‘Well, what d’you think of that?’ Maria repeated.
‘Well, I know what I think of it,’ Kay said. ‘They’ve got the Bishop, the Dean, the Punch and Judy man, the two Canons and Peter in that den of theirs at Chester Hills.’
‘Well, if I were you, I’d telephone to the Yard,’ Maria said. ‘It’s no good going to your champion rabbit man, or whatever he is: go to the sleuths whose job it is to sleuth. Let’s telephone the Yard.’
They telephoned to the Yard, who referred them to the Chief of the Tatchester Constabulary: telephone number, Tatchester 7000. When they did this they were told that the matter would meet with every attention and that, though no news had come about any of the missing gentlemen, they expected developments before the evening.
At lunch-time Kay was called to the telephone. Caroline Louisa’s sister wanted to speak about her brother who was now better. Kay explained that Caroline Louisa had not returned from London and had left no word: had neither written nor telegraphed.
‘Well,’ the sister said, ‘she set off from here two days ago. Whatever can have happened?’
Kay had a very shrewd suspicion of what had happened. He said, ‘Perhaps she’s been kidnapped like the Cathedral staff.’
The sister said, ‘That doesn’t sound very likely to me, but I will telephone to the hospitals to find out whether anybody has been brought in as the result of an accident.’
She said that she would telephone later if she heard anything. She did telephone later to report that she could learn nothing of her sister whatsoever. Kay went back to lunch feeling very miserable. After lunch it came on to rain. There was no news of Peter. It wasn’t possible to go playing in the garden. He went upstairs to his room; locked the doors; put caps over the keys as before; climbed under the valance of the dressing-table and looked again into the Box of Delights.
This time he looked into an entirely different scene. There was a little hill with a beech clump upon it and a vixen playing with her cubs on some tumbled chalk outside a burrow. A badger was padding about; from the glow upon the wood it seemed to Kay to be about sunset on a fine May evening. The cubs rolled over and over, playing with themselves or with a bit of rabbit-skin, and presently Kay was aware that some of the glow upon the trees was due to the presence of multitudes of butterflies of the most brilliant colours – painted ladies, red admirals, peacocks, purple emperors, chalk blues, commas, tortoise-shells, purple and green hairstreaks: and besides these there were others – Camberwell beauties and swallowtails – and all these began moving suddenly towards him; he noticed that they were drawing an airy chariot made out of rose leaves from some sweet-briar rose. It was liker a basket than a chariot and, although it looked very fragile, it was held together with silk; Kay said to himself, ‘Silk is really the strongest of all stuffs,’ and he stepped into the chariot. At once the butterflies lifted him up high over the treetops, going much more swiftly than he would have thought possible and, although their flight wavered now up, now down, it was extraordinarily delightful.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘we are going to Chester Hills,’ and very soon they were indeed flying over the very wood from which Peter had disappeared, but inside the wood and all round the great house, as Kay drew near it, there were wolves running and snarling with their hackles up and with their teeth gleaming: he had never thought it possible that there could be so many. He saw them leaping and snapping, trying to reach the butterflies, who kept well out of harm’s way. They floated up to the great house and then round it, though the wolves came out of the chimneys and through trapdoors on to the roofs and yapped and snarled and showed their teeth.
Then, at one little window, as Kay floated past, he saw Caroline Louisa stretching out her hands to him, calling, ‘Help me, Kay!’ Then, instantly, two great she-wolves dragged her from the window and pulled down an iron shutter.
The butterflies changed their direction and floated away, and away from Chester Hills, and at last brought Kay to a bare mountain which he had never before seen. In the mountainside there was a little door with a knocker. Kay knocked at the knocker and a little old man opened the door and said,
‘Will you please to walk in, Master Kay? And what would you like to see: the treasures or the work?’
‘I should like to see both, please,’ Kay said.
The little old man opened a door and there was a little furnace with a bellows and an anvil, with little men hard at work making extraordinary things out of metals and precious stones. In cases on the wall were the most marvellous weapons and knives, coats of armour, crowns and jewels. And there were also strange things shaped like hands and, when the little man pressed a button, these hands took hold of hammers or tongs, plucked molten metal from the furnace and beat it into whatever shape the little man ordered. Kay was so delighted with these things that he stared and stared and, at last, one of the pairs of hands plucked a piece of gold, beat it rapidly into the shape of a little rosebud and thrust it into Kay’s buttonhole. Then the little old man said that it would be time for him to be going and led him to the stone door on the hillside, and there was a sort of boat harnessed to wild duck.
When he got into the boat the wild duck flew with it high into the air over the dark woods, then down and down and down, till, at last, the boat was just over Seekings House and Kay had only to drop down the chimney, as it seemed, into his room. And there he was in his room, snapping-to the Box and putting it back into his pocket.
Just as he snapped it to in his pocket there came a clattering at the door.
‘Kay! Kay!’ Maria cried.
‘What is it?’ Kay said.
‘What isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Come on down at once.’ In the study, she showed him a paper. ‘Look at this,’ she said. ‘There’s a special edition of the paper. They’ve got the whole of the Cathedral staff.’
‘No,’ Kay said, ‘they can’t have!’
‘They have, though,’ Maria said. ‘Look here.’
The special edition was a single sheet still damp from the press; the big black headings easily smudged.
UNPARALLELED ATROCITY!
MORE HORRORS AT TATCHESTER!
HAVE THE BOLSHEVIKS BEGUN?
A FEARED TERRIBLE PLOT!
REIGN OF TERROR IN CATHEDRAL CITY
And there was a note:
We had thought that the mystery attached to the disappearance of the eminent Clergy of the Tatchester Establishment would by this time have been cleared up with the return of the Bishop, the Dean and Canons to their functions. We regret to say that our confidence was gravely misplaced. Tonight we have to report the complete disappearance of the Precentor, the Vesturer, the Bursar, the Canons Minor, the Archdeacon, Vergers, Organist, and, it is feared, other members of the Cathedral staff.
These gentlemen, according to their custom on the afternoon before Christmas Eve, were proceeding in a motor bus to the Tatchester Alms Houses laden with suitable offerings for the old Men and Women Pensioners. They set off, according to custom, at half-past three and, it is thought, were beguiled into entering a motor bus other than that sent for them. From that moment no word has been received from any of them.
Anyone able to throw the slightest light upon this very dark mystery are adjured to communicate at once with the local Police (Telephone, Tatchester 7000) and to spare no pains in bringing the offenders to justice.
‘But what time is this?’ Kay said.
‘It’s nine o’clock,’ Maria said. ‘We’ve been wondering where on earth you’ve been.’
‘Oh,’ Kay said, ‘I suppose I fell asleep.’
‘What a very pretty shiny buttonhole you’ve got,’ Maria said. ‘What is it?’
‘Oh, that’s a little rose,’ Kay said, looking down; and indeed, there in his buttonhole was the little golden rose that had been made for him in the mountain.
‘I suppose you got it from a cracker,’ Maria said. ‘But just think of their bagging the whole Cathedral staff at one swoop! They must have had the b
rains of buns. You see, they’ve had warning: the Bishop went, the Dean went and then the Canons went. And then, the whole of them go and plunge into a motor bus and are whirled off, very likely into eternity.’
‘Well, I hope they’ve not been whirled into eternity,’ Kay said. ‘They were awfully nice to us, some of those clergy: we had a lovely party there the other night. What on earth will they do for the Christmas services? We’ll get the news on the wireless. We’d better wait up till then.’
They waited up until the news on the wireless. They heard that the Archbishops were determined that, in case of need, the services should be held in the Cathedral in spite of the absence of the regular staff and that certain clergy had been asked to proceed to Tatchester to officiate there if the need arose. The announcer said that the matter was viewed with the greatest seriousness and that the public was asked to co-operate with the Police by giving instant, accurate information of a red, white, blue, grey, brown or black motor bus – the colours had been variously given by various observers – proceeding at a frightening pace in the direction of Tatchester some twenty minutes before the alleged outrage. He asked that those who had any information to give should telephone at once to the Chief of the Tatchester Constabulary: telephone number, Tatchester 7000.
‘Well, I should think,’ Maria said, ‘that even the sleuths at Scotland Yard will begin to think that they are up against a gang by this time. I should think the gangsters are dropping them biting postcards: “Don’t you know my methods, Watson?” etc. However, I should think we’d better get to bed. We’ve not heard the end of this yet: some more of them will be gone, you’ll see.’
‘They’ve got the whole boiling,’ Kay said. ‘I don’t see how many more they could get.’
‘The choirboys aren’t there,’ Maria said.
‘I think you’ll find they’ve got the choirboys,’ Kay said.
‘Well, I know who they’ll get,’ Maria said, ‘and those are all the clergy who have gone to Tatchester to take office in case. Blithering asses they were, to let the gang know that.’
‘I say!’ Kay said. ‘There’ll be a fine old twitter in Tatchester.’
‘Well,’ Maria said, ‘if they survive they’ll have something to talk of as long as they live. Next to being martyred I should think being scrobbled would be the greatest joy a clergyman could have. I should prefer it to being martyred myself, but tastes differ.’
With that she went to put some holly in Jemima’s bed and then retired to rest.
Chapter IX
Kay went back to his room, sorely perplexed. It was time for bed, but the sight of Peter’s bed without Peter reminded him that the Wolves were Running; he could not think of sleeping. ‘Oh, if I could only find out where Cole Hawlings is,’ he thought, ‘then I could give him back his Box, and put an end to all this kidnapping.’
He stayed, looking at the fire, without any thought of undressing. At last, in his misery, he opened the Box, thinking, ‘Perhaps I may see Herne the Hunter. He might be able to give me some advice.’
When he opened the Box, it seemed to him that he opened it at a stone gateway, through which he passed to the waters of a lake, where a boatman sat in a little green boat. ‘Going across?’ the boatman asked. ‘Step in.’
So Kay stepped into the boat, the boatman thrust her off and rowed her over the lake, which was so clear that Kay could see the golden and scarlet fishes on the pebbles at the bottom. Kay landed at the other side of the lake, and walked up an avenue of fruit trees all glowing with the ripe fruit, apples, pears, plums, apricots, peaches, those five, all golden, scarlet, blue and orange-coloured. At the end of the avenue was a Castle surrounded by a lawn of the greenest grass with the whitest daisies. Some gazelles were nibbling the grass; they ran up to Kay to be petted. There were many little goldfinches flying about. Kay walked towards the steps of the Castle. All sorts of birds were there, herons, white ibises and scarlet flamingoes on the steps, and many finches flying. Out of the Castle, to meet him, came the Lady who had feasted him in the oak tree. She still wore the ring with the ‘longways cross.’ She seemed to be about twenty now, and more beautiful, Kay thought, than even Caroline Louisa.
‘Ah, Kay,’ she said, ‘I know why you come to me today. You will hear more tomorrow, if you go to Chester Hills. Now that you are here, what of all the things in the world would you like to eat?’
Kay thought and thought, at last he said, ‘I think, mangoes, please.’ Instantly out of the wall three plates appeared laden with mangoes. The plates had neat little legs which walked. They walked up to the table and bowed down before him, so that he could eat the mangoes; afterwards a sponge walked up and mopped off the stickiness.
‘And now, Kay,’ the Lady said, ‘what, of all things, would you like to see?’
‘Well, of all things, I think,’ he said, ‘a tournament.’
Instantly, one wall of the room rolled away, so that he could look into the courtyard of the Castle, which was now divided into two by a gaily painted barrier. The sides of the yard were lined with tiers of seats, full of people and gay with banners.
At each end of the lists two Knights, one in scarlet, one in white armour, were taking position on horses excited by the music and the crowd. Suddenly, the trumpeters in the royal box blew all together, the Knights dropped their lances to the rests, drove in their spurs, and hurtled at each other on different sides of the barrier. Under the royal box, they struck each other’s shields with their spears; they themselves reeled in their saddles, but were not unseated: the spears broke at the guards and leaped a dozen feet into the air: the Knights finished their courses, then wheeled round and waited for fresh spears. ‘Would you like to do that, Kay?’ the Lady asked.
‘Oh, I would,’ he said.
Instantly a squire led forth a warhorse with blue and white trappings for him. Out of the wall, the pieces of a suit of armour walked towards him and buckled themselves about him, first the footgear, leggings and cuisses, then the body-armour and arm-pieces, lastly the helmet with its plume. A squire came forward to give him a leg-up into the saddle; another squire brought him a lance.
‘It is not always wise to take part with the Past, Kay,’ the Lady said. ‘Arnold of Todi did so, as you may hear tomorrow, and where, in the Past, is he now? He is lost, Kay.’
But Kay could not think of Arnold of Todi; he was on a great horse, feeling his mouth, and staring through the slit of his helm at his enemy at the other end. His enemy was a red Knight, just gathering his shield, which now turned to Kay, so that he saw upon it a black wolf rampant. A squire handed him a white shield with blue chevrons on it, but before he could take it, the trumpets blew. At once he drove forward at the Wolf Knight. The horses whinnied with delight, the joy of the charge surged up in him, he saw the red helm crouched above the Wolf; then, crash, they met.
‘I’ve got him,’ Kay shouted, as he felt his spear drive home on to the Red Knight’s chest, and the Knight go backward over the crupper.
He had got him, but something odd had happened to himself. ‘My girths are gone,’ he cried. He felt the saddle turn under his horse’s belly while himself was flung headlong, endlong, anylong, down, down, down, back to his chair by the fireplace in his room at Seekings.
‘Well, tomorrow,’ he said, ‘as soon as ever it is light, I’ll go out to Chester Hills to hear more.’
Next morning, as soon as ever it was light, he dressed. Taking the Box, he turned the knob first so that he might become tiny; next, so that he might go swiftly; instantly, he was whirled up through the chimney, out through the cowl and away, just as it was growing to be light. He felt so minute that he trembled lest a sparrow should peck him in mistake for a caterpillar. In a moment or two he was whirled down to the doorstep of the great house at Chester Hills, still clutching the Box. He was shrunken to the size of one of his leaden soldiers. The front door was open. He was on the top step; he walked towards the hall.
Unfortunately, at that instant, a boy and girl were
coming towards the house carrying between them a basket of packages. The sun shone at that instant on the doorstep. The girl dropped her end of the basket and made a dart up the steps.
‘Quick, Bert!’ she cried. ‘There’s a fairy. Quick, catch him! We’ll catch him and sell him.’
As she darted up the steps Kay slipped into the house and dodged to cover under the hangings of a window-seat. The two children followed and peered about at the door, whispering together. Plainly they were afraid to come further.
‘What was it you saw?’ the boy asked.
‘A fairy dressed like a little boy.’
‘Oh, go on!’
‘But I did and he can’t have gone far.’
‘What d’you mean by a fairy?’ the boy asked.
‘A fairy, like a little boy – a little, tiny boy no bigger than my little finger.’
‘Go on,’ the boy said. ‘There aren’t such things as fairies: it’s all rot about fairies.’
‘But, I tell you, I saw one,’ the girl said.
‘Well, we’ll cop it if we are caught in here,’ the boy said.
‘Here,’ the girl said, taking a walking-stick from the walking-stick-stand just inside the door, ‘I’m going to give a prod underneath the seat there.’
The stick which she took was a sort of alpenstock with a long steel spike at the end of it. She thrust it under the hangings of the window-seat and raked with it there. Kay saw it coming at him like the head of a battering-ram mounted on a tree-trunk. It missed him by about an inch.
‘It was in there he went, I’ll bet a dollar,’ the girl said.
The steel spike came prodding round again. Kay, crouching against the panels, gave himself up for lost.
There came the pad of straw-soled slippers on the stone corridor and the squeaky voice of an old man said, ‘What are you two doing there?’
The battering-ram fell with a crash. Kay heard the children rush away, pick up the basket and fly off. The old man came slowly limping to the door. Kay could see his feet in straw-soled slippers, with old trouser-ends dangling down over them and the end of a dark green apron; also the head of a broom which the old man was trailing after him.
The Box of Delights Page 16