by Jenny Nimmo
"You don't seem very surprised." Emma looked disappointed.
"After yesterday, nothing surprises me," said Charlie. "I've been prodded and interrogated, hit by gargoyles, burned by a mad person, and chased by a sword, and I've fallen off a ten-foot wall."
Maisie paused in her ironing and gave a huge sigh. "We've got to leave this city," she declared. "It's not a normal place. It's too dangerous. As soon as
188
your parents come back, Charlie, we should pack up and leave."
"You can't," said Emma. "Not until it's all sorted out. And we've got to do that."
"We?" Maisie banged down her iron on a hapless shirtsleeve. "I suppose you mean you Children of the Red King. Well, it seems to me that half you lot are causing all this trouble."
"Only half," Emma pointed out. "That's why the other half must stop them."
"Humph." Maisie continued ironing, banging down her iron with more force than was absolutely necessary.
Emma watched her for a moment, then turned her gaze on Charlie, who was now leaning his head against his hand and yawning again. "Anyway," she said sharply. "We've got to do something today, before it's too late. We'll be back at school tomorrow and things will get more and more difficult. I don't know how we're going to tackle Lord Grimwald.
189
I've just had to put that at the back of my mind until we've sorted out this box problem."
Charlie reflected that Emma had been off from school for a whole week. No wonder she was so perky. "Have you seen Tancred?" he asked.
Emma blushed. "What's that got to do with anything?"
Charlie shrugged but couldn't stop himself from grinning. "I only asked."
Emma's blush spread to the roots of her hair, but she continued, rather fiercely, "Well, are you coming to see Mr. Bittermouse with me?"
"What?" Charlie said slowly. "Why?"
Emma leaned across the table, looking more animated than Charlie had ever seen her. "I had this idea, you see. Mr. Bittermouse is a lawyer and he knew your dad, so maybe your dad gave him this box, with the will in it. I mean" -- she spread her hands -- "what could be more obvious? Auntie Julia agrees with me."
190
"Don't you think they will have thought of that?"
For a moment Emma's determined look wavered, and then she said, "Maybe. But it's worth a try."
Charlie sighed and licked his spoon. He could have done with another bowl of oatmeal, but he contented himself with a large spoonful of honey, which he sucked very slowly while Emma reeled off the names of all the people she'd phoned before coming to him. Olivia was spending the day with her parents, Fidelio was playing the violin at a concert, and Gabriel was "doing something important" with Lysander and Tancred up at Lysander's grand house on the Heights.
"So there's only us," Emma finished breathlessly.
"OK." Reluctantly, Charlie stood up. "I'll get my coat."
"You will not, Charlie Bone. And it is not OK." Maisie plunked down her iron and walked over to stand in front of the kitchen door. "I forbid you to leave this house today. Your parents would never forgive me if something happened to you."
191
"But Mrs. Jones... ," Emma began.
"Don't you Mrs. Jones me, Emma Tolly," said Maisie. "I'm surprised at you, forcing our Charlie into dangerous streets after all that he's been through."
This embarrassed Charlie. "Maisie," he cried, "I'm not a child!"
"Yes, you are," Maisie retorted.
Charlie didn't like arguing with Maisie, but he hated being made to look like a sissy, and a nasty scene might have followed if Uncle Paton's camper van hadn't arrived outside the house.
Charlie's uncle looked tired when he came in. Maisie asked him where he had been, but he merely shook his head and told her it was a long story and not a very satisfactory one. "I shall have to go to Ireland," he muttered, before gulping down a large cup of black coffee.
Charlie noticed that his uncle had a familiar "don't ask me any more questions" look on his face, so he sat beside him at the table and related everything that had happened on the previous day. And now,
192
at last, he got a reaction from his uncle, who quickly helped himself to another cup of coffee, exclaiming, "I shouldn't have left, I see that now. They're getting too bold, those villains, and yet" -- he scratched his unshaven chin -- "I must find out more about that will."
"I've got an idea," said Emma. But before mentioning Mr. Bittermouse, she repeated Cook's description of the Sea Globe and Lord Grimwald's terrible power.
"I never imagined that was how he did it," Paton murmured, and an anguished look passed across his face. "I can't reach Lyell. Every contact I had seems to have gone dead. There was a harbormaster but he left his post, and the captain of the ship that carried your parents' mail hasn't been seen for a month. But there is a ray of hope. The sailor who was with them on one of their journeys says he's received word from Lyell, very recently, and will try and contact him again."
"I had a card from them," said Charlie. "Just a week ago.
193
Another whale. The date on it was smudged."
"But don't you see," said Emma, wringing her hands fretfully, "if we find the box, then there'll be no need for Lord Grimwald to drown anyone."
"Unless he just likes doing it," said Charlie.
"We've got to try." Emma groaned with impatience. "Please, Mr. Yewbeam, please, please will you come with us to see Mr. Bittermouse? He's a lawyer. He knew Charlie's dad. Lawyers deal with wills, don't they?"
"It's a long shot, Emma." Paton gave her a rueful smile. "But I was going to the bookstore this morning, so we could pop in to see Mr. Bittermouse on the way."
"Thank --" Emma began.
"But" -- Paton held up his hand -- "not before I've had my breakfast and a shower."
"Thank you." Emma sat down, exhausted by her efforts. "So now can Charlie come?" she asked Maisie.
194
"We'll see." Maisie set about cooking Paton's breakfast while he went upstairs. He came down looking very clean and dressed in his blue velvet jacket and a new red tie.
Emma and Charlie waited patiently while Uncle Paton ate a large plate of bacon, tomatoes, asparagus, mushrooms, eggs, and beans. After two slices of toast and marmalade, a croissant, and a third cup of coffee, Paton rose from the table, saying, "Bless you, Maisie," and made for the hall, where he wound a gray scarf around his neck and put on his black fedora and long woolen coat.
Light snowflakes were drifting through the air, and frost still lingered on the grass and hedgerows. Charlie huddled into the thick scarf that Maisie had bought him for Christmas. He would have preferred to stay at home, but how could he possibly ignore any attempt to save his parents? And again he was beset by worrying, unpleasant thoughts. Why was his father so far away when the city was in trouble? Had he been in a trance for so long that
195
now he was too weak to face any danger? No. For the ocean was a dangerous place.
Charlie had been so lost in thought, he was surprised to find they were already approaching the street where Mr. Bittermouse lived. A large moving van was parked outside the lawyer's house, the wheels on one side resting on the pavement and blocking their way. The cobblestone street was so narrow, they had to squeeze by the van on the other side of the road.
"I'm sure this is illegally parked," puffed Uncle Paton as he shuffled sideways, trying to avoid the mud spattered on the side of the van.
When they had all gotten through, they discovered that the van was not parked outside Mr. Bittermouse's house but standing in front of the house next door to his. Here there was much activity. The doors at the back of the van were wide open and several moving men in brown overalls were pushing furniture up a ramp and into the van's depths.
196
"Is someone moving?" Charlie realized that this was a silly question because someone was very obviously moving.
"We are." A young woman with a bab
y in her arms stood in the doorway. "And not a moment too soon for my liking."
Uncle Paton touched his hat. "Paton Yewbeam," he said. "What's been going on?"
"What hasn't," said the young woman. She nodded at the turn to Piminy Street, almost opposite. "Those ruffians in Piminy Street have made our lives a misery. I just can't take it any longer. Stone creatures banging on the door at night, unearthly singing, laughter like I've never heard. Bats in the chimney. Glowing eyes at the window. It's... it's..."
"A nightmare," said Emma.
The woman winced. "Yes, a nightmare."
"I'm so sorry." Uncle Paton looked very concerned. "If there's anything... ? But, of course, you'll soon be away from all this."
197
"Yes." The young woman smiled at last. She stood aside as a baby's crib was maneuvered through the door. "I'm Lucy Palmer and this is Grace." She held up the baby's hand. "We've found a nice little place a hundred miles away from here and we won't ever come back."
A cheerful-looking young man came through with a rocking chair. "It's all done, Luce," he said. "We can be off soon.... Oh, hello!" He grinned at Uncle Paton and the children.
After introductions were made all around, Uncle Paton explained that they were intending to visit Mr. Hector Bittermouse, who lived next door.
"Not anymore," said the young man, whose name was Darren. "He moved a week ago, along with half the neighbors. Who'd want to live in a place with THEM on the doorstep?" He too nodded at the turn to Piminy Street.
This was bad news, especially for Emma. She'd had such high hopes. But all was not lost, because
198
Charlie remembered that Hector Bittermouse had a brother, a Mr. Barnaby Bittermouse, who lived at number ten Tigerfield Street.
"Charlie, what an excellent memory you have," Uncle Paton remarked in surprise.
"It's not the sort of thing you can forget," muttered Charlie.
Darren thought he knew a Tigerfield Street. He pointed to the cathedral square, telling them it could be one of the small alleys leading off the road at the back. "I can't be sure," he said. "I thought it had another name, like Tigerfield Way, or Steps, or something."
They said good-bye to Lucy, Darren, and Grace and wished them good luck in their new home. Then they made their way up to Cathedral Close. They had to pass the bookstore on the way, and Uncle Paton was about to stop and look in on Miss Ingledew, when Emma grabbed his arm and said, "Not now, Mr. Yewbeam. Let's find the other Mr. Bittermouse first."
199
Uncle Paton frowned. Emma's tone seemed to suggest that something was amiss. "Is your aunt all right?" he asked.
"Yes, but..." Emma hesitated. "She's been sort of burgled."
"What?" Paton stood stock-still. "How could you forget to tell me? I must go to her at once." He began to stride toward the bookstore.
"NO!" cried Emma, so loudly that Uncle Paton was halted in his tracks. "Auntie doesn't want... doesn't need you right now. She wasn't really burgled, she was just..."
"What?" Paton demanded. "Burgled or not burgled?"
"Not," said Emma lamely. "Just visited by ruffians. But she's OK. Please, can we go on to Tigerfield Street?"
Charlie swung from foot to foot, rubbing his hands together. "It's so cold, Uncle Paton. Can we move on?" He began to walk across the wide square in front of the cathedral, with Emma hurrying beside him.
200
Uncle Paton followed them reluctantly. Glancing back, Charlie saw that his uncle looked troubled, and wondered if it was because Emma had implied that her aunt didn't want to see him.
A small wrought-iron gate led out of Cathedral Close and onto a road called Hangman's Way. Charlie remembered that Billy Raven had once been kept in one of the dark alleys leading off Hangman's Way. Emma remembered, too. She shivered at the thought of poor Billy, held fast behind the force field of a sinister man named Mr. de Grey.
"There it is!" Uncle Paton announced. He pointed to the sign on a wall that curved into a dark gap little more than a few feet wide.
"Tigerfield Street," said Charlie.
"This must be the place," said Paton.
They crossed the road and stood at the entrance to Tigerfield Street.
"It's hardly a street." Emma stared doubtfully at the flight of stone steps that led up into the darkness.
201
The tops of the buildings leaned so dangerously, they appeared almost to touch one another.
"Come on." Charlie began to mount the steps. They climbed in single file, their footsteps echoing in the confined space, the only sound for miles, it seemed. Charlie counted the numbers on the thick oak doors. Some were missing altogether. There was a sixteen, then nothing until twelve was reached, with an eleven opposite.
"Here!" cried Charlie. "Number Ten."
The single bronze numbers hadn't been cleaned for years and were now green with mildew. Beneath them was a large bronze door knocker in the shape of a tiger's head. Charlie lifted the head and knocked.
There wasn't a sound within the house. Charlie knocked again. And again. After the third knock, something curious happened. The door creaked open, just an inch.
"It's not even latched," Uncle Paton observed,
202
pushing the door until it swung right back, revealing a small marble-tiled hall. "Hello there!" he called. "Anyone home?"
There was no answer.
A tingle of foreboding ran down Charlie's spine. Something had happened in this house. Was there a ghost in the place or was it worse than that?
Uncle Paton stepped inside and the others followed. They opened a door at the side of the hall and looked into a small kitchen, where pots and pans were heaped on the drainboard. A brown teapot was warm to the touch, and there was steam on the window but no sign of the person who had recently made a cup of tea.
On the other side of the hall was a cozy living room where a scuffed leather sofa and an armchair clustered around the fireplace. The embers of a recent fire could be seen glowing in the grate.
"Perhaps Mr. Bittermouse just popped out for a newspaper and forgot to lock the door," Emma suggested.
203
"Perhaps," said Uncle Paton.
At the end of the hall an uncarpeted wooden staircase led to the rooms above.
"A lawyer usually has a desk," said Uncle Paton thoughtfully. "Mr. Bittermouse's study could be up there."
"And he could have fallen asleep over his books," said Emma, "being so old. Old people often fall asleep like that."
Uncle Paton gave her a look that said, "You don't have to be old to do that."
"Let's go up." Emma's foot was already on the first step. "Hello!" she called. "Anyone up there?"
The treads creaked woefully as they mounted the staircase. Charlie came last. His throat felt tight, his ears buzzed, and the icy foreboding that clutched at his stomach got worse and worse.
There were three doors leading off the landing and then the stairs continued up to another floor.
Emma knocked on the door in the center. There was no answer. She opened the door and looked into a bedroom.
204
The bed was neatly made and a suit of clothes hung on the outside of the closet. She shrugged and closed the door. Beside the bedroom, there was a chilly bathroom with no hint of a woman's touch. No bottles or jars or tubes, just a bar of soap, a razor on the windowsill, and a toothbrush in a glass.
"Third time lucky," said Uncle Paton, marching toward the third door, and Charlie's stomach gave a lurch. He found that he wanted to cry out, to stop the door being opened, to make them all go downstairs again without knowing what was in that third room. But Uncle Paton was already opening the door. He stopped abruptly on the threshold, uttering a strangled cry and then a string of oaths, the sort of oaths that Charlie had rarely heard, and certainly never coming from his uncle.
And so Charlie had to look into the room. Peering around his uncle's rigid form he saw a study that had been utterly ransacked. B
ookcases were tipped at an angle, a desk had been rolled onto its side. The
205
floor was littered with books and papers, and in the center of it all lay a very old man. He had a shock of white hair and fine if wrinkled features. He was on his back. His tweed jacket had fallen open, and on his white shirt, just where the heart might be, was a large red stain.
"Dead?" Emma whispered.
"Looks like it. I'll call for an ambulance," said Uncle Paton. "Who could have done such a ghastly thing?"
It was then that Charlie noticed a mark on the floorboards, a long thin scratch as though a knife had been drawn across the floor -- or the tip of a sword. And he felt that he knew who had murdered Mr. Barnaby Bittermouse. But who on earth would believe him?
206
11. ANGEL IN THE SNOW
A police car arrived soon after the ambulance. They were both too late to save poor Barnaby Bittermouse. He was definitely dead, though the detective wasn't able to confirm what kind of weapon had actually killed him. There was no question that he'd been the victim of a robbery. But what had been taken? His wallet was still in his pocket, his gold watch was on his wrist, and there was a significant sum of change lying in a drawer.
Charlie could see that Uncle Paton was trying to decide whether he should mention the box. If he said too much, he would be taken to the police station for questioning. He would have to sit beneath a light, several lights most probably, and every one of them would explode, to Paton's utter humiliation and embarrassment.
"We should like to leave now," Paton said in a low voice to Officer Singh, whom he recognized from
