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you’ve got money why would you steal?’ said Esther.
    â€˜I’d still steal even if I had all the money in the world,’ said Tom. He took a large bite from his pear. ‘Swiped stuff tastes better than bought stuff.’
    When they reached the address at the top of the hill, they pressed the bell for the upper-floor flat and waited until an upstairs window slid open.
    â€˜Go away,’ called a low voice.
    â€˜We’ve a delivery for Mr G. Hayman,’ said Esther.
    â€˜Mr G. Hayman, the world renowned novelist hailed by the
New York Times
as one of the most important writers of a generation?’ said the voice. There was something odd about its tone. There was an American accent, but it wasn’t just that.
    â€˜We have a letter for him,’ said Esther. ‘We’re to deliver it into his hand alone.’
    â€˜Well, I’m afraid his hands are currently otherwise engaged in the act of writing his latest bestseller,’ replied the odd voice.
    â€˜People only write with one hand,’ said Esther. ‘Perhaps he could use the other to take this letter then we can be on our way.’
    â€˜Oh, for goodness’ sake, wait there.’
    The window slammed shut again and the orphans heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They saw a movement behind the frosted glass. They were expecting the silhouette to belong to Mr Hayman himself so it was a surprise when the door opened and they found themselves staring at an attractive young woman with neatly cropped hair and a smart, tailored gentleman’s suit.
    â€˜For all the deadly perils faced by my hero, I fear he will eventually fall foul of death by interruption,’ snapped the woman. ‘Come on then, let’s have this letter.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, lady,’ said Tom. ‘We’ve instructions to deliver it directly to Mr Hayman.’
    The woman held out her hand. ‘I assure you that this is the hand you seek,’ she said. ‘And if you continue to waste its time it will soon be clipping you around the ear.’
    â€˜You ain’t a fella,’ said Tom. ‘You’re a lady.’
    The woman gasped with mock horror. ‘A lady?’ she said. ‘You think a delicate lady’s hand could have penned such richly woven classics as
The Contract of Alderly Edge
,
The Malmesbury Mystery
and
The Bloodstain of Boulge Hall
?’
    â€˜I  … ’ began Tom.
    â€˜Tom,’ said Esther. ‘I think this is Mr G. Hayman.’
    â€˜At least one of you has a brain,’ said the woman. ‘No surprises that it is the female.’
    Tom sulkily handed over the letter.
    The author opened it, quickly skimmed its contents and looked at the orphans. ‘I’ll wager that Lord Ringmore is behind all this,’ she said. ‘I swear he contrives to have more mystery and drama in his life than I could ever cram into one of my novels. Now, I’ll have to ask you both to leave. If I am to make this appointment I will have to double my efforts to get this novel finished.’
    She winked at Esther then slammed the door in their faces.

Chapter 9
Formation
    When Miss Georgina Waters had first arrived in London ten years ago from New York she had been struck by the differences. If England was the motherland, she wondered, then why was it so relentlessly male in its attitudes? It had been her publisher’s idea to use a male pseudonym for her first novel. She had spoken out vehemently against it at first but, since her fiction relied so heavily on elements of the supernatural, she saw the point that under female authorship, the critics could too easily dismiss her book as irrelevant fancy. Her publisher’s instincts had proved sound.
The Contract of Alderly Edge
had been well reviewed, widely read and hugely profitable. With more successes she retained the name but it became less important to hide her true identity.
    Over time, Georgina Waters had grown