The Painted Dragon. Katherine Woodfine

exclaimed a gentleman in a top hat.

      ‘Oh blimey,’ said Uncle Sid. ‘Joe – Billy – get after them – quickly!’

      Joe and Billy chased after the two dogs, who were now racing up the main staircase – and Mr McDermott and Sid hurried along behind. After a moment’s pause, Sophie followed too. She knew she had already been far too long delivering the hat-boxes, but she simply couldn’t resist seeing what would happen next.

      The two dogs bounded up the stairs, darting between customers, upsetting a porter with a stack of boxes, and knocking over a small boy in a sailor suit, who began to wail. One lady screamed as the big Alsatian rushed past her, but luckily Uncle Sid was there in the nick of time, with a steadying arm. ‘I do apologise most sincerely for this unseemly disturbance, madam,’ Sophie heard him saying in his politest voice.

      Upstairs, the dogs had dashed along the gallery and through the Stationery Department, sending sheets of writing paper and envelopes fluttering up into the air, and upsetting several bottles of coloured ink. They paid no heed to the chaos left behind them, or the angry salesman shaking his fist as they raced on, with Billy and Joe hot on their heels. They careened past the door to the Library, where a very serious-looking lady looked over her spectacles in great disapproval. Finally, they shot through the door into the mannequins’ dressing room: for a moment, the two boys hesitated on the threshold, and looked at each other.

      ‘We’re not allowed to go in there!’ hissed Billy.

      A cacophony of shrieks and yells were heard from within, followed by the distinct sound of tearing fabric, and then Claudine screaming something very angry in French.

      ‘I think we better had,’ said Joe, and dived through the door, Billy following close behind him.

      Some more yells were heard, but a few moments later, the two boys emerged, each leading a dog, and looking rather red in the face. Daisy had the remains of what looked like a long white glove in her mouth. Lucky, meanwhile, was dragging a chewed feather boa behind her, wriggling her little tail in pride and delight.

      Sophie couldn’t help laughing. McDermott was grinning too. Behind them, Uncle Sid panted along the passageway, having safely delivered the swooning lady to the Ladies’ Lounge, smoothed down the rumpled feelings of the salesman in the Stationery Department, and extended all due apologies to the lady in the library. Now, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, shaking his head.

      ‘Crikey,’ he gasped. ‘I reckon this art business is a whole lot more trouble than it’s worth.’