by Dan Metcalf
Lottie turned to see Uncle Bert huffing and puffing, fuming at the overheard conversation. She tried to usher them onwards.
“Now, now Professor,” whispered Reg soothingly. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a big bully, that’s all.”
“And as for that lazy beanpole of a caretaker,” came Sir Trev’s voice through the wall. “He won’t have as much to dust, so he should be happy. Not that he does any work anyway.”
“What?” bellowed Reg. Lottie saw Sir Trevelyan jump at the sound and look around for the source of the noise. She quickly pushed Uncle Bert and Reg forward into the dark and away from the Head Curator’s office.
The tunnel was beginning to get narrower now and Reg ground to a halt when he got a face full of spider’s webs.
“Ugh!” he said, pulling at the webs. “You go first, I can’t see a thing! It’s getting a bit bloomin’ spooky, if you ask me.”
“Oh, my big brave hero,” joked Lottie, moving to the front of the tunnel. It was very dark now though. “If only we had some sort of light.”
Uncle Bert dug around in his pockets and pulled out a small brass rectangle.
“Will this help?” he said. With a flick of his fingers a flame popped out of the top. “My pipe lighter.”
Suddenly they came upon a door. It was old, made of solid oak, and in the centre was a handle below two dials surrounded by numbers. Lottie grabbed Uncle Bert’s hand and brought the light closer.
“It looks like a combination lock,” said Lottie, peering closely at the door. “You turn the dials to the right numbers and pull the handle. If you have guessed the right numbers, the door opens.”
“And if you get it wrong?” asked Reg.
“Um...another booby trap?” guessed Lottie. “But how are we supposed to work out the numbers?”
While Lottie inspected the door, Uncle Bert caught sight of a glimmer of metal on the wall.
“An old gas lamp,” he said. “This should throw some light on the matter.”
With a woosh! Uncle Bert lit the lamp and the whole tunnel was illuminated with an orange glow. He tapped Lottie on the shoulder.
“Shh!” hissed Lottie. “I’m looking for clues.”
“I think I may have found some for you,” said Uncle Bert. He pointed to the walls, now illuminated by the light. They were covered with numbers. Lottie gulped.
2 + 5 – 3 + 6 + 5 – 9 + 2 = ?
7 – 6 + 4 + 9 – 7 + 2 – 4 = ?
“That’s a lot of sums,” she said. “We’d better get cracking.”
The three of them stood in the shimmering gaslight, concentrating on their sums.
“Oh, ‘eck,” cursed Reg. “I’ve run out of fingers and thumbs!”
“Shh! Look what you’ve made me do. I’ll have to start again,” said Uncle Bert.
Lottie closed her eyes and tried to block out the two nattering old men.
Let’s see, she thought. Two and five are seven. Take away three to make four. Then add six. That makes ten. Add five to make fifteen, then take off nine. So I’m left with six. And add two to make…
“Eight!” she announced. “The first number is eight.”
“Hmm? Ah, yes. That’s precisely what I had,” said Uncle Bert. He turned the first dial to read eight. “Now, what’s next?”
Lottie concentrated again, adding and taking away, working through each of the steps calmly. She was just about to reveal her answer when –
“Got it!” said Reg. He reached forward and turned the dial to five. Lottie frowned.
“Are you sure?” she said.
“Sure?” said Reg with a grin. He put his hand on the handle and pushed down. “I think I can manage a few harmless su – waaaaaaaah!”
Lottie screamed too as a trapdoor opened beneath them and they all plummeted down into a dark, dark hole.
Chapter Four
Uncle Bert, Reg and Lottie fell feet first down a steep tunnel. The walls were smooth and formed a kind of slide, which swept them down into the darkness below.
“Waaaaaah!” cried Reg.
“Aaarrrgh!” screamed Uncle Bert.
“Weeeeeeee!” shouted Lottie, who was actually quite enjoying the ride.
They crashed down with a crunch onto the ground, which was cold, gritty, and made of sharp, hard stone. Luckily Lottie fell on top of Uncle Bert, whose large belly acted like a cushion for her. She looked around. Another cold, dark tunnel.
“Oof!” shouted Uncle Bert. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“Sorry Uncle Bert,” said Lottie, getting to her feet and giving him a hand up.
“Don’t worry my dear. At least I wasn’t crushed by that nincompoop.”
Reg turned to face them in the dark, picking up his trusty mop which had landed nearby. “Who are you calling a nincompoop?”
“You! If you hadn’t got the sum wrong, then we wouldn’t be down here.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my sums,” said Reg, outraged.
“Be quiet!” said Lottie. She was surprised when the two men actually listened to her. “I think Reg did get the number right. The trap door wasn’t a booby trap. It was the real door leading to the scroll.”
“Then what was behind the door?” said Reg. Lottie shrugged.
“Maybe another booby trap or a distraction? A fake scroll to put treasure hunters off the scent of the real one?” she guessed. “Uncle Bert, I can’t see a thing down here, can you put your pipe lighter on again?”
Uncle Bert started to search his pockets for his lighter.
“If the trap door was the correct door, then the scroll or the next clue must be down here somewhere,” said Reg.
Lottie nodded. Suddenly a light appeared behind her.
“Ah, that’s better. Thank you Uncle Bert.”
She could see her surroundings more clearly now. It was a large tunnel, completely circular and built with bricks. On the ground were two long grey metal rails that seemed to go on forever.
“Um...Lottie, my dear,” said Uncle Bert with a note of worry in his voice. “I don’t have my pipe lighter. I must have dropped it.”
Lottie gulped. The tunnel rumbled.
“Then where is that light coming from?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. Reg turned around and raised his finger. He began to shake and stammer as he pointed ahead of him. At the end of the tunnel, two bright lights approached, getting closer and closer and closer.
“T-t-t-train!”
The rumble increased to a roar, the roar to a clatter and then to a deafening din as Lottie realised that they were standing in a tunnel used by the London Underground.
“Run!” she yelled. Uncle Bert and Reg followed. The train honked. Lottie sprinted, panicking that the twenty-seven tons of steel behind them was never going to stop.
The lights of the train flashed across the tunnel and Lottie searched for a way out. Suddenly the lights bounced off a wall ahead and showed an alcove, a small space in the wall for workmen to stand in an emergency. She wasn’t sure if the three of them would fit, but it was their only chance.
“This way!” she called over the noise of the train, and grabbed the two men by their sleeves. She could feel the hot air of the train engines on her neck as she dived into the alcove, just in time.
With a bang! and a clang! the train rattled past them, a few confused faces inside the carriages looking back at them. The train rattled away and Lottie looked over at Uncle Bert and Reg.
“Still think that wasn’t a booby trap?” said Uncle Bert. They squeezed back out of the alcove into the tunnel.
“I...I don’t understand,” said Lottie. “We got the sums right. Why would it lead us to the London Underground?”
Reg and Uncle Bert leant against the wall of the tunnel, out of breath from all the exercise. Uncle Bert scratched his balding head.
“Of course, the books came to the museum one hundred years ago,” he said, thinking out loud. “When the Underground wasn’t even built. Perhaps the scro
ll was buried in a secret chamber and the tunnel came along after that?”
Lottie perked up, smiling from ear to ear.
“So it wasn’t a trap? The slide led us to the scroll! We just have to find it.”
She dashed back along the tunnel to where they had been spat out by the slide. Reg and Uncle Bert followed, huffing and puffing their way along the tracks.
“Hang on,” called Reg, out of breath. “How do we know the scroll is still here?”
He had a point. Lottie looked around in the gloom, the only light now coming from the gaslight in the tunnel above them.
She searched around for anything to point them towards the scroll. “A-ha!” she said, spying a sign on the side of the tunnel. “Because they left a clue!” Lottie whipped a handkerchief from Uncle Bert’s breast pocket and rubbed the soot and dust from it. Slowly, she revealed a message:
HTE LOCRLS SIEL WEBOL UROY TEEF.
“Gibberish,” said Reg. “Always gibberish.”
“Anagrams,” corrected Lottie.
“Anna who? Never heard of her,” said Uncle Bert. Lottie sighed. For a professor of Egyptology, her Great Uncle could be quite dim sometimes.
“Anagrams. They’re words that have their letters jumbled up. We just have to un-jumble them.”
Reg peered at his pocket watch.
“Then we’d better crack on. That book man will be here soon.”
Lottie concentrated on the sign and tried to get her brain to un-jumble the letters, but she was nervous and panicking.
Lottie could hear the tick-tick-ticking of Reg’s pocket watch as she desperately tried to work out what the sign said.
Okay, the first word is...Eth? No – ‘The’! Ooh, that was easy, thought Lottie. Slowly it came to her:
“The...scroll...lies...below...your...teef. Er, I mean, feet!” she said. They looked down at the bare earth below the sign and Lottie sighed. “How are we supposed to dig that up?”
Reg stepped forwards with an unusually serious look on his face.
“Step aside, Miss Lottie.” He held out his mop for her to hold.
Lottie did as she was told and watched as old Reg bent down and used his hands like spades to dig up the mud. Scoop after scoop, he chucked handfuls of mud behind him at an amazing speed. It was like watching a dog retrieve a long-lost buried bone. Within minutes he had hit something in the dirt.
“Jackpot!” he yelled. He lifted out a small stone box. It was long, thin and covered in Egyptian hieroglyphs. Lottie and Uncle Bert were still staring at his muddy hands in amazement. “I was a trench-digger in the Great War,” he explained. “Spades just slowed me down.”
“Brilliant Reg. That was remarkable,” said Lottie. “But we don’t have time to look inside. Let’s get up to the museum, and fast!”
Chapter Five
Sir Trevelyan Taylor paced the floor of the library, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. He pulled out his gold pocket watch just as the ornate clock at the end of the room struck six o’clock.
“Where is he?” he muttered to himself. He plunged his hands into his pockets and started to pace once more.
“Sir Trevelyan, I assume?” said an old man in a tweed jacket and gold-rimmed spectacles. The two men shook hands. “I’m Reuben Ford, expert in antiquarian artefacts.” Sir Trevelyan looked confused. “That’s old books to you.”
“Ah! Good. We certainly have a lot of those,” said Sir Trevelyan. “Now, how much – ”
“Stop!”
The two men jumped with fright and turned to look at the door, which flung open with a bang. Lottie, Uncle Bert and Reg walked in, out of breath and covered in mud, dust and grime.
“Stop in the name of the King!” shouted Lottie. “Well, kind of...”
“What on Earth? Professor West, control your child!” said Sir Trevelyan. “Ugh! You’re filthy! And what’s that smell?”
Uncle Bert blushed.
“Ah, sorry about that. We had to come through a sewer to get back to the surface.”
Reg waddled closer and placed the heavy stone box on a table with a grunt.
“Hmm,” said Reuben Ford, inspecting it closely. “This looks interesting.”
He carefully ran his fingers over the markings on the box. “Egyptian? May I?”
Lottie nodded and they all gathered around as he lifted the lid.
Inside was a scroll made of thin papyrus, wound around wooden poles. It lay on a bed of velvet, and tucked underneath was a letter on very modern notepaper. Lottie picked it up and read it aloud.
To whom it may concern,
You see before you the last remaining scroll from the library of Alexandria. It is part of my book collection, but had to stay separate because of its value. If found, it should be returned to the collection and never separated from it. The books and scroll must always stay together.
By order of the Crown,
George R.
“This must be priceless. Over two thousand years old,” said Sir Trevelyan, his eyes lighting up at the thought of more money. He turned to the book expert. “How much?”
Reuben Ford placed the lid carefully back on the box.
“As you say, it’s priceless, so I cannot offer anything for it.”
“What?” exploded Sir Trevelyan. Lottie grinned.
“The scroll belongs here, with the rest of King George’s books,” she said.
“And you can’t sell any books from the library. They have to all stay together,” said Uncle Bert.
“Says who?” Sir Trevelyan was red-faced now, boiling with anger.
“The King,” said Reg proudly. “And you can’t argue with him!” He thrust the royal note at the Head Curator. Sir Trevelyan looked from the note to Reuben Ford, who nodded in agreement.
“Oh dear,” said Uncle Bert. “You seem to have turned a distressing shade of red Sir Trevelyan! Perhaps you should have a nice sit down with a cup of tea?”
“And a large helping of your own hat?” said Lottie with a smirk.
“Agh! I’ll get you for this, Professor West!” shouted Sir Trevelyan. He turned to Lottie, who quickly hid her smirk. “And you, you little pipsqueak!”
He stormed away like a bad loser, slamming the door behind him as he went.
Several days later, Lottie found herself in all the newspapers. She had saved all the clippings and pasted them into her scrapbook, alongside her amateur archaeologist certificates and autographs of famous detectives she had met.
Uncle Bert had wasted no time and the Scroll of Alexandria was already in a glass cabinet in the library, ready to be unveiled to the public. The photographers were ready and waiting and Lottie had even put on a posh dress for the occasion.
“Ready, my dear?” said Uncle Bert. He offered her his hand and they walked through the museum together, pausing only for Lottie to re-tie Uncle Bert’s bow tie. They came to the library and walked in to the sound of applause. Photographers went up to the glass case, which was covered with a sheet and guarded by Reg.
“Lottie, this was your find. Be my guest,” said Uncle Bert, helping her up onto a box to speak to the crowd.
“This way, Miss Lipton!”
“Give us a smile!” shouted the photographers. Lottie cleared her throat.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to present to you the ancient Scroll of Alexandria!”
She pulled the sheet off with a flourish and the crowd gasped and applauded. Then suddenly, from deep within the museum, she heard a cry.
“Argh! Lottie!”
She looked around and gulped.
“What on Earth was that?” said Uncle Bert. Lottie turned to him with a worried look.
“I think Sir Trevelyan has definitely found our fungus experiment this time!”
Glossary
Anagram A word made by rearranging the letters of another word.
Antiquarian Someone that deals in old books or antiques.
Cleopatra Queen of Egypt who reigned from 51 BC to 30 BC.
Curator Person in charge of a museum.
Gibberish Nonsense.
King George III King of Great Britain from 1738–1820.
Library of Alexandria A large library in Alexandria, ancient Egypt. It burned down in the Third Century AD.
London Underground A network of underground trains in London, which opened in 1863.
Papyrus A thin material made in ancient Egypt for writing or painting on.
Scroll A roll of parchment, paper or papyrus.
Brain Teaser
See if you can crack these anagrams!
Re-arrange the letters to make words and characters found in this story:
Did You Know?
•The pigpen cipher was first used in the 1700s by a secret group of people called the Freemasons.
•The British Museum used to have its very own Underground station. It closed in 1933 but is still down below the ground!
•The Library of Alexandria was destroyed in the Third Century, but was rebuilt on its original site in Egypt in 2002.
Crack the Code
Use the key on here to work out the message below. Good luck!
First published 2016 by Bloomsbury Education, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
This electronic edition published in 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
www.bloomsbury.com
Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc