They drove round to the back of the house, where Molly parked the van. Now they had to unload all the sandwich supplies – a task that involved a great deal of fetching and carrying. At last they had everything stacked on a large worktable in the kitchen, ready for the sandwiches – all two thousand of them – to be prepared.

If you’ve ever made two thousand sandwiches – or even ten, for that matter – you’ll know that you have to employ some sort of system. That means that you have to lay out at least twenty slices of bread, and then butter all of them before you start to add the fillings, spreading these over several pieces of bread at the same time, using the largest knife you have. Max soon got the hang of this, and in no time at all he and his mother had made a plateful of sandwiches.

“That’s a start,” Molly said, smiling at her son. “If we carry on like that, we’ll be all right.”

They were not the only people working in the kitchen. Although there was no sign of any members of the Grabber family – they thought themselves far too important to stick their noses into the kitchen – their head steward came to inspect progress from time to time. He was an unpleasant-looking man with small, suspicious eyes, and he moved about the kitchen like a shark patrolling a bay. He checked up on the woman who was preparing jug after jug of lemonade; he tasted the cakes being baked in great ovens, by a baker specially brought in for the job; and he picked up a sandwich now and then to make sure it was just right.

Fortunately, the sandwiches met with his approval. “These are good enough,” he said. “But don’t let me see you slacking! Everything must be perfect by the time the guests arrive.”

It was hard work, and Molly could see that Max was getting tired.

“You should take a bit of a break,” she said. “I can carry on here while you go outside for a little while. Go on, you deserve it.”

Max was pleased to be able to lay aside his breadknife. Slicing loaf after loaf of bread was a demanding task, and his arms were beginning to ache. He looked about him. There were several doors leading out of the kitchen and he could not remember which was the one they had entered through. One of them though looked familiar, and he decided to go through that.

He was wrong. The door he chose did not lead outside, but opened into a long, dimly lit corridor. Max quickly realised his mistake and turned to go back into the kitchen. But now he found, to his alarm, that the door had locked itself behind him and that no matter how he turned the handle, it refused to open.

After trying fruitlessly to open the door, he decided to knock loudly, to attract attention inside the kitchen. This did not work either. Not only was the kitchen a very large room, but there was also a great deal of noise being made by a mixing machine being operated by the baker. This meant that nobody heard his knocking.

There was only one thing to do, and that was to see whether he could find his way outside through any of the other doors further along the corridor.

The first door was no use, as it was firmly locked. He had better luck with the second door though, and he was able to push this open slowly. As he did so, he saw something that made him give a start of surprise. On this door was a sign on which a few words had been painted. It was not a large sign, and it would have been easy to miss it, but Max did see it, and he read out the words under his breath. This is what the sign said: OTHER PEOPLE’S STUFF.

Max thought perhaps he had misread the sign, and so he read it out again, just to be sure. It still said the same thing: OTHER PEOPLE’S STUFF.

His curiosity firmly aroused, Max opened the door further, so that now he could see what lay beyond. And it was an extraordinary sight. Max found himself standing in a room entirely lined with shelves, from floor to ceiling. A few of these shelves were empty, but most of them were filled with objects of every description. He noticed an old gramophone – one of those ancient machines with a large brass horn, out of which the music came. He spotted a pair of skis and a model boat in a glass case. He saw several Chinese vases, brightly painted with scenes of people playing and dancing. He saw bundles of documents, all tied up with red tape. There seemed to be something of just about everything you could ever think of.

Max hesitated. He knew that he should not be in this room, and that if he were found, he would be in trouble. But something told him that he simply had to take a closer look at all these things. And what did that sign mean? Did all these things belong to other people, and, if so, what were they doing stacked up in this room?

And then the answer came to him. It came to him like a light being turned on in the darkness. These things were all stolen goods – everything here was, as the sign made clear, other people’s stuff!

Another thought came to him. Was there a chance – just the slightest chance – that if he started to search this room, he might find the long-lost Ideas Book – the book of plans that had been taken by Mr Grabber when he had acquired Grandfather Gus’s factory all those years ago? The thought made Max’s heart beat faster and faster. Yes. He would look for it. He would never again get the chance, and he would not miss it now. He would search for the book and, if he found it, he would take it back to Grandfather Gus. He knew there was a danger that he would be caught, but he loved his grandfather and he would take any risk for him – any risk at all.