There were several ways for those bent on pleasure to approach the Alexandra Palace, which was perched majestically on Muswell Hill in North London.
The quickest and pleasantest was in the manner chosen by Inspector Best – from the west, by rail – right up to the building itself on the Alexandra Palace branch line of the Great Northern Railway. He was on the first special excursion train to arrive just as the People’s Palace opened at nine. There was much to be done.
Already the weather looked promising. A pleasant warmth was beginning to dispel the chill early morning mists and the still-low sun glinted off the necklace of ornamental lakes to the north – diamonds peeping through wispy cotton wool.
Good news for the organizing committee who were anxious for funds for the orphanage’s new wing. Last year’s fête had been a dismal washout. The rain had been relentless. Bad news for the likes of Best needing to thwart Quicksilver’s aims.
Good weather would bring an estimated 40,000 visitors and more, making the catching of him more difficult and his possible target larger.
Best glanced back at the steam train now noisily tooting and puffing its way back to collect its second load of passengers.
Just one example, he thought, of how to bring in an infernal device. One which could be tucked among the picnic hampers, sunshades, umbrellas and wraps, and delivered right into the very heart of the building.
Best contemplated the palace’s internal map and sighed. He’d forgotten there were quite so many rooms and converging and interlocking passages and corridors – all which could provide endless hidey-holes and escape routes for Quicksilver. The man shouldn’t boast that he was smarter than the police. He didn’t need to be. It was an unfair contest.
Slicing right through the building from north to south was the well-named Great Central Hall. This concert hall, cum theatre, cum meeting place, was immense.
‘Holds twelve thousand,’ murmured Chief Inspector Billings when they went to have a look. He was the uniformed officer in overall charge and was looking worried.
Best gazed up at the multicoloured early Renaissance arched ceiling and along to the gabled ends where brick mosaics garlanded huge rose windows. At the south end a magical rainbow glow was already lighting up the flagstones.
The north end was dominated by the spectacular Willis pipe organ, quite the largest, newest and most advanced pipe organ in the country.
‘Powered by two massive, steam-driven bellows,’ said Billings. ‘They’re down there in the basement.’ He pointed to the spot at the foot of the organ.
Best groaned. Steam. And in just the place for Quicksilver to make maximum impact.
‘The engineer says t
