Lucy always liked to have a last look out of the window each evening before going to bed. Treading carefully so as not to wake Becky, who would give Lucy a bad-tempered earful if woken, she went to the window and opened the curtains a little. Under the bright stars, the wildlife park was calm and still apart from the shadowy outline of one of the giraffes strolling along. Bertie had informed her that giraffes only slept in short bursts because they had to get up frequently to keep their circulation moving.
Eventually Lucy yawned and closed the curtains. She changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed. Narrowly escaping death at the hands of a stone angel really was a tiring business and she was looking forward to having a good rest.
It seemed as though she’d only been sleeping for a few minutes when the screaming woke her.
Lucy leaped out of bed and stood shivering in the dark. Something banged in the house below.
“Did you hear that, Goodly?” Becky asked, sounding frightened. Lucy could see the housemaid’s shadowy form sitting up in bed.
“Y-yes.”
Usually Becky would have made a nasty comment about Lucy’s shaky reply as she never missed a chance to be horrid. But fear seemed to be bringing out her best side as she simply said, “We need some light.”
There was the scrape of a match and welcome candlelight began to flicker and glow. United for once, Lucy and Becky hurried out into the hallway. Mrs Crawley was already there, carrying a candle. She was wearing a pair of unlaced boots and had flung a coat over her beribboned nightdress, but her beard was still in the three plaits she always wore it in for bed. She looked unusually stern.
“You girls stay here,” she said as she headed towards the stairs. “I mean it, Lucy!”
Mrs Crawley clattered off, almost tripping over her bootlaces in her haste. Lucy waited for around a minute before setting off after her with Becky in tow. They followed the sound of voices and commotion, which led them to the bottom of the house and the entrance hall.
The whole household had gathered there. The enormous front door stood open. A huge hole had been gouged out where the lock had once been and the lion’s-head knocker had a dent in it. Vonk, the butler, was sitting on the tiled floor, a blood-soaked handkerchief held to his head.
“Oh,” Becky whispered. “Look at Vonk. All that … all that … I think I’m going to …” She slumped to the floor. Nobody noticed apart from Lucy, who quickly bent over Becky to make sure the housemaid had simply fainted. Lucy knew she should really attract the attention of one of the grown-ups, but she wanted to take the chance to have a closer look at what was going on. Becky would come round on her own soon enough with no harm done.
She moved closer to the knot of Grave Hall residents and guests. Mrs Crawley was helping Vonk to his feet.
Lord Grave was there too. He was very shaky still from his own injuries and was having to be steadied by Bertie. Lady Sibyl and Lord Percy were carefully inspecting the damage to the front door. Lucy spotted Smell, nipping between people’s legs and sniffing around. He trotted over to her, casting a cautious look at Becky.
“It’s all right; she’s only fainted.”
“That your doing, Luce? I know you don’t like ’er, but—”
“No! I think it was the blood that set her off. What’s happened to Vonk?”
“Tussle with a burglar. Don’t know ’ow they managed it; that door is as strong as they come. Vonk was ’aving ’is bedtime cocoa in the butler’s pantry. ’E ’eard a kerfuffle. Someone was out ’ere, about to take off with that notebook you found.”
Lucy gasped. “It’s been stolen? Oh, but it was our only clue!”
“What’s been stolen?”
The sleepy voice behind Lucy made her flinch in surprise. She wasn’t the only one to be startled. Being a cat, Smell’s reflexes were much sharper than Lucy’s and he leaped several metres into the air, his back arched.
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