The 100-Year-Old Secret (11 page)

“I didn't say we were going to a game,” he told Xena when she looked doubtful. “It's all true.”

“I don't know,” Xena said, and then she shrugged. “Well, they know that we're pretty good at riding the bus and tube systems by now, so they shouldn't worry. And I thought of something else.” She let herself into their mother's study and pulled out the latest box of gadgets from the testing company. She picked out a few
and showed them to Xander.

“Good idea,” he said as she shoved some of them into a backpack. You never knew what would come in handy.

The trip took longer than they thought, since they had to ride the Tube to the end of the line and then catch a bus that seemed to stop at every street corner. It was agonizing.

Pretty soon the houses started getting more and more widely spaced, and they saw yards and dogs and swing sets. Xena chewed her knuckle in exasperation. Would they never get there?

The trees were big and most had lost their leaves. The sky was growing dark, even though it was still early.

“Storm coming,” Xander said. He looked out the bus window as Xena consulted the directions to see how much farther they had to go.

Finally Xena said, “Just another few blocks,” and the next time the bus creaked to a halt they climbed off.

WORTHINGTON SCHOOL FOR BOYS
read a tarnished metal plaque on the gate of a wrought-iron fence right next to the bus stop. They looked up at the school. It was a grim old stone place with sooty walls.

“Check it out,” Xena said, pointing at the
round emblem on the metal plaque. Even through the tarnish the twisted shape of the knuckers, curled around on themselves, was just like the drawing in the casebook.

“It looks like the school's been here forever,” Xander said.

“A hundred years, at least,” Xena said as she pushed open the gate. “Come on. Let's see if we can find the dorm.”

They were farther away from the city than they had realized from the printed directions. Leaves swirled around their feet, carrying the spicy-sweet scent of autumn to their nostrils. A dog barked in the distance, and the wind picked up. Xander felt the back of his neck prickle.

“Hey, wait!” he called and trotted to catch up to Xena.

A bell rang as some students hurried past them with books under their arms. A beefy boy squinted at Xander. Another boy said, “We're going to be late for study group if you don't hurry,” and the first boy turned and followed the others through a tall wooden door.

Then Xena and Xander were alone again. “Who was that?” Xena asked. “He acted as though he recognized you.”

“He was that jerk at the soccer game,” Xander
said. “The one who stole the ball from me.”

“Huh,” Xena said. She opened the door the boys had gone through and stepped inside, followed closely by Xander.

But the corridor was lined with classrooms, not bedrooms, and the smell of chalkboards told them that they were in the wrong place. Any minute someone could come by and accuse them of trespassing. Which was exactly what they were doing.

“There's got to be some kind of a dorm someplace,” Xena said. “But we can't just stumble around until we find it.”

One of the doors facing them had a sign on it saying
OFFICE
. Xena paused in front of it. “Xander, in those letters, did Robert's mother say what his room number was?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Great,” Xena muttered. “We'll just have to ask someone.”

She knocked on the office door. No answer. She knocked louder. Still nothing. She and Xander looked at each other. He shrugged. What else can we do? his expression said. So she pushed the door open.

At first it looked like no one was there. And then they saw a body.

I
t was a man's body, right in front of them. They couldn't see his face because he was leaning back in a big chair, his feet on a desk, his head dangling down at an unnatural angle.

Xander grabbed Xena's hand. “Is he dead?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I don't know,” Xena answered, her throat tight, and just at that moment a loud sound made them jump.

It was a snore, and it came from the man in the chair. Xander dropped Xena's hand and tried to pretend that he hadn't touched her.

Xena stepped forward. “Sir?” she said. A grunt. She took a deep breath, then reached out and shook his shoulder.

He opened one eye. “Yes?” he asked. Then he sat up. “You're not students here,” he said suspiciously.

“Bingo,” Xena said.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Xander said. He didn't want Xena's sarcasm to get them kicked out. He turned his most winning smile on the man, who appeared to be a custodian, and told him the story that he and Xena had come up with on the bus ride, that their grandfather had been a student there. Xena couldn't tell whether the man was won over by Xander's charm or whether he just wanted him to shut up and let him go back to sleep, because he finally said, “Just what is it you kids want?”

“We just want to see his room,” Xander said.

“So go see it,” the man said.

“But we don't know the room number,” Xena said.

“Can't help you there,” the man said, settling back down. “Records were destroyed in a fire.”

“Where are the dorms?” Xander asked.

“Go out the main door, turn left, next building you see.”

“Thanks,” Xena said and they left.

The low two-story brick building that faced them had to be the dormitory. Curtains hung in the windows, and bikes stood in a rack by the door.

“Now what?” Xander asked.

“I think I can figure it out,” Xena said. “Come on.”

The long corridor inside was a little more cheery than the one in the first building. A worn carpet lay on the floor, and on the doors hung whiteboards with felt pens dangling on strings. “Gone home for weekend,” read one, and “Sign up for crew practice” was on another.

Xena followed her brother, wandering around long passages and up, then down, narrow staircases. A boy wearing a bathrobe came out of a room and looked at them curiously, but most of the students seemed to be out.

“I've been thinking about those letters,” Xena said. “In one, Robert mentioned that he had to get up so early that while he was getting dressed he could watch the sun rise from his window.”

“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” Xander said, getting it now. “So his room must be on the east side of the house.
This
side,” he said, pointing. “Anything else?”

Xena nodded, concentrating. “The headmaster said Robert put a toad in the bed of the boy upstairs from him—remember? So his room had to be on the first floor. There are only two floors, and if he was on the second floor, there
wouldn't be a boy above him.” The words were tumbling out of her now. “He also said that the sound of running water in the pipes reminded him of the brook at home.”

They stood in front of a door next to the bathroom. “This has to be it,” Xena decided. “The bathroom's at the end of the hall, so this is the only room right next to the pipes. East side, first floor.”

Xander knocked. No answer. Xena knocked harder, and the door swung open. They looked at each other, gathered their nerve, and entered.

X
ena flicked on a light. It looked like an ordinary bedroom, with a single bed, a desk piled with books and a lamp, a chest of drawers, and against the wall, a tall wardrobe with double doors.

Xander pulled a bandanna from his pocket and blew his nose. The place smelled like it hadn't been dusted in a century.

Xena opened the wardrobe door and looked in, half expecting to see
Girl in a Purple Hat
frowning at her from the top shelf.

“No painting,” she said. “No Narnia either,” she added.

She turned to see Xander shoving himself underneath the mattress on the bed. He pulled back, his brown curls jutting out in every direction. “Nothing,” he said, and Xena laughed as he sneezed. “Hey, it was worth a shot,” he said. “But the only thing under there is a collection of old comic books.” He blew his nose again.

“This is ridiculous,” Xena said. “The painting has been hidden for more than a hundred years. It wouldn't be anywhere out in the open.” She surveyed the room, her hands on her hips. On the desk was a small family photo. No paintings.

“Maybe it's behind a wall,” she mused. “That's the only way it could have stayed hidden this long.”

Xander's eyes turned to the wood paneling. “I bet it wouldn't be hard to pry one of those pieces of wood out and slide something like a painting behind it.”

But Xena was rummaging around in the backpack. “Aha!” she said, pulling out a small object enclosed in shrink-wrap.

“What's that?” Xander asked as she worked the plastic off.

“Remember when Dad was hanging that wall cabinet in the dining room back home?” she asked. “He said it was so heavy that screws would pull out of the plaster, so he had to find those pieces of wood in the wall, those supports—what do you call them?”

“Studs,” Xander said and kicked the wall.

“Cut that out,” Xena said. “Someone will hear you. Anyway, he knocked with his knuckles so he could hear where they were but he couldn't tell
so he got a little machine that could tell where the supports were. Well, tada!” She held up the object, now freed from its wrapping. “We have one! This is one of the gadgets from Mom's company. It's like a stud-finder, but instead it locates metal. It's supposed to be extremely sensitive.”

“So?”

Honestly, sometimes Xander could be so dense!

“Don't you see? The only place left to look is behind a wall, and we can't just go and tear down the whole thing.”

“Sister dear,” Xander said with deep sarcasm in his voice. “I think you've forgotten something. This is a painting we're looking for, not a nail. Paint. Wood. No metal.”

“Brother dear,” Xena answered, her tone matching his. “Think about the paintings we saw at the gallery. Remember the frames, the ones you thought were so cool? Gold frames. Hung with thick metal wires. Metal all
over
them.”

Maybe she was right. He didn't know if a metal detector could find gold, but those wires were the kind of thing they could locate.

“Well, okay. But how does that help?” Xander asked. “We can't tear the room up. That would be vandalism.”

“I know,” Xena said. “But if it's behind the wall and we find out exactly where it is, we can take off just one panel. I'm sure that would be okay.”

“No way,” Xander said, but it was too late. Xena was holding the stud-finder up to the wall. “Oh,
shoot
!” she said, and the look of frustration on her face would have made Xander laugh if he hadn't been so worried about getting caught.

“What is it?”

“I didn't know it needed batteries!”

Silently, Xander opened his own backpack and pulled out his portable CD player.

Xena snatched it and pried open the battery case. “You're not supposed to have that at school,” she said.

“I know.” Xander was watching her insert the batteries into the stud-finder. “I forgot I had it. If Dad would just let me download tunes off the Internet, I'd have a—”

Xena wasn't listening. She tossed the instructions to Xander. “Hurry up,” she instructed. “Get that speed-reading thing going in your brain and tell me what to do.”

“Turn it on first,” he said.

“Duh,” she answered.

“Well, you were the one who forgot the batteries,”
he said reasonably. “How would I know you'd remember to turn it on?”

“Okay, okay. What do I do next?”

Following his instructions, she moved the small plastic box over the wall. At one point the needle swung over to the right.

“Metal,” she muttered.

“But it might be one of those stud things,” he pointed out.

She moved it again, and the needle dropped back down to the left, to zero. At regular intervals—they didn't have a ruler so they couldn't tell exactly how far it was—the needle would swing over. It got to be predictable: every eighteen inches or so they'd find what had to be another stud.

Then, suddenly, less than six inches after the last one, the needle swung over and stayed on the right as though glued there. Xena moved the little box slowly and still the needle clung stubbornly to the red part of the scale.

Their eyes met. “There's something in there,” Xena said slowly. “Something made of metal, and long, like a wire or a frame, not a nail.”

N
ow what? How could they pry off a strip of wood paneling without damaging the wall? Come to think of it, how could they pry it off at all? Xena tried to grasp the edge of the wood.

“Can you get a grip on it?” Xander was breathing on the back of her neck.

“Quit it,” she said, shrugging him away. She held up her hands. “Too bad I keep my nails short.” She shook her head. “If I had long nails like some of the girls at school I could pry it up enough to get a grip.”

“What if the person whose room this is comes back?” Xander asked.

“That's a risk we have to take,” Xena said, but she didn't feel as confident as she sounded. What were the penalties for breaking and entering anyway? And did they allow you a phone call if you were arrested in England, like they did in the States? She looked at the wood panel
again and spat on her hands. Maybe with a little friction—

But before she could try again, Xander tugged at her arm.

“Look!” he said, pointing out the window.

Xena glanced out and groaned. Boys were streaming across the courtyard toward the dorm.

“We'll just tell them about the painting,” Xander said. “We'll tell them—”