The Body Thief (9 page)

The Night of Comings and Goings

As the door opened a shard of light cut across the darkened hallway. Isabella popped her head out and looked up and down the corridor. No one around. She stepped out of her room, quiet as a mouse, and moved along the hall.

Winding down the grand staircase Isabella angrily pulled a large cloth bag from beneath her dressing gown. The object of her fury was Milo Winterbottom. How dare he
ignore
her in the garden…and to tell a lumpy creature like Hannah Spoon that she looked
pretty
was practically criminal!

Isabella picked up a small bronze clock from a long table on the first-floor landing and slipped it into the bag. Hadn’t she gone out of her way to welcome Milo when he arrived at Sommerset? Of course she had! And hadn’t she hugged him dearly and told him how sad it was that his parents had been eaten by sharks? Oh, yes, she had! And didn’t she invite the poor orphan to go horse riding with her? Well…no. But she
meant
to, and that was practically the same thing!

Moving stealthily toward the drawing room, Isabella saw a shadow sliding across the far wall. She froze. Someone else was wandering the halls of Sommerset House! She spun around just in time to see a fuzzy red Afro disappear around the corner.

Adele!

A flash of anger gripped Isabella’s pretty face. That tomato-haired little brat was up to something! Dropping the bag, Isabella took off after her cousin.

***

Adele was on the hunt. En route to the library she had spotted Bingle coming down a set of stairs behind the servants’ quarters. He was holding the same cloak she had seen draped over the mysterious houseguest a few nights before. She followed Bingle back to the storeroom, where she now had her ear pressed against the door.

She could hear whispering and the shuffling of feet.

Behind her a slick gray shadow inched along the stone floor. From the darkness a hand emerged bathed in pale moonlight. It moved closer toward her—the fingers flexed, coming down softly onto her shoulder.

Adele jumped, her body seizing up. She covered her mouth to trap the scream that threatened to tear out as she spun around.

“Whatever are you
doing
, cousin?” whispered Isabella with a sly grin.

Before Adele could answer, the door handle began to turn. Grabbing her cousin by the arm, Adele jumped, pulling both of them into the tapestry of shadows splashed across the far side of the corridor.

Bingle and Mrs. Hammer stepped out into the hall.

“You are certain no one saw you?” Mrs. Hammer said anxiously.

“I’m positive,” replied Bingle, wiping his brow with a blue handkerchief. “I took the back stairs, and Dr. Mangrove was covered by the cloak the whole time. No one saw a thing.”

“I still don’t understand why Dr. Mangrove has to be hidden away in the basement,” said Mrs. Hammer.

Bingle chuckled softly. “The master stores all of his treasures in the basement, Mrs. Hammer, you know that.”

“I still don’t like it, Bingle,” said Mrs. Hammer. “Why the need for all of this secrecy? And what on earth is Dr. Mangrove building down there?”

“The master’s affairs are private,” said Bingle tersely. “If you are smart you will ask no more questions, Mrs. Hammer. Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”

Mrs. Hammer gulped loudly. “Yes, yes…I’m sure you are right.”

“Good. Now are you certain the entrance is sealed?”

“Yes. I checked it twice.”

“Then let us go,” said Bingle as they hurried down the corridor. “I will collect the good doctor before sunrise.”

Alone again, Adele and Isabella stepped out into the dim light.

“I have a bad feeling, Isabella,” said Adele softly. “Who is this Dr. Mangrove?”

But Isabella was not listening, her greedy mind busily spinning. Uncle Silas keeps his
treasures
in the basement, that’s what Bingle said. She had visions of priceless artworks, royal jewels, and mountains of gold and silver.

Her skin tingled at the possibilities.

“We must find a way down to the basement,” said Isabella, opening the storeroom door.

“It’s no use,” said Adele. “The entrance isn’t there. Or if it is, it’s so well hidden I cannot find it.”

“But, cousin, we have to! There could be a fortune down there!”

Adele frowned at her cousin.

“This isn’t about money, Isabella,” she said crossly. “Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Hammer and Bingle were saying? Uncle Silas is up to something, and this Dr. Mangrove is involved. We have to find out what is going on.”

“Well, of course we do!” said Isabella with a flick of her hair. “That…that is exactly what I meant, cousin. Why should I care if Uncle Silas’s basement is full of priceless treasures? Stuff and nonsense! The important thing is to discover what is going on down there…and I think the perfect person to do that is
you
.” She yawned loudly. “I am exhausted, cousin; I really must go to bed.”

“Bed?” Adele was stunned. “How on earth could you think of sleeping
now?
”

“Oh, cousin, the basement will still be there in the morning,” said Isabella playfully (actually, she was thinking about the bag full of stolen property she left back in the entrance hall). “Besides, all of this excitement has exhausted me. Good night, cousin.”

Alone again, Adele made her way toward the secret entrance. There were thousands of books on the library’s towering shelves. Surely one of them would be of help in her quest. Sommerset House had a basement, and she was going to find a way in.

***

“I trust you were not seen.”

“We were careful,” said Dr. Mangrove, smiling confidently. The doctor was an odd-looking man—completely bald (with neither eyebrows nor eyelashes), he possessed a round, puffy face, waxy skin, beady eyes, and teeth a putrid shade of yellow.

“Of course you were,” said Silas faintly, taking another shallow breath.

Thorn sniffed suspiciously at Dr. Mangrove’s shoes, then dropped to the ground beside his master’s bed. His belly was full, and the fat little man did not look all that appetizing.

“Your pulse is weak,” said the doctor as he held Silas’s bony wrist. “I fear the medicine is no longer helping.”

“That is why you are here, Mangrove,” said Silas, resting his head back on a stack of silk pillows. “I trust everything is going smoothly down below.”

“Perfectly,” said Dr. Mangrove. “Do not worry about anything.”

“Ah, but I
must
worry,” said Silas, sounding utterly exhausted. “The road ahead is fraught with danger. There is still so much to do.”

“Yes, you are right.” Dr. Mangrove rubbed his thick hands together. “But we are so close, I can almost taste it. The choices we make now are critical.”

“Indeed.”

“Three children and you can only pick one,” said Mangrove, smiling grimly. “From what you have told me, each of them has their charms. Deciding who shall
inherit
and who shall go home is a complex matter.”

“Not really,” said Silas. “I made my choice long ago, but one must always plan for the unexpected, and that is why I invited
three
young Winterbottoms to the island. I don’t need to remind you, Mangrove, how very delicate this project is. After all, you have been working toward this day for a lifetime…for
many
lifetimes. We have but a single chance to get it right, and if the chosen one fails me, then we will have two healthy specimens as backup. I have been watching my guests closely. In truth, I have rather enjoyed toying with them; mind games are excellent sport for a dying man. I need to know how they think, how they react, what they feel. In short, I must see into their very souls.”

Mangrove was nodding, his eyes brimming with admiration for the sickly old man. “You have thought of everything, old friend.”

“Indeed.” Silas closed his heavy eyes. “But as for the children
going home
, well, that is simply out of the question.”

“Oh?” Dr. Mangrove licked his lips.

“Even the slightest chance of discovery is too great,” said Silas with cool certainty. “No, it was clear to me from the very beginning that the remaining children must never leave Sommerset.” He sighed gently. “Not alive anyway.”

As Silas and Dr. Mangrove continued their meeting in the secrecy of the master’s bedroom chamber, outside an ear was pressed to the door taking in every terrifying word. Fear consumed the eavesdropper who dared not make a sound. Discovery would mean certain death. With a racing heart, the figure moved rapidly from the master’s bedroom chamber, rushing toward the welcomed darkness of the landing.

***

A hand slid into the back recesses of a narrow drawer and pulled out an object wrapped tightly in white cloth—it looked like a mummy emerging from its tomb. With great care the object was being unwrapped. Layer after layer unwound until the knife fell onto the table.

Gripping the white handle, the knife was pulled from its sheath—the blade glistened, throwing blinding balls of white light onto the ceiling. A deep sense of satisfaction pulsed through the silent figure standing alone in the bedroom.

The day was coming when Silas Winterbottom would pay for his cruelty.

Soon it would all be over.

Persuasion

Isabella never entered a kitchen if she could possibly avoid it. Kitchens were revolting places where pasty-faced servants and potbellied cooks spent their miserable days preparing delicious food for people like her. The only time Isabella made an exception was when she had a complaint, which is why she was standing beside a table covered with freshly baked banana bread, whining loudly about the temperature of her iced tea (which was much too cold for her delicate mouth). It was during this visit to the kitchen that she unexpectedly learned a very useful piece of information—Uncle Silas’s beloved crocodile was allergic to chicken meat.
Very
allergic.

Mrs. Hammer was instructing a new kitchen hand and she made a great fuss regarding Thorn’s feeding requirements. Under no circumstances was the beast to be fed chicken. Ever.

This gave Isabella a most wonderful idea.

With a fresh glass of room-temperature iced tea in hand, she went in search of Adele and found the glum little redhead curled up with a stack of books in the library looking thoroughly miserable.

“There you are,” she said, flopping down next to Adele in front of the gigantic marble fireplace. “So, cousin, have you made any progress finding a way into the basement?”

Adele shook her head. “I am sure there must be something here that would help…a book or a map. But there are so many books to search through—it will take me
years
to check every one.”

“Never mind, cousin,” said Isabella with a giggle. “You are such a clever little thing—I am sure you will work it out. Now, on to more important matters. I’ve had the most wonderful idea to help you win over Uncle Silas.”

With little enthusiasm Adele closed the book on her lap and picked up another, scrolling through the index. She sighed heavily. “That’s nice, Isabella.”

Reaching across, Isabella closed the book her cousin was reading.

“Dearest, you still want to be Uncle Silas’s heir, don’t you?” asked Isabella.

Adele hesitated for a moment.
Did
she still want it? Chasing that prize had led her down a very dark path—scheming, plotting, working as a spy for her uncle. So much had happened lately and her thoughts were a great jumble. The only thing she was certain of was Ratchet’s House and how terrified she was of being sent there. Regardless of what Uncle Silas was hiding in the basement, he was still the master of Sommerset, and she
had
to prove herself to him. She simply had to. And as for Isabella—well, while she was almost certainly a book-stealing criminal, Adele had no choice but to trust her.

After all, who else could she turn to for help? Aunt Rosemary would be horrified if she knew why Adele had really come to Sommerset, and while Milo claimed to hate Uncle Silas and want nothing to do with his fortune, how could she be sure? Oh, it was all so confusing! All Adele knew for certain was that without help she would never win over her uncle.

“Yes,” she said faintly. “Of course I do. But why do you want to help me so much, Isabella?”

The pretty girl seemed shocked by the question, but her eyes soon took on their usual knowing gleam. “Because you
deserve
this, cousin,” she said. “You may not be pretty or quick-witted or even terribly interesting—but you are good and kind. Besides, I couldn’t bear to think of Sommerset going to that insane little orphan, and
I
certainly have no need for it.” Isabella patted her cousin on the hand. “Come now, cousin, you must show more determination. Uncle Silas will not hand Sommerset to you without a fight. You are going to have to win his heart.”

“Because
that
worked so well last time,” said Adele, remembering Silas’s bitter reaction to her ideas for Sommerset.

“Well, that’s why you must do something spectacular this time!” declared Isabella, jumping to her feet. “And my idea will make Uncle Silas think you are the sweetest girl who ever lived!”

“It will?”

“Yes! Who does Uncle Silas love more than anyone else on this island?” asked Isabella.

“That’s easy,” answered Adele. “Thorn.”

“Exactly! And tonight you are going to cook Thorn a special dinner all by yourself. Uncle Silas will see how much you care for the beast, and he will love you for it!”

Adele quickly came to see that her cousin’s idea was a clever one.

“Yes, it just might work!”

“The only decision you must make,” said Isabella with a frown, “is what to cook. The poor thing eats water buffalo every day—perhaps we could think of something different as a special treat.” She rubbed her chin. “Mmm, whatever do crocodiles
eat?
”

“I know!” said Adele excitedly. “Chicken. Crocodiles eat chicken—I read it in one of Uncle Silas’s reptile books.”

Smiling triumphantly, Isabella could hardly believe her luck. Adele had walked right into her trap. Why, she almost felt sorry for her.

“What a brilliant idea, cousin!” said Isabella, clapping her hands. “Just be sure you don’t tell anyone what you are planning; they will just try and take the credit for themselves. No, Uncle Silas must know that this meal was all your own doing!”

***

At dinner that night Silas was in an unusually good mood. His appetite had returned with a vengeance, and he spent much of the meal humming playfully to himself. Isabella, who looked glorious in a pale blue evening dress with her hair piled atop her head like a crown, was forced to wait until Mrs. Hammer was serving dessert before she could strike.

“Mrs. Hammer,” said Silas, “see that Thorn is given his evening meal directly.”

“There is no need, Uncle,” said Isabella, smiling sweetly. “Adele has already done it.”

“She has?” said Silas, his dark eyes sliding over to his redheaded niece. “You fed Thorn all by yourself?”

Adele nodded eagerly. “Yes, Uncle. I spent all afternoon preparing a special meal for him.”

Uncle Silas seemed rather pleased. “How very kind, child.”

Rosemary, shoveling a huge piece of cheesecake into her large mouth, winked in approval, and even Milo looked impressed.

“Adele is a wonderful cook,” said Isabella keenly. “She made Thorn a delicious feast of water buffalo and chicken. It looked delicious!”

“Chicken?” said Silas sharply, his white eyebrows arching high across his forehead. “Thorn was given
chicken?
”

“Yes, Uncle,” said Adele with a confident smile.

“
Huge
pieces of chicken,” Isabella added gleefully.

By now Adele could see the fury sparking in Silas’s eyes, his clenched jaw pulsing tightly under translucent skin. He looked murderous.

“Uncle Silas, is everything all right?” said Adele rather meekly, sliding down in her chair.

“No, it is not,” hissed Silas. “Thorn is allergic to chicken, you fool! It is poison to him.”

“Poison?” Adele’s head was spinning. It was too horrible to be true!

Silas moved quickly from the room, disappearing into the ballroom.

He could be heard frantically calling Thorn’s name all over the mansion.

But the beast was nowhere to be found. In desperation, Silas ordered a full-scale search of the house and grounds. Adele felt horribly guilty about the whole thing and blamed herself completely—as did her uncle. He refused to speak to her and instructed Mrs. Hammer to keep the “wretched little brat” out of his sight.

With Adele banished to the kitchen, Isabella (who was feeling very pleased with the success of her plan) retired to her room to change outfits while Milo joined in the search. He scoured the ground floor of the mansion from one end to the other. After several long hours, Milo was just about to give up when he went back into the game room for one final check and found Thorn groaning beneath the billiards table.

Milo was shocked by the reptile’s unsightly appearance. Thorn was blown up like a helium balloon, his stumpy legs lifted high above the ground, his large eyes swollen shut.

“How are you, boy?” asked Milo, patting the beast softly.

Thorn could only groan, rolling from side to side like a gigantic beach ball.

***

With the covers pulled up over her head, Adele was hiding from the world. Only her wild red afro was visible, bursting out from under the blanket like a head of broccoli.

“Come now, cousin,” said Isabella, trying very hard not to yawn, “you must look on the bright side. Things aren’t
that
bad.”

“Yes, they are!” cried Adele. “I nearly killed the one thing on earth Uncle Silas cares about! He will
never
forgive me. Never!”

“The vet said Thorn will make a full recovery,” reasoned Isabella. “Besides, I am quite sure Uncle Silas will not hold it against you…forever.”

“Yes, he will.” Adele pulled the blanket from her face and wiped at her eyes. “Oh, Isabella, how did it all go so wrong?”

“Dearest,” said Isabella mournfully, “you must try and stay positive. In the morning things will not seem so awful. And even if Uncle Silas doesn’t forgive you, well, at least you have the love and affection of your dear parents. Nothing can change that.” She kissed Adele on the cheek. “Nothing at all.”

Long into the night Adele lay awake wondering how on earth she would survive in Ratchet’s House. For that was certainly her future now. The professor would never forgive her for coming home empty-handed. She would be locked away from her father and her books…from everything she loved.

Later still, exhausted and afraid, Adele sat on the end of her bed and thought back over all that had happened since she first arrived on the island. And as she did, a rather interesting thing began to happen—the events of the past week bloomed like a garden springing up from the earth; things she had seen, things she had done, things she had been told, each moment found its place among the flower beds and groves and lawns, until finally the
whole
garden stretched out before her. It was suddenly very clear.

And for the first time in a long time, Adele Winterbottom knew exactly what to do.