by Alan Snow
At the end, he stopped, gazing in wonderment. Before him was a large, hexagonal stone chamber, with an open shaft in the center of the floor. A large yellow banner hung from the balcony. In the center of the banner was a picture of a wedge of cheese, and beneath it ran the words R.C.G. WE SHALL RISE AGAIN! He looked again at the open shaft and realized that this was the source of the bubbling sound. He started forward and then recoiled. The smell of cheese was overpowering. He held his nose and approached it again. The shaft descended into total darkness, and the bubbling was coming from somewhere below.
He moved back from the hole and looked about worriedly. He wondered where Fish and the others were.
Then Arthur noticed a small wooden door on one side of the chamber. The sign above it read MEMBERS’ CHANGING ROOM. He nervously tried the door. It was locked.
“Bother!” Now he’d have to go back to the hall and try the other doors.
Arthur crept back up the passageway to the entrance-hall doorway and once again listened carefully. All he could hear was the bubbling behind him, so he snuck into the entrance hall and looked at the three remaining doors.
He didn’t think they would keep the creatures in a tearoom or the chairman’s suite . . . so that left the lab. He tried the lab door. It opened.
Arthur found himself at the top of a flight of steps that led down into another vast hall, this one filled with enormous silent machines.
Arthur found himself at the top of a flight of steps that led down into another vast hall, this one filled with enormous silent machines. Stained-glass windows high in the walls cast an eerie light over everything. He decided to risk making a noise.
“Fish . . . Fish . . . are you in here?” he whispered loudly. His voice reverberated alarmingly around the hall before it died away. There was no reply.
As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw a pale red glow in a far corner of the lab. Arthur strained to see. It was an illuminated sign above some door or passage. It was too far away to read.
Arthur hurried down the steps. The smell of oil and polished brass filled the air. Arthur studied the various machines and apparatuses as he passed by them. He recognized some of the machines from his grandfather’s bedroom, but his grandfather’s were like toys by comparison. There was a beam engine even larger than the one at the Laundry; lathes and enormous drills; milling machines; rows of glass tanks, filled with liquid, that had metal plates hung in them; a cart with an enormous coil of metal sitting on it; and something very large with canvas sheeting tied over it.
Finally he neared the glowing sign and saw yet another stairway—this one spiraling downward. But he was already in the cellar, wasn’t he? He looked up and read—
DUNGEON
Arthur looked back around the hall, and then braced himself. It was very dark down those steps, he thought nervously. Then he swallowed and started down.
He swallowed and started down.
The dungeon.
chapter 21
THE DUNGEON
Arthur reached the bottom step.
Arthur reached the bottom step and stopped. Before him was a corridor lined with three cells on either side. The fronts of five of them were made from iron bars, and each had a door set into the bars. But the last cell on the right-hand side was boarded up. Arthur turned to the first cell and peered inside. Eyes stared back at him from the gloom. He could just make out the shapes of the creatures as they quivered against the back wall.
“Oh, poor things! They’re underlings!” he said under his breath.
There was a boxtroll, three cabbageheads, and a rare two-legged lonely stoat. Arthur did not recognize any of them as his friends. Still, he tried the lock, but it was no use. “Don’t worry,” he whispered through the bars. “I’m a friend. I’ll get you out of here if I can!” Then he peered into the cell opposite. That contained only a stack of small cardboard boxes, so he walked on. As he reached the next cell, there was a flash of movement from the darkness, and suddenly, snarling heads appeared between the bars and snapped at him. Arthur leaped back. They were trotting badgers.
There was a boxtroll, three cabbageheads, and a rare two-legged lonely stoat.
Suddenly, snarling heads appeared between the bars and snapped at him.
Arthur held back till they stopped snapping, quieted down, and finally returned to the back of their cell. Then, shakily, he turned to inspect the cell behind him. There were three more boxtrolls. For a moment Arthur felt his heart jump, but as soon as he took a better look, he realized none of them were his friends. Again he tried the lock to no avail, and again he whispered some words of reassurance before moving on to investigate the last open cell.
Three very familiar cardboard boxes were stacked on top of one another. Arthur grasped the bars eagerly and whispered, “Fish! Shoe! Egg!”
Three very familiar cardboard boxes were stacked on top of one another.
A head slowly rose from a hole in the top box. It was Fish.
Fish gave a loud gurgle, and heads, arms, and legs sprouted from all three boxes simultaneously. The stack fell over with a clatter and was followed by a lot of moaning. Titus popped up from behind where the stack had once stood. He smiled at Arthur. Arthur clutched the bars as his friends rushed forward to meet him.
Arthur clutched the bars as his friends rushed forward to meet him.
“Thank goodness you’re all right!” exclaimed Arthur. “We’ve been so worried about you.”
Fish, Shoe, and Egg all gurgled excitedly, while Titus squeaked. They reached their hands through the bars, grasping at Arthur, and looked at him very hopefully.
“I’m going to get you out of here!” Arthur said firmly. “I promise.” He looked down at the lock. Fish followed his glance.
“I don’t suppose you know where the key is, do you?” asked Arthur.
The underlings shook their heads and looked disappointed. Arthur turned round. There was no key visible anywhere, but his eye fixed on the boarded-up cell opposite.
His eye fixed on the boarded-up cell.
The underlings suddenly shuffled nervously. Arthur took a step toward the boarded-up cell but was stopped dead in his tracks. Several pairs of hands were gripping his clothes and holding him back.
“All right, I won’t go near it,” Arthur assured them.
The underlings let go. Arthur studied the front of the boarded cell. A large switch was fixed to the planks by its door, and underneath it, written in red paint, was—
“There must be something in there even worse than trotting badgers.”
The underlings nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. “What is it?” Arthur asked.
The underlings started jumping up and down and making noises. Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!
When they realized that Arthur had no idea what they meant, they gave up.
“Well, I will leave it for the moment. I think I had better concentrate on getting you out of here!” The underlings looked relieved.
“The key must be upstairs somewhere. I’ll go and see if I can find it. I will be back soon—I promise!” The boxtrolls and Titus huddled together in the cell and looked at Arthur with pleading eyes. It felt wrong to leave them again, but he knew the only way he could help them was by finding the keys to their cell.
Tearing his eyes away from them, Arthur made for the steps, keeping well away from the boarded cell and the trotting badgers.
The underlings started jumping up and down and making noises. Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!
A huge set of iron doors, set in the floor.
chapter 22
BACK IN THE LAB
Where would they keep the key?
Arthur crept up the stairs, and as he reached the top, he checked again that no one was there.
Where would they keep the key? he wondered, and he started to search the lab. As he tiptoed between the machines, he noticed chains stretching down from the darkness to somewhere near the center of the lab. He headed in that direction and soon found himself
standing on a pathway that surrounded a large open area. Beyond waist-height railings were a huge set of iron doors, set in the floor. The chains that he’d seen were fixed to iron rings in the center of the doors. High above hung a strange, giant metal funnel. Its mouth pointed down toward the doors.
Arthur walked around the pathway. On the far side was a box fixed to the railings. It was some kind of control panel. A metal tube ran down from beneath it and through a small hole by the edge of the pathway. He peered into the hole. It was dark and very narrow, but he could just make out a pale light from somewhere deep below. Again he caught the strong smell of cheese. He wondered what could be down there that needed such huge iron doors to contain it.
A box fixed to the railings.
He turned back to the control panel. It was covered with an array of dials, and below the dials was a brass disk with a slot for a key. The slot pointed toward the word “down.” Across the panel was etched the word “up.” Arthur looked over at the doors, and then up at the chains by the funnel. From the top of the funnel, giant curling wires descended to the roof of what looked like, of all things, an iron garden shed on stilts. Another pair of curly wires emerged from the shed roof and led to a smaller funnel. This was fixed above the roof of a cage that stood on the floor of the lab, next to the shed. The cage was empty. He had a bad feeling about it.
He had a bad feeling about it.
Steps led up to a platform that ran around the shed. Arthur glanced around quickly, then dashed up them. Looking into the shed through its thick glass windows, he saw a workbench covered with bits and pieces and . . . his wings.
Arthur rushed around to the door and tried the handle. It was locked, so he ran to the back of the shed to get a better look. Yes! They were definitely his wings. And the wing spars and leatherwork had been mended. Then his heart stopped. They had taken the box to pieces!
He ran to the back of the shed to get a better look.
“Oh no! What am I going to do now?” he moaned.
He looked frantically at the floor of the lab. On a cart close by were some tools. He rushed down and picked out a sledgehammer. Returning to the shed, he raised the hammer above his head and swung it at the window in the door.
He raised the hammer above his head and swung it at the window in the door.
The sound reverberated around the lab . . . but the hammer just bounced off the window! Arthur was stunned. He crouched down and waited to see if the noise would bring anyone rushing in. The sound died away and nobody came. Arthur decided to try again. But again the hammer just bounced off.
“Darn it!” he muttered. “I need to find the keys!” Then he had an encouraging thought. Perhaps the keys for the shed and the keys for the cells would all be kept together somewhere.
He glanced about the lab again, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere obvious where keys would be kept. Arthur headed for the Chairman’s Suite. The room was very dark, the only light coming from embers in a large fireplace. Arthur could just see the silhouette of a desk across the room. Carefully feeling his way, he crossed to the desk and picked up the oil lamp that was sitting on it. He took a splint from the fire and lit the lamp and instantly felt very uneasy. The faces of generations of Snatchers stared down at him from family portraits on the walls.
“Don’t look at them, and you will feel better,” Arthur told himself.
“Don’t look at them, and you will feel better,” Arthur told himself.
He turned his attention to the rest of the room. The desk was huge and cluttered, and behind it, moth-eaten velvet drapes covered the wall. In front of the fireplace were two decrepit sofas and a chaise longue. One of the sofas had an old blanket and a dirty sheet strewn over it, and next to it was a pile of dirty socks. The other sofa was a mess of horsehair and springs. The whole room smelled rather unpleasant.
The desk seemed the obvious place to look, so he started there. In its center a large sheet of paper was laid out, held down at its corners by a paperweight, a dirty cup and saucer, and a pair of old boots. Arthur studied the sheet. It seemed to be some sort of scientific diagram, but any more than that, he could not tell.
Around it were stubs of old pencils, rubber bands, a broken pocket watch, the dried remains of half a sandwich, a ruler, and a broken quill . . . but no keys. Arthur decided to try the drawers. He pulled open the top one.
Socks? Arthur was very surprised. The drawer was filled with socks, only a little less grubby than the pile by the sofa. Reluctantly he put his hand into the drawer and searched to see if there were any keys hidden there. When he decided there were not, he moved on.
Arthur opened the next drawer, and to his disgust, he discovered it contained long johns. He was not putting his hand in there. He took the ruler from the desk and used it to empty the drawer. No key there, either. He put the underwear back in the drawer, again using the ruler. Then he closed the drawer very firmly, dropped the ruler as hastily as he could, and shivered.
With a feeling of dread, he opened the next drawer. In this one he found a pink wig.
Arthur recognized it immediately—it was the wig Madame Froufrou had been wearing in the market. So there was a connection between her and Snatcher! But there was no time to think about that now—he had to concentrate on looking for the keys.
He lifted the wig out of the drawer, gave it a shake, and then hunted around the empty drawer. No keys!
Arthur replaced the wig and tried the last drawer. This one was so full that he had to pull with all his might. When it finally sprang open, he found a great bundle of fabric crammed inside. He pulled it out and gave another gasp of recognition. It was Madame Froufrou’s dress.
It was Madame Froufrou’s dress.
Things get curiouser and curiouser, Arthur thought. He checked the drawer fruitlessly for keys, then stuffed the dress back into it. It was not easy and took a certain amount of standing on to make it go back in.
Where next, he wondered.
He went over to a small table by one wall. There was a glass bottle on the table with some objects in it, and Arthur held it up. At the bottom, among some straw, were a tiny piece of cheese and two very small sleeping mice . . . or very, very, very small rats.
As he stood looking at the tiny creatures in puzzlement, he heard a noise from outside the room. Footsteps!—and they were approaching the door. Arthur froze for a second, then ran to the drapes and flung himself desperately behind them. A moment later someone entered the room and sat down in the chair behind the desk.
At the bottom, among some straw, were a tiny piece of cheese and two very small sleeping mice . . . or very, very, very small rats.
“My poor feet! This blooming rain!” It was Snatcher’s voice.
Arthur peeped out from behind the curtains. Snatcher had his feet up on his desk and was unlacing his wet boots. Arthur watched as he took them off and swapped them with the dry pair on the desk. Then Snatcher stood up, walked over to the fireplace, and pulled back his coat. Then Arthur saw them!
Arthur peepea out from behind the curtains.
Hanging from a short piece of string attached to Snatcher’s waistcoat was a large bunch of keys. After a few moments trying to warm himself, Snatcher kicked at the embers and gave up. He walked out of the door, leaving it ajar.
Hanging from a short piece of string attached to Snatcher’s waistcoat was a large bunch of keys.
Arthur crept out from behind the drapes and looked out into the hall. Snatcher stood in the archway facing the front door.
I have got to get those keys, thought Arthur. But how to do it—that was looking almost impossible. Then he heard a commotion from the passage.
“Come on, me lads! How many cheeses did we get in the end?” Snatcher called out.
“Eight, I think!” came the reply.
With a sinking heart, Arthur realized that the hunt was returning and that he needed to find a good hiding place—quickly.
“Put the mutts in my suite,” Snatcher ordered.
&
nbsp; The suite! Arthur glanced back at the velvet drapes and thought better of it. The dogs would sniff him out. Then he looked at the staircase. Perhaps he could hide upstairs? He crept to the staircase and started to climb as fast as he could. Behind him he heard more voices.
He crept to the staircase.
“The others made me be legs for the whole hunt!” It was Gristle.
“Stop your complaining and get upstairs and man the cheese hoist,” Snatcher barked.
Arthur broke out into a cold sweat and increased his pace up the stairs. As he reached the top, he looked back. Gristle was just reaching the first step. Arthur rushed for the only door on the landing. In a second he was through it with the door closed.
He found himself in the roof space below the dome. Fenced pens filled with hay covered most of the floor. At the far end of the loft a pair of doors were open to the night sky—the doors that Bert had described.
At the far end of the loft a pair of doors were open to the night sky.
He heard Gristle again. “Oi! Master! Can you send me up some help? I’m knackered.”
Arthur felt sick. He rushed to the open doors and looked down. Far below in the street he could see huntsmen and cheese-hounds milling about.
“Oi! Snatcher! I can’t lift these cheeses on me own!”
The shouting was getting closer. Arthur looked up. Above his head was a metal beam that protruded out above the street. A pulley with a rope going through it hung from the end of the beam.
The door behind him opened. Arthur held his breath and jumped for the rope.
Cross section of the Cheese Hall roof and dome.
chapter 23
