London Art Chase by Natalie Grant Page B

in the French way.
    â€œOf course I know of Renoir,” the receptionist said.
    â€œThere’s this painting,” Lulu said, jumping to her feet and slinking around the room, the way a detective might in a cartoon. “We call it ‘Sun-Splattered Afternoon,’ but that’s not its real name. Anyway, it’s missing from the National Gallery. And we think we know who took it!” At this, she turned and pointed her finger directly at the receptionist.
    â€œLulu!” Maddie said.
    â€œCome sit down,” Mia said.
    â€œI’m going to have to insist that you girls stay quiet until Miss Twist returns. And that you stay seated,” the receptionist added as an afterthought.
    Lulu shrugged one shoulder and sat back down with her sisters. “I think she’s guilty too. We’ll see.”
    Even though the receptionist could clearly hear everything Lulu had said, she didn’t respond.
    â€œGirls?” Miss Julia had come down the stairs. “Mr. Hughes would like to speak with you for a moment.”
    Maddie shot the receptionist a triumphant look as she followed her sisters upstairs. The truth! She was finally going to get the truth. She would look Mr. Hughes in the eye and demand an explanation. Soon, the painting would be back on the wall of the National Gallery and it would be all because she, Maddie Glimmer, hadn’t given up.



TWENTY-TWO
    T he stairway and upper hall were just as dim as the rest of the office. Shady. The kind of place where criminals might hang out. She’d been so busy chasing after Mr. Hughes, she hadn’t thought of what she’d say to him when she found him. Mentally, she ran through her questions. Why did you steal the painting? Where is it now? If he denied being the one who took it, what would she say then?
    The tightness around Miss Julia’s mouth and eyes had relaxed, and her cheeks weren’t flushed with frustration anymore. The meeting must not have gone the way she expected. Maddie wondered what that meant. Did Miss Julia finally believe her, now that she’d looked into Mr. Hughes’ guilty face?
    The office was surprisingly cozy, with overstuffed armchairs and a couch. Where outside, the dim light was bluish and cold, in here, the lampshades were amber, giving the room a warm glow. Even though the temperature wasn’t any warmer, the room felt inviting, less like an industrial refrigerator.
    â€œCome on in, girls,” Mr. Hughes urged. “Now, sit yourselves down. It sounds as though we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding.”
    Miss Julia introduced the girls to Mr. Hughes, and then she, Mia, and Lulu sat together on the couch. Maddie stayed on her feet, eyeing Mr. Hughes critically. Was the warm, welcoming tone his way of putting them off his criminal trail?
    He perched on the edge of his desk, took off his glasses, polished them with a handkerchief, and then put them back on. “I have to admit, I was a tad concerned when I realized a parade of girls was following me back to the office after lunch. But then Miss Twist explained that you saw me remove the Renoir from the wall at the National Gallery, and all the pieces fell into place.”
    â€œSo, you admit that you stole the painting?” Maddie demanded.
    â€œActually, I didn’t steal it,” Mr. Hughes said. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
    Maddie folded her arms. “I’ll stand.”
    â€œHave it your way.” Mr. Hughes cleared his throat, and then scanned the room as though someone might be hiding in the shadows. No one was, of course, and so he went on. “Now, girls, what I’m about to tell you is confidential.”
    â€œThat means it’s top, top secret!” Lulu said, starting to bounce on the couch. “I knew this was going to be good when I chased after you at Buckingham Palace.”
    â€œThat’s why all those guards knocked into one another today?” Mr.