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dedication. The sunset behind her bathed the pale
Bath stone and white-painted domes in rosy light,
glinting on windows. All was still; the workmen had
packed up their tools and departed to their homes.
Polly scraped off the paint hardening on her palette
and mixed a fresh batch. For half an hour she worked
steadily, till the last of the pink tint had faded from the
walls though the western sky was still streaked with
crimson.
She was packing up her equipment when she saw a
file of men moving through the dusk towards the
Pavilion. There were six of them, four carrying small
barrels on their shoulders. They seemed to be dodging
stealthily from shadow to shadow between the brick
piles and bushes, heading towards the south end of
the building. Polly watched them, puzzled by their odd
behaviour.
As they disappeared into a group of trees, a cheerful
whistle announced Nick s arrival.
You missed dinner, he said by way of greeting.
The light was just right. Look, Nick, do you see
those men? She pointed to where they were emerging
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from the trees.
What about them?
They are behaving strangely. They have been
sneaking up to the Pavilion as if they do not want to be
seen.
It does look as if the one in front is scouting the
way and the last man is guarding the rear. Do you
think they are burglars?
Polly tried to calm her brother s excitement. Surely
not. Why would burglars be carrying barrels? I expect
after all they are just delivering kegs of brandy or
something. The kitchens are at that end of the
building.
A wine merchant s men wouldn t be skulking in the
bushes, Nick said scornfully. Come on, we d best go
see what they are up to. He set off at a run.
After a brief hesitation, Polly followed at a more
sober pace, abandoning her painting things. She could
not leave Nick to investigate on his own, whether the
men were on legitimate business or some sort of
skulduggery.
Since Nick, like his quarry, dodged from cover to
cover and she went straight towards the corner where
the six had last been seen, they arrived at the same
moment to see the rear guard sneak into the Pavilion
by a small, inconspicuous door. Nick pulled her
behind a bush as the man glanced round suspiciously
before closing the door.
I know him, Polly said. That is, I have seen him
before. He owns one of the lodging houses on the other
side of the Pavilion.
Nick made a dash for the door. He put his ear
against it, paused, then tried the handle. He beckoned
urgently, and Polly joined him.
We cannot go in! she objected.
Yes we can, it s not locked. It s our duty to find out
if they are burglars. Forestalling further argument,
Nick pushed the door open a crack, peered in, and
slipped inside.
Decidedly uneasy, Polly went too.
They were in a narrow passage. From ahead came
kitchen smells and the sound of voices. There was only
one door onto the corridor, on their right.
They must have gone through there, Nick
whispered, or they would have been seen.
I expect they went straight ahead and delivered
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their barrels of flour to the cook, said Polly hopefully,
but Nick was already testing the nearby door. To
Polly s dismay it also was not locked.
An oil lamp hanging on the wall illuminated a flight
of brick steps leading down into a wine cellar. The air
was chilly. Rack after rack of bottles, some gleaming,
some coated with dust, stood like silent sentinels in
serried ranks.
I told you it was brandy.
Sshh, they re not in here. Come on.
Polly was amazed at how softly Nick could move
when he tried. They made their way past the wine
racks till they came to a cleared aisle. To their right it
led to a row of doors where the width of the cellar
appeared to be partitioned into several rooms. To their
left it led under brick arches into the dim distance.
There! breathed Nick, pointing.
For a moment a figure was clearly outlined against a
pool of lamplight, before it vanished again into the
shadows.
Creeping from arch to arch, they passed rows of
hams hanging from the ceiling, huge tuns of ale that
scented the air with hops, stacks of barrels marked
Cognac and Madeira, and then a long stretch of black
heaps of coal. Here and there stairs lit by lamps
provided access to the unseen magnificence above
their heads.
As they approached the far end of the cellar they
passed an extinguished lamp, and then the last one
ahead of them winked out. Once again Polly was ready
to turn back, but Nick grabbed her hand and tugged
her after him into the darkness. She did not dare
protest aloud.
A spot of light bobbed across a row of doors like
those at the south end some four hundred feet behind
them, reached the last to the left and found the lock.
Dark lantern, Nick whispered.
A hand came out of the darkness with a large key,
inserted it in the hole, and turned. The lantern moved
into the room. Against its faint glow they saw four
silhouettes follow. A fifth stood in the doorway, his
tense pose suggesting he was alert to hear the slightest
sound. Polly held her breath.
Moments later the lantern reappeared, the key once
more clicked in the lock, and the six men came
towards them. The barrels were gone.
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Nick and Polly scurried back from the aisle and
huddled behind a brick pier as they approached. They
moved stealthily, in single file, always keeping to the
shadows. For several minutes after they passed, the
watchers stayed in their hiding place.
Bloody hell, swore Nick softly. How can we see
what they are up to when they locked the door?
Polly refrained from reproving his language. It must
be something nefarious. Let us get out of here and go
and tell someone.
They slipped back the way they had come, staying
well behind and out of sight of the villains. When they
emerged into the corridor at the top of the stairs, Polly
turned towards the kitchens.
Where are you going? Nick demanded. It s no use
telling the scullery maids. We must go and find Kolya.
Kolya! Oh no! Despite her words, Polly followed
him out into the night. The palest tinge of pink still
remained in the west, and she recalled her abandoned
equipment. I must fetch my easel.
All right, but then we ll go to Kolya. I know you are
upset because he s a prince, though I m dashed if I can
see why, but he s still my friend and he will know what
to do.
Kolya was not at his lodging. They went to the
Pavilion s main entrance and asked for him. The
bewigged footman in his scarlet livery looked down his
long nose at Polly s paint smock and the coal dust on
her hem and informed them in no uncertain terms
that Mr. Volkov was not on the premises. When Nick
tried to explain that they had seen men with barrels
behaving in a suspicious manner in the cellars, he
snorted and said, Run along now, sonny, afore I calls
a guard.
As they turned away, they heard him mutter to his
fellow, Barrels in the cellar, what next! Bats in the
belfry if you ask me.
Disconsolate, they walked homeward under a rising
moon. I suppose we are making a mountain out of a
molehill, Polly said hesitantly.
They were not behaving as if they had legitimate
business there. Unless the king buys smuggled brandy
and has it sneaked into his private cellar. Cheered by
this thought, Nick resumed his jaunty whistling.
Polly wondered where Kolya had gone. Having seen
the king he had completed his business in Brighton,
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she realised dejectedly. He had probably left town for
good.
~ ~ ~
As it happened, Kolya had ridden up to Dean House
shortly after Nick left to look for his sister. He wanted
to see Polly. He had never seen her angry before, and it
had shaken his confidence that she was coming to love
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