Then I realized what it was. Papa’s words about taking photographs weren’t right.

Remember what I always say about photography? That a picture paints a hundred words.

That wasn’t what he always said. He always said a picture paints a thousand words.

Had he forgotten that? Surely he couldn’t have done. Papa would never forget something so important to him. Something he said to me over and over again.

But then why say it?

I read the next line. You know I am telling the truth!

My heart thudded as though it were on springs as I realized: Papa was talking in code! By lying about the phrase, he was trying to say he wasn’t telling me the truth about the other things in the letter! I reread his words. All the things he said about how good everything was – he was lying. He obviously didn’t want Mama to worry, but he was sending me a message, I was sure of it.

And that’s why you must always remember to do everything I tell you!

There was only one thing he had told me to do: get out of Vienna.

Which meant I had to think harder, I had to find a way to help Mama be stronger. We had to leave.

As I folded the letter up and took it to the special drawer in Mama’s room where she kept the other letters, I had a sudden memory of doing something similar. A drawer with something special in it.

What was I remembering? Was it a dream or a real memory? It was getting harder every day to hold on to the good memories so I was about to dismiss it as an illusion. But then, just thinking about memories brought that wonderful day into my mind. My ninth birthday. The memory of that day brought more pain than joy nowadays, so mostly I didn’t think about it.

Except for some reason, it was tugging at me now.

And then I realized why.

The letter! The letter from the Stewarts!

I hurled myself down the stairs and ran into the kitchen. Please still be there, please still be there, please—

Yes! There it was! Still tucked at the back of the fancy cutlery drawer.

I charged back upstairs. Breathless with hope and excitement, I ran into Mama’s bedroom. ‘Mama,’ I said. ‘We mustn’t give up.’

‘What? Give up what?’

‘We have to get out of Austria.’

‘Leo, please, not this again. I’ve told you—’

‘I know. And…’ I paused. Should I tell her about Papa’s secret message? No. If he had wanted her to know, he wouldn’t have sent it in code. I was the man of the house now, like he’d said. I had to find a way to make this happen.