by Tonke Dragt
“Maybe you’d better help me prepare the vegetables instead,” said Miss Rosemary, coming back into the front room. She put down a pan of beans and a bowl beside him and left without waiting for a reply.
“They say I’m their Secret Agent with an Important Mission,” mumbled Frans. “And what am I doing? Preparing vegetables. Well, never fear. This Secret Agent is not going to spill the beans!”
Later that afternoon, Mr Thomtidom turned up, with a big box under his arm. He looked at Frans’s ankle and gave a satisfied nod, as if he were the one who had healed it. “I’ve brought my backgammon set,” he said, opening the box. “Shall we play a game? Activity is the best medicine.”
Frans was glad of the company, but the backgammon wasn’t a complete success. The magician must have enchanted the dice, as they definitely favoured him. There was no doubt that he was going to win. He gave Frans a lecture about backgammon past and present, in the near and far east, going into great detail about how it was played by the Saracens at the time of the Crusades, before finally moving on to the rules for tournaments and duels. He’d just embarked on a story about old weapons when Miss Rosemary came to join them. She handed Frans a pistol and said, “I found this in your jacket.”
“I do hope it’s not loaded,” said the magician, sounding rather worried.
Frans laughed. “It’s just a toy gun. It belongs to one of my students,” he said, putting it back in his pocket.
Mr Thomtidom gave a small, embarrassed cough and then quickly said, “What’s that noise I hear? I thought this road was off limits for scooters.”
“Not off limits, but as yet undiscovered,” said Miss Rosemary. “I think it’s Roberto.”
“Yes, here he comes,” said Mr Thomtidom, looking out of the window. “But… is that really Roberto?” he continued. “He looks almost like a stranger.”
“Please, Jan, just say hello to him as if it’s Roberto,” said Miss Rosemary, now sounding rather worried herself. “And if it’s not him, then use your magic powers to transform him back into Roberto.”
“I fear that young man will have no respect for my grey beard,” said Mr Thomtidom, still looking outside. “Look. He’s got off now, and he’s studying his bike.”
Frans stood up and limped over to the window. In front of the garden gate, the Biker Boy was tinkering with his scooter.
Then the phone rang in the hallway.
A few moments later, Miss Rosemary put her head around the door. “Frans!” she said. “It’s Wilhelmina on the phone. The postman just delivered a letter for you.”
Frans forgot about the Biker Boy. “From Count Grisenstein!” he said, walking towards her much faster than was good for his ankle.
Miss Rosemary nodded and passed him the phone.
“Hallo, Aunt Wilhelmina,” said Frans. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you… Would you open the letter and read it out to me?… Yes, I’ll wait…” Miss Rosemary and the magician looked on eagerly as he waited for his landlady to fetch her reading glasses and open the letter.
Just then, Chive rushed into the hallway and ran barking to the front door. The door opened to reveal the Biker Boy on the doorstep, regarding them all with a haughty, bored expression. The dog stopped and wagged his tail.
Frans heard Aunt Wilhelmina’s voice down the phone again. Frans repeated out loud every sentence that she read:
Wednesday 30 September
Dear Mr V der Steg,
In response to your letter, I would like to inform you that I would still be most pleased to welcome you. I shall send my coachman for you on Thursday the first of October, so that we can have a discussion at my home. Please await my carriage outside your house at half past seven.
Respectfully yours,
Gr… Gr…
“That’s Gradus Grisenstein,” Aunt Wilhelmina added. “His signature is about as easy to fathom as a map of the House of Stairs.”
The Biker Boy took off his crash helmet and ran his fingers through his long hair. The dog jumped up him, tail wagging.
“Thursday the first of October!” said Frans. “That’s… that’s today! What time is it now?”
“Half past five,” said Mr Thomtidom. “So you have two hours to…”
“Jan the coachman is going via Sevenways!” Roberto said, interrupting. He turned to Frans; the Biker Boy was gone. “He can pick you up there, as long as you make sure you’re at the signpost by eight.”
Frans spoke into the telephone: “Aunt Wilhelmina, thank you so much! Would you tell the coachman I’ll be waiting for him at Sevenways?… Yes… Fine… I’ll remember. See you soon.” He put the phone down.
“And now,” said Roberto, his eyes gleaming, “the adventure can begin!”
The Secret of the Seven Ways is revealed
THIS IS FIVE
“But we won’t talk about the conspiracy yet,” said Miss Rosemary, when the four of them were sitting at the table and tucking into mince and beans. “We don’t even know if Frans will get the job and we shouldn’t count our chickens before they’re hatched…”
“Or put the carriage before the horse,” said Roberto.
“Or enter the House of Stairs before we’ve found the Seventh Way,” said Mr Thomtidom.
Frans raised his eyebrows and said, “But there are only six ways.”
“And that,” said Roberto, “is the Secret of the Seven Ways.”
“What did I just say?” said the President of the Conspiracy. “We won’t meet up until our Secret Agent can report back to us. Then I’ll call all the conspirators together – except one.”
After dinner she wrapped a fresh bandage firmly around Frans’s ankle and said that he could walk as long as he didn’t go off on any long hikes.
“He’ll hardly have to take a step,” said Roberto. “I’m taking him to Sevenways and after that he’ll be in the coach.”
“The count is sure to send you home in the coach too,” said Miss Rosemary. “So we should say goodbye. And don’t forget – we’ve never met each other!”
“And remember to take your books,” said Mr Thomtidom.
Frans went and stood in front of the mirror in the hallway, straightened his tie and looked rather sorrowfully at his face. The bump on his forehead was purple and he had a big plaster on his cheek. He wondered what kind of impression he’d make on Count Grisenstein.
The telephone rang. Miss Rosemary answered and said, “Wilhelmina!”
“She wants to make sure I remember her umbrella this time,” said Frans.
But that wasn’t the case. Miss Rosemary said, with some surprise, “Huh?” and then, a little angrily, “What?” and then in dismay, “No, but…” Then she added, “Thank you. Yes, we’ll think of something.”
She put the phone down. “Now I’m really annoyed!” she said. “Jan Tooreloor went round to Wilhelmina’s house, but when he heard that Frans wasn’t in, he acted like it was a really bad thing. He said he’d return to the House of Stairs by the proper road and tell the count. He refused to go via Sevenways!”
The other three stared at her.
“This is the last straw!” cried Roberto. “There’s always something up with Tooreloor. He’s enough to drive anyone toorelally! And it was all his fault that Frans couldn’t be at home.”
“This is most unpleasant,” said Mr Thomtidom. “It’s nothing less than sabotage!”
“I did rather haul Jan over the coals yesterday,” said Miss Rosemary quietly.
“That’s no reason for disobedience and insubordination,” said Mr Thomtidom.
“But what will we do now?” said Roberto. “Frans has to go to the House of Stairs, and he needs to travel via Sevenways and no other way.”
Frans nodded. He had become convinced that the conspirators were right and that he had to go to the house by that route – and by that route alone. Hmm… But…
“But I don’t need to go there by coach, do I?” he said, looking at Roberto.
“Of course not,” said Mr Thomtidom. “A
nd there’s a fast vehicle in front of the door… a motor-assisted pedal cycle, I believe they call them…”
Miss Rosemary shook her head and said, “A vehicle that’s too fast for my liking.”
“Roberto can go slowly though,” said the magician. “Even though that conveyance of his is still alarmingly loud and dangerous.”
“No more dangerous than that ancient coach,” said Roberto, annoyed. “Why shouldn’t I take Frans? You people need to move with the times. My scooter’s fast and safe.”
“Well, we have no other choice,” said his aunt with a sigh. “Frans can’t miss his appointment again, so Roberto will have to take him to the House of Stairs.”
“We’ll be there before Jan!” said Roberto.
“Not before him,” said Frans. “We’ll be going faster, but it’s longer via Sevenways than along the proper road.”
“No, it’s closer,” said the magician.
“I saw on the map that…” Frans began.
“The track from Sevenways is the shortest,” the magician said, interrupting him. “I mean, of course, the Seventh Way.”
“Seventh Way?”
“Yes, Sevenways wouldn’t be called Sevenways if there weren’t seven ways, would it? That would fly in the face of all logic,” said Mr Thomtidom.
Frans had no answer to that. “But we still need to leave right away,” said Roberto. “If you don’t want me to go too fast…”
“You can’t go too fast on that road anyway,” said the magician, “even if you want to. You don’t have a death wish, do you?”
“It’s a perfectly good road,” said Roberto. “I hope we see Jan. Then we can throw him out of the conspiracy!”
“Only I have the authority to do that,” his aunt said, putting him in his place. She placed her hands on his shoulders and continued, “I’m not going to say ‘Be careful’, Roberto, but I will say ‘Be sensible’! And stay who you are!”
Then she held out her hand to Frans like a noble lady sending a knight out on a perilous quest.
“I’d like to go along too,” said Mr Thomtidom.
“No, you need to roll up your sleeves for the heavy work,” said Roberto. “Like casting spells, for instance.”
Then he said they needed to hurry and, less than three minutes later, Frans was sitting up behind him on the back of the scooter. It was a cloudy evening, and the wind was blowing, but it wasn’t raining. At a calm pace, they set off. Frans looked back again at the lighted windows of the house in the Herb Garden. I didn’t even thank Miss Rosemary properly for her hospitality, he thought. And I’ve forgotten my books again.
Within a few minutes they were at Sevenways. Roberto drove up to the pub, stopped in front of the big double doors and turned off the engine.
“This is the old coach house,” he whispered. “And now I’ll reveal the secret to you, and show you the Seventh Way.”
He took a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. Then he opened up the doors and said, “Come on.” After they’d taken the scooter inside, he shut the doors behind them and switched on his torch.
Frans looked around. The room they were in was completely empty, with an uneven stone floor. Opposite the entrance he saw two other large doors, which were also closed. Roberto walked over to them and unlocked them too. Then he opened them with a ceremonious gesture and shone his torch outside. “Behold!” he said. “I present the Secret of the Seven Ways: the Seventh Way!”
And yes, there behind the second pair of doors a path began, which meandered into the woods and disappeared in the darkness.
“I should have known…” Frans said in a surprised whisper. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before!”
“Yes, it really was rather unobservant of you,” said Roberto. “This way leads directly to the House of Stairs. It used to go around the coach house at one time, and everyone knew where to find it. Now it’s hidden and forgotten. The Fiendish Foe has allowed the road to become overgrown with nettles. Jan and I spent days clearing a way through… What time is it?”
“Nearly eight,” replied Frans.
“It takes me less than quarter of an hour,” said Roberto. “If I go quickly.”
“You promised to go slowly,” said Frans.
Roberto switched off his torch. “But that would be even more dangerous,” he said. “Aunt Rosemary said, ‘Be sensible,’ not ‘Be careful.’ If we go slowly, the gamekeepers are sure to catch us.”
“Gamekeepers?” repeated Frans.
“Yes, this area is off limits too. The Seventh Way is the property of the Fiendish Foe, as is this ruin.”
“The Seventh Way belongs to the count?” said Frans. “And this pub too? I thought Jan Tooreloor…”
“You’re not very good at thinking, are you?” came Roberto’s voice from the darkness. “Did that whack on the head damage your brain? Jan Tooreloor used to rent this place from some rich gentleman in Langelaan. Years ago the Fiendish Foe bought it from that gentleman and he threw Jan out… Why? To leave it unused and to let it collapse! To make sure the Seventh Way would be forgotten, and disappear… You see, if there’s no Seventh Way, no one can follow it. Because someone who comes along the Seventh Way could defeat him, as he well knows!”
Frans’s eyes were getting used to the darkness; he could see the path again, gleaming with puddles. The trees swayed and rustled. “So he had great foresight, this count…” he mumbled.
“Years ago, you say?” “Yes. But Mr Thomtidom says that he first bought the Red Man – that’s the name of the pub – for a different reason,” whispered Roberto. “This is where the secret passageway began where Gregorius the Mad once found the treasure.” He gently tapped the ground with his foot, and Frans thought he heard a quiet echo from below. “Gradus Grisenstein had the whole place torn apart,” Roberto continued. “But he didn’t find anything. Gregorius the Mad had sealed up the passageway, and the treasure’s now inside the House of Stairs…”
“That’s a pity,” said Frans. “This forgotten Seventh Way is all very well and good, but I was hoping to end up in an underground passage at some point, preferably a haunted one.”
“Oh, there are plenty enough ghosts here,” said Roberto cheerfully.
“Yes, you told me that before, when I met you here the first time.”
“The first time we met was at the Thirsty Deer,” said Roberto.
Frans didn’t reply. It was pretty tiring, spending time with someone who was made up of two people. Then Roberto hopped back onto the scooter, and Frans climbed up behind him.
“Jan Tooreloor could tell you a lot of ghost stories,” Roberto added. “And so could I… But I don’t have time right now; we need to get going. Hold on tight. I want to go fast.”
“Would you please…” Frans began, but his words were lost in the roar of the engine.
And then they raced off along the Seventh Way.
The path was full of bumps and potholes, so it sometimes seemed as if they were leaping forward in bounds, rather than riding along. It also had plenty of bends – but Roberto just went faster and faster. Frans wondered if it was still Roberto sitting there in front of him, or if the Biker Boy was steering the scooter.
It was a rollercoaster ride, alarmingly loud and dangerous, to use the magician’s words. Frans was shaken and jolted about, and branches whipped into him, all of which combined to give him a splitting headache. When he tried to look around, he just saw trees flashing by. Finally he closed his eyes and didn’t open them until Roberto braked sharply, and stopped.
The path opened onto – or rather, merged with – a brick road, which led to a tall metal gate, about twenty feet away.
Frans climbed down from the back of the scooter, with a quiet “ouch”, because he could feel the pain in his ankle again. The engine went on thrumming away.
“Are we there?” he shouted above the noise.
Roberto’s only reply was to drive on slowly towards the fence. Frans followed him, limping. Through the raili
ngs, he saw a driveway, which seemed to lead nowhere. There were trees along both sides, waving to and fro in the wind.
“Hey!” he called to Roberto. “Turn off your engine.”
Roberto didn’t do as he was asked, but started riding around in circles instead.
“Stop that right now!” said Frans angrily. “You’ve already performed enough daredevil stunts for one evening.” As he spoke, his suspicion was confirmed. Roberto had turned back into the Biker Boy.
The young man came to a sudden stop in front of him, silenced the engine and switched off the lights.
“I seem to remember,” said Frans coldly, “you telling me something about gamekeepers. If you carry on like that, you’ll be sure to attract their attention.”
“So what?” came the voice of the Biker Boy. “We’re on a public road now, and I’ve as much right as anyone to be here. I’m not scared of some dull old count. Who cares if he lives in a massive house?”
Frans tried to open the gate, but it was locked. He could just about make out the house now; it was quite a way from the road. He saw lights in some of the windows. “How are we going to get in there?” he muttered.
“It’s not that hard!” said the Biker Boy. “Are you feeling brave enough to climb over the fence and into his garden? Yeah, that’s a great idea! We’re going to give that count a proper fright…”
“No. Absolutely not,” said Frans. “If you remember, I came here for a job interview. So you can forget about doing anything that’ll make me look bad.”
The Biker Boy whistled through his teeth. “He’s worried about his job!” he shouted to the trees and the clouds above. “Hah!” he scoffed. “You’re just as fake as Count Grisenstein himself. As soon as you get inside his house, you’ll be sitting up and begging and giving him your paw, just like everyone else. Well, just so you know, you can count me out!”
