Secrets of the Dragon Tomb by Patrick Samphire Page B

to stay out of everyone’s way.”
    Olivia reached out a hand as I pushed my way out of the room. “Edward…”
    â€œI’ll find Freddie,” I said, not meeting her eyes. “We’ll help you with the tables.” I headed for the stairs.
    Freddie was in his room, standing at the window, looking onto the front lawn and the drive with his back to the room. I rapped on the door and entered.
    â€œCousin Freddie,” I said. “There you are. You’ve missed the famous Sir Titus Dane.”
    Freddie turned. “So it would appear. What a shame.”
    â€œYou saw him leave?” I said.
    â€œWhat did you think of him?”
    It was a peculiar question. “Why?”
    â€œI’m just interested, having missed the great man myself.” He flashed a grin.
    I frowned. This didn’t sound like the idiot Freddie I was used to.
    â€œI didn’t like him,” I said. “I didn’t trust him.” I met Freddie’s eyes with a challenge.
    He gave a half smile of acknowledgment. “Not many would share your opinion.”
    â€œMama and Jane certainly didn’t,” I muttered, then wondered if I’d said too much. Cousin Freddie wasn’t actually family. Some things weren’t meant to be shared.
    â€œThe question,” Freddie said, “is what did he want?”
    â€œTo renew his acquaintance with Mama,” I said. I wasn’t going to pass on any more gossip. “That’s all. It’s not unusual, you know.”
    Freddie laughed. “No one has seen nor heard of the great Sir Titus Dane for ten years. This is the man who discovered three dragon tombs in the sands of Lunae Planum. The man who then disappeared in a cloud of rumors that said he had stolen the maps showing the locations of the tombs from other Martian archaeologists. Now, after all this time, he turns up here to visit someone he hasn’t seen for twenty years or more. I don’t think so.”
    â€œYet you don’t sound surprised to see him,” I said. “In fact, you seem to know rather a lot about him, bearing in mind that you can’t have been more than, what?—ten?—when he disappeared. And why did you work so hard to avoid meeting him?”
    Freddie gave a tight smile. “You don’t miss much, do you, Edward? Let’s just say that the great Sir Titus Dane may not have been seen in ten years, but I have seen that man who has just left very recently indeed. He was not calling himself Sir Titus Dane. He was calling himself Professor Westfield.” He leaned back against the window. “He is my tutor at Oxford.”

 
    6
    The Worst Party Ever
    Half an hour later, I stood watching Freddie from the far side of the lawn as he checked the tables. People had suddenly become very interested in Papa’s water abacus. I didn’t know what, if anything, Freddie had to do with last night’s intruders, nor how Sir Titus Dane fitted in. Maybe they all had algebra homework they were trying to avoid. But if I’d been Freddie, the garden party would have been the perfect chance for me to get to the abacus again. The house would be empty, and Papa would have to be at the party. For now, though, Freddie seemed content to dawdle his way around the tables, twirling his walking stick and humming away to himself.
    This was my chance to find out exactly what he was up to.
    Putty, of course, wanted to come with me.
    â€œThen who’s going to keep an eye on Freddie while I’m searching his bedroom?” I said. “And who’s going to warn me if he comes back?”
    Putty pouted. “I’d be much better at searching his bedroom. I always manage to find Jane’s secret diary, no matter where she hides it.”
    I closed my eyes for a second. “You can’t read Jane’s secret diary.”
    â€œYes, I can. Although it’s full of horrible love poetry and soppiness. Did you know that