He moved away up the gallery so rapidly that Kay could hardly keep pace. As he came near Joe’s cell Joe cried: ‘Let me out, Abner, let me out, I say!’
Finding that his cries had no effect and that Abner was going past paying no attention, he changed his tone: ‘I say, old man,’ he said, ‘a joke’s a joke, but don’t leave an old pal here in the dark: not old Joe, Abner.’
‘Yes, old Joe,’ Abner replied. He had gone past Joe’s cell when something seemed to strike him. ‘By the way, Joe,’ he said, ‘you don’t believe in magic, do you?’
Instantly, out of the air, there came little faces, grinning and wicked. They had pointed ears and pointed teeth. These faces flitted swiftly through the bars of Joe’s cell; they buzzed round Joe’s head, and spoke, sometimes in squeaky, sometimes in shrill and sometimes in very musical voices: ‘You don’t believe in magic, do you, Joe?’ Joe beat at them as though they were wasps, but they were too quick to be hit.
Abner watched the effect of these imps with their words upon Joe’s terror-stricken face. ‘No, he doesn’t believe in magic, Joe doesn’t,’ he said. ‘However, take your time. You will, presently, Joe,’ he said; and at that he switched out the light and marched on, turning swiftly up a gallery which Kay had not noticed. Kay followed, running, where Abner’s footsteps led. Presently a light went up. Abner had opened the door into a lighted room; Kay slipped into the room behind Abner before the door closed.
It was a bare room carpeted with a thick red carpet. Certain strange magical symbols were painted on the walls in red. In the middle of the room on a pedestal was a bronze head which Kay had seen before. Kay noticed that the bronze head’s eyelids were closed and the head drooped as though asleep when he entered the room, but, as Abner lifted his right hand, the eyelids opened, the head raised itself, the lips moved and a voice from within it said, ‘Command me, Master.’
‘Tell me of our plans,’ Abner said.
The voice spoke from the head: ‘Your agents have now captured every clergyman attached to the Cathedral, as well as most of the Cathedral servants and staff.’
‘Is anything going wrong?’ Abner asked.
‘Yes,’ the bronze head replied. ‘You should have begun (as I told you) much later in the day. You have given them time to act against you.’
‘Don’t criticise me, Slave,’ Abner said; and the head at once cowered down upon the pedestal and began to whimper.
‘Stop that,’ Abner said. ‘Tell me, now, what are they trying to do against me?’
‘All sorts of things,’ the head said. ‘Mainly telephoning and telegraphing, trying to get substitutes.’
‘With what success?’ Abner said.
‘Not much yet,’ the head said. ‘It is Christmas. All clergy are busy in their own parishes. But substitutes will be found. There is a body of Friends of the Cathedral; I told you of them: the Tatchester Trusties: they are the ones. They will rake up clergy from all sorts of places, you will see.’
‘Will I?’ Abner said. ‘Will they? We’ll try that.’
He raised his right hand in a peculiar manner. Instantly, a red-winged figure rose up out of the floor and bowed before him.
‘Cut all the Tatchester telephone wires and telegraph wires,’ he said. ‘Wait. Bring in those Tatchester Trusties.’
‘I go, sir,’ the winged figure said and disappeared through the ceiling.
‘That won’t see you very far,’ the brazen head said. ‘Some of the substitute clergy have already started.’
Abner raised his right hand again. Instantly, another red figure rose from the floor:
‘Command me, Master,’ it said.
‘Dislocate all railway traffic for twenty miles round Tatchester. Jam the points.’
‘I go, sir,’ the figure answered and disappeared through the ceiling.
‘That won’t be much use,’ the bronze head said. ‘They will come by road.’
Abner raised his hand again. A third red figure rose from the floor and asked for orders.
‘Make every road impassable for twenty miles round Tatchester,’ he said. ‘But stay, that won’t be enough. We must make the air impassable too. Stay here one moment.’
He lifted his left hand in a strange way and, instantly, an old, old crone was thrust through the floor by little red hands, towards him. She looked so old that she might have been a thousand years or more: nose and chin almost met; her face was the colour of old wood. She seemed terrified of Abner.
‘What d’you want with me, Master?’ she said.
‘I want a storm out of the north and the east,’ Abner said, ‘with snow.’
‘I can’t give it. I can’t give it,’ the old woman said. ‘You ask too much. I can only sell a storm for a great sum – a bag of amethysts.’
‘Give me a storm from the north and the east,’ Abner said, ‘or I will torment you in a way that you’ll remember.’
‘No, give me at least half a bag of amethysts,’ the old woman said, ‘for I need them for a cordial that I am making.’
‘I will give you a quarter bag,’ Abner said. ‘Now let me have the storm.’
He produced from his pocket a little canvas bag which did contain amethysts: Kay saw the stones as he emptied them out. A very meagre quarter of the bag was handed to the old woman, who produced in turn from her pocket a little leather bag tied with three strings at the mouth.
‘Don’t open more than two of those strings,’ the old woman said, warningly, ‘or you may be sorry.’
‘Don’t tell me how I am to proceed,’ Abner said. ‘Away with her!’ At once the little red hands plucked the old woman away.
‘Servant, here!’ Abner cried to the red figure. ‘Away with this to Tatchester. Open two strings from the mouth of this bag and fill the roads and the air with snow, so that neither cars nor aeroplanes shall come near Tatchester: let any clergyman who tries to get there be buried six feet in snow and not be found until the spring.’
‘He cannot do that,’ the brazen head said. ‘He cannot take life.’
‘Do not interrupt me, you,’ Abner said. ‘As for you, Servant, take that bag to Tatchester. Open all the strings and flood that countryside with the deepest snow since Wolves Ran. Make the drifts eight feet deep round each Cathedral door. Away with you.’
‘I go, sir,’ the figure said and vanished through the ceiling.
Abner turned to the brazen head.
‘You have interrupted me, you have criticised me,’ he said. ‘All this establishment seems given over to mutiny. I will have you learn respect. You shall be upside down for a while.’
‘I implore you, Master, not,’ the head said, whimpering.
‘I say, yes,’ Abner said. He plucked the head from its pedestal and jammed it violently down upon it upside down. It whimpered and wailed in that position.
‘Shut up,’ Abner said. ‘Listen to me, and tell me truth: Am I to have that Box today?’ he asked.
‘You will have it under your hand,’ the head said.
‘To do what I like with?’
‘To toss and to tumble. It will be your plaything.’
‘Then I can open the sluices when I choose?’ he asked.
‘Whenever you choose.’
‘Ha,’ Abner said. ‘Who will bring me the Box?’
‘It will come under your hand,’ the head said.
Kay was by this time trembling lest the head should say where the Box was at the moment. It was at this instant that the poor upside down eyes caught sight of the tiny figure of Kay near the door. The eyes showed astonishment, then Kay felt that they showed excitement. ‘He’ll betray me now,’ Kay thought, ‘so as to be turned right-side-up again.’ Then he saw that the head was rebelling against Abner for being turned upside down, one of the eyes winked at Kay to reassure him.
‘What are you rolling your eyes for?’ Abner asked.
‘You’d roll your eyes if you were upside down,’ the head said.
‘Who will bring me the Box?’ Abner repeated.<
br />
‘The spells won’t let me say.’
‘How soon will it be here?’
‘It’s on its way to you now.’
‘Is it near?’
‘It is very near.’
‘Right,’ Abner said. ‘Now mend your manners there.’
‘Oh dear,’ Kay thought. ‘He is to have the Box after all, and what will happen to me when he gets it? And what will happen to all the captives? And what did he mean by “opening the sluices?” Did he mean that he is going to let water into the caves?’
He had no time to consider these questions, for Abner strode swiftly out of the room; Kay had to follow him at once to avoid being shut in. Abner moved so swiftly to the left, that Kay lost touch with him. Following on, as fast as he could, he heard something which made his heart leap:
‘So Miss Caroline Louisa,’ Abner was saying, in some dark den in the rock. ‘You would not tell me about the Box, though you must know all about it. Now you may like to know that it is on its way to me; nothing can stop its coming to me.
‘Once before you stood in my way and were the cause of great trouble to me and mine. I promised then that I would be even with you. I am going to be even with you, never fear, quite soon; as even as water can make me, for water, when released, finds its own level, they say. This time I shall pay off all our old scores. Goodbye.’
Caroline Louisa did not answer, but Kay heard her cough and knew that she was there. Abner came striding back past Kay; there came a sudden noise of a door rolling in a groove; the cave became suddenly bright with light.
Kay saw that a door in the rock had slid back; beyond it, a curious motor car, thickly sprinkled with snow, was being opened by masked men, who dragged from it two figures whose arms and legs were lashed and whose heads were in felt bags.
‘Ha,’ Abner said, ‘the Tatchester Trusties, I presume. Working, no doubt, double time, like good friends of the Cathedral, to find clergy for the services. Excellent work, but it must now be interrupted for the time. First, action, then, contemplation. Remove them to the cells . . . but stay one moment . . . it is snowing, I perceive.’
‘Snowing,’ one of the masked men said. ‘You’ve said it. I never knew anything like it. It came on all of a sudden, so blind I thought we’d never get through.’
‘Nice seasonable Christmas weather,’ Abner said. ‘A white Christmas, eh? Well, well; remove them.’
After the two men had been dragged away into the darkness of the corridor, Abner went to a recess where there was something which looked like a typewriter let into the rock; he touched some of the keys of this, then spoke into the mouthpiece:
‘Is this the Tatchester Evening News?’ he asked. ‘The News and Associated Papers? . . . Father Boddledale speaking. I wish to give a message to your evening edition – perhaps you could make it a special edition – that there need be no alarm whatever about the services in the Cathedral at Tatchester. Got that? Even if none of the missing clergy be restored in time, it will be possible for my organisation to supply all the services with qualified clergy . . . You can print a special edition to that effect at once, can you? . . . Actually have the copies in the streets in half an hour, can you? . . . Splendid! . . . Let there be no anxiety whatever. And you will acquaint the London evening papers, will you, that all is arranged? . . . Father Boddledale of the Ecclesiastical Training Centre will see that services are supplied, although there can be little doubt that the practical jokers, for such they must be, will relent in time. . . . Thank you so much. And will you allow me to wish you the very happiest of New Years and of Christmastides? Are you running any particular Christmas charity for the Old or the Sick or the Poor? . . . Oh! will you allow me to put my name down for twenty-five pounds? . . . Father Boddledale . . . Yes: B-o-d-d-l-e- . . . Thank you . . . A most happy Christmas . . . Thank you. And add that Father Boddledale wishes the good people of Tatchester a most happy Christmas and New Year . . . Thank you.’
He closed the recess and moved away; Kay saw a happy smile upon his features.
In deep thought, Abner moved along the rocky gallery. Kay followed with some difficulty, for this gallery was badly lit. Kay heard a continual murmur of water falling. Presently, he judged that this noise was not from falling water, but from violent sobbing and lamenting. When they came near to the noise, Abner turned on a light. Kay could see an iron cage, at the bars of which were pressed some white faces, whose haggard, dark eyes made black patches on the flesh.
‘Ha,’ Abner said, ‘my vocal and orchestral friends from Tatchester! The Choir, I think? And is our cocoa as you like it? And do you admire our brand of bun? Now listen to me, boys. There is something very disgusting to me in the undisguised grief of boys who do not carry handkerchiefs and use the backs of their hands. Stop snivelling, you little beasts. Do I see Dr Blowpipe, the famous Organist? Now then, tell me, you, Dr Blowpipe, and you, Organist’s Assistant, and you, members of the Tatchester Choir, which of you has the Box of Delights and where is it?’
Dr Blowpipe and some of the elder members of the Choir asked him what on earth he meant.
‘You know quite well what I mean,’ Abner said. ‘Where is it: Cole Hawlings’s Box of Delights?’
All repeated that they knew nothing whatever about any box; they protested against their imprisonment and asked to be set free at once.
‘Very well,’ Abner said. ‘You have had your chance, then; your bloods will be on your own heads. You are doomed. Tonight there will be no more choirboy, no more tenor nor baritone nor bass, no more Dr Blowpipe. Somebody else will play the “Requiem in D Minor” and very soon; because little Abner will turn on the tap and let the water in.’ He paused and then added: ‘Midnight will soon strike on the Cathedral clock, and there will be no service in the Cathedral – no! for the Cathedral staff will be rolling:
Where Alph, the sacred river, swishes,
With Organist and boys and Bishes,
Down to a sunless sea.
The Box is coming to me, let me tell you. I shall turn on the taps, let me tell you, and you’d better turn off your taps, let me tell you, for you will have water enough when that happens.’
He walked away, followed by threats from Dr Blowpipe and cries from the baritones and basses:
‘You let us out of here, my joker. This has gone far enough!’
There were piteous wails from the choirboys:
‘Oh please, sir, do let me go home! Oh sir, have mercy!’
The voices and crying died as Abner sped swiftly into the recesses of the cavern. Kay followed as quickly as he could. Abner, who knew the way, walked by the aid of a torch, which he flashed on from time to time. Kay, on his little tiny feet, had to hurry as best he could after the occasional flashes. Sometimes he fell into some pit in the floor and bumped himself; sometimes he ran into a projecting stone and bruised himself. He felt to the full the misery of being tiny. From time to time, he thought, ‘If there should be a cat anywhere down in these cellars, I shall be pounced on and done for.’
Presently, Abner turned on a permanent light. Kay could see that they were in a broad gallery, in the side of which, backed against the rock, was a cage of strong iron bars, raised a little from the floor. In the midst of the cage, heavily chained, was old Cole Hawlings.
Abner walked up to within a few feet of the bars.
‘Master Cole,’ he said, ‘or Master Lully: great Master, the time has come for us to speak together. You are so beset by my power that you can never escape from here without my leave. I come to tell you that the Box is now on its way to me: nothing can stop its coming.
‘Once, long ago, you walked from Spain to Italy to buy the Box, with your Elixir of Life. I will sell you the Box for the Elixir. Will you deal?’
‘No,’ Cole said, ‘because you are a greedy scoundrel, unfit to have long life.’
‘I will repeat the offer once more,’ Abner said, ‘but only once. After that, you will see.’
As he turned away up the gallery, Kay, seizing a
shoelace, swung himself into the fold of Abner’s turned-up trouser, so that he might not be left behind. He was so light, that Abner did not feel him scrambling there, but walked swiftly on. Kay found his perch pleasanter than the walking had been, but still a giddy way of travelling.
Hanging within the fold of cloth he was tossed and banged by the rapid going till Abner stopped, unlocked a strongroom, entered it and shut it to behind him. It was a stronger room than any that Kay had thought possible. No sound of any sort came within it. The walls might have been more than a foot thick of solid iron. It was brightly lit. It was about nine feet high and twelve feet across. On one side, there was a small sofa with cushions. On another side there was a table on which stood an open iron deed-box; a chair was near the table. On the walls opposite were shelves holding iron deed-boxes, labelled with capital letters – R. E. P. S. D., etc., etc.. Abner went to the table and burrowed in the open box.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we have done not badly with our little ventures; not badly at all. When the Box of Delights comes, I can sail with these to my quiet island. Ramon Lully will see wisdom: he will grant me the Elixir too before I go. But I must have a look at these once more.’
He felt at the door to be sure that it was closed:
‘Strange,’ he muttered, ‘once before when I had my hand on a great treasure that little boy, Kay Harker, upset my schemes. Why should he come into my mind now? He’d better not come into my presence;’ at this he produced from his hip pocket a pistol, which he put upon the table beside him. Kay slipped from the trouser-end to the floor, where he could watch.
Abner opened one of the bags in the deed-box:
‘Ah, the Duke’s rubies!’ he said. ‘The setting is rather coarse – those Victorians were heavy in the hand – but they are a rare crimson: worth thirty thousand, if they are worth a penny. And these – those emeralds: twenty thousand. And these are the pearls. We have done well in pearls and they are very light – very light to carry. Fashionable things – pearls. Liver disease in the oyster, I understand, but ladies don’t know that. Ah! this was the Countess’s that there was such a fuss about. And this was Mrs Julius K. What’s-her-name’s, who offered the big reward. And this was the dancer’s: a very foolish young woman, if I am any judge. Ninety-four thousand the three. That shows you what love will do. Then these big ones: anything up to fifty thousand, these. And these are my sapphires – blue and yellow: my favourite stone.’ Kay saw him turn out a little bag of sapphires on to the table. ‘Ah, I could never part with these,’ he muttered. ‘There is something about this blue and this yellow. Why anybody should prefer other stones I cannot think. But now for the real box – the rich box.’
The Box of Delights Page 22