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preserved,’ he said.
    They grouped around the stone sarcophagus and gazed through the glass top. The lamplight illuminated a woman inside. She was wearing a long black dress. Her face looked as if it had been carved from ivory. Her gleaming white hands lay across her body, resting against her stomach. Long greying hair cascaded across the silk pillow supporting her head. She seemed about to draw breath.
    After his initial shock, Jack found himself staring at the woman. She was really very beautiful. For a dead person.
    â€˜I wonder who she is,’ Scarlet said.
    â€˜Oh I know her,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘She is Lisa Gherardini.’
    â€˜What?’ Jack asked. ‘Is she a murder victim? Or a missing person?’
    â€˜Merely the model for the most famous painting on earth. You may have heard of it—the Mona Lisa .’
    â€˜But who…?’ Jack stopped.
    Mr Doyle held up his hand. ‘Who is responsible for leaving her body here? I can only speculate.’ He examined the sarcophagus. ‘The stonework for her tomb matches that of the early Roman popes.’ Mr Doyle stood back. ‘Yes. It is the same ancient carving. Constructed centuries before her death. Her body was obviously preserved by the odd contraption on the bench. Judging by the mould around the base of the sarcophagus, I would venture to say she has been here for centuries.’
    â€˜Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet said. ‘You’re saying this is the Mona Lisa.’
    â€˜Yes. This is the model da Vinci used for his famous painting.’
    â€˜But what is she doing here?’ Jack asked.
    â€˜Very little,’ Mr Doyle replied. ‘She is, after all, dead.’
    Jack and Scarlet stared at him in silence.
    â€˜Just a small joke.’ He coughed. ‘But there is an interesting connection we cannot ignore. Today we have seen both an unknown painting by Leonardo da Vinci and the famous model for another of his works. The link in the chain is the artist himself. But how did Scarlet’s father acquire the painting? And who left this body here?’
    â€˜Could my father be responsible?’ Scarlet asked. ‘And where is he now?’
    â€˜I don’t know, my dear,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I am sorry.’
    He swept the sheet back over the sarcophagus and they filed upstairs to the warehouse. The sound of rain was a welcome relief for Jack. It had been unnerving being with the body. She appeared ready to awaken at any second.
    Mr Doyle closed the trapdoor and smoothed over the muck and hay. He returned the lantern to its position on the wall.
    He held up a finger. ‘Wait. I hear something.’
    They all heard it now—the sound of an approaching steamcar.
    â€˜Quickly!’ Mr Doyle ordered.
    They raced to the rear of the building—not a moment too soon. The huge double doors were unlocked and a steamtruck backed into the open area as rain continued to pour outside.
    The vehicle was an older model with six wheels, a large iron base and a rectangular bed covered by a teal-green tarp. Two men climbed from the rear. A third, speaking a foreign language, exited the cab and started giving orders. The men were clean-shaven with crew cuts, and dressed in dark-green overalls and caps. The other two lifted the cloth higher and dragged a pair of large timber crates from the rear.
    â€˜They look like coffins!’
    Mr Doyle clasped a hand over Jack’s mouth. If the men heard him, they gave no indication.
    Jack stared in horror at the two boxes lying side-by-side. They were about the same size as the sarcophagus in the secret chamber below. The leader of the group appeared agitated. He yelled something at his companions who hurried back into the truck. They closed the doors. A moment later Jack heard the vehicle chug away.
    The three left their hiding place and edged towards the containers. The rain started to fall even more heavily.
    â€˜Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet began. ‘You