He whistled under his breath. ‘Are we goin’ in?’
Stella nodded nervously.
They crept inside, and Joe closed the door silently behind them. They stood and listened for a moment. They could hear a clock ticking and low voices upstairs.
Joe gripped the walking stick like a sword as they tiptoed along a narrow, tiled passageway. They passed a small kitchen and a flight of stairs and came to the shop. The walls were lined with shelves of scientific instruments. Behind the counter was a workbench. Tools were arranged in tidy rows. There were boxes and jars of screws and wheels and cogs. A microscope lay in pieces. A globe of the world was turning slowly, ticking and whirring, and a tiny moon the size of a marble circled around it. A cage of delicate, twisted wire held a little bird with real feathers and eyes made of black beads. A small mechanical crocodile, of brass and ivory, stood nearby. Joe touched it with his fingertip and jerked back in surprise when it lurched into motion, took two steps and opened its jaws.
A tinkling chime made them both jump. They spun around and saw a little door open up in the face of a clock. A mechanical spider scuttled out from the door, pounced on a tiny silver fly and disappeared again. The door snapped shut.
In a corner behind the counter was a desk piled with books and papers, several empty coffee cups and half-eaten meals. Stella tiptoed over to it and quickly leafed through the papers, hoping to find a clue as to where Agapanthus and Ottilie had been taken, but the scribbled figures and diagrams made no sense to her at all. She picked up an old leather-bound book: Occult Subterraenia. She turned the pages, but it was in a language she did not recognise. The tiny pictures were indistinct and unsettling. She closed the book with a shudder.
To one side of the desk was a large roll of paper. Stella glanced quickly over her shoulder at the doorway, then unrolled the paper and spread it out. After a moment, she whispered, ‘Joe, look at this.’
Joe came over. He picked up a cheese sandwich from a plate and took a bite. ‘It’s a map,’ he whispered with his mouth full.
‘It’s a plan of the town, like it’s been cut through the middle, see?’ whispered Stella. ‘Here’s us in Lantern Street, and here’s the hill, where the fairground is, just behind. Here’s the museum.’ She pointed. ‘Here’s the main gallery. But look.’ She frowned. ‘There’s a whole floor underneath. Storage, it says. And there’s more down under that. Foundations. Look.’ She pointed at a row of arched pillars, below the museum, sunk deep into the ground.
‘What’s this?’ asked Joe. Rows of figures were scribbled in the margin of the map. Pencil lines had been ruled across, connecting the numbers.
Stella traced her finger along the lines. They came together below the lowest level of the museum, underneath Museum Square. ‘There must be something down there,’ she whispered. ‘We have to —’
‘Shhh,’ hissed Joe, clutching her arm.
A door rattled and opened on the floor above. Voices and footsteps were coming down the stairs.
There was no time to escape. Stella rolled up the map, and Joe shoved the sandwich into his pocket. They scrambled under the desk and crouched there, hardly daring to breathe.
Twenty
A man strode into the room. From their hiding place under the desk, Stella and Joe could see only his legs. He wore dark trousers and shiny black boots. He spoke, and Stella recognised the oily voice of Thaddeus Garnet. ‘As I have told you several times already, Drusilla, I know nothing whatever about it.’
A woman followed him into the room. Her skirt swept to the ground. It was the Headmistress, Miss Garnet. ‘I do not believe you,’ she said. ‘I could always tell when you were lying, Thaddeus, even as a child. I allowed you to take one of my girls, at some risk to my reputation. And now there are two other girls missing. What have you done with them?’
‘As I said, I know nothing about it. And you assured me that the girl has no connections. So your precious reputation is in no danger.’
‘That girl is an orphan and quite alone. Nobody will miss her. These other two are from good families. I was obliged to write to their relations.’
‘Was that necessary? No doubt the brats have just wandered off. Consider this, Drusilla: their fees are paid, and you have two fewer mouths to feed. If they do not turn up, you can always say they died of a fever. Or tumbled down a drain. The world is a dangerous place.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘So extremely sad, you will say. Such a tragedy.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Thaddeus. The scandal would ruin my school.’
‘That hardly matters,’ he replied. ‘In a few days, we will both be richer than you can imagine, and far beyond the reach of these petty concerns. Let me tell you, Drusilla, I do not intend to waste my remaining years here in this insignificant town, mending microscopes. I have larger ambitions.’
Miss Garnet sniffed. ‘So you always say. Well, if, indeed, you know nothing about these two missing girls, I must go to the police.’
His voice was suddenly as cold as ice. ‘That would be a mistake.’ He stepped closer to her and did something that Stella could not see. It made Miss Garnet gasp in pain. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I cannot have the police sniffing around. It has taken me years of work to get to this point. Believe me, I will make our fortune. But I cannot allow you to get in my way.’
‘You do not frighten me, little brother,’ said Miss Garnet, backing away from him. ‘As a child, you were always devious and untrustworthy. You have not changed. If you do not have better news for me by tonight, I will go to the police, whatever the consequences. Make no doubt about that.’
She turned and stalked from the room. After a moment, the back door slammed.
Stella felt cold inside. She could hardly believe that Miss Garnet had allowed her horrible brother to kidnap Ottilie from school like that. Nobody will miss her, she had said. Poor Ottilie. Where was she? And where was Agapanthus? What had Mr Garnet done with them?
They listened as Mr Garnet paced around the room for a bit, muttering to himself, picking things up and putting them down again. He went out, and they heard his footsteps along the passageway. A key turned in a lock. Something clinked. Hinges creaked. They heard more footsteps, going downstairs. Then there was silence.
After a minute, Joe crept out from under the desk. He peered around the counter, clutching the walking stick, ready to run. Then he beckoned to Stella and whispered, ‘He’s gone.’
The passageway was empty. They tiptoed to the back door and Joe tried the handle. ‘Locked,’ he said.
‘Look.’ Stella pointed.
Underneath the staircase was a door, slightly ajar. If it had been closed, it would have been quite hidden in the panelling; they would never have noticed it. Cautiously, Stella pulled it open. A flight of wooden stairs led down to a cellar.
She swallowed and whispered, ‘You don’t have to come with me. If you don’t want to.’
‘I’m comin’,’ said Joe. He gripped the walking stick with determination.
They tiptoed down the stairs.
The cellar was dark and empty. Joe rummaged in his bag and pulled out the little candle lantern. He struck a match and lit it. In the glimmering light, they saw a low, arched opening in the corner of the room. They ventured into it and made their way along a narrow tunnel. There was a rumbling sound overhead.
‘I reckon we’re under the road,’ whispered Joe.
The tunnel sloped downwards for a short distance and ended at a brick wall. Some of the bricks had been removed, making a hole. They crouched down and scrambled through.
Joe held up the lantern. ‘Flippin’ heck,’ he gasped. Looming above them was a large stuffed elk and a huge stone statue with the body of a man and the head of an angry-looking bird. Crates and boxes and bundles were piled up in rows, stretching away in the darkness. There was no sign of Mr Garnet, or anyone else.
‘I think we’re in the museum,’ whispered Stella. ‘Underground. Storage, it said on the map. And there’s another level under this one. I bet tha
t’s where he’s gone. We need to find the way down.’
They tiptoed along, passing between huge crates packed with straw, and boxes tied with rope, and trunks pasted with labels in foreign writing. They ducked underneath the skeleton of an enormous lizard. ‘Cop them teeth!’ whispered Joe.
They went on. A large crate was leaking a greenish puddle onto the floor, and they skirted around it gingerly. They passed a marble statue of a naked gentleman holding the severed head of a giant. A bit further along, they came to a stuffed polar bear, a large bundle of spears and swords, and a pile of rusty helmets.
‘Let’s try this way,’ whispered Stella.
They skirted around some suits of armour, turned a corner and went back in the direction they had come. Stella stopped and looked around.
‘Are we lost?’ asked Joe.
‘No,’ she said doubtfully.
They passed between rows of wooden crates and squeezed around the jawbone of an enormous fish.
On the floor, something glittered. Stella picked it up. It was a silver toffee wrapper. ‘Agapanthus!’ she whispered.
They went on and found another wrapper. They hurried along, scanning the floor. Joe spied another wrapper and then another one, gleaming in the shadows.
A little further along, Stella picked up another wrapper. She looked around in the gloom. ‘Agapanthus!’ she called. ‘Are you down here?’
Somewhere nearby, they heard a thumping sound and a muffled squeak.
‘Asparagus!’ called Joe.
‘Agapanthus!’ called Stella.
They heard more thumping.
‘Behind this crate,’ said Joe.
He put down the lantern and the walking stick, and they pushed the crate as hard as they could. It slid reluctantly across the floor with a loud scraping noise. Behind it was a wooden chest. It was locked. Joe looked around. Not far away was a pile of rusty weapons. He picked up a huge, curved sword and jammed the blade into the lid of the chest. He twisted the sword. The lock broke. They lifted the lid.
Agapanthus lay inside. She was curled up and had been gagged with a handkerchief. Her hands were tied behind her back. Stella undid the gag. Joe used the sword to cut the rope that tied her hands.
Agapanthus took a breath and sat up shakily. ‘You found me!’ she gasped. She clambered out of the trunk, grabbed Stella and hugged her hard. ‘He said it didn’t matter how loud I yelled because nobody would hear me. And, of course, I utterly yelled and yelled all the same, but I couldn’t make any noise, because of the handkerchief, which tasted like old gravy, by the way, and nearly made me sick, and I absolutely kicked as hard as I could, but nobody came. It’s been hours and hours.’
‘We followed your trail of toffee wrappers,’ said Stella. ‘Me and Joe. Remember Joe? From the fairground.’
Agapanthus gave Joe a quick hug, and then she hugged Stella again. ‘I dropped them, and I hoped someone would see them, but I didn’t really think anyone would.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘It’s been dreadful. I didn’t think anyone would come. It was Miss Garnet’s brother. Did you know?’
Stella and Joe nodded. Stella added, ‘Miss Garnet let him take Ottilie. She said nobody would miss her.’
Agapanthus frowned. ‘That’s utterly dreadful. She’s horrible. And he’s horrible too. Like two revolting old toads. I’d like to shut them both in a chest. I’d fill it with spiders, though. Spiders and crabs. You don’t have anything to eat, do you? I’m absolutely starving.’
Joe grinned. He took the remains of the sandwich from his pocket and gave it to her. ‘It’s cheese,’ he said.
Agapanthus ate it in three hungry bites and said, ‘Thank you,’ with her mouth full.
‘Where’s Ottilie?’ asked Stella.
‘He took her down underground. He was taking me too, but I kicked them and tried to run away, so Mr Garnet told the Gabbro brothers to tie me up and leave me here, and nobody would even find my body. That’s what he said. And then he laughed.’ She shuddered. ‘He just laughed.’
Stella patted her arm. ‘We found you.’
Agapanthus nodded, took a breath and said, ‘So now we have to find Ottilie.’
‘Which way did they go?’ asked Stella.
‘This way,’ said Agapanthus. She picked up the little lantern and led them between the crates, around several corners. She hesitated for a moment beside a huge, stuffed, hairy elephant with long, curved tusks, and then went on. ‘Yes. Look.’
In a corner, behind a pile of wooden boxes, was a door. A sign read: Do Not Enter. The lock was broken, and the door was ajar. It had been propped open with the foot of a broken statue.
‘He took Ottilie down here,’ said Agapanthus, handing the lantern to Joe so she could pull the door wider. ‘She didn’t want to go. She was crying.’
Joe held up the little lantern. A rusty iron ladder led downwards into darkness. A cold breath of air came up from below.
‘Do you know what’s down there?’ asked Stella.
Agapanthus shook her head.
Stella swallowed nervously. ‘Well. Let’s go and see,’ she said, and scrambled onto the ladder and began to climb down.
Twenty-One
They climbed down and down, deep into the foundations of the museum. At the bottom of the ladder, Joe held up the lantern and they looked around. Enormous brick pillars reached up to the darkness overhead. They could hear trickling water and distant voices.
The ground was uneven and sloping. They made their way cautiously downhill.
‘Look at that.’ Joe stopped and pointed.
‘What?’ Agapanthus asked.
‘Well, look. It’s a street, ain’t it?’
Stella realised what he meant. They were walking on cobblestones. A gutter ran down the middle of the street. They went on a little way, and Joe stopped again. ‘That’s a shop. And a tree. And that’s an inn. Look.’ He pointed to a row of crumbling buildings. The windows were dark and empty. Dangling chains held a rotten board that must have once been an inn sign. The pale, twisted roots of a fallen tree gleamed in the light of the lantern.
‘The village that was buried,’ whispered Stella.
‘What’s that?’ asked Agapanthus.
Stella repeated the story Mr Cornelius had told her, as they went through the village, passing the forge and several ruined cottages. ‘It was buried underground when they built Museum Square and the grand shops along the High Street. This must have been the village green, I think. And the river.’
They stopped on the bank and looked at the water. It flowed past silently, lapping around the remains of a ruined stone bridge, and then disappeared into the mouth of an enormous iron pipe.
‘The Wake,’ whispered Joe. ‘I ain’t never been this far upstream.’
‘What —?’
‘Shhh,’ said Joe, cutting off Agapanthus. Voices were approaching. Yellow lantern light flickered. ‘Toshers. Quick,’ he whispered. He blew out the candle, and they scrambled down the muddy bank and crouched underneath the bridge.
Two men stopped and leaned on the parapet, looking down at the water. They held lanterns and long poles with sharp hooks on the ends.
‘There ain’t nothin’ here,’ said one of the men. ‘I told you.’
‘I heard somethin’. I heard flippin’ voices, I did. And I seen a glim. Scrappers, I reckon.’
The first man laughed. ‘Them scrappers ain’t comin’ down here. We knocked a couple of ’em on the head, and that put the frights on the rest of ’em, good and proper.’
The second man lowered his voice and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘What’s he up to, anyway? All that burrowin’. It ain’t natural. We ain’t moles.’ He looked behind and whispered, ‘I reckon I heard somethin’ singing. Deep down under. My nan used to tell me tales, when I were a nipper —’
The first man interrupted him with a crack of laughter. ‘Singing? You’re off with the fairies, you are. Talk sense. If a flash cove like that is payin’ us to dig a dirty great hole into the hill
side, then we dig the hole, and we get our chink.’ He laughed again. ‘We’re done with digging now, anyway. We’re to watch for anyone comin’ up the Wake. And if they do, we’ll slit their throats for ’em, nice and neat. Come on.’
The two men clambered down the bank and splashed into the river.
Stella, Joe and Agapanthus crouched, as still as stones, and watched the men wade through the water until they disappeared inside the pipe. Then they climbed silently back up the bank and made their way across the bridge.
On the other side of the river, the ground sloped upwards again. They crept between the brick pillars, keeping to the shadows. Ahead, they could see a faint glimmer of light. They tiptoed closer, as quietly as they could. They crouched behind a crumbling stone wall and peered out.
Just below their hiding place, the earth had been scooped out like an enormous bowl. Heaps of broken rocks and stones lay all around the excavation site. At the bottom of the pit was the dark mouth of a tunnel.
The three Gabbro brothers were sitting on stones, guarding the entrance of the tunnel. They were eating jellied eels from a newspaper parcel.
‘Do you think Ottilie’s in there?’ whispered Agapanthus.
‘I think so,’ said Stella.
‘We ain’t gettin’ past them,’ whispered Joe.
‘We could do a distraction,’ whispered Agapanthus. ‘And when they’re chasing two of us, one of us could go in there and find her.’
Joe shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ he whispered. ‘But I ain’t likin’ our chances, if they catch us.’
They watched the men for several minutes. The lantern light made their shadows loom and stretch into monstrous shapes. One of them picked something from between his teeth with a fingernail and flicked it away.
Stella took a breath. ‘It has to be me,’ she said nervously. She could feel her heart beating. ‘I’m the only one who can get past them.’
‘How?’ asked Agapanthus.
‘Like this,’ said Stella. And she took another breath and made herself fade. She felt the familiar horrible, dizzy feeling as she disappeared, and she saw their mouths fall open in surprise. She let herself appear again. She was shaking. ‘So, it has to be me. I can go invisible and get past them.’
Wakestone Hall Page 13
