first a life lesson: guys, don’t be shocked when women in your life ask you to do things for them. And girls, don’t be shocked when the men in your life aren’t too excited about shopping. Honestly, the only thing Gwen really needs is a map of the city so she can do her own errands.” While he tried to disguise his feelings with grumbles, his blue eyes still sparkled when he referenced the pretty teacher.
Rollie bet if Mr. Chad were honest with himself, he would admit his fondness of Gwendolyn.
“Wes, take Rollie, Eliot, and Rupert to find these items.” Mr. Chad tore off a piece of the list and passed it to Wesley. “Hazel, take the girls to find these.” He handed her another piece. “The rest of you boys stick with me. That means you, Arthur—no wandering off. Everyone meet back here in twenty minutes to check out. Do me proud!”
The children disbanded and headed down different aisles to find their assigned items.
“What do we have to get?” Rollie asked as he and his roommates followed Wesley.
“Tools. A hammer, screwdriver, pliers, and a spool of—”
“Pink ribbon, right?”
Wesley glanced at Rollie in surprise. “Right. How did you know that?”
“Miss Gram is missing her hammer. I guess more tools have gone missing, and she decorates all her tools with pink ribbons.”
“She must be very absentminded,” Eliot commented.
“Must be,” both Rollie and Rupert chimed at the same time. They locked eyes for a moment.
He must know something about the missing tools, Rollie thought.
After a few minutes of searching, the boys found the right tools and the spool of pink ribbon. They made their way through the bustling store to the entrance where Mr. Chad and his group waited. Hazel’s group had not finished yet. As they waited for her, the kids hovered around the candy dispensers.
Mr. Chad sidled up to Rollie. “So why are you here this weekend, kiddo?”
Rollie avoided eye contact with his teacher. “I told you, I’m hanging out with my friends.”
“Ya know, not only can I wear a great disguise, I can also see through one. Why are you really here?”
“Not sure I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Fair enough. I’ll tell you then. You’re working on a case,” Mr. Chad lowered his voice. “How are you doing so far?”
Rollie sighed. “So-so. I have some guesses.”
“Not good enough. You need evidence.”
“I know, but I’m not sure what to look for.”
“Dig around in your brain, around your classmates, around school—just dig around. I’ll bet the evidence is right under your nose. You just have to notice it.” Mr. Chad socked him fondly in the shoulder. “You’ll find it.” With a reassuring wink, he raised his voice to summon the children. “Hazel’s here. Let’s check out. Did you find everything? Hair products, tea bags, tools?”
Tools!
Flutter, flutter!
That was the evidence to find: Miss Gram’s lost tools. Those missing tools could incriminate whoever had them since the tools most likely were used to search for the secret passage. He remembered that not only did her tools have pink ribbons, but they were also monogrammed with GAG. Rollie grew antsy to get back to school to search for them. He knew exactly where to look first.
“Where’s Arthur?” Mr. Chad called.
“Wight hea!” a little voice answered.
“Geez, you need to grow, kid. I always lose sight of you.” Mr. Chad slapped a high-five with the small boy. “Don’t worry. I was little for my age as a kid and I was a great spy.”
After purchasing the items, Mr. Chad led the children back up Baker Street. Bypassing Sherlock Academy, they continued north to Regent’s Park right up the street from 221. Even in autumn, the park was green with manicured lawns and flowers. They crossed a little bridge over a waterway and settled on a span of lawn beside the water. The sharp breeze teased graceful willows and scattered papery leaves.
From a sharp-pointed gazebo, Mr. Chad organized a relay race with the use of sticks, a lounge chair, and a handful of pebbles. The prize for the winning team was a bag of assorted Halloween candy he had purchased at the convenience store. Rollie was so engrossed in the game he did not notice that Rupert was gone until the game was over and he and his team were enjoying the candy.
He spotted Rupert down the narrow path leading towards Queen Mary’s Rose Gardens. Looking past him, Rollie barely caught a glimpse of a man in black. The man in black gave Rupert an envelope, which he promptly stuffed inside his coat. The two exchanged a few words.
Suddenly, the mysterious man looked up. He had noticed Rollie watching them. He gave Rupert a curt nod, and hurried away up the path, disappearing around the bend.
Who was that man? One of Herr Zilch’s agents? What had the stranger given Rupert? Rollie studied the stout boy as he plopped down on a park bench. He decided to prod Rupert. After picking out a candy from the bag, he joined Rupert on the bench. The roommate did not acknowledge Rollie, but continued staring down at his feet.
“Who was that man?” Rollie opened his palm to offer the candy.
Rupert glanced sideways at the candy, but did not take it. “I told you to mind your own business.”
“Listen, I don’t want to fight with you. Just be honest with me.”
“I have no reason to. You’re just as secretive as I am. I know you were out last night.”
Rollie stiffened. Had the ghostly shadow been Rupert after all?
Rupert finally looked at him. “Are you working on some big case? Gonna be the school hero again? Why don’t you leave some mysteries for us to solve? Or are you too smart for us?”
“Smart enough to know you’re up to something.” Rollie glared.
“Everyone’s up to something. If you go sniffing around in my business, I’ll tell Headmaster you’ve been breaking curfew!” Rupert ended this threat with his famous smirk, then rose to his feet and plodded away through the trees.
Rollie stared after him, a bit stunned. He had wanted to investigate Rupert’s connection with the stranger, perhaps by trailing Rupert around or enlisting Headmaster’s advice. But he had been trumped without warning. He could not risk Rupert telling on him, especially since he was not entirely in Yardsly’s good graces with his homework. For now, he would have to leave Rupert alone.
The minutes seemed like hours as the group strolled back to Sherlock Academy. Rollie was anxious to prove Rupert’s guilt. He had to search their dorm room before his roommates settled in there for the day. Upon returning to school, Rollie paused on the fourth floor and promised his friends he would join them for lunch in a few minutes.
Losing no time, Rollie stormed into the dorm room. His heart pounded and his breathing quickened with anticipation of what he might find.
First, he dove for Rupert’s bed. He ripped back the sheets, shoved up the mattress, and swept under the bed.
No hammer.
Next, he tackled Rupert’s small trunk stored under the bed. He forced it open and flung clothes out. He chucked out other random items from the trunk: miniature toy cars, broken pencils, small rubber balls, and chewing gum.
No screwdriver.
Then Rollie attacked the desk. He yanked open Rupert’s drawer in the middle. He weeded out wads of crumpled paper, most containing drawings of little people. He lugged out textbooks and pitched them to the floor.
No pliers.
In a frenzy, Rollie checked the bathroom. The only items incriminating Rupert were his sealed tube of toothpaste and his brand new toothbrush—no wonder his breath always stunk. In spite, Rollie scattered these around the bathroom.
He could have stopped there, but he did not.
“Where are they?” He checked under Eliot’s bed. “He has to have them somewhere.”
Or did he?
The search was rapidly proving Rupert’s innocence—but not yet. Rollie would dig and dig until he could dig no deeper. Only then would he clear Rupert.
“You can’t cover your tracks much longer,” Rollie muttered.
“Crikey! What happened?” Eliot exclaimed. He stood in the doorway gaping at Rollie and the ransacked room.
Rollie snapped back from his thoughts, only then realizing the mess he had created. He stood in the center of the room and surveyed the damage. The room looked as if a bomb had exploded.
“Did you make this mess?” Eliot jabbed a finger at him.
Rollie swallowed, slightly embarrassed by his lack of self-control. “I was looking for something.”
“I’ll say you were. You had better clean up everything before Rupert sees his stuff everywhere. He’ll be so mad!”
Ugh. If only Rupert had those tools. If only he could be proven guilty. That would take care of a lot of problems.
“I’ll help you, chum,” Eliot offered as he picked up Rupert’s textbooks and stacked them back in the drawer. “Even if we had our maids, they wouldn’t take care of this mess.”
Rollie remained silent as he repaired the room. He was unsure what he had felt in those moments of fever, but he did not like it.
* * * *
Late that night, Rollie dozed while waiting for his roommates to fall asleep. Around midnight, he awoke himself and crept out of bed.
He made his way downstairs to the corner entrance of the secret passage. He hurried along the gloomy first floor passage. He spied a low doorway he had not noticed on his first journey. When he stepped through it, he found another tunnel even more dimly lit by one light bulb. A few yards farther along, he came to a crooked door. He pulled; it would not budge. He pushed; it budged slightly. Applying his shoulder, he gave it a rugby-worthy shove. With a scraping noise, the door inched open. A blast of icy air smacked him as he stepped outside into an alley. How handy to have a secret means of escaping or entering the school! He wondered if Holmes had ever found it useful.
Shivering from the cold, Rollie stepped back into the tunnel, careful to pull the door closed behind him. He returned to the main passage, and stopped at the little door with the combination lock. This time he remembered the numbers—1, 6, 54—and tried them in different sequences on the lock. The lock finally opened when he spun the combination 1-left, 6-right, 54-left. The door scraped against the floor when he pulled it open. On the other side he found a narrow staircase. He tiptoed up the steps, and crept along the continuing tunnel. Vents ran along the baseboard every couple feet. Rollie squatted to peer through one, and spied Miss Hertz’s dark classroom—he was on the second floor.
He wondered where the entrance on this floor was. As he progressed through it, he ran his hand along the wall to check for openings to give way. When he pressed a corner, it opened. Rollie poked his head through the new opening and recognized the second floor hallway right next to Miss Gram’s classroom.
Wasting no time, Rollie ducked back into the secret passage. He made sure the corner sealed up behind him before hurrying along the tunnel. He came to another little door with a combination lock. He spun 3-left, 31-right, 53-left. Through the door he mounted rickety stairs to the third floor passage. Again Rollie felt along the wall, applying pressure to the corners. To his delight, a corner opened. He poked his head through, confirmed the girls’ dormitory hallway, and ducked back inside.
Rollie worried about the time. He did not want to break curfew rules longer than necessary, and he surely did not want to get caught by the night guard. He knew he had one more door to get through. As he rounded a corner, he collided with stacks of boxes. He stepped back to survey the obstruction.
The passage was crammed with footlockers, steamer trunks, cardboard boxes, and metal cases of various sizes. Most were locked with padlocks, and labeled with tags. As he perused a few tags, he recognized names associated with Sherlock Holmes’ career:
Holmes’ Pipe Collection
Irene Adler’s Letters from Bohemia
Inspector Lestrade’s Telegrams
Watson’s Case
Metal locks guarded the boxes. Rollie knew just by looking at them that they held great treasures. He picked his way through the storage. He could almost taste the mystery in the musty air, as if the walls were soaked with history. If they could speak, what would the walls say? Which stories would they tell? Perhaps they would tell about the lifelike bust Holmes made of himself and planted as a decoy in the window while he doubled back to surprise his enemy Colonel Moran. Or maybe they would tell about when Holmes disguised himself to look deathly ill in order to fool an enemy. They would number an incredibly long list of clients of the more than five hundred cases Holmes worked. If only they could talk. All that remained of those great adventures were the Academy and its secrets, one being the secret passage and these treasures.
Rollie squeezed and scooted around the barricade. He recognized Holmes’ large tin bin full of souvenirs from his cases such as the Musgrave Ritual. When his eyes spotted a painting of a young woman, he knew it was Professor Moriarty’s artwork by Jean-Baptiste Greuze.
Beyond all the storage, Rollie came upon another door. He spun the last combination he had memorized: 8-left, 1-right, 16-left, and entered through it. He hurried up to the fourth floor tunnel. He soon came to a dead-end where he leaned against the corner, and was relieved it opened. He scrambled out, watched the corner close, and tiptoed to his dorm room. He got into bed. Before closing his eyes, he glanced at his roommates. Eliot sprawled on his back, his arm hanging over the side of the bed, his mouth open. And Rupert—
Where was Rupert?
Panic gripped Rollie.
He recounted his trek through the secret passage. Had he heard any noises? Had he sighted any shadows? He had been so enthralled with his exploration that he had not bothered to watch for the mole. He wanted to kick himself for being so careless. Some detective!
Even if Rupert had not discovered Rollie and the secret passage, he must have noticed Rollie gone. He would be sure to tell on Rollie for breaking school rules. Rollie vowed not to sneak out of bed again . . . unless absolutely necessary.
An opening door cut into Rollie’s blistering thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut, waited, and peeked. Rupert shuffle out of the bathroom and stumble back to bed. With a grunt, he rolled over.
Whew!
Maybe Rupert had not noticed Rollie’s absence. He appeared to be half-asleep. Either way, Rollie made a second vow to himself to be more watchful, especially of his suspicious roommate.