The Tiger's Egg (25 page)

M
iles Wednesday, rubber-tongued and almost-halved, arrived back at Partridge Manor shortly after midnight, with Little by his bandaged side. He had never felt so tired, and wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed, but as they passed through the main hall of the manor the drawing room door opened and Lady Partridge appeared. “There you are, Miles dear,” she boomed. “Are you all right? I was worried sick! Are you badly hurt?”

“I'm just a bit sore,” said Miles. His tongue still felt like it was someone else's, but he could speak well enough.

“Well, I'm just delighted to see you alive. We've been hearing the other side of the story from . . . well, you'd better come in and hear it for yourself.” She opened the door wide, and a murmur of voices flooded out with the warm lamplight. Miles and Little entered the room to find Sergeant Bramley and Constable Flap, who were becoming as familiar as the furniture, seated on the sofa by the fire, and in between them the dejected figure of Doctor Tau-Tau, his face scraped and bruised and his eyes staring fixedly at the carpet.

“Well, Master Miles,” said Sergeant Bramley, “I hear you've been taking this sawing-in-half game a little too seriously. I trust you're still in one piece.”

“I am,” said Miles, “but it was a close thing.”

Constable Flap pulled up another sofa, and Miles and Little flopped down on it while Lady Partridge settled herself in her armchair. As soon as she was seated she began to attract cats like a lollipop attracts fluff.

“Where did you find Doctor Tau-Tau?” asked Miles.

“Walked into the police station, bold as brass,” said the sergeant. “Rambling like a drunk and handcuffed to a metal bar. I couldn't get any sense out of him, so I put him in the lockup to cool off.”

“I was making perfect sense,” muttered Doctor Tau-Tau. “Just a slight numbness of the tongue, that was all.”

“Yes, well,” said the sergeant, “I sent Constable Flap in to question him in detail, and it turned out that he had come in to alert us to the danger from that Cortado villain. It was the metal bar and the slurry speech that made me think he had a screw loose.”

“I'd been handcuffed to a motorcycle sidecar since the previous morning,” said Tau-Tau, looking up through bloodshot eyes. “It's only because I always carry a penknife that I managed to unscrew the bar I was attached to and make my escape.”

“Who handcuffed you to a sidecar?” asked Little with interest.

“The Great Cortado,” said Doctor Tau-Tau, “when he kidnapped me in the woods outside Iota. Of course, if I hadn't been arrested for trying—”

“Yes, yes. We've been through all that,” said Sergeant Bramley testily. He stood up and looked at his watch. “We'll be subjecting the prisoner to a full interrogation first thing in the morning, and then we'll find out where the Great Cortado is holed up, you mark my words.”

Lady Partridge removed a small cat that clung to
her shoulder with needle claws. “Surely you're not thinking of going off duty at a time like this, Sergeant Bramley? A would-be murderer has just slipped through your net and is getting farther away by the second. As long as he's on the loose Miles's life is in danger, not to mention anyone else who gets in his way.”

“That's all very well,” said Sergeant Bramley, meaning the complete opposite, “but it's after midnight, Lady P.”

“You can leave him here with us,” said Miles, “can't he, Lady Partridge? Deputy Little can question him. There are a couple of things I'd like her to ask him about a family heirloom of mine.”

Sergeant Bramley looked doubtful. “It would be . . .”

“Highly irregular,” finished Constable Flap. He had worked with the sergeant long enough to be able to finish his sentences with great accuracy, though he seldom dared to do so. He was beginning to regret ever having suggested swearing Little in as a deputy. She seemed to be inheriting a growing share of his duties, and she was still, he noticed, wearing his favorite badge.

The sergeant disliked having his sentences finished by anyone. It had just occurred to him that
without the prisoner on his hands he might get a few hours of sleep before beginning his pursuit of the Great Cortado, and after all a clear head was needed to hunt down a master criminal. Especially one on a horse.

“However,” he said, hitching up his trousers, “if you're satisfied that he won't pose any danger . . .”

“I'm sure Doctor Tau-Tau can be persuaded to behave himself,” said Lady Partridge. “If he can give us information that might lead to the arrest of the Great Cortado I may be able to put in a good word with Justice Ffrench when I meet him for bridge on Tuesday.”

“Very well,” said Sergeant Bramley. “If you'll excuse us, Lady P., we have important police work to do.” He tipped the peak of his cap, and he and his crestfallen constable showed themselves out.

Lady Partridge swept the cats from her lap and hoisted herself out of her armchair. “I'm sure you could all do with a cup of tea after your various ordeals,” she said. “I'll go and put the kettle on and Miles can ask you about his family heirloom.” She gave Doctor Tau-Tau a hard stare. “And I strongly recommend that you leave nothing out,” she said. “Justice Ffrench is a great believer in the benefits of long prison sentences.”

Doctor Tau-Tau shuddered as Lady Partridge swept from the room. “Well,” he said, attempting a friendly smile. “All's well that ends well, eh? At least Cortado didn't manage to . . .” His words faltered.

“To saw me in half?” finished Miles. Doctor Tau-Tau nodded.

“What I'd like to know,” said Miles, “is where he got the idea that the Tiger's Egg was inside me in the first place.”

“Ah . . . ,” said Tau-Tau. “That's what I told him, when he ambushed me in the woods outside Iota. It was for your own protection, of course.”

“How would getting me sawn in half be for my own protection?” asked Miles.

Doctor Tau-Tau sighed. “I have always had your interests at heart, boy, though I admit it may not always appear that way. I had persuaded the Great Cortado that the Tiger's Egg was probably somewhere in Larde, and he had spent the summer searching for it. He began with those Punchbiscuit people, who had owned the orphanage where he believed Barty's infant son had died. He soon realized that they knew nothing about the Egg, but he found them greedy and unscrupulous, and took an instant liking to them. It was Cortado who devised the clock-and-rat scheme to sift through the valuables of Larde in
search of the Egg, and he kept them supplied with exotic clocks from an importer in Fuera.”

“So that's how they got into the clock business,” said Miles. “I thought that plan was a bit clever for Fowler Pinchbucket. But if Cortado was searching in Larde, why did he turn up at the circus in Cnoc?”

Doctor Tau-Tau's eyes bulged in surprise. “How did you know about that?” he said.

“I saw him in the audience,” said Miles.

“It's true,” said Tau-Tau. “He found out—by putting rumor and report together—that Barty Fumble's son had not died of a fever at all, and what's more that he was one and the same boy who had brought down the Palace of Laughter. He traveled to the circus intending to kill you then and there, but I told him I had befriended you and was within a whisker of finding the Tiger's Egg. When I urged him to give me a few more days a nasty little smile came over his face, and he told me that he would head straight back to Larde and release The Null from its unguarded prison. He said that the beast had shown a perverse instinct to destroy you, its own flesh and blood, last time it had escaped, and that it was up to me to find the Tiger's Egg before the beast found the boy. The whole idea seemed to amuse him greatly.”

“So that's why you tried to escape from the circus,” said Miles.

Tau-Tau nodded. “I made one last attempt to see if you really knew where the Tiger's Egg was all along, but when that failed I took to the woods to hide. I was not keen to come face to face with The Null again after all these years. I had no idea if it would recognize me, and I didn't want to find out.”

“But you found out anyway,” said Little. “It must have been very frightening.”

“You have no idea,” said Doctor Tau-Tau, shuddering at the memory. “If it hadn't been for my quick thinking . . .”

“Actually I don't think it was interested in you,” said Miles.

“What do you mean? The monster had me hung in a tree like a ham. It might have devoured me whole at any moment!”

“It's not a monster,” said Miles, “and it was looking for a cure, not a ham. Once it had swallowed the sleepwater it dropped you like a sack of potatoes.”

“No amount of sleepwater will ever cure that thing,” snorted Doctor Tau-Tau.

“But maybe a Tiger's Egg could,” said Miles.

“If I ever find it, perhaps,” said Tau-Tau, but there he stopped. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped,
and he stared at Miles's chest. “By the smoke of ages—what a remarkable creature! Let me see it closer.”

Miles's hand instinctively went to his pocket, and he found to his dismay that Tangerine had climbed half out of his portable home. “It's just a toy,” he said quickly, shoving the small bear back down into his pocket next to his thumping heart. “It's clockwork,” he added.

“Clockwork? Are you sure?” Doctor Tau-Tau stared at Miles's pocket with a puzzled frown, but at that moment the door opened and Lady Partridge swept in, wheeling a hostess trolley before her. The trolley was piled with cakes and biscuits. A pot of tea steamed on the top tray, and cups rattled in their saucers. Tau-Tau helped himself to a cake without a word and sat back on the sofa, chewing slowly and staring through Miles as if he were transparent.

“You haven't answered my question,” said Miles, hoping to distract Doctor Tau-Tau from thinking about Tangerine.

Doctor Tau-Tau shook his head and focused on Miles. “What question was that?”

“Why did you tell the Great Cortado that the Egg was in my stomach?” He glanced at Lady Partridge, but she was busying herself with cups and saucers.

“I had to tell him something,” said Tau-Tau. “He had been tracking The Null on a stolen motorbike, and he was watching from the trees when I put it to sleep with a superb shot from my blowpipe. He was not pleased. He ambushed us as we came back through the woods and knocked the constable out cold. He planned to dress up in my clothes so that he could get close enough to kill you himself.”

“But we know the Egg isn't inside me,” said Miles. “The Fir Bolg said so.”

“I know that, but I had to think fast. I hoped this might stall him long enough to give me a chance to escape and alert the authorities. I told him he should disguise himself as Stranski, who was more his size, and who would have you locked in a box the following night with a saw in his hand.”

“Where
is
Stranski?” asked Miles, sitting up suddenly on the sofa.

“Sleeping like a baby in his wagon,” said Doctor Tau-Tau. “I gave Cortado my last bottle of sleepwater so he could knock him out and steal his outfit. There was enough in there to put a man out for two whole days. Without the sleepwater he would think nothing of killing Stranski to get him out of the way. He drove us to a spot near the circus and hid the motorbike in a bush, with me
still handcuffed into the sidecar. He watched me the whole night long, and it wasn't until he left for Stranski's wagon that I had a chance to escape. He forced me to drink a little sleepwater before he left, but I managed to hide it in my cheek and spit it out afterward. Only my tongue was affected. A small dose of sleepwater will numb your tongue better than any dentist's needle.”

Miles nodded. His own tongue still tingled.

“Then it's no wonder Sergeant Bramley couldn't understand you,” said Lady Partridge. “It seems clear, however, that in this case you tried to do the right thing. You almost certainly saved Mr. Stranski's life, and you did your best to save Miles's too, although frankly it sounds as though you contributed to the danger in the first place.” She handed out the teacups. “If you can just help us to pinpoint the Great Cortado I feel sure there's a good chance we can keep you out of prison.”

“Lady Partridge,” said Doctor Tau-Tau, straightening himself up and placing his fingertips to his temples, “you are speaking to the greatest clairvoyant in the Northern Hemisphere. Pinpointing is child's play to a man such as me. To me,” he added, “pinpointing is mere child's play.”

 

Miles Wednesday, circus-scarred and just twelve, sat against the smooth trunk of the twin beech tree on a cool October morning, a newspaper and The Null's breakfast sitting on a root beside him. He rested his gaze on the long sun-striped grass of Lady Partridge's garden, letting his eyes unfocus. The wind sighed in the branches like the breath of a mighty animal, carrying the sour smell of tamarind pods from a nearby tree. He thought he heard a distant rumble, but he didn't strain his ears. He watched the grass, and he waited for the movement he knew would come. The tamarind smell had turned to tiger now, and he smiled to himself.

“I don't know what you have to smirk about,” said the tiger.

Miles focused his eyes. The tiger sat a short leap away, his magnificent stripes blending with the grass, regarding Miles with a hint of amusement.

“I'm not smirking, I'm smiling,” said Miles. “I'm still alive, for a start. I wasn't able to thank you properly the other night.”

“I didn't hang around,” said the tiger. “I had the distinct impression some of those kiddies wanted to paw me with their sticky fingers, and they might have ended up without them.”

“How did you get away?”

“I'm a tiger, not a dodo. I am a master of stealth, camouflaged in stripes, and a circus tent is nothing if not stripy.”