eddying in the swell of the steamers seeking a berth at St Katharine Docks.
Penny and Alfie strolled along Tower Wharf, the trees shading the promenade offering them some welcome relief from the heat of the day. Blossom hung from every branch, and petals lay scattered across the cobblestones. It was as if nature itself was trying to compete with the brightly coloured bunting draped between the street lamps. Along the walkway, sightseers mingled with river workers, leisurely gaits and ruddy faces with heads held high replacing thestooping shoulders and anxious looks that were more usually seen in a London crowd. They were nearing the south-west corner of the castle now, the throngs of people growing thicker as Penny and Alfie approached the entrance to the Tower itself.
“So what are we going to do when we get inside?” Alfie asked, a nervous smile pinching his features. “If we ask to see where the Crown Jewels were stolen, they’ll probably lock us up in the Tower too.”
Penelope shook her head.
“There must be a clue that the police have missed.” She stared up at the imposing keep.“It’s ridiculous to think that a thief could walk through these walls and stroll off with the Crown Jewels tucked in their pocket. This isn’t a story.”
Alfie arched an eyebrow, but seeing the frown on Penny’s face wisely kept his own counsel.
They were nearing the front of the crowd now, dozens of people huddled outside the squat towers that stood guard at the entrance. But beneath the stonework of the royal crest, the huge oak doors were bolted, and on the sign where the entrance prices were posted, a single word was written:
CLOSED
As the milling tourists slowly turned away, Penelope overheard a dapper gentleman as he turned to his companion. “They say it’s closedfor the King’s coronation,” he brayed. “They must all be busy polishing his crown ready for the big day.”
As the lady on his arm laughed coquettishly, Alfie shot Penny a knowing glance.
“Talk about closing the stable door after the horse has bolted,” he muttered.
Beyond the Spur Gate, Penelope could see the Bell and Byward Towers, their impregnable walls silently mocking her with their secrets. Her gaze returned to the locked gates, a lone soldier standing sentry there. There was no way she could slip past him to sneak inside the Tower. Still, if she couldn’t inspect the scene of the crime, perhaps there was another way she could find the answers she was searching for.
She thought back to what Inspector Drake had told them. The detective had mentioned numerous eyewitnesses, but only one by name: the Keeper of the Keys. From her study of the pages of
The Navy & Army Illustrated
magazine, she had learned that the present Keeper of the Keys was one Sergeant Major Thomas Middleton, the Chief Warder of the Tower. It was time to find out if he had really seen the hooded figure of the Black Crow walk through these walls.
“Wait here,” she told Alfie.
Without giving him the chance to reply, Penny set off at a brisk pace, heading directly for the Tower Warder. As she approached, the oldsoldier’s gaze stayed fixed firmly ahead, even as the dainty clatter of Penelope’s heels on the cobblestones announced her arrival. She stared up at the grizzled veteran, his dark-blue tunic and trousers edged with scarlet bands and his broad chest covered in medals. Before taking up the duties of a Tower Warder, these soldiers had served the Empire with distinction, a billet at the Tower their just reward on retirement from active service.
Penelope cleared her throat to try to attract the guard’s attention.
“Excuse me, sir,” she began.
From beneath the broad brim of his black velvet hat, the warder looked down at Penelope with a flinty stare.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“I need to speak to the Chief Warder of the Tower,” she replied. “It is a matter of great urgency.”
The yeoman warder shook his head.
“That’s quite out of the