The talents master uttered a crescendo of growls234that ended in a very long roar. In one breath he screamed, "Charlie Bone, go to the headmaster this minute and tell him what you've done!"
"Yes, sir." Charlie was glad of the opportunity to escape Donatella's curses, but he would have preferred to visit the headmaster in different circumstances. He began to make his way back down the corridor, which was difficult because of the press of children who were trying to get to the cafeterias.
Fidelio, squeezing himself closer to Charlie, whispered, "Good luck." He passed a note into Charlie's hand. "Tancred ..."
Someone pushed Fidelio aside and Charlie failed to hear the rest of his friend's sentence.
He quickly put the note in his pocket as Fidelio was swept away.
"I'm still going to ask him about Billy," Charlie said to himself as he walked to the door leading to the west wing. When Charlie opened the door, a small white caterpillar, hidden in a crack in the old wood,
234235fell onto Charlie's shoulder. Slowly, it began to crawl down the back of his blue cape. By the time Charlie had reached Dr. Bloor's study, the caterpillar had tucked itself into the sleeve of his shirt.
Before he knocked on the door, Charlie glanced down the deserted hallway. There was not one empty space between the rows of doors on either side. Every inch was filled with shelves of books, glass cases holding skulls and ancient artifacts, upright leather trunks, carved chests, grandfather clocks, gilt-framed mirrors, and oddly dressed wax figures.
As if all this were not enough, the ceiling was hung with stuffed birds, dried plants, and mechanical toys, all moving slowly in a draft from the distant staircase; their tinny, rustling, creaking sounds competing with the melancholy ticking of the grandfather clocks.
Charlie wondered what went on in the many rooms behind the shiny oak-paneled doors.
He236decided that he would rather not know. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath and knocked on Dr. Bloor's door.
"I'm coming," said an irritated voice.
This was not what Charlie had expected. He knocked again.
"For goodness' sake, what's the hurry? Will the soup get cold if I'm a minute late?"
Plucking up courage, Charlie said loudly, "It's Charlie Bone, sir."
"What the dickens?" Quick strides could be heard approaching the door. The next moment it was flung open and Dr. Bloor stood glowering at Charlie. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. "I don't see miscreants at this hour. It's lunchtime."
"I know, sir." Charlie swallowed the unwelcome lump that had arrived in his throat. "But the talents master sent me."
"For Pete's sake, why?"
Charlie ran his sleeve beneath his nose and sniffed.237"Don't do that!" bellowed Dr.
Bloor.
"Sorry, sir. I'm here because I knocked Joshua Tilpin over, and somehow, he banged into a portrait and... and... and ..." Charlie was finding it difficult to describe the hole in Donatella's forehead.
"AND?" shouted Dr. Bloor.
"And Donatella Da Vinci now has a hole." Charlie placed a finger above his right eyebrow and added, "Just here."
For what seemed like a very long time, Dr. Bloor could not speak. He just stared at Charlie, his gray lips working away beneath his neat mustache. At last, in a low, menacing voice, he said, "You stupid, insufferable, loathsome, detestable child. I knew it would come to this."
Charlie was going to ask what Dr. Bloor meant by "this," but just then Weedon emerged from a door farther down the corridor.
"Your lunch is served, Headmaster," the janitor announced, in a tone that suggested a feast had been prepared.238Dr. Bloor grunted, "In a moment. Weedon. Take this boy to the Gray Room."
Charlie would never know where he got the courage to say what he did next. With Weedon thumping toward him, he knew he didn't have much time, so he just came out with it, all in a rush.
"Dr. Bloor, Billy Raven didn't come back here on Saturday, did he? I know he didn't, so why did you tell the police he did? I mean if he IS here, then where ..."
Charlie watched Dr. Bloor's face go through an amazing transformation. At first he looked astonished, as though he couldn't believe that Charlie had the temerity to ask such a question, and then his features hardened into a cold, forbidding mask. "Get him away from me," he shouted at Weedon.
Weedon had already grabbed Charlie's collar, and now he heaved him, half-choking, down the hallway.
"I know he's not here," Charlie spluttered doggedly. "I know ... I know ..."239Weedon suddenly opened a door and thrust Charlie inside. There was a loud click. Charlie didn't have to try the door to know that it was locked. He found himself in a cold, gray room.
There was nothing in it. Not one thing. The floorboards were rough and unpolished, the walls plain gray stone. There was no heating of any kind. At one end of the room a small,
round window showed four quarters of a sky the color of lead. Charlie had no way of reaching the window. It was far too high, and there was nothing to stand on. But Charlie wasn't easily disheartened. He pulled his hood over his head, wrapped his cape tightly around himself, sat in a corner with his knees up, and prepared himself for what was obviously going to be a long wait.
In such a position, the slightest movement in any part of the room would have alerted Charlie, so when the caterpillar appeared on the floor beside him, he was immediately interested. He watched the tiny creature make its way across the floor and then begin to climb the stone wall. When it was a few240inches above the level of Charlie's head, it began to twist and turn, releasing a thread of glistening silk. Around it went, up and down, the silk covering its body in a shining cocoon.
While the caterpillar was occupied in this way, Charlie suddenly remembered the note Fidelio had given him. Charlie pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket and unfolded it. The note read:
You dhaveyour moth hy tonight, Charlie. I'm meeting Dag Bert in the sculpture room before supper. Tonered.
"You're a star, Tanc!" Charlie quickly pushed the note back into his pocket. And then, for no reason that he could think of, he had a pang of misgiving.
What was wrong with him? He stared at the silk cocoon, its radiance increasing every minute, until the gray walls were bathed in a comforting glow. With a sudden explosion of light, the cocoon burst apart, and a white moth flew out in a shower of stars.241"Claerwen!" breathed Charlie.
The moth settled onto his knee and spread her damp wings. But even as those white wings began to dry and shine with a greater brilliance than ever, Charlie was thinking of his friend.
If Claerwen was here, then what was in store for Tancred when he descended into the sculpture room, where Dagbert-the-drowner was waiting?242CHAPTER 12
A DROWNING
Hide!" Charlie whispered.
The white moth allowed her wings to fade until they were the same color as the dull stones in the wall, and then she crawled into the pocket of Charlie's cape.
When the moth was safely hidden, Charlie began to bang on the door. "Hey!" he called.
"When are you going to let me out? I'm sorry, OK? I didn't mean to damage the portrait."
He was answered by the half-hour chimes of five grandfather clocks. Charlie looked at his watch. Only half past three. Perhaps they would release him at teatime.
But no one came at four o'clock. Or five. At half past five, hungry and thirsty, Charlie began to bang on the door again. He had to see Tancred before he returned the golden sea urchin. Who knew what243Dagbert could do, once he had all the sea-gold charms again.
At twenty minutes to six, hoarse from shouting and overcome by a terrible weariness, Charlie slumped to the floor and fell asleep. He had no way of knowing that a battle was about to begin.
In winter, the hours between the end of lessons and dinner were considered free time for the students of Bloor's Academy. Some were busy with rehearsals, of course, but Tancred and Dagbert were not gifted in music or drama, so half past five seemed a good time to meet.