“But there is a difference here. Not only are they all from the city, and therefore immune to the fears and prejudices which rule the people in this area; but there they are, ensconced in our most vulnerable spot, what we might call our very underbelly, pale and soft and unprotected . . .”
Danny’s foot had gone to sleep. Silently, he tried to move it without losing his balance.
“But there is something you fail to see.” Lord Harleigh had stopped whispering. He seemed angry, and involuntarily Danny stepped back. “
We
are not the vulnerable ones.
They
are. They may have some vague suspicions, but they certainly couldn’t be aware of—”
On the word “vulnerable” Danny had reached out his hand to steady himself. Vulnerable? he thought. Vulnerable to—? His hand, with his weight behind it, came to rest against a book. Quickly he drew it back, but too late. With a noise that seemed to him like thunder, three books in the next aisle tumbled to the floor.
“What was that?” Lord Harleigh hissed. The door swung open and the librarian peered anxiously out into the hallway. Danny shrank back into deeper shadow. The librarian craned his head forward, his jowls swinging slowly as he moved his head from side to side. For an instant he seemed to be staring right at Danny; then his head turned away. “Mice,” he said, “this place is infested with them.” But as he stepped back into the room he closed the door firmly.
Danny’s heart was making such a noise that he could barely hear anything else; and now that the door was closed whispers were almost completely indistinct. Leave! he shouted to himself, leave before they do, while it’s safe, while the door is closed!
But something, something new inside him, would not allow him to leave while there was still a chance of hearing more. Almost against his will he moved closer, straining his ears.
But all he could hear were scattered words and phrases.
“. . . underneath . . . coming all too soon . . . terrify . . . rid of them . . . that cat . . . magnificent creature . . .”
Danny moved closer.
“. . . what we could do with the beast . . .”
Do with him? What could they want to do with him? And was Lord Harleigh giggling?
“. . . marvelous opportunity for . . . really horrify them . . . what we have been doing . . . anyone would be . . .”
He sighed in frustration. How could he have been so clumsy? And just when he was about to learn something definite! It really doesn’t make sense to stay any longer, he told himself, and at that moment he heard a chair scraping behind the door. Instantly he moved backwards and crouched down near the floor.
Someone tall and lean stepped out of the room, followed by the shorter figure of the librarian. Danny could only partially see them through the space above a row of books on the shelf that separated his aisle from the one in which they stood. He had never really seen Lord Harleigh’s face clearly, and now he half hoped, half dreaded that it would come into view.
“That noise we heard,” Lord Harleigh said. “It might very well have been a mouse, but I think that perhaps we should find another place for our weekly conferences. But let us discuss it at another time. Good day.” He moved away down the aisle without turning in Danny’s direction.
As Lord Harleigh’s footsteps faded down the iron stairway, the librarian moved to the place where the books had fallen. They had left a gap directly across from where Danny was crouching. The librarian squatted down and picked them up; then, his face on a level with Danny’s, looked through the hole.
Danny held his breath, inhaling a large quantity of dust. His nose and throat tickled unbearably. How could he possibly not see me? he thought wildly. But, not seeming to notice him, the librarian put one book in place, then the second. The third, however, seemed to interest him, and still squatting he carefully opened it and resolutely began turning one page after another. Danny knew that if he dared to breathe he would cough; but his chest was beginning to ache, and the impulse to take a breath was almost too strong to fight. Get away! Get away! he screamed silently at the man.
And finally, as if in answer to Danny’s thought, the librarian slowly put the book in place, stood up, brushed off his knees, and returned to his office, closing the door.
Danny breathed, and a muffled cough broke out of him. He waited tensely, but there was no response from the librarian’s office.
Then, for several minutes, as his heart slowed down and he began to notice the clammy feeling of sweat over his body, he simply stayed where he was. The words of the conversation repeated themselves over and over again in his head, ominous and confusing. He had learned very little of a definite nature that he hadn’t already known; only that he, Philippa, and Lark really were in some kind of danger. He had no idea what to do about it, but realized now that what was happening to them was not a game. It was something very real, and perhaps very threatening.
When it seemed as though he had waited long enough for Lord Harleigh to be well out of the library, he stood up shakily and began making his way toward the reading room.
“And on top of it all, I just can’t decide whether or not to tell Philippa, or how much to tell her, or what,” Danny was saying. It was the next afternoon, and he and Lark were on their way up to Blackbriar on foot. (Philippa was at the hairdresser. “I can’t go on like this for another instant,” she had said. “I’ve got to do something about all this confusion up here. I always think better when my hair is in order.” The thought of the appointment put her in such a good mood that she had dropped Danny off at the Black Swan on her way, with permission, reluctant though it was, to bring Lark back up for dinner and the night.)
“I mean,” he went on, “of course it seems like she ought to know, it all sounds so threatening, and she is just as involved as anyone. But I’m so afraid she’ll just decide to pack up and leave; this is exactly the kind of thing she was afraid of.”
They passed through the first gate and started across the field. The sunset was spread across the sky, coldly gilding the surrounding hilltops. Mournful evening birdcalls broke the sound of the wind. For a while neither of them spoke as they tramped across the wet grass toward the black-green shape of the woods beyond the distant gate.
“God, I don’t know
what
to say,” Lark said softly. Danny watched the clouds of her breath fade quickly away with every word.
“Maybe we should ask your father. He might know what to do.”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of afraid to. I could tell he was
determined
not to have anything to do with Lord Harleigh again.”
“But it’s not your fault. It isn’t anybody’s fault. We just kind of fell into this.”
“I know. But he won’t see it that way.”
As the forest loomed closer the light began to fade more quickly, and just a few steps in among the trees it was almost as dark as night. They had to keep their eyes fastened on the track to avoid sliding into deep, muddy ruts. The birdcalls were louder here, more threatening, and the underbrush rustled with the movement of unseen things.
“I’ve never walked through here at night,” Lark said.
“Neither have I.”
“And it always seems to take so long when we’re driving . . .”
“Maybe the moon will come out, then well be able to see better.”
They trudged on. Occasionally one of them would slip and grab the other for support. Eventually the moon did appear, moving jerkily through the tree branches as they walked, rippling in the puddles beneath their feet. It was easier to see, but they kept their eyes straight ahead, never looking into the forest on either side.
“What if there’s another fire burning when we get back?” Danny said suddenly.
Lark stopped and grabbed his arm. “
Why
do you have to say that?”
“Oh, there
won’t
be. I was only kidding. Come on, let’s keep going or we’ll never get there.” He gave her arm a gentle tug and they moved on.
At last they turned the final bend in the track. There was the house straight ahead, clearly visible, for the moon was hanging just above the chimney, filling the clearing with light. And the light flickering from the living room window, the firelight, fell toward them across the clearing in a bright yellow patch.
“Oh, no,” Lark said, clinging to Danny’s arm as she stepped backwards, “oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Danny said.
They hung together just inside the trees, until Danny took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to look inside. We haven’t been gone that long, they won’t expect us back, especially without the car. We’ve got to find out how they get inside. Philippa put another lock on the door the other time this happened, so they couldn’t be using an old key. We won’t have this chance again, surprising them without the car.”
“How
can
you? I can’t bear the thought of going any closer. I won’t let you, I’ll scream if you do!”
Though his whole body felt tightened with fear, Danny almost smiled. How brave and tough she had tried to seem the first time he had met her, how foolish and weak she had made him feel! Now his fear was like nervous energy, pushing him forward instead of holding him back; and he felt a strange kind of pleasure in insisting that they do what
he
wanted. “But we’ve got to at least look inside!” he said. “Don’t you see? They won’t be expecting us.”
Slowly they moved across the yard. It seemed to take forever. Danny reached the window, Lark crouched behind him. He moved his head just a fraction of an inch, so that one eye only was peering inside. And this time there was someone there, a figure crouching at the hearth, rapidly feeding log after log into the already considerable blaze. His lean, athletic body was clothed in tight-fitting black, but Danny couldn’t see who he was, for though the man continually turned his head from side to side, as if making sure he was not being watched, he didn’t turn it far enough so that the firelight made his features clear. Very soon he stood up, brushed off his hands, and picked up the lantern beside him. Then, as the man checked the room once again, Danny caught a brief glimpse of a thin face with large, soft lips, framed by a mass of curling, shoulder-length hair.
As soon as he had looked once around the room, the young man pulled open the cellar door, stepped inside, and slammed it behind him. Danny saw the light from his lantern grow dimmer behind the large space at the bottom of the door until it disappeared altogether.
“Come on,” he whispered, “we’re going in now.”
“Going in?” She sounded incredulous. “But who’s there?”
“A young chap. He’s down in the cellar now. And I’ll bet he’s just as scared as we are. If we’re quiet, he won’t hear us going in, and maybe we can surprise him down there. He has no weapon, and . . . he doesn’t look like the kind of person who would hurt us.”
“But why do we have to go in at all?”
“Why, to find out who he is, of course, and where he’s from and why he did this.”
There were two locks on the door now. Danny opened them without a sound. The large flashlight was just inside, but he did not turn it on as they crept past the fireplace to the cellar door. They paused. For a second, he wondered if he would be doing this if he hadn’t noticed how gentle and unsure of himself the young intruder’s face and movements had seemed.
And then he switched on the light, pulled open the door, and dashed down the steps. He swung the beam around the room again and again, not stopping until he felt Lark touch his shoulder.
The cellar was empty.
For a moment Danny wondered if he might be going mad. “But I saw him go down here, I know I did,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I know what I see.” He stepped down onto the stone floor and swung his flashlight around once again. There was certainly no one in the room.
“Wait a minute,” Lark said. “Turn off the flashlight.”
“Why?”
“Just turn it off. I think I see something.”
“But—”
She reached over and flipped the switch. There were no windows in the cellar and for a moment they could see nothing.
“What good is this going to do?” Danny said pettishly.
“Please, just wait a minute. I think I might have seen something, and this is the only way to find out.”
As their eyes adjusted to the darkness they could see that only a trickle of pale moonlight was coming in through the coal chute. But, oddly, there was enough light in the room to see everything, dimly but clearly.
“You don’t think he could have gotten out through the coal chute?” Danny said. “He didn’t have time, and it’s too small anyway.”
“No, he didn’t. But look over there,” and she pointed to the opposite corner of the room, where a rusty bedspring leaned against the wall. “I
knew
I saw something there.”
Yellow light was coming from the corner, filtering through the bedspring from somewhere behind, pausing to rest on an occasional mangled metal curlicue. “But where’s it
coming
from?” Danny cried, and ran over. The spring seemed almost like a cage, blocking one corner, and Danny was not surprised that he had never noticed anything here before. But in a moment Lark was down on her hands and knees, and found that with not too much trouble she could squeeze her way behind it.