Adele gasped. ‘What . . . stolen property?’
‘Tell her, Isabella,’ said Silas. ‘Tell her what you did.’
But Isabella could not speak. In fact, she could not even look at her cousin.
‘Isabella?’ said Adele, confused. ‘I don’t understand. What’s going on?’
‘Valuable items have been steadily disappearing from the house,’ explained Silas. ‘Isabella discovered the identity of the thief and bravely brought that information to me. This evening while you were at dinner, Adele, all of the missing items were located in your closet.’ He rubbed at his pale lips. ‘Naturally I will have to alert the police.’
‘But I didn’t do it,’ declared Adele, looking at her cousin with a mixture of hurt and fury. ‘Tell him, Isabella! I never stole anything! I wouldn’t!’
‘Oh?’ said Silas. ‘Then who did?’
‘Well . . . I can’t say.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I mean, I don’t know.’
‘What a shame,’ said Silas. ‘You are sure to be Ratchet’s House’s newest inmate now.’
‘Ratchet’s House?’ said Isabella.
‘It is a place where unwanted children are locked away,’ explained Silas. ‘That is where your cousin is to be sent when she returns to Tipping Point empty-handed. Isn’t that so, Adele?’
Adele found herself nodding.
As she watched her cousin, Isabella’s face grew pale. Adele was going to be locked away? No, surely not! Who would do such a thing to their own daughter?
‘So, Adele,’ said Silas softly, ‘I will ask you one more time – if you are not the thief, then who is?’
Exposing Isabella as the real thief would be simple, but Adele knew that if she did, then in some strange way Silas would have won. He thrived on dividing people, turning one person against the other, breeding hatred. But today he would not have his victory. Adele would not give it to him.
‘I could tell you, Uncle Silas,’ she replied honestly, ‘but I’m not going to.’
Silas regarded her coldly. ‘Foolish child.’
An uncomfortable sensation stirred and shook Isabella and she did not like it one bit. Adele was covering for her; sacrificing her freedom to protect the very person who had set her up. Isabella gasped. It reached out and up and she could not stop it.
‘Then I will send for the police immediately,’ she heard Silas announce.
‘Wait!’ cried Isabella. ‘I was wrong. It wasn’t Adele who stole from you . . . it was Mrs Hammer.’
‘Mrs Hammer?’ Silas looked delighted.
‘Isabella,’ said Adele, ‘what are you doing?’
‘That’s right, Mrs Hammer,’ said Isabella quickly. ‘The poor dear can’t help herself; she steals anything that isn’t nailed to the floor. I caught her red-handed lifting the silverware and she started crying like a baby, begging me not to say anything. I guess I felt sorry for her – she’s so old and unattractive. I’m sorry I lied about Adele, it was a dreadful thing to do.’
‘This is a surprise,’ said Silas with a dark grin. ‘Mrs Hammer has been such a faithful servant these last forty years. I shall send for her now and force a confession. Of course, we will have to lock her up until the police arrive.’
‘Is that really necessary, Uncle?’ said Isabella, gulping. ‘I gave the old bat a very stern talking to and she promised never to do it again. I think it would be far more sensible to just drop the whole thing and pretend it never happened. Don’t you agree, Uncle?’
‘No,’ said Silas, his grin slipping away, ‘I do not. Her life as a free woman ends today. With your testimony, Isabella, I will make sure that Mrs Hammer is locked away until her dying day.’
‘You can’t do that.’ Isabella lowered her head and the soft groan which escaped from her mouth was the sound of surrender. ‘Mrs Hammer didn’t steal from you,’ she said slowly. ‘Neither did Adele. It was me. I’m the one.’
Silas closed his eyes and laughed coldly.
‘Well, of course you are,’ he told her. ‘You are a thief just as your father is – I knew that before you set foot on Sommerset. You befriend wealthy girls, get yourself invited to their homes and then steal from them. That is your modus operandi, is it not?’
As Silas spoke, Isabella felt like he had cut her open and exposed her soul to the whole world. The shame washed across her face in a river of deep crimson.
‘You are a fraud, Isabella Winterbottom,’ declared Silas. ‘A common criminal; little more than a glorified pickpocket. And that is all you ever will be.’
‘That’s not true!’ said Adele, stepping forward to challenge her uncle. ‘Isabella may be a thief and a two-faced liar and a stuck-up princess, but when it really mattered she told the truth.’ She turned and looked at her cousin. ‘If you ask me, that counts for something.’
Despite the fact that her cousin had just called her a variety of unpleasant names, Isabella smiled. ‘Thank you, Cousin.’
‘Family unity,’ said Silas with a disappointed sigh. ‘How very dull.’
‘Enough!’ Adele shouted at her uncle angrily. ‘You’re just trying to distract us and it won’t work. We know you are hiding something down in the basement and we won’t leave this room until you show us what it is!’ She folded her arms and stared directly at her uncle. ‘I mean it, Uncle Silas. Show us what you are hiding . . . or else.’
‘Take us to the basement, you revolting old bag of bones!’ demanded Isabella, stamping her foot for added effect.
Silas smiled thinly. ‘As you wish.’
Reaching into his coat pocket Silas grasped a small remote control and pressed it. Immediately the stone floor beneath Adele and Isabella fell away and the two girls dropped through a trapdoor, and were swallowed into darkness.
THE DEPARTED
Milo was up before the sun. Although his cuts and bruises still hurt, he felt a great deal better after such a long sleep. With Bingle snoring loudly in the armchair by the window, Milo dressed quietly so as not to wake him. When he was done he tucked his crutches under his arms and headed straight for Adele’s bedroom, eager to know if she had made any progress regarding Dr Mangrove.
Milo knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again and entered.
‘Adele, you awake yet?’
The room was empty. Completely empty. Adele’s clothes, her books . . . everything was gone. Apart from the bed and an armchair the bedroom was bare.
It made no sense. Milo’s pulse quickened.
Hopping down the corridor he threw open Isabella’s bedroom door.
Empty.
The cold hand of fear wrapped its claws around his heart.
His cousins had vanished without a trace.
Mrs Hammer walked quickly across the second-floor landing. She hated sneaking about, but what choice did she have? When an old friend asks you for a favour . . . well, you do what you can to help. Besides, the master would not be awake yet so she was safe enough.
Turning towards the east wing, the old housekeeper nearly jumped out of her skin when Silas appeared from behind a large marble column.
‘Sir!’ she gasped, clutching her chest. ‘Oh dear! You startled me.’
‘How unfortunate,’ said Silas, his dark eyes staring at her intently. He pointed to the piece of paper she was clutching. ‘What have you got there, Mrs Hammer?’
‘Oh . . . this? Well it’s... it’s a note, sir,’ she told him. ‘Just a note.’
‘Who is the note for, Mrs Hammer?’
‘Well . . .’ She hesitated. ‘It’s for Master Milo, sir.’
Silas put out his bony hand. ‘Give it to me.’
Mrs Hammer handed it over obediently.
Silas folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. ‘I will see that my nephew gets it, Mrs Hammer. You may go back to the kitchen. Oh, and Mrs Hammer – if you value your position here at Sommerset, keep your distance from Moses. The old man is deranged.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Just a moment, Mrs Hammer,’ called Silas, wavi
ng her back. ‘Send someone down to the orchard to fetch Knox. Tell him to meet me in my study at noon. I have a job for him.’
Mrs Hammer nodded and walked swiftly towards the stairs. She was in such a hurry to get away she did not notice Milo storming along the western corridor with a look of thunder in his eyes.
‘Where are they, Uncle Silas?’ the boy demanded, hopping towards his uncle as fast as his crutches would take him. ‘What have you done with my cousins?’
‘Ah, yes, your cousins,’ said Silas. ‘They are gone, Milo. They left last night while you were sleeping.’
‘Left?’ Milo did not try to hide his fury. ‘I don’t believe you!’
‘You don’t? Well that is the truth, child, whether you believe it or not.’ Silas moved along the landing then stopped, turning back to face his nephew. ‘I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this,’ he said, ‘but your cousins were stealing from me. Yes, that’s right – stealing. I discovered their crimes and confronted them. They confessed everything.’
‘Adele wouldn’t steal,’ declared Milo. ‘You’re lying, Uncle Silas. Tell me where they are!’
Silas sighed wearily. ‘Do you know why Isabella and Adele came to Sommerset? They came for my fortune, Milo. I don’t blame them, of course; their parents are vultures. However, once I was alerted to the stealing I had no choice but to ask them to leave. I chose not to call the police.’ Silas smiled thinly. ‘Returning to their parents is punishment enough.’
‘It makes no sense,’ said Milo, shaking his head. ‘Adele wouldn’t have left without talking to me first. She wouldn’t have.’
Silas laughed softly, his pallid face buckling in a wave of creases.
‘What do you think I’ve done with them, Milo?’ he said softly. ‘Locked them away somewhere? Come now, do you really think me capable of harming my own nieces?’ He reached for his nephew’s hand but the boy pulled away. ‘I’m not a monster, Milo. Just a sick old man trying to do what is right. Look, I am told the phones will be working again tomorrow; you can phone your cousins then and see that they have arrived home safely. Now that’s fair, isn’t it?’
Milo looked down at his hands. He wanted to cry but stopped himself. Adele and Isabella needed him and he wasn’t going to let them down.
‘Yes, Uncle,’ he said, nodding. ‘That’s fair.’
Deep under Sommerset House a labyrinth of tunnels spread out like a spider’s web. Down there the chilled air had the pungent stench of rotting fish. The walls were damp and a small stream of water trickled along the tunnel floor on a carpet of silky moss.
The prisoners were being held in a remote tunnel under the east wing.
‘This is just great,’ groaned Isabella, yanking on her chains. ‘I thought Uncle Silas’s basement was supposed to be full of gold and jewels and priceless treasures. The only priceless thing down here is me!’
The girls were secured to the floor by a thick chain connected to leather straps clasped around their wrists. They stood side by side midway along a stretch of tunnel which narrowed to a hazy ball of dim light at the far end.
‘Uncle Silas is going to pay for this!’ shrieked Isabella. ‘My father will be furious when he finds out what that horrid man has done to me! Oh, Cousin, my arms hurt – and this smell. If I don’t get out of here I’m going to throw up!’
Adele said nothing. She had barely spoken since waking up on the tunnel floor, chained like an animal. Her mind was a tangle of muddy thoughts, churning like a mixing bowl. Had anyone discovered they were missing yet? Was Milo okay? Was he even alive?
‘How much longer are we going to be stuck down here?’ whined Isabella. ‘He can’t keep us chained up forever.’ She looked at her cousin for reassurance. ‘He can’t, can he, Cousin?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Adele. ‘I really don’t.’
Suddenly the tunnel went black. Then a flicker of light began to break the darkness like a torch being switched on and off. Both girls looked down the tunnel and saw the unmistakable silhouette of their uncle moving steadily towards them. He had a box on his lap and was tossing large pieces of raw chicken and water buffalo along the tunnel floor as he went.
‘What on earth is he doing?’ said Isabella nervously.
Before Adele could answer, Silas came to a stop just beyond his nieces’ reach. He observed them carefully, a boyish grin spread across his ghostly face.
‘Captivity suits you, Adele,’ he said crisply. ‘The fear and anger in your eyes is actually rather beautiful. It almost makes one forget about your hair. And you, Isabella – after so many years of crime how does it feel to finally be in chains?’
‘You deranged skeleton!’ spat Isabella. ‘I may be a criminal but at least I’m not crazy!’
Gazing anxiously at the trail of raw meat lining the tunnel, Adele said, ‘Uncle Silas, what are you going to do to us?’
‘Nothing, child,’ Silas told her softly. ‘I am not going to do a thing.’ He sighed. ‘However, I cannot say the same for my alligators. You see, this tunnel connects directly to the swamp and in exactly one hour the gates will open and my alligators will be free to come in – it will be lunchtime, so naturally the poor beasts will be starving.’ Silas tipped the box upside down and a pool of animal blood splashed across the tunnel floor. ‘The meat is just an incentive; you are the main meal and I am quite sure the reptiles will find you thoroughly delicious.’
Isabella began to scream wildly. ‘HELP! SOMEONE HELP US . . . PLEASE!’
‘No-one will hear you down here, child,’ said Silas.
‘You’re a monster,’ said Adele softly, her eyes downcast.
Her uncle smiled warmly. ‘Not for much longer, child.’
Without warning a shudder pushed through Adele and her eyes flew open. A flood of memories, like pages from a book, flipped rapidly through her mind. She recalled being in the storeroom with Isabella and her uncle. Then the floor fell away . . . the next memory she had was of mumbled voices and movement through the tunnels, the damp walls slipping by. And something else; a flash of light glimpsed through an open door. Inside was a brightly lit room with a pair of glass coffins in the centre and a bank of machines along the wall.
Adele gasped. Not coffins – chambers. Two glass chambers!
‘I saw it,’ said Adele, fear coating each word. She looked fiercely at her uncle. ‘I saw what you’ve built! It’s the chamber Dr Mangrove dreamed up all those years ago; the missing chapter from his book. I’m right, aren’t I? When I first read his insane theories about cheating death I thought it was impossible.’ Adele was shaking her head, her face pale. ‘It couldn’t be true. Mangrove believed a human soul could move between bodies and that awful contraption is how he . . . how you plan to do it.’ Tears of anger and helplessness filled her eyes. How cruel it was to finally understand what her uncle was planning – now that it was too late to stop him . . . and too late to save Milo.
‘You’re going to steal Milo’s body,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Uncle Silas?’
‘Steal Milo’s what?’ yelled Isabella, unable to believe what she was hearing.
‘It’s an evil thing you’re doing!’ said Adele bitterly. ‘A horrible, terrible, evil thing!’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Silas. ‘But utterly brilliant, don’t you think? My body is dying and I need a new one. Dr Mangrove’s genius has made that possible.’ He waved at his nieces. ‘Farewell, children. Apart from this unfortunate ending, I do hope you enjoyed your time here at Sommerset.’
Turning his chair, Silas taxied down the tunnel, leaving a trail of bloody tyre tracks in his wake. The girls could hear their uncle humming contentedly to himself. At the mouth of the tunnel he stopped suddenly.
‘Oh and don’t worry about your parents,’ he told them. ‘They will be contacted in a day or two and told that there has been a terrible accident: you two inquisitive girls were exploring down in the basement when you accidentally wandered into the wrong tunnel and oops – eaten a
live by a pack of hungry alligators.’
Laughing softly, Silas exited the tunnel with the terrified screams of his nieces ringing in his ears.
TRAPPED
As Milo crossed the entrance hall he felt it – the eerie silence which had settled around Sommerset like a fog. It was as if the entire island was a deserted ship. Hopping towards the front door, he passed the mangled elevator shaft, swinging his broken leg over the cracked stone floor. He was on a mission to find Moses and make him talk. Whatever secrets the old gardener was holding about Silas Winterbottom, it was time he spoke them aloud.
After all, Adele and Isabella’s lives might very well depend on it.
Milo did not believe for one minute that his cousins had been sent home. A rumbling in the pit of his stomach told him that the girls were still on the island. They were close, he could feel it. But where?
Grabbing the door handle, Milo made a silent vow to do whatever it took to find them. Locked. He tried again. The door would not budge. Milo’s breathing began to quicken as it hit him – he was trapped inside Sommerset House. A prisoner.
‘Can I help you, Master Milo?’ said Bingle from behind him.
Milo turned his head. ‘Why is this door locked?’
The head butler was carrying a tray containing a pot of tea and a selection of freshly baked biscuits from the kitchen. He cleared his throat. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘your uncle felt it best that you stay indoors. Just for today. It’s awful chilly outside.’
‘Open this door, Bingle,’ said Milo sharply. ‘Open it now!’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.’ He noticed Milo glancing off towards the drawing room. ‘You will find, Master Milo, that all of the doors are locked.’
‘Where is my uncle?’ Milo demanded. ‘I want to see him!’
‘The master is taking a meeting in his study,’ replied Bingle. He walked towards a round table in the centre of the entrance hall. ‘You do not look at all well, Master Milo. Let me help you back up to your bedroom.’ Bingle placed the tray on the table. ‘Yes, I think that would be best. Your uncle will come and see you as soon as he is able.’
Silas and the Winterbottoms Page 14
