Quest for the Secret Keeper (6 page)

Ian grimaced and barely resisted the urge to surge forward and grab the map. Only the earl’s calm demeanor held him back.

Picking up the map, the earl unfolded it and considered Ian’s sketches of the many tunnels that ran underneath the grounds all along the White Cliffs of Dover. Ian knew the earl had seen his map before—he himself had shown it to
his patriarch—but at the moment he seemed to study it as if he had never laid eyes on it.

Looking up at Ian, the earl then said, “Well done, Master Wigby. I see that your devotion to the project I assigned to you has in fact been thoroughly documented.”

Ian blinked furiously at the earl before he caught the quick wink the earl sent him. “Thank you, my lord,” he said, although he hardly knew what for.

“What are you talking about?” snapped the admiral, clearly forgetting that he was addressing an earl.

But Lord Hastings Arbuthnot hardly seemed to notice Admiral Ramsey’s impropriety. Instead, he chuckled as if he held some inside joke, and regarded the admiral merrily. “As I know that Ian greatly enjoys exploring the many caves and tunnels that are part of the landscape near my castle, I asked him many months ago to begin sketching out a map of the underground tunnels leading out from Castle Dover so that I might offer you and your men a safe place should the worst happen and the Germans invade our coast. This map is rather crude, but nearly complete, am I right, Ian?”

Ian nodded vigorously. “Yes, my lord. I was almost finished searching through all the tunnels. There are quite a few, as you can see, and I had planned to make you a much neater master map to give to the admiral by week’s end.”

The earl smiled at him and nodded, clearly pleased with his answer. “You see, Peers? Ian had nothing but the best of intentions.”

“Best of intentions?” the admiral repeated, shaking his
head as if he seriously doubted that. The admiral then took a different turn and said, “I understand that the lad was visited by a couple from Austria who wished to adopt him, and they had a private meeting with him. Perhaps you could explain to me, Hastings, how a young man of unknown origins came to have a private meeting with enemies of the crown?”

Ian’s mouth fell open again. The admiral was twisting events to fit his theory that Ian was a spy, and the thought so offended him that he could hardly contain himself.

The earl, however, gave Ian a small shake of his head, to warn him against a sudden outburst, before he stood up to face the admiral. “The Austrian couple appeared on the doorstep of Delphi Keep some two years ago to make inquiries into the adoption of two of my orphans. They were very specific in their request to adopt two older children, as they claimed not to have the patience to care for babes.

“The couple then proceeded to have brief interviews with at least a dozen of my orphans, which is a common practice when an interested couple wishes to adopt any child over the age of three. As I suggested, these interviews took place two years previous, which I must also note was well before the war began. And further, they chose not to adopt Ian, but instead took home another young lad and a girl.”

The earl paused then to gauge the admiral’s reaction to his argument, and after noting that Admiral Ramsey was clearly still suspicious, the earl sighed and added, “My dear friend Peers, you have known me since primary school. Our
mothers were also quite close; can you not take the word of an old friend as voucher for the lad’s loyalty to king and crown?”

Admiral Ramsey considered the earl a while. Finally, he gave a long, tired sigh himself and nodded. “Very well, Hastings,” he said rather reluctantly, and motioned for the guards at Ian’s side to step back.

Ian felt a wave of relief when the soldiers moved back to the door and stood at ease. “Thank you, Admiral,” he said. When the admiral did not look at him, Ian felt the need to say more. “Sir, may I just say that I would never,
ever
put you or Madam Dimbleby in harm’s way. In fact, I would never put anyone I know or have great affection for in danger. My loyalty is, as the earl suggests, to His Majesty and England as long as I live.”

The admiral’s eyes finally swiveled to him, and he gave one curt nod.

The earl folded up the map and, waving it at Ian, urged him to step forward to the desk. “Here, lad,” he said gently. “Take your sketch of the tunnels and turn it into a map the admiral will find useful.”

Ian nodded and attempted to take the map, but the earl held fast and looked Ian straight in the eye. “That section in the middle, however, the one with the old stairwell leading down to the tunnel within the woods?”

Ian was startled that the earl had brought up the tunnel leading to the portal. “Yes, my lord?”

“Do not include it in your map for the admiral, as it leads nowhere and I’m certain it is quite unstable. I
wouldn’t want the soldiers to risk being trapped or killed in a cave-in.”

“Ah,” said Ian with a nod. “Yes, my lord. I understand completely, and I shall leave it off the new map.”

He then attempted to smile at the admiral, to show him there were no hard feelings, but the older man simply glowered at him as if he was yet unconvinced of his allegiance.

Free to go, Ian would have fled the study straightaway; however, he remembered Madam Dimbleby. Clearing his throat, he asked, “My lord, can you tell me how the headmistress is?”

The earl winced as if he’d been physically hurt, and instead of answering Ian, he looked up at the admiral, who crossed his arms and stared out the window without saying a word.

Ian’s heart thumped in his chest as he imagined what no one would tell him—that Eva had been too late to save Madam. “No,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Please tell me she hasn’t …!” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“She lives,” growled the admiral without turning to look at him.

Ian’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank heavens,” he whispered. “May I see her?” he asked the earl.

But his patriarch shook his head sadly, leaned across his desk, and said, “Lad, I’m afraid Maggie’s condition is most grave. She was taken back to the keep, where the naval surgeon did all he could for her, but the outlook is not good, I’m afraid. He doesn’t know if she’ll last the night.”

Ian took the news like a blow to the chest, and it was all he could do to inhale a ragged breath. He placed a hand on the desk to support himself and it was a long time before he could speak. “Eva?” he asked meekly.

The earl’s eyes darted to the admiral—who was still staring out the window—before looking back at him. “She is at Madam’s bedside. Perhaps you should go to your sister, who is also at the keep, and see if there has been any sign of improvement. I shall be along to check on you and the others after I’ve concluded a few additional affairs with the admiral.”

Ian’s lower lip was trembling as the full weight of the news hit him. He couldn’t trust himself to speak another word, and he certainly couldn’t tell the earl about Argos with the admiral standing there, so he merely nodded and hurried from the room.

W
ith a bit of trouble, Ian managed to get back to his room at the top of the keep. He’d had to wind his way through the many cots set up in every available nook and cranny of the old structure—each waiting to receive an injured soldier.

Only one room now held patients, and that was the schoolroom behind the castle, which had the largest open space to accommodate them. For now, many of the cots stood empty, but Ian had a feeling they wouldn’t be empty for long.

He started his search in the schoolroom, his eyes going out of habit to the spot where his old desk used to sit. Madam Dimbleby was not in that room, although Ian searched the rows and faces of everyone there.

He considered that after her surgery, she might have been moved to her own room, but when he went to the west end of the keep, he found that room empty.

Ian would have pulled out his sundial to find his friends, but the keep was too crowded for him to do that discreetly. Instinctively, he trudged up the steps, past his old room, and down the hall to the doorway that led to the east tower.

He turned the knob and pulled—but the door was stuck fast. This often happened, when the resident ghost of Delphi Keep—a cantankerous spirit who haunted the east tower almost exclusively—locked trespassers either in or out, depending on which side of the door they happened to be on.

With a tired sigh Ian leaned his head against the wood paneling. “Please, ghost?” he said. “It’s been a right awful day, and I’d just like to find Carl and Theo.”

There was a click and then the door pressed hard enough against Ian’s head that he stood back. With a loud creak it opened all the way. “Thank you,” he said, and hurried up the stairs. As he made his way up, he heard the door close behind him. Before he even crested the landing, he heard voices.

“Who’s there?” asked one.

“It’s me, Carl,” he said, hurrying up the last few steps.

“Ian!” Theo shouted, jumping off the cot that served as Ian’s bed and hurrying to his side. Throwing her arms around him again, she asked, “You all right?”

He nodded and gave a small smile to Jaaved and Carl, who were looking at him with concern. But he then realized who else was in the room and his mouth fell open a bit. “Good eve, Ian,” Argos said, nodding to him from Ian’s
cot. He was now dressed in thin trousers and an old green shirt. Ian recognized the clothes as belonging to Landis, their groundskeeper.

“I pinched ’em from the laundry downstairs,” Carl confessed.

Argos scratched at the fabric. “How do you people wear such coverings?” he asked.

“You’ll get used to it,” Carl assured him.

“So all of you know?” Ian asked Jaaved and Theo. They both nodded. “Have you had a chance to tell the earl?” Ian asked Carl, wondering if the earl already knew but hadn’t wanted to let on in front of the admiral.

“No. He’s been locked up in that room with Admiral Ramsey all afternoon,” Carl replied. “We were waiting to see if perhaps you’d had a chance to tell him.”

Ian told them that he hadn’t, and then he explained why he’d been dragged off by the military police. He ended by telling them that he’d finally been let go to come see about Madam Dimbleby, and he noted their somber faces.

“She’s been moved into the girls’ dormitory,” said Theo, her voice no louder than a whisper. “The doctor wanted her kept in a quiet place, away from the noise of the rest of the hospital. Madam Scargill is there along with Eva.” Ian felt his hopes lift a bit until Theo added, “She’s doing her very best to help Madam, but …”

Theo’s voice trailed off and Ian’s chest tightened with fear. “But what?”

“Eva doesn’t know if she has it in her to save Madam Dimbleby, Ian,” Carl said, his voice choked with emotion.
“She’s so worn out from healing all the soldiers who’ve come through that she says there’s precious left for her to give to Madam.”

Ian’s eyes darted to the floor and no one spoke for several minutes. Beside him, he could hear Theo sniffling, and he knew he should attempt to comfort her, but he was so upset by the prospect of losing the only mother figure he’d ever known that he found he could barely breathe.

Theo must have sensed this, because she placed her hand in his and leaned against him, which sparked a question Ian had for her. “Theo?”

“Yes?”

Ian hesitated. The question he had to ask was a difficult one, and he wondered if he could even utter the words, but Theo’s vision from a few days before about a grave site prepared for their headmistress greatly distressed him. “Do you really see her passing?”

He could feel the eyes of Carl and Jaaved on him, and he knew he’d asked the one question they couldn’t. Theo took a long time to answer him. “Sometimes, the future is not so certain, Ian,” she said softly. “On very rare occasions, my visions contain two outcomes, and I have no idea which will actually take place.”

Ian understood that to mean that Theo had seen both Madam’s recovery and her passing, and the uncertainty only caused him further turmoil. He stood up then and moved to the window, opening it to allow the cool evening air to come in.

In the distance he saw a bright yellow automobile turn
off the road and begin to make its way down the gravel drive. Behind him Theo said, “The earl is coming.”

“Should we go down to meet him?” Ian asked without turning around.

“No,” said Theo. “He’ll come to us.”

Theo was correct, because a short time later the door below opened, and up the stairs came the earl. He looked rather surprised to find them all seated quietly, and his expression was even more surprised when he took in Argos. “Good evening,” he said to the soldier. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”

Ian and Carl both stood and began to tell the earl who the soldier was and, more importantly, where he’d come from.

“The portal?” the earl said, blinking at the revelation. “So the prophecy has begun,” he said, sitting down heavily on a nearby stool.

“It has,” Theo said definitively. “The first few lines of the prophecy clearly talk about Argos’s arrival.”

The earl sighed. “It has been an eventful day,” he said, his eyes pinched and tired as he looked at a yellow bit of paper in his hand.

Theo pointed to it and said, “Is there news, my lord?”

The earl nodded dully. “Yes, although I’m afraid it’s some rather troubling news.”

“About the war?” asked Carl.

The earl closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then let the air out slowly before folding the paper back into a neat little square. “In a way, Carl,” he said. “I’ve received a telegram
from my associates in British intelligence. As you know, I have been assisting with the intelligence gathering from my sources overseas. Some of my dear friends from abroad have been risking their lives to gather useful information through their connections in Berlin.

“A fortnight ago, one of my associates traveled to Antwerp, attempting to sway the Belgium forces loyal to King Leopold to give up their vow of neutrality and declare war against the Germans—”

“But Belgium is all but lost!” Ian exclaimed, interrupting the earl. Rumors abounded that King Leopold was about to declare a surrender to the Germans, and most of the soldiers flooding their port the past few days were from Belgium. In fact, nearly all the injured in the schoolroom below had fought along the Belgium-France border.