The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Mysterious Phantom (16 page)

“Sit down,” Malachy said quickly. He fetched her a glass of water. While she sipped it gratefully, shivering in the seat, he found a warm shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. Once he'd done all he could to make her comfortable, he gently asked, “Now what's wrong?”

“I was doing the mayor's reading, and I saw the Phantom again,” Lizzie explained. Some of the water went down the wrong way, and she choked and coughed. Malachy waited patiently until she could speak again. “I think he's going to attack the mayor tonight.”

“What exactly did you see?” Malachy asked.

“Just the circus, the acts going out, and the Phantom in the shadows. He was so angry! I could feel it, Mal. He was going to kill someone.” Lizzie rubbed her aching forehead. “We have to stop him. I won't let him hurt the mayor. He's a good man. People don't know how good he is.”

“But why would the Phantom want to kill the mayor?” Malachy wondered aloud. “Everyone in the city loves him. Unless . . . of course! That's it!”

“What?” Lizzie asked.

“We're all hoping to get the mayor to help out with Dru's trial, remember?” Malachy said. “But the Phantom must want Dru to be found guilty. Dru will be convicted in place of him!”

“So the Phantom must have guessed we'd be counting on the mayor's support to get Dru off,” Lizzie said.

Malachy looked grim. “Exactly. And with the rest of the gang in the show, there's only you and me that can stop him.”

“We could talk to your dad, get him to cancel the show,” Lizzie suggested.

“There's no time for that! It's starting in a few minutes. Tell me more about what you saw, Lizzie. Anything that could help.”

Lizzie shrugged. “There's no more to tell. I just saw the Phantom standing there past the crowd, in the dark, near the edge of the tent.”

“And the show was already in progress,” Malachy mused. “So either he's planning to sneak in once the show's started . . .”

“. . . or he's already here,” Lizzie finished. “Inside the tent. Just waitin' for the right moment to strike. I have to get to the mayor!”

As Lizzie headed out of Fitzy's caravan with Malachy close behind, she heard a smash and a scream. Anita came running out of her own caravan, pale and shocked. “Someone's chucking stones! My window's broke!”

More stones thumped against the roofs and walls of the trailers. Shouts rang out: “Freaks!” “Thieves!” “Pack up and go somewhere else!”

The Amazon Queen came running from the edge of the site. “There's a mob,” she panted. “Throwin' stones at the caravans.”

Lizzie badly needed to run and find the mayor. But Anita's face was full of fear, and Lizzie knew she couldn't leave the tiny lady on her own. “Mally, you'd better go and tell Fitzy,” she said. “I'll stay here.”

The Amazon Queen pointed. “He's on his way already, look. He's brought half the acts with him!”

Lizzie felt bolder as she saw Fitzy storming across the ground toward her. The mayor wasn't with him. Of course not — this wasn't part of the official tour.

Lizzie peered around the caravans to get a look at the mob. There were about fifty people. Instead of going to the gates at the front, they'd crossed the park to the rear of the circus where the trailers were. They stood like a pack of hungry wolves waiting to spring, hurling stones and jeers, but always staying just outside the staked-out perimeter of the circus camp.

“Take this, you thieving scum!” a man yelled as he ran forward. He pitched a huge stone as hard as he could. Lizzie stood paralyzed, staring into the crowd, as it flew through the air and flew straight toward her face.

At the last moment, Malachy tugged her out of its path, and the stone whacked into the dirt. “Lizzie, wake up! What's the matter?”

“He's here,” she stammered. “When that bloke ran out, I saw him.”

“Saw who?” Malachy leaned in and said in a whisper, “The Phantom?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No.” She pointed at the crowd. “My pa.”

It was definitely Pa in the midst of the mob, bellowing like an ape, picking up stones and lobbing them along with the rest. Lizzie hid her face. If he noticed her now, he'd take her back for sure, especially with the mob on his side.

Thank goodness
, she thought, as Fitzy came striding out to meet the angry crowd. His face bore a showman's grin, but there was a dangerous look in his eyes, and Bungo and Joey walked close behind him, carrying mallets that they swung menacingly.

Fitzy held up his hands, and that alone seemed to quiet the crowd a little.
Nobody could resist the man's charm
, Lizzie thought. But for how long?

“I'm afraid the tickets are sold out!” Fitzy called. “We're about to start. Please go home!”

“We're not here for your show!” someone shouted.

“I see,” Fitzy replied. “Then what seems to be the problem?”

The boldest stone-thrower brandished a newspaper at him. “Your boy Dru Boisset, mate! He's the problem! Robbin' the good folk of London!”

“We've all read about him!” someone yelled.

“You're a pack of thievin' lowlifes!” screamed a woman. “We're goin' to come and take back all them things he stole! Just you try an' stop us!”

The mob began to edge forward again, shouting angrily. Lizzie knew they wouldn't find any stolen goods in the caravans. But that wouldn't stop them from helping themselves to whatever they liked.

“Looks like there's going to be a dustup,” Fitzy sighed. He took off his top hat and passed it to Malachy. “Keep that safe for me, lad. I'm due to open the show in ten minutes, and I don't want to look like a scruff.”

Lizzie could clearly see her father now through the crowd. He was rolling up his sleeves, baring his huge arms. She knew all too well what that meant.
As if knocking me about weren't enough. Now he's going to hit my friends too.

A fresh stab of cold fear went through Lizzie as she caught a glimpse of who was standing behind him. Tousled hair, pale face — was that Madame Aurora?

“Get 'em!” someone screamed from the back of the mob.

The crowd surged forward and broke through the perimeter, yelling and screaming. Fitzy and the others met their charge head-on and from that moment, it was every man for himself. Circus folk fought with rioters, rolling and tumbling in the dust.

“Come on,” Malachy told Lizzie, tugging her arm. “We'd better get out of here.”

“Fitzy, where's the mayor?” Lizzie demanded.

“Having a slice of cake in Ma Sullivan's tea tent!” Fitzy shouted. “Tell him I won't be long!”

Lizzie ran, with a quick glance over her shoulder. She saw Mario lift his colossal arms and bellow like a bull, then charge right into the thick of the fighting. He flung rioters this way and that, picking them up off the ground and hurling them off the circus site. A few of the attackers ran away, too terrified of Mario to continue.

* * *

Thoughts raced through Lizzie's head as she headed for Ma Sullivan's tea tent, which was on the far side of the site, far away from the caravans and show tent. If her vision hadn't been wrong, tonight she would meet the Phantom face to face.

Could it be Pa?
Lizzie wonderered. The voice she'd heard hadn't sounded like his, but he could have been putting another voice on. He was used to disguising himself when he went out begging. And she'd just seen him moments before, chucking stones with the rest of the mob.

If it wasn't him, then who?

Lizzie thought back to the reading she'd done for the round-faced man, who had been so skeptical. It was a good thing the Phantom hadn't hurt him as she had feared, though somehow he'd taken the keys off him without a fight.

Lizzie frowned. Now she thought about it, she hadn't heard anything about the Phantom robbing a bunch of keys from the caretaker. Surely, if the Phantom had taken the man's keys, he'd have told the police?

A nagging voice at the back of her mind was whispering a question.
Out of all those keys, how did the Phantom know exactly which one to use to let himself in the back door?

Lizzie gasped out loud. “No,” she said to herself. “I don't believe it. It can't have been him!”

What had Hari said? The Phantom wears a mask because he's ashamed.
Ashamed of robbing the property he was meant to be safeguarding, perhaps?
Lizzie thought.

The Lord Mayor had to know! Lizzie put on a fresh burst of speed.
I'll catch you
, she thought.
You think you're so clever, but I know who you are. I'll have the last laugh, just you see!

Lizzie threw open the flap of the tea tent, but there was nobody inside at all. The long tables were abandoned. Even the trestle table where Ma Sullivan made the tea was empty.

“Hello?” Lizzie called. “Your Lordship? Are you there?”

Nobody answered her. Lizzie began to feel uneasy. Had the mayor left for the show already? She looked around the tea tent for some kind of clue, but there was nothing. Not even crumbs.

“He must have gone in,” Lizzie muttered to herself. She looked out across the site and saw the circus folk making their way to the show tent, ready to start. There was Fitzy, top hat back on his head again. They must have beaten back the mob.

Lizzie left the tea tent and headed off across the grass.
Going to have to push through the crowds and reach the Lord Mayor in the audience
, she thought. But just then, she heard something behind her.

Footsteps, hard and fast, like someone running.

Lizzie spun around. A dark shape dodged back into the shadows, vanishing behind two storage tents. She swallowed hard. Of all the people who might wish to do her harm, Lizzie could only think of one who knew their way around a circus campsite well enough to tail her through it, and that was the woman who had been the fortune-teller before her.

Lizzie lifted her mystic robes and took off running. The show tent loomed up ahead of her. Crowds were bustling at the main entrance, and a hubbub of excited conversation reached her ears. Her heart lurched.

They're letting them in already! Don't tell me I'm too late!
Lizzie thought frantically. But the sight of the big crowds gave her courage. If she could reach them, she could dive into them. Her pursuer wouldn't be able to follow.

Those running feet were pounding behind her again. Closer, this time. She knew who was coming. Madame Aurora had sworn to get revenge, and now she was going to fulfill that promise. Lizzie put on a burst of speed. She heard her pursuer do the same. It sounded like Aurora was right behind her!

Lizzie looked over her shoulder — and let out a terrified scream.

It wasn't Madame Aurora bearing down on her at all. It was the figure she'd seen in her nightmares. A man in a mask like a screaming skull — not the battered old mask she'd seen before, but brand new and gleaming white.

The mask of the Phantom!

There was only one thing for it. Run!

Lizzie bolted for the safety of the show tent, toward the lights and the crowds of people. Her chest hurt and she gasped for breath as she put on even more speed.

Behind her, she heard the Phantom grunting and panting as he tried to catch up. Ahead, someone was coming out of the crowd, moving toward her. The light behind him cast a long three-legged shadow across the grass. She prayed it was a friend.

Wait — three-legged shadow?

It was Malachy, hobbling toward her on his crutch. He saw who was following, waved frantically, and yelled out a warning. “It's him! The Phantom's here!”

“I know!” Lizzie shrieked. “Get to the mayor!”

Malachy ignored her. He kept coming in her direction, swinging as fast as he could on his crutch and one good leg.

Lizzie glanced over her shoulder. The Phantom was almost upon her now, but he was staggering and winded. If she was lucky, Malachy might reach her before the Phantom did. Not that two would have much more of a chance than one against him.

Malachy and the Phantom reached Lizzie at the exact same moment. Malachy blocked the Phantom's path, while Lizzie ducked around him.

“Run!” Malachy shouted. “I'll slow him down!”

“You won't,” the Phantom snorted in his hoarse voice. Without breaking stride, he thrust an arm into Malachy's chest. The boy fell back and went sprawling on the grass. The Phantom laughed, a gross-sounding chuckle.

This is it
, Lizzie thought.
My goose is cooked
. The safety of the show tent was still a hundred paces away. It might as well have been a hundred miles.

But as the Phantom lunged to grab her by the hair, Malachy let out a yell and flung his crutch. It spun through the air and caught the Phantom below the knees. The Phantom stumbled and fell.

“Keep running!” Malachy shouted. “Get to the show tent. There's too many people in there for him to do anything.”

Lizzie ran for her life. She was sick with fear at the thought of what the Phantom might do to Malachy, but she couldn't turn around again, not now.

As the Phantom struggled to his feet, he staggered for a moment like a drunken man, then came after her with fresh strength. But now he was limping from where Malachy's crutch had caught his legs. Grunts of pain came from him every time he moved.

The lights and noise of the show tent loomed closer.
Almost there
, Lizzie told herself.
Come on, girl. You can do it!

But as she ran, Lizzie realized she couldn't go in through the front after all. There were just too many people to push through. She'd never reach the mayor in time. Lizzie changed direction and ran toward the back of the tent, into the dark shadows where the animal cages were. She dove to the ground and pulled up the edge of the tent, wriggling under the damp canvas fabric, and crawling in. She could smell the moist grass, the sweat from the horses, and the soft warm smell of the whale-oil lanterns. Smells that meant safety.