The Painted Dragon. Katherine Woodfine

and the fellow at the stage door said you’d be here.’

      Lil’s expression shifted from shocked to delighted. ‘Well, I like that!’ she exclaimed, as the young man gave her a hearty hug – much to the interest of the people sitting around them, who all began whispering and nudging each other. ‘I hope he doesn’t go giving out my whereabouts to any old Stage Door Johnny!’

      ‘Ah, but I’m hardly any old Stage Door Johnny now, am I? Don’t pretend you aren’t pleased to see me!’ Releasing Lil, the young man turned to Sophie and held out a hand. ‘How do you do? Awfully sorry to barge in like this. I’m Lil’s brother – Jonathan Rose. Most people call me Jack.’

      ‘Jack, this is my dearest friend, Sophie Taylor!’ exclaimed Lil. ‘You remember – I’ve told you simply heaps about her.’

      Jack grinned at her, and Sophie found herself smiling back. It would be hard not to, she thought. His resemblance to Lil was obvious – and it wasn’t only that they looked alike, but he had exactly the same kind of bouncy confidence. She found herself blushing as she shook his hand, and rather wishing she didn’t look so very muddy and bedraggled.

      ‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ he said heartily. ‘I say – do you mind if I join you?’

      A moment later, he had conjured a chair for himself seemingly out of nowhere, and was sitting down beside them, while a waitress hurried over with an extra cup. ‘But whatever are you doing here?’ Lil was saying, pushing the plate of cakes towards her brother. ‘I thought you were back in Oxford. Isn’t term about to start?’

      Jack leaned back in his chair. For the first time since his arrival, Sophie detected that he was suddenly a little less sure of himself. ‘Well . . .’ he began, in a rather-too-casual voice. ‘The thing is that I’ve given it up. Quite a lark, don’t you think?’

      ‘Given it up . . . ?’ Lil’s voice was incredulous. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

      ‘I’m not going back.’

      ‘What? But . . . but . . . you can’t!’

      Jack’s voice was impatient now. ‘Of course I can! You know that Oxford isn’t for me. Oh, I had a jolly enough time there last year – and I met some decent fellows – but it was just like school all over again. I don’t want to study law and spend all my days in a stuffy office, like Father – any more than you want to stay at home and go to tea parties with Mother. You know what I want to do.’

      Lil nodded. ‘You want to go to art school and be a painter. But you know Father’s never going to agree to that He’s always talking about what a wonderful asset you’ll be to the firm. Jack, do be serious. You can’t leave Oxford – he’ll never allow it.’

      ‘Too late, I’m afraid. It’s already done.’

      Lil looked astounded. ‘But . . . how? What will you do now?’ she demanded.

      ‘That’s the good part,’ Jack said, all at once looking more cheerful. ‘I’ve got myself a place at the Spencer Institute. It’s one of the top art schools in London. All the best painters have studied there. I met a couple of the professors in the spring and showed them some of my work – and the long and short of it is, they offered me a scholarship, so here I am! Classes there began this week.’

      ‘Well – that’s marvellous, of course, but you never said a word about any of this,’ said Lil, still staring at him, her cake quite forgotten now. ‘Where are you staying? What about Mother and Father? Have you told them?’

      ‘No, and I don’t plan to,’ said Jack, rather more stiffly. ‘There’s a fellow at my college in Oxford who is going to forward on my mail to my new digs – I’ve found a studio in Bloomsbury not too far from the art school that I can afford on my allowance. There’s no sense in telling the Aged Parents – it would only upset them. If I can get myself established and get my work noticed – then I’ll tell them. They’ll see I’m serious and that this is going to work.’

      ‘Oh golly,’ said Lil, her eyes round. ‘Father will have forty fits! He still hasn’t got over me leaving home to go on the stage – and now you’ll be throwing away all their plans for you too. And you know what they think of artists. Why, they’re practically worse than actresses!’

      Jack gave a rueful grin. ‘I know. Awful bohemians who live in dirty attics and lead scandalous lives. Sounds rather fun to me. But that’s exactly why I’m not going to tell them. Do say you’ll keep the secret.’

      ‘You know I will,’ said Lil. ‘But I do think this is all a ghastly mess. Don’t blame me when it all blows up in your face.’

      Jack relaxed in his chair. ‘Thank you,’ he said. Then he turned to Sophie. ‘I say, I’m sorry to have interrupted your tea with all this family business, Miss Taylor.’

      ‘Don’t be so prim and proper, Jack. Her name’s Sophie,’ said Lil.

      ‘And what do you do, Sophie?’ he asked. ‘Are you an actress too?’

      ‘Oh no,’ said Sophie hurriedly. ‘I work at Sinclair’s – I’m a salesgirl.’

      ‘Yes, but much more importantly than that, she solves mysteries,’ chimed in Lil. ‘We both do. But Sophie is an awfully good detective. Fearfully brainy. You know that. I wrote to you and told you all about our adventures.’

      Jack laughed. ‘Oh yes, I remember. Stolen jewels – and criminal gangs – and being chased over rooftops. It all sounded awfully exciting!’ He sounded as if he hadn’t believed a word of it, Sophie thought; although she supposed she couldn’t really blame him. After all, some of the things that had happened to them over the last few months had seemed almost too extraordinary to be real.

      ‘I do hope you won’t mind if I tag along on a few of your adventures, now that I’m in town,’ Jack continued. ‘In fact, what are you both doing this evening? I’m heading to the Café Royal – why don’t you come too?’

      ‘The Café Royal? You mean that place on Regent Street?’ asked Lil.

      ‘That’s right – it’s where all the artists spend their evenings. It’s awfully good fun. You can spot all sorts of famous painters there. It’s exactly the sort of place that the Aged Parents would loathe and despise.’

      ‘Oh, I wish I could – but we’ve got a show tonight,’ said Lil, her eyes gleaming at this description.

      ‘Sophie? What about you?’

      ‘I can’t tonight,’ said Sophie hurriedly. ‘Maybe another time.’ Enticing as the idea of spending an evening with Lil’s charming – and she had to admit, rather handsome – older brother might be, staying up late was hardly an option. She was working at Sinclair’s first thing the next morning, and she knew she had to be there early if she was going to get back into Mrs Milton’s good graces.

      ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Jack, flashing her a grin.

      He and Lil left soon after that. Sophie watched them as they headed down the street arm in arm, their dark heads close together as they chattered. She turned away in the direction of her lodgings, pulling her coat close around her, feeling very cold and tired now. It had been fun to meet Lil’s brother, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that his appearance had meant that her rare tête-à-tête with her friend had been over almost before it had begun.

      As she passed the newsboy on the corner, she handed him a penny in exchange for a copy of the evening paper. ‘Good evening to you, miss,’ he said, touching his cap just as he did every day. Reading the newspaper each morning and evening had become part of Sophie’s daily routine. She told the others that it was because it was useful for their detective work, but the real reason was that she was looking for news of the man called ‘the Baron’.

      The Baron was never very far from Sophie’s thoughts. She and Lil and the others had tangled