The Mousehunter (25 page)

Algernon started to scratch the stubble forming on his chin. He would never have made a decent pirate as his beard was patchy at best, but a few weeks of living in a submarine brings out all sorts of hidden growths.

“We have to get to Horatio as soon as possible,” he said. “He’ll know exactly what’s going on.”

“There are all sorts of ways into Lovelock’s mansion,” replied Emiline. “Getting to Mr. Spires will be easy.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Scratcher, desperate to add something to the conversation.

“Right then,” said Algernon. “You two head for the mansion, and I’ll wait on the river bed. When you return, get my attention by throwing three stones into the water so that they hit the sub. When I hear them, I’ll rise to the surface.”

“You’re on,” replied Scratcher.

“We’ll try not to be longer than a few hours,” said Emiline.

“Excellent!” he replied. “Just enough time for a short think and a long nap.”

The Comet Mouse

THE FASTEST LAND-BASED MOUSE IN EXISTENCE: BLINK AND YOU’LL MISS IT
.
With slick, short white fur, Comet Mice are regarded as a particularly stylish breed, and are a favorite with fancy-mouse breeders. These mice are something of a prize among collectors, mainly due to their incredible speed and agility, which make them very hard to catch. In fact, these mice are relative newcomers to the scene: the first known Comet Mouse was brought to Old Town by Guidolfo Jones, an extremely talented mousehunter, nearly sixty years ago. Up until that point they were thought to be flights of fancy and had a near mythical status among collectors.

MOUSING NOTES

A large cage is essential. The Comet Mouse also requires a good water supply to quench its thirst, and comfortable bedding to soothe its weary legs and restore its energy.

The Old Town Spy

E
MILINE DRAGGED SCRATCHER BY THE HAND PAST
Pirate’s Wharf. Soldiers were everywhere; some were hammering and banging nails into the wooden execution platform, others were starting work on tall structures at every edge of the wharf. When Old Town was set to hold an execution, the townspeople were hungry for the best view, and grandstands were built up for paying guests.

Unusually for Old Town, the night was free of mist or fog. Stones were visible in walls, faces could be seen on passers-by, and the unearthly glow that regularly surrounded the streetlamps had vanished. The mousekeepers turned left at the wharf, past Mr. Droob’s hut, and made their way up a road of twisting townhouses.

Scratcher caught sight of a fresh poster nailed to a billboard and halted in his tracks.

“Emiline,” he said, “look!”

“Co-conspirator Devlin Drewshank?” whispered Emiline, dumbfounded.

“Thursday at dawn?” added Scratcher. “That’s tomorrow!”

“We’ve got to run!”

Emiline grabbed Scratcher’s arm once more and charged off up the street. When they reached Grandview, Emiline slowed down. She could see Lovelock’s mansion in the distance, but something was going on in front. There were soldiers everywhere.

“Why are there soldiers?” she said. “We’re never going to get through them!”

They stepped into a shadow beside one of the immense buidings lining the road, and Emiline tried hard to think of what to do. While they stood there a carriage came traveling up the road with two small lamps at its front. Led by two black stallions, it was decked out in the colors of Old Town. It stopped outside Lovelock’s mansion, and Mr. Gumpino, the city’s potbellied mayor, leisurely stepped down, his numerous golden chains catching the lamplight. Emiline saw the butler come out of the building and take in the mayor, who was followed by three assistants.

“There’s Mr. Spires,” she said. “At least he’s there!”

“Why don’t I distract the soldiers?” said Scratcher, “Maybe get them to run after me. Would that help?”

“If I could get around to the Messenger Mice pens behind the mansion, I should be able to find a way in.”

Scratcher nodded and smiled. “That’s our plan then. You ready?”

“I’m ready,” replied Emiline. “But where are we going to meet up? Back at the submarine?”

“If we don’t meet up before, then the sub it is!” said Scratcher, and with that he took off, tailed closely by Emiline.

Scratcher charged up the hill as though he were chasing after a Comet Mouse. He stayed to the path, running in and out of shadows. Because of the noise of his footsteps, the soldiers had seen him and were watching him closely. They withdrew their swords and formed a wall. Scratcher ducked down awkwardly and picked up a handful of the stones off the road. The soldiers stamped their feet, called out to him to stop, but he slid to a halt and threw the stones right at them.

“Oi!” shouted one of the guards. “Come back ’ere, you blighter!”

The sight of four soldiers pelting after him gave him enough energy to run faster than he’d ever done before. He felt as though the wind were in his heels, and he closed his eyes, hoping for a good escape.

Emiline watched Scratcher disappear into the darkness. Two other soldiers ran after him, and the rest muttered to each other, their attention on the road diverted. Emiline thought fast. She slipped through the shadows and crept down beside Lovelock’s mansion. Right in front of her was the Messenger Mouse pen. The only light around was that emanating from the stairwell winding up inside the house, but Emiline used it as well as she could to search for an unlocked window.

She scaled the pen and dropped down on the other side. A dim light shone out from the back of the mansion, and Emiline shuffled carefully around to its side. She found a smashed window; its glass was broken into daggerlike shards jutting up like shark’s teeth.

Emiline carefully climbed in and dropped to the floor. The room was lit up by a glow from the corridor beyond, and she could see wet muddy footprints leading from the window. She wasn’t the first to break in that night.

She headed toward the corridor and eased the door open further. The way was clear, and the wall lamps guided her out and up into the main hallway. Noises and shuffling feet could be heard moving around in the direction of the kitchens, and Emiline quickly hid in the unlit reception room. She waited and waited, and eventually two people came walking past. One of the voices was Mr. Spires, and Emiline’s heart skipped a beat.

The voices soon joined the sound of footsteps as they climbed the stairs, and Emiline darted from her hideout to follow them. It was a very strange feeling to have returned to her old home. Her views on all its inhabitants had changed so much since she left.

She tiptoed up the stairs, aware of each little noise around her. The shadow of Mr. Spires trailed on the wall a few floors above and came to a halt on the floor with Lovelock’s office. Emiline hoped that he would turn round and return, but he didn’t. He entered the room along with the other person, and Emiline’s hope of a fast exit quickly faded. The only option left to her was to return to the old haunt of her secret passageway, and find out what was happening inside.

“We’ve had a break-in, sir,” said the soldier. “We got distracted by some boy, and it must have been then that someone sneaked round the back.”

Lovelock stood up angrily.

“Are the mice safe?”

“Yes, sir!” replied the soldier. “And I’ve ordered a complete search of the mansion from the ground up. Whoever’s here won’t get very far.”

“This is not good news, Spires!” snapped Lovelock.

It was obvious that the Mayor, whose balding head was shining brightly, was none too impressed either. The Mayor looked an odd sort of man: nearing old age, his enormous body told of a life of opulence and overindulgence, yet his balding, shiny forehead and pudgy, rosy face made him look like a baby. He sat with his hands crossed over his fat waist, tutting at everything the soldier said.

“I’ve asked for a guard to be placed outside your office, sir, just to be safe,” added the butler.

“Excellent, Spires. At least there’s someone here whom I can trust.”

From the inside of the passage Emiline smiled. She would never have guessed that Mr. Spires was a spy, but now it made perfect sense. She remembered all the messages he used to send out, and how they must have been going to Algernon at Hamlyn.

Suddenly Battersby spoke up.

“Isiah, we do know that there is still one of Mousebeard’s accomplices in Old Town. Despite our best efforts to capture the innkeeper in Hamlyn, we know he was receiving word from here.”

“Well then, butler, you’d better make it
several
guards,” declared the Mayor.

“Yes, sir!” said Spires, who then continued, “I shall be gone for a while to the prison upon your orders, Mr. Lovelock. Do you wish me to wait around?”

“No, Spires. That won’t be necessary. I have Lord Battersby here.”

“Very good, sir,” replied the butler, and he promptly left the room.

Emiline rushed out of hiding. The corridor opened out and she could see Spires making his way down the stairs. She hurried down each step, and eventually, three floors down, she quietly called out.

“Mr. Spires!”

The butler stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Astonishment spread all over his face. Then he frowned.

“Emiline!” he said frustratedly.

He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her against the wall into shadow.

“What are you doing here? It’s not safe!” he whispered.

“I’m here with Algernon. We need to talk.”

“Algernon?”

“He’s told me all about you. We’re here to save Drewshank and Mousebeard. We need your help!”

The butler’s eyes darted up the stairwell as if he’d heard something.

“Fine, but we have to go elsewhere. Where is Algernon?”

“Along the river past Pirate’s Wharf.”

“Right then,” he said, touching his brow. “Meet me at Pirate’s Wharf in twenty minutes. Can you manage that?”

Emiline nodded.

“Excellent,” said Spires, “I’d like to be sure you escape, but my hands are tied, Emiline. Keep safe . . . .”

The butler hurried downstairs without further ado.

Doors started to bang shut on the lower floors, and Emiline peered over the staircase to see soldiers milling about, checking every room. She found herself not knowing what to do. She glanced around, looking for a way out. Her only chance would be through a window, and she opened the first she saw.

She climbed up onto the stone windowsill and saw the long drop below. There was a drainpipe running all the way down a short way off, and when she heard the soldiers inside working their way up the stairs, she knew there was no other option. Emiline stretched out and caught hold of the metal pipe with one hand, and with the other she pulled the window closed. With a deep breath she leaped out and secured herself with both her hands and feet. Then, after quickly checking the route down, she started to slide: at first gracefully, but then as fast as she could manage safely. It was simply important to make it to the ground in one piece.

Emiline jumped the final few feet and landed safely. She was at the side of the mansion, and could see soldiers lined up at the roadside. Everything was still and surprisingly peaceful. She took a few steps forward, stopped to catch her breath, and then suddenly felt a heavy weight smash into her back.