"Wow!" Benjamin collapsed onto the iron bedstead, causing a great rattling of springs.
Gabriel, however, continued to stare at Charlie with a frown that grew deeper every second.
"What?" said Charlie. "Don't you believe me?"
"Why did your father hide it in the first place," Gabriel asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "if he knew there was something so important in it?"
"He didn't know," Charlie said patiently. "The box couldn't be opened. The key was lost. Before Billy's father died, he asked my dad to look after the box. He didn't tell him what was in it because he didn't know. And then my dad was hypnotized, as you very well know, and..." Charlie grimaced. It was hard for him to admit that his father had not completely recovered from his long ordeal and that his memory had not been entirely restored. It meant that Lyell Bone would never again be the brave young man who had once defied the Bloors. Charlie found that difficult to accept.
"And what?" Benjamin gently prodded.
"And he hasn't remembered everything that happened before," said Charlie.
"But he will," he added confidently, "when he comes back from vacation."
"Of course he will," said Benjamin.
"But the Bloors don't want him to remember," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "Do they, Charlie?"
"No," he admitted.
It took Mr. Silk two more journeys to get all the Onimouses' possessions up to the Heights. Gabriel joined his father on the last trip, and Benjamin and Charlie were left in the deserted alley. They gazed sadly at the silent cafe, and then walked on to High Street, both hoping desperately that it wouldn't be long before the Pets' Cafe was once again full of joyfully lapping, munching, chewing, pecking creatures, and their equally happy owners.
Benjamin's parents were private detectives and were often working on Saturdays. But today they were at home and Mrs. Brown had promised Benjamin he would have lamb chops and mint sauce for lunch. As soon as they reached Filbert Street, Benjamin ran eagerly toward number twelve, and Runner Bean, who sensed that good bones were soon to be had, raced beside his master.
Charlie had carrot soup and cheese for lunch. Grandma Bone was spending the day with her three sisters, and Uncle Paton had left on yet another mysterious journey.
"Gathering information, that's what your uncle said," Maisie told Charlie.
"Are you going over to Benjamin's after lunch?"
"Yes," Charlie lied, although, at the time, it wasn't really a lie because he might have gone over to Benjamin's. It was just that the more he thought about it, the more inclined he became to return to the Pets' Cafe.
When he had helped Maisie to wash up, Charlie went to his room and did his homework. At half past three, with a shout of "See you later, Maisie," he left the house and made his way back to the empty cafe. Pressing his face close to the window, he looked for a light that might be showing in the kitchen. But the cafe was dark and silent. Nothing moved. Charlie now had a burning desire to get into the place, but he had no key and he had seen the mover lock the door. He tried it, just in case. The handle turned, but the door wouldn't budge. Charlie told himself that he was being foolish; if anyone intended to search the place, they would probably wait until nightfall. And then he heard footsteps in the alley.
Charlie darted around the side of the cafe and pressed himself into the corner, where the cafe wall met the great stone edifice of the old city wall.
He heard the clink of keys. The door opened and was closed. Charlie waited, breathlessly, and then tiptoed around to the front of the building. He looked through the window but could see nothing. As quietly as he could, he turned the door handle and pushed. The door opened. Charlie was in.
Footsteps creaked above him. Whoever had entered the cafe, they were beginning their search upstairs. There was a chance that Charlie could reach the place he wanted before anyone saw him. He crept through the kitchen and into a long hallway. The farther he went, the darker and narrower it became.
Soon the stone floor gave way to an earthen path. Now the brick ceiling was so low that Charlie could touch it with his fingers. Eventually he reached a small circular cavern where Mr. Onimous stored food for the cafe. Crates of apples, along with sacks and tea chests, were still piled against the walls.
Perhaps this place would never be found, thought Charlie. And yet he didn't hold out much hope of that. Whoever the Bloors had chosen to search the Pets'
Cafe, they wouldn't give up until they had explored every room and every hall. They would move the sacks and crates and, eventually, they would find the door that Charlie was about to open.
Grunting with the effort, Charlie began to push two heavy tea chests away from the wall until he revealed an ancient door, little more than a few feet high. Squeezing himself behind the tea chests, Charlie fitted Mr. Onimous's key into the lock. It turned with a light click and the door creaked open.
Behind it lay a darkness so intense, Charlie hesitated. He had been in the tunnel twice before, but never alone. It was time for the gift from his Welsh ancestor.
Charlie had inherited two strains of magic. His picture traveling came from the Red King and his wand from Mathonwy, a Welsh magician. The wand was now a white moth, a moth with such bright wings, she could illuminate the deepest darkness.
"Claerwen!" Charlie said softly.
Answering to her name, the white moth crawled from beneath Charlie's collar, where she had been sleeping. In English the name meant "snow white." She was nine hundred years old.
The white moth fluttered into the tunnel and Charlie followed, bending his head as he stepped through the low doorway. Before he went any farther, he closed the door behind him, hoping that it would not be seen behind the two tea chests. If he had locked the door, things might have turned out differently. But he forgot.
The tunnel was damp and airless. Several times, Charlie slipped on the wet ground. Claerwen's light gave the damp walls a misty shine. The tunnel began to curve and twist, and Charlie had to put one hand on the wall to keep his
balance. Halfway down the tunnel a long fissure appeared in the wall. Charlie squeezed through it and into another tunnel, this one so narrow he had to shuffle sideways. The little moth swinging above gave him courage, and after five long shuffling minutes, Charlie emerged into an astonishing room.
Outside, the sky was a dull gray, but here everything was bathed in sunlight.
The ground was paved with tiny squares of color: yellow, red, and orange, a mosaic of a burning sun. The walls showed golden domes, silver clouds, and leafy arbors, where tall robed figures strolled together or rested on long marble seats. In the vaulted roof a painted sun appeared again, and in the very center a perfect circle opened to the sky.
Charlie walked around the perimeter of the circular floor, touching the pillars set at intervals between the painted walls. What had he expected to find? A wooden box placed neatly behind a pillar or tucked into a small cavity in the wall? For this room was very special. It had once been the Red King's chamber, hidden from the world. Even now, only a very few people knew of it, and Charlie was certain that the Bloors were not among them. It was a perfect hiding place.
Charlie felt the smooth painted walls; he knelt and scrutinized the paved floor, running his hands over the colored squares. He squinted up at the vaulted ceiling and prodded the bricks at the base of each pillar. But there was no sign of a box. Perhaps his father had hidden it in the castle? It was too late to search the vast ruin. Charlie decided to give up for now, but as he gazed around the bright room, he felt a great surge of hope. He was convinced that he would find the box. Perhaps not today, but sometime very soon. And Billy would have his inheritance—if he could be rescued from Badlock.