‘Do not worry, Aunt Rosemary!’ shouted Isabella. ‘I will get you out of there! And you too, Levi!’
She turned and looked about the bleak dungeon. No sign of Dr Mangrove. Perhaps he had slipped away on some devious errand. Now was the time to act. Frantically she ran along the wall of glass, searching for a way in. There had to be a door or passageway somewhere. Still clutching the torch, Isabella pounded at the glass and felt high and low for any sign of an opening. It was on her second sweep of the wall, at the far end of the chamber, that her fingers felt the welcome rise of a metal hinge. Isabella could not recall ever being so overjoyed by a hinge in all her life.
Giddy with excitement she stepped back to get a better look. The door was faintly etched into the glass, little more than a thin line to suggest its presence in the wall, but the handle was nowhere to be seen. As she searched the glass Isabella caught sight of her own reflection. The shock was immediate. Her face was pale, her lips dry and her hair, blown about in the elevator shaft, looked as if it had been styled by a team of ferrets.
Understandably all thoughts of freeing her aunt and Levi fell away. She looked awful! Isabella released a mournful sigh but stopped suddenly. The hiss of a flame sparking to life behind the glass drew her attention. Her gaze narrowed as she peered through the wall and saw a lit match hovering in mid-air as if by magic. It rose up quickly and suddenly Isabella found herself staring into a face even more shocking than her own – round, luminous and cold. From the other side of the glass he was leering back at her, his foul yellow teeth emerging in a wicked grin.
‘Dr Mangrove.’ Isabella spat the name from her mouth as if it were poison.
The door sprang open without being touched and Dr Mangrove, dressed in a crumpled white suit which hung limply from him, stepped calmly into the main chamber. He blew out the match, dropping it to the floor, and walked slowly towards the terrified girl. His smooth waxy face, devoid of eyebrows or lashes, was unmistakable, yet Isabella quickly observed the changes in Mangrove’s appearance. His skin, for one thing. Heavy jowls sagged below his cheeks like deflated balloons, and the slits of his eyes were crowded with lines. Even his forehead, once smooth and taut, was now a tangle of buckled flesh which spread up and around his bald head.
Dr Mangrove had aged greatly since Isabella had last laid eyes on him.
‘You beast!’ she hollered, rushing past him. Despite her speed the door swung shut before she could reach the opening, disappearing seamlessly again into the glass wall. She looked fretfully at the vacant faces of Aunt Rosemary and Levi then turned back to the doctor, her eyes wild. ‘What have you done to them?’
‘They are resting,’ said Dr Mangrove, revealing that even his voice had succumbed to the ravages of age. Each word sounded as if it were passing through a gravel pit. ‘Believe me when I tell you it is for their own good.’
‘Their own good?’ shouted Isabella. ‘Are you mad?’ She realised that was a ridiculous question. Of course he was mad!
‘My dear,’ said Dr Mangrove, his sunken eyes boring into hers, ‘I am a visionary.’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ snapped Isabella. ‘You are a lunatic! A fat-headed lunatic! Now, I demand you release Aunt Rosemary and Levi this instant.’
‘I assure you that they are in no pain. Not yet. At first my guests were merely shackled to the walls, but the butler made several valiant attempts at escape and I had no choice but to restrain them more forcefully. As for the gags, it turns out that your aunt has a sharp tongue.’ He lowered his voice like a child confessing a naughty secret. ‘I had to shut her up.’
‘You are a monster,’ hissed Isabella.
Dr Mangrove merely smiled. ‘I cannot pretend your visit was expected. But I am delighted you have come down to see us.’ The doctor looked Isabella over as if she were a painting upon a wall. ‘Even prettier than the last time I saw you. Wiser too – I can see it in your eyes. When you first came to Sommerset your Uncle Silas believed you were nothing more than an empty-headed thief chasing his fortune like a dog chases a bone – all instinct and no brains. But I always suspected there was more.’
‘No brains? Empty-headed?’ Isabella was so full of outrage she no longer felt the fear thumping inside her chest. ‘Uncle Silas was a demented old bag of bones!’
‘It seems your tongue is just as jagged as your aunt’s,’ said Dr Mangrove with some admiration, ‘but I fear it will be of little help to you down here.’ He opened his jacket and pulled out a small dagger, pointing it at Isabella and walking towards her. ‘I must apologise in advance, my dear. Stabbing is such a crude form of execution. If only you had succeeded in returning to the entrance hall when you tried; I would have had more time to prepare. You see, I had planned the most spectacular deaths for you and Adele but alas, the elevator was designed to hinder escape. It will not rise back to the entrance hall until the passenger has stepped off the platform, and it will not come back down again until first it has gone back up. Clever, don’t you think?’
‘Devious is more like it,’ said Isabella.
‘But of course,’ said Dr Mangrove enthusiastically.
‘You cannot kill me,’ declared Isabella as she backed away from the glistening silver blade. ‘You need me for the ransom.’
Dr Mangrove smiled. ‘I think not.’
Isabella’s mind was flooded with impulses, but one emerged more urgently than all the others. To stay alive. In order to do that she would have to find a way to reach the elevator before Dr Mangrove’s blade found its mark. If the crazy old man was correct (and she had no reason to doubt him) the elevator would drop back down now that it had returned to the entrance hall. All she would have to do is press the brass button. The problem was one of time. How would she fend off Dr Mangrove’s attack long enough for the elevator to come down and whisk her away? Just one answer presented itself. She would use the only weapon at her disposal. Her mouth.
‘I should warn you, Dr Mangrove,’ said Isabella, fighting against the tremor in her voice. ‘I did not come down here without a plan. A very, very good plan. Help is on the way!’
Isabella had no idea what she was blabbing about and neither did Dr Mangrove, who only smiled. ‘Tell me, my dear, just for my own curiosity, how is it that you happened upon my little hideaway?’
‘What makes you think that I happened upon it?’ she challenged. ‘We have been on to you for a long time, Dr Mangrove.’
‘Vague theories and speculation, nothing more,’ said the doctor coolly, waving the dagger from side to side. ‘My work is of a complex nature, far beyond the understanding of mere children. Even Winterbottoms.’
‘Complex? Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Isabella, forcing a laugh. ‘Everything about your nasty little plan has been painfully obvious.’
‘Is that so?’ Dr Mangrove came to a sudden halt at the mouth of the narrow passageway, the torch above throwing flaxen shadows across his face. ‘Do tell, my dear. Do tell.’
‘It is quite simple really,’ explained Isabella. ‘The only reason you are here is to get your grubby hands on Captain Bloom’s map in order to locate the Valley of Brume. Without a fresh supply of the Panacea you will die – which, judging by the state of your face, could be any day now. Honestly, dear, you look ghastly.’ She smiled brightly at the doctor, noting the agitated twitch of his top lip, and then quickly continued. ‘Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, the Panacea. In order to get your hands on the Panacea you first need to open the vault and retrieve the map. I confess we do not know exactly where the vault is, although my cousin Adele suspects it must be somewhere down here, but what we do know for certain is that without the Vulture of Sommerset you cannot open the vault. And Captain Bloom hid the Vulture so well you could not find it. Which is why you kidnapped Aunt Rosemary. To force my cousins and I to find what you could not. Did I leave anything out?’ She sighed plaintively, thoroughly enjoying the flabbergasted look on Dr Mangrove’s face. ‘You had decades to locate the Vulture but could not, and I had just a few days an
d found it with little effort. You must feel terribly stupid.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Dr Mangrove. Then he added with relish, ‘But don’t you think that your father should take some of the credit? After all, if he hadn’t betrayed you, sold you to the newspaper for his thirty pieces of silver, then you would not have thrown the doorstop at his head and the Vulture would still be sitting on a ledge behind a wall of mirrors. How disappointing it must be to have a father who loves only your money.’
A familiar pain awoke in the girl, like a stake to the heart, but she did not let it reach her face. ‘My cousins are going to be here at any moment,’ she declared with certainty, ‘and the police are on their way. You may be able to handle me, but I do not think you will have the strength to fight off a battalion of armed officers, do you?’
Dr Mangrove looked past Isabella, his beady eyes peering into the dark passageway behind her. ‘Your cousins are coming?’
‘That is what I said.’
The beginnings of a pompous grin pulled at his fleshy cheeks. ‘I do not think so.’ He rushed quickly towards her, lifting the dagger to her neck. ‘No, you are very much alone.’
Isabella stumbled, her heel sliding on a spray of loose earth. Rising up she took several steps away from the doctor’s blade, finding herself beneath the tunnel’s low ceiling. The elevator was just a short sprint away.
‘How can you be so sure?’ she said, readying herself to make a run for it – but not before she administered a few sharp kicks to Dr Mangrove’s ancient shins. She remembered very clearly how effective such an assault had been last time the doctor had crossed her path in the basement laboratory.
‘I have it on good authority,’ said Dr Mangrove with confidence. Strangely he took a step back and lowered the knife. ‘Adele clings to the idea of a secret room but as for the exact location – she hasn’t a clue. However you managed to get down here, my dear, I am certain it was by accident, not design. My source is most reliable.’
Isabella knew exactly what he meant. The traitor. That despicable villain! She thought about Adele lying on the library floor, blood trailing down her face, and an anger exploded within the girl that was so white hot it made her teeth grind together. She looked across the chamber to the dim shadows where Aunt Rosemary and Levi were strapped to their chairs, bound in wire, like two laboratory rats. The traitor had made all of it possible.
‘Tell me who it is,’ Isabella demanded, preparing to kick the hideous old villain and make a run for it. ‘Who is your informant?’
Mangrove laughed, his jowls jiggling. ‘See for yourself.’
Suddenly Isabella felt two hands grasp her shoulders tightly. Without warning she was thrust forward, spilling out of the tunnel and onto the chamber’s putrid floor, a cloud of dirt swirling about her face. From the murky tunnel the traitor stepped forth and for the first time in her young life, Isabella could not believe what her eyes were telling her.
The traitor ambled across the chamber in a sort of dance, arms swinging about, and then dropped down in a mock curtsy before Isabella, playing the part of humble servant one final time.
‘At your service, miss,’ said Hannah Spoon.
INTO THE WOODS
The sky let out a grisly roar in the early hours of the morning and a bolt of lightning cracked the darkness. Then the rain came, angry and urgent, carried on ferocious winds which battered Sommerset from one end to the other. As the dawn approached, dark clouds swarmed above the island, refusing to allow the sun to break through. It was as if the night would not let go.
Despite the doctor’s orders that she stay in bed for the next few days, Adele had woken early and forced herself to get up. She could not simply lie in bed and wait. Not today. The ransom was due and if they had any hope of unveiling the traitor and rescuing Aunt Rosemary and Levi, Adele knew she would need to be ready. At their secret meeting the previous day the Winterbottoms had agreed to the red-haired girl’s plan, but there was no predicting what might happen. They were dealing with a desperate and dangerous man who would do anything to get his hands on the Vulture of Sommerset.
After dressing, Adele sat by the window and watched the storm while she waited for her cousins. They were to meet in Adele’s bedchamber at seven o’clock and she could hardly wait for them to arrive. While she had been confined to bed last night, Milo and Isabella were undertaking a crafty mission to flush out the traitor. Had the villain taken the bait? The suspense was killing her! Oh why didn’t they hurry? At last the clock above the fireplace chimed seven times . . . and the minutes ticked by, but her cousins did not appear.
‘What on earth are you doing out of bed, miss?’ shrieked Mrs Hammer when she saw Adele standing outside Uncle Silas’s study some twenty minutes later. ‘You know what the doctor said. Come now, back you go!’
‘I feel fine,’ said Adele, resisting the old housekeeper’s attempts to usher her towards the stairs. In truth her head was aching and the tender bruises on her face swarmed with pain whenever she touched them. ‘Mrs Hammer, have you seen my cousins? I cannot find them anywhere. Isabella is not in her room and Milo’s bed looks as if it has not been slept in at all. I thought perhaps he fell asleep in Uncle Silas’s study.’
‘Well, I can’t tell you where Master Milo is but I can tell you where Miss Isabella has been. Seems she had one of her midnight cravings last night.’ A scowl came to rest upon Mrs Hammer’s lumpy face. ‘Left a half-eaten pecan pie on the kitchen table; I only baked it yesterday. There was a whole army of ants having their fill when I got up this morning and that silly crocodile of hers has been roaming the entrance hall since dawn growling and snapping at anyone who passes by.’
‘Has he?’
‘Yes, miss, he’s in a right temper,’ she said, just as another clap of thunder shook the sky. ‘I do hope Master Milo hasn’t gone out in this storm, he’ll catch his death of cold. It is most fierce. Most fierce indeed.’ Then her eyes firmed. ‘Now, you must get yourself back to bed, Miss Adele, no two ways about it.’
‘I will rest after I find my cousins,’ said the girl, passing by the scowling housekeeper and setting off down the hallway. When she reached the library her already low spirits took another tumble. Adele had dearly hoped to find Milo and Isabella studying the blueprints of Sommerset House or combing through Captain Bloom’s journal seeking some elusive clue that might lead them to the secret room. But she found herself alone.
The rain was beating heavily against the large windows and the thunder roared. Mrs Hammer was right, thought Adele as she looked out at the torrent falling from the dark sky, the storm was indeed fierce. Clouds hung low to the ground, bruised and churning, casting the technicolour gardens of Sommerset in a misty grey. A bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds with pulses of thick tawny light. It was over in a few seconds, yet the brief flashes provided Adele with a glimpse of a dark blur moving through the old woods. The figure was hunched over, wrapped in what appeared to be a long black cape which billowed violently in the squall. The lightning came and went so quickly that it was hard to be certain of who it might be. But Adele had little doubt.
‘Dr Mangrove,’ she whispered. It had to be him.
In order to get to the conservatory you must first pass through the peach-coloured sitting room with its gilded ceiling, seventeenth-century chandelier and priceless antique furniture. Which is why Adele suddenly charged into the room, pushing through a gaggle of startled chambermaids. They were huddled around Florence Puddle (who always kept her ear to the ground), gossiping about the strange goings-on at Sommerset House.
‘Miss Adele, is something wrong?’ asked Florence.
The flame-haired girl gave no reply. She raced across the room and into the conservatory, running to the closest of the French doors and throwing them open. Immediately the wind charged in, tearing wildly about the room. Heavy paintings shook, lifting from the walls as if they were taking off, curtains flapped like flags in a procession and two potted ferns in ceramic pots came crashing to the gro
und.
‘Miss Adele,’ yelled Florence, struggling to be heard above the howling winds, ‘you mustn’t go out there!’
Adele, squinting tightly and clutching at her jacket, passed through the doorway and vanished into the eye of the storm.
With each step Adele’s feet were swallowed into the muddy earth as the furious winds gathered around her like a mob, determined to impede her progress. But she was having none of that. Adele stooped down, bowing her head against the onslaught, and pushed back, charging across the spongy lawns. She reached the outskirts of the gardens, drenched from head to toe, just as a billowing black cloak disappeared behind a cluster of oaks in the centre of the old woods, the dark figure sliding in and out of view as it darted between the massive trunks, his head shrouded in a black hood.
Overhead the low-hanging sky began to rumble like a beast waking from a long sleep. The menacing groan rolled beneath the black clouds, growing ever larger and more furious until finally its full rage was unleashed and a violent roar shook the sky. Before her, a low rising hill stretched up towards the edge of the parterre. Adele’s lungs felt as if they were burning but she pushed on, mounting the hill and reaching the top just as the sky began to flicker like a lamp switching on and off. Angry white cracks split the heavens but Adele paid no attention to the lightning as she ran, leaping over puddles and low hedges until her tired feet felt the firmness of gravel beneath them.
As the rain spat watery pellets into her eyes, Adele stood on the outskirts of the parterre and scanned the old woods which loomed before her like a citadel, searching for another glimpse of the black cape. If Dr Mangrove had come out of hiding then it was possible he was on the hunt for a fresh victim. She shuddered, thinking of Isabella and Milo. Did he have them already? A sudden flutter caught Adele’s attention. She squinted, watching, waiting. Then a streak of black, like a swooping raven, tore between a row of towering oaks. The dark shadow was on the move, more quickly now, striding towards the eastern side of the woods. But why head over there? wondered Adele. That corner of the forest led only to a small apple orchard at the rear of the servants’ quarters. Adele gasped. The servants’ quarters. He was heading towards Sommerset House!
The Vulture of Sommerset Page 14