John and Mary were helping Ralph move into his new flat, much to Ralph's own discomfort. His father looked disapprovingly round at everything, while his mother looked anxious.

'You'll bring your dirty clothes home for me to wash, Ralphie, won't you?' she said.

Ralph frowned. 'No, Mum, I won't.'

'But there's no room for a washtub in here!'

'There's one in the yard for everyone to use.'

Mary had to steady herself against the table. 'Oh, my goodness!'

'Be honest with me now, son,' said John. 'You can't really afford this place, can you?'

'Yes, I can, Dad,' Ralph said wearily.

'What's the catch, then, eh? Are you making some dodgy money on the side we don't know about?'

'I thought newspaper work was dodgy money to you.'

John bristled. 'Don't be facetious, my lad. Or is there something wrong with the place that's not visible to the naked eye? Old joists, rotten floorboards, that sort of thing? Better check,' he said, and went wandering off. 'Don't know why I didn't think of it before...'

'Darling,' said Mary, lowering her voice to a whisper, 'what about the necessary?'

'Down the hall, Mum,' said Ralph.

'Oh, my word,' said Mary.

'Mum,' said Ralph, 'don't worry about me. I'll be fine. And we can still visit each other.'

John came back into the room, bent down and began tapping the floorboards. 'Hmm... seems all right.' He straightened up. 'Well, there must be some catch to it, son. Maybe there's trouble in this place. What were you saying about those Saville Row jewellery robberies? No sign of the stolen goods, eh? Well, perhaps they're here!'

Ralph scowled at that. 'Don't you read my articles, Dad? They caught the Saville Row burglar two days ago, and they recovered everything!'

Mary smiled at him. 'I read it, Ralphie.' Then she stopped smiling. 'Oh, it gave me such a turn...'

'I don't know why,' said Ralph. 'I wasn't anywhere near the investigation. Mr Weston just sent me to the press conference, that's all.'

'The press conference!' gasped Mary, having to steady herself again.

'Mum, really, I'm fine,' said Ralph, 'and so are these rooms. If I ever have anything to do directly with criminals ever again, I'll be very surprised.'

Mr Pincher was sitting in an office that was quite big enough to accommodate him, fiddling about with some coins and writing in a ledger. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and he looked up. There stood Tommy, leaning nonchalantly and gazing coolly at him once again.

'So here you are,' said Tommy.

Mr Pincher raised his eyebrows. 'So here you are. I was expecting to see either you or the police days ago. What took you so long?'

'Been busy,' said Tommy, his manner overly casual. 'We've had a good couple of news days... lots of papers for me to sell.'

'Then you've been making an honest living,' said Mr Pincher. 'Well, what do you want here?'

Tommy raised his chin. 'I haven't decided yet. What's that?' he added, nodding towards the coins on the table.

'Rent,' said Mr Pincher. 'All legal and above board, and therefore nothing to do with nosy little boys. I suppose you want a cut of the other.'

'I might,' said Tommy. 'I'd have to have a proper look at it first.'

'Know what it's all about, do you?'

''Course I do. I saw your moulds and stuff, didn't I?'

'Yes, I found that lock you picked,' said Mr Pincher. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out what seemed to be just another coin, at which he looked coolly as he spoke. 'Most inconvenient of you. I've had to move it all, you know, including the finished stuff. Obviously I can't fetch it and risk you following me, but I do have a sample that I keep on my person.' Here he stopped playing with the coin and tossed it to Tommy, who caught it deftly.

'Move it where?' asked Tommy.

'Don't be a fool,' said Mr Pincher.

Tommy was examining the coin closely with one eye. 'Are they all like this?'

'But of course.'

'I don't believe you, Mr Pincher. If you're trying to sell someone something that ain't all it should be, you keep back the best for yourself.'

'Young man,' said Mr Pincher, 'they are all identical because they are all made in the same mould, just like the real thing. Now, it's good, isn't it? You can't detect any telltale signs, can you?'

'No, I can't,' said Tommy, 'but then, I'm no expert.'

'So, how many do you want?'

'Why would you give me any at all, if they're so well hidden?'

Mr Pincher looked at him steadily for a moment. Then he said, 'That's an excellent question. To tell you the truth, young man, I was wondering if you'd be interested in working for me.'

Tommy looked up from the coin he was holding, his eyes narrowing with mistrust. 'Doing what?'

'Fetching and carrying. You saw how many coins were in that one cupboard you broke into. What do you think I do with them? I buy things, of course, either to use or to sell on.'

'I see. So, if anyone spotted the fakes, it'd be me that cops it.'

'Of course,' said Mr Pincher. 'I always make sure my coins cannot be traced back to me. The only danger is detection in the spending. So you see, I've been needing someone like you.'

Tommy looked at him, not making any reply.

'And,' Mr Pincher went on, 'you've been needing someone like me, haven't you? The risks are small, you know. Oh yes, I've been running them myself, but now that I have the opportunity to pass them down, well...'

Tommy looked down at the coin and turned it over in his fingers.

'I'll tell you what,' Mr Pincher went on smoothly. 'Take that one with you. I shan't miss it. See how easy it is to spend it. See what a fine meal you can buy for your family. Then, if you decide you want more of it, come and see me again.'

Tommy looked up at him, disbelieving. 'You'd let me leave here with this?'

Mr Pincher shrugged. 'It'll get out eventually, and as I said, it can't be traced back to me. Especially not with information from the likes of you. Run along now, boy, and think about what I've said.'

Tommy looked at the coin a moment longer, then slipped it into his pocket.

'I will, Mr Pincher,' he said, and left.

The door of Ralph's now rather messy flat opened and he staggered inside under the weight of his washing, which was sopping wet and piled up high. He dumped it in the middle of the floor, revealing a harangued expression on his face. He then looked around the room, fixed on the window and rushed to open it. When he had done so, he let out a cry and reeled at the sight of his hands, which were black with grime.

'Oh dear, oh dear!' he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. 'Maybe this isn't going to be so easy after all.'

There came a knock at the door. Ralph, looking uneasy, went to open it, his feet squelching through the puddles of water from his washing. He gingerly turned the doorknob with one grimy finger, and the door swung open to reveal a smiling Emily and a curious-looking Charlotte.

'Emily!' cried Ralph, thrusting his soiled hands behind his back and blushing furiously. 'I wasn't expecting to see you today. I mean, you're very welcome, of course... that is, if your parents are happy for you to visit...'

'It's all right,' said Emily. 'My sister Charlotte is here with us. I've been wanting to introduce you for ages.'

'How do you do, Mr Kent?' Charlotte said politely.

'It's a pleasure, I'm sure,' mumbled Ralph, shuffling uncomfortably.

'How are you getting on?' asked Emily.

'Oh, well, I...'

'Would you like us to come back another day?'

Ralph was about to reply when Charlotte said, 'I don't think we'd better do that, Emily. I'm not being rude, but the place is a mess.'

'Charlotte!' said Emily, horrified. 'You are being rude!'

'It's not his fault,' said Charlotte. 'Nobody teaches boys how to look after a home. But we know, don't we? I expect he'd like some help.' She turned to Ralph with an ingratiating smile. 'Wouldn't you, Mr Kent?'

'Well...' said Ralph, his blush deepening.

'Don't be embarrassed, Ralph,' Emily said gently. 'Like my sister said, it really isn't your fault.'

'Oh... all right,' said Ralph. 'I mean, thank you. I'm ever so grateful. Please come in,' and he stepped aside to let them through.

Some time later, Ralph's wet linen was hanging from lengths of string that Emily and Charlotte had managed to set up all over the room, and dripping into tubs and buckets. Charlotte was at the window, wringing out a white shirt, while Emily wiped down the table with a damp cloth. Charlotte turned to hang the shirt on the last available bit of string, while Ralph picked up a teapot and carefully dipped it into a pot of water that was bubbling on the stove.

'I did have a proper kettle when I moved in,' he said sheepishly, 'only I burnt the bottom off it.'

'It can't have been very good, then,' said Emily, 'no matter how long you left it on the stove. Oh, Charlotte, be careful!' as Charlotte grabbed the extremely hot cooking pot with hands shielded by the skirt of her pinafore.

'I need it,' Charlotte explained, and she put the pot underneath the pair of trousers she had hung up, just in time to catch the drips.

'I'm ever so grateful,' said Ralph, as he carried a tea tray over to the table. They all sat down, and he proceeded to pour out three cups of tea. 'Oh, I'm so embarrassed! All that mess, and all these things hanging up...' His blush returned.

Emily, after taking a sip of her tea, gave him a consoling smile. 'Don't worry. You'll soon learn.'

A few moments passed, in which they all drank in companionable silence. Then, suddenly, the silence was broken by a hammering at the door that made all three squirrels jump out of their fur.

'Mr Kent!' called a voice outside. 'Mr Kent, open up, it's me, Tommy! It's very important, Mr Kent!'

'What on earth...?' said Ralph, climbing down from his chair and crossing the room. When he opened the door, in burst Tommy, incoherent with excitement.

'He's a coiner!' he shouted. 'I should've told you before, only... well, never mind about that. D'you think I'll get a reward, Mr Kent? Being as how it was me what found it? I know it wouldn't be as much as what I could get if I took him up on it. I mean, when you live like us you don't care if it's real or not, but then there's the risk, you see. I mean, I might get caught, Mr Kent, mightn't I?'

'Um...' Ralph blinked confusedly at Tommy through his spectacles. 'Might you?'

'Of course!' said Tommy. 'But it's not just that. I want to do right by you, Mr Kent, since you got me that pie and all. Oh!' Suddenly, he caught sight of Charlotte and Emily demurely drinking tea, and something strange seemed to come over him. He straightened up, took off his cap and mumbled at his feet, 'Terribly sorry to interrupt your tea, Mr Kent.'

'Not at all, I'm sure,' said Ralph. 'Come in and have a cup yourself, and you can tell me all about it. This is Miss Emily Smith and Miss Charlotte Smith. They're friends of mine. Miss Smith and Miss Charlotte, this is Tommy. He sells copies of the Chronicle.'

'How do you do, Tommy?' said Emily, smiling.

''Sa pleasure, Miss... and Miss,' muttered Tommy, taking a seat between the two red squirrels, where Charlotte regarded him curiously.

'Now then, young Tommy,' said Ralph, coming over with another teacup and sitting down opposite Tommy. 'What's it all about?'

'I found you a story, Mr Kent,' said Tommy.

Emily smiled at that. 'I say, Ralph, that is good news.'

'Oh yes, I'm sure,' said Ralph, as he poured Tommy a cup of tea. 'Well then, Tommy, let's hear all about it.'

'I made a hash of it, really,' Tommy was saying, as he and Ralph walked along together. 'If I'd just stayed hidden, and told you what I'd seen straight away...'

'Why didn't you?' asked Ralph.

Tommy only thrust his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet.

'Well,' said Ralph, 'it's probably turned out for the best, because he'd have seen that lock you picked whatever happened, wouldn't he? So he'd have moved the stuff either way.'

'I suppose,' said Tommy, suddenly all detached nonchalance.

'So,' Ralph said bracingly, 'what we have to do is find his new hiding place, isn't it? Now, how should we go about it? It's no good either one of us speaking to him now. He might've worked out that I suspect him, and anyway, I can't keep on pretending I might want a room.'

'And he knows you know me,' said Tommy. 'We'll just have to keep hidden and watch him, that's all.'

'You're right,' said Ralph. 'I wonder how long it'll be before he wants to get any of his stash, or make any more. I suppose it could be weeks!'

Tommy shrugged. 'It'll keep. I can watch him every day between work.'

'I suppose,' said Ralph doubtfully, 'although it's not very safe for you, Tommy. I wish we could catch him today. I want my story, and so do you want me to have it, since it'll sell papers.'

'If we can't catch him today,' said Tommy, looking happier at last as he grinned at Ralph, 'you'll just have to find something else to print sharpish, won't you?'

'Oh yes, I'm sure,' said Ralph, smiling back at him. 'After all, we've both got our living to make.'

Charlotte, taking off her bonnet in the hallway while Emily shut the front door, said, 'I think you're the meanest, unkindest sister who ever lived!'

'Don't be silly,' said Emily, taking off her hat and then ushering Charlotte into the living room. 'Of course you couldn't go with them. You are only a child.'

'So is that Tommy,' said Charlotte.

'Yes,' said Emily, 'and I don't think he ought to have gone either, but I don't have the charge of him.'

'Oh yes?' said Charlotte, so interested by this remark that she suddenly seemed to forget her temper. 'You think your Ralph ought not to have encouraged him, then?'

'He isn't my Ralph,' said Emily, blushing furiously. 'And he doesn't have charge of young Master Tommy either. I daresay he knew the lad would go charging off no matter what, so he thought it would be safer to go along with him.'

'That's nonsense and you know it,' said Charlotte. 'He just wanted to get his silly story.'

Emily frowned. 'All right, Charlotte, that's enough of that. Mother told me to make sure you learn your French verbs before supper.'

Charlotte looked sulky. 'I don't need to know any French verbs. I'm never going to France.'

'You might,' said Emily. 'Or, more likely, you'll need to teach French to some nice children one day.'

'Huh,' said Charlotte. 'I don't want to be a governess.'

'What do you want to be, dearest?'

'A paper boy.'

'Don't be silly,' said Emily. 'Now, let me see you learning that French.'

Ralph and Tommy proceeded to spend the rest of the day hanging about outside pubs, billiard halls and gambling dens that Mr Pincher went into, following him when he came out, and ducking into alleyways whenever he happened to turn around. In one such alleyway, Tommy hissed conspiratorially at Ralph, 'If he's betting with his fake money, he's taking an awful risk. He said he needed me to do fetching and carrying, but he's hardly going to let me bet for him, is he?'

'I suppose not,' Ralph whispered back.

'Well,' said Tommy, 'suppose we expose him to the men in there? Then, whenever he comes back, you'll get your story.'

'But how do we do that?' asked Ralph. 'The fakes must be too good to spot, and I don't think you and I are the sort of the people they'd listen to in there. Anyway, they'd expect us to gamble.'

'I'll go in,' said Tommy. 'I've got half a crown.'

Ralph was horrified. 'Oh no, Tommy, you can't gamble away your hard-earned money!'

'Not all that hard-earned,' Tommy grinned, 'and it ain't even real. Look, we've lost Pincher now, so I might as well try it.'

'Well...' said Ralph, but before he could say any more, Tommy had darted out of the alley and through the front door of the gambling den.

Inside the dark, smoky building, a dozen or more gold-toothed, flagon-toting, cigar-smoking, card-wielding foxes, weasels, rabbits, cats, dogs and one very large rat all stared at Tommy for a moment, then burst out laughing.

'Hop it, sonny,' said the rat. 'There's nothing for you here.'

Tommy feigned wide-eyed innocence. 'But I got to come in, I have! Mr Pincher won't let me work for him no more, and he said this is where to make one coin into twenty. I only got one left, see,' and he held out his forged half-crown.

The rat shook his head. 'Keep it, lad, before I change me mind about you.'

'Worked for Pincher, did you?' a wiry terrier said conversationally. 'What did you do for him, then?'

'Fetching and carrying, mostly.' Tommy put the coin back into his pocket and began rubbing away at its edge with his thumb. 'Buying and selling's his business. Apart from renting rooms, of course.'

'And gambling,' muttered a very tatty cat, rearranging the cards in his hand.

'But then he said he didn't want me no more,' Tommy said plaintively, 'and now this one coin's all I got left.' He took the half-crown out of his pocket once again. 'And I need more. For me mum, see? Hmm... another one,' he added, squinting at the coin. 'That is funny.'

'What's funny?' the terrier asked disinterestedly.

'Minted 1854,' said Tommy. 'Every half-crown he ever paid me was minted 1854. Me mum noticed that. She said it was funny, but I never thought it mattered. A half-crown's a half-crown, I said, and she had to agree with me there.'

Suddenly, all eyes were on him and narrowed with suspicion.

'So,' said Tommy, childlike, smiling up at the hostile group. 'How do I turn this half-crown into twenty, then?'

'Interesting question,' said the rat, in low and menacing tones. 'Give us that coin here, boy.'

'Here, hang on now!' Tommy thrust his hands behind his back, where his thumb resumed rubbing at the coin. 'You can't take it just like that!'

'We only want to have a look at it,' said the tatty cat. 'Let's all get out a half-crown, shall we?' He looked round at his fellow gamblers. 'Who else has got one they won off Pincher?'

Every single hand went into every single pocket, and all came out clutching coins, which the owners then proceeded to pick through.

'1854, did you say?' asked the rat, not looking at Tommy. 'Yeah, here's one... and another.' He thrust all the other coins back in his pocket, and began scrutinising those two. 'Come on now, boy, don't be shy. We'll show you ours if you show us yours.'

Tommy retrieved the coin from behind his back, had a quick look at the place he had been rubbing with his thumb, then ventured forward with his hand outstretched and the coin on his palm. Several of the men crowded in around him, peering at the coin. Then a scarred rabbit with one broken and drooping ear snatched it up.

'Here!' said Tommy, sounding outraged but clearly suppressing a smile.

'It's true!' said the rabbit, squinting at the spot where Tommy had rubbed away until a very slight imperfection appeared. 'Look at that!'

Ralph was at his desk, reading over something he had written, when Tommy ran in and started jumping up and down in front of him and yelling.

'Mr Kent!' he shouted, and Ralph looked up in astonishment. 'Mr Kent, come quick! It's all about to kick off!'

'What is?' asked Ralph, clearly confused, but he was already on his feet and reaching for his hat.

'The gambling den, of course!' cried Tommy. 'Come on, hurry up!'

Ralph made to follow him, but before they could set off, Mr Weston appeared, saying, 'Now then, what's all this noise about? You shouldn't be here at this time, Tommy.'

'It's all right, Mr Weston,' said Ralph. 'Tommy's found me a story. I'll have it for you in time for the evening edition!' and with that, he shot from the office with Tommy just ahead of him.

There was a great ruckus coming from inside the gambling den, and silhouettes in the windows showed that fists, tables and tankards were flying.

'Oh my goodness!' said Ralph, boggling at the sounds and sights from across the road. 'Somebody has to stop this!'

'Somebody will,' said Tommy, and he ran off along the pavement, shouting, 'Help! Police! Murder! MUR-DER!'

Within moments, two police constables were on the scene, accompanied by a throng of helpful civilians. Tommy sauntered back over to Ralph with his hands in his pockets and a smug smile on his face.

Ralph looked quizzically at him. 'I'm not sure anyone's getting murdered, Tommy.'

'P'raps not,' said Tommy, with a shrug, 'but you have to shout "murder", see, otherwise they don't come.'

That evening, Emily sat on the sofa at home reading the Evening Chronicle. The byline was Ralph's, and the headline read, Coiner's life threatened by irate gamblers.

Charlotte came into the room, and Emily lowered the paper to look at her.

'Have you seen the Chronicle, Charlotte?' she asked. 'According to Ralph, that lad Tommy alerted these gambling fellows to this chap's money being counterfeit. The poor boy, going into a place like that!'

'Why didn't Ralph go in himself?' asked Charlotte.

'Well,' said Emily, her eyes falling back onto the paper, 'I must say, I'm glad he didn't. I really can't see him in a place like that.'

'Yes, you can,' said Charlotte, with a facetious grin. 'You can see him getting beaten up and robbed, can't you?'

'Something like that,' said Emily, then she closed the paper and folded it neatly.

John and Mary were also looking at the Evening Chronicle, the former frowning and 'Hmm'ing, the latter wide-eyed with horror.

'Coiners!' cried Mary. 'Gambling dens! Police! Violence!'

'Utter disgrace,' bristled John.

Ralph, leaving the office at dusk, met Tommy on the doorstep.

'Hello, Tommy,' he said. 'It's very late. You should be getting home.'

'So should you,' said Tommy.

'I'm not a child,' said Ralph.

'What's that got to do with it? I been working, just like you,' and Tommy held out his arms to show how empty they were. 'See? Sold every one!'

Ralph beamed at him. 'Well done, Tommy. That's because of your story, you know.'

'Your story,' Tommy corrected him.

Ralph shook his head. 'I only wrote it up. You found it.'

Tommy looked proud about this, and puffed out his chest. 'I did, didn't I?'

'You most certainly did,' said Ralph, 'but I hope you won't go chasing after any more stories like that, Tommy. It's terribly, terribly dangerous.'

'I can look after myself.' Tommy was nonchalant. 'But if you do your job right and keep finding stories that sell, I can stick to my line of work, can't I?'

'You certainly can,' said Ralph, smiling. 'I promise I'll do my best, Tommy. Now, I'll walk home with you, shall I? There might be pickpockets and murderers about.'

'D'you think so?' Tommy's eyes lit up. 'And d'you think they'd want to murder me? Tell you what, Mr Kent: if you lend me your hat, I might look like I've got something worth killing me over.' He prattled on as they walked off towards the sunset. 'You can hide behind a postbox or something, and jump out on the murderer, and then we'll cry murder – it'd be true this time an' all – and then there's our next big story!'

Ralph sighed and said, 'Not tonight, Tommy. I'm too tired. I just want to go home to my little flat.'