Aside from these strange postures, Charlie couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary among the purple capes, so he turned his attention to the far end of the room, where the teachers sat at a table on a raised platform. From here they could keep an eye on the children below them.
“Who are you looking for?” Billy Raven stared at Charlie through a fringe of thin white hair. He was sitting on the other side of the table, a few places away from Charlie. His spectacles made his red eyes look far too large for his head.
“I’m not looking for anyone,” said Charlie. “I thought I saw a bat.”
This wasn’t so unlikely. Hundreds of bats lived in the old building.
As Billy looked away, Charlie felt something push against his side. Fidelio gave him a surprised look, and then a piece of chicken disappeared from the side of his plate.
“Thanks,” came a disembodied whisper. “Delicious.”
Several more pieces disappeared, and no one seemed to notice, until Gwyneth Howells, sitting opposite Charlie, gulped, “Uh! Your meat just …” and the fork that was halfway to her mouth dropped to the floor, laden with peas.
Gwyneth bobbed under the table to retrieve her fork and let out an earsplitting scream. She came up for air, her round, brown eyes popping out of her head. “I saw … I saw …,” she cried. “There’s a … there’s a … under the table, there’s a …”
“There’s a what?” said her neighbor, Rosie Stubbs.
“There’s a TOE!” cried Gwyneth, and she fainted backward over the bench, landing in an untidy heap on the floor.
Several girls and even boys screamed and a husky voice gasped, “Yikes” in Charlie’s ear. His plate went flying and his glass rolled to the floor, water spilling all over the table.
“I’d better get out of here,” whispered the voice, while Rosie Stubbs shouted, “Gwyneth’s fainted.”
Dr. Bloor stared out from his seat at the head of the high table. Matron Yewbeam and Miss Chrystal came down the steps into the main hall and ran up to Gwyneth. The matron shook Gwyneth’s shoulder, but since the poor girl was obviously unconscious, she lifted her up and, helped by Miss Chrystal, carried her out of the dining hall.
Mr. Boldova had come to the edge of the platform and Charlie caught his eye. The art teacher gave a slight shrug and Charlie shook his head.
Ollie had fled and Charlie knew it would be hard to coax him back again. In fact, this time he might even be locked in. From the end of the drama table, Manfred was watching Charlie suspiciously. He had seen him looking at Selena Sparks, and he knew Ollie’s toe was still visible. Perhaps he had put two and two together.
After dinner Charlie gave Fidelio a better explanation about what had happened to Ollie Sparks. He spoke in an undertone as they hurried up the long passage leading from the dining hall. This time he didn’t even glance at Selena, in case Manfred was watching.
“Here we go again,” said Fidelio. “Another problem for you, Charlie.” They had reached the blue coatroom, and here the two friends parted. Fidelio was taking books and pens to his classroom, while Charlie had to carry his homework upstairs to the King’s room.
How did he manage always to be late, even when he thought he’d been hurrying? All the other endowed children had gotten to the room before him. As Charlie bounded through the tall black doors, Manfred was making an announcement.
“Two of the endowed have left the school.” Manfred glared at Charlie as he dropped his books on the round table. “Quiet, Bone!”
“As I was saying, Beth and Bindi have left us, but we have a new member.”
It had been such an extraordinary day, Charlie had almost forgotten Belle. But here she was, sitting between Asa and Dorcas. Asa’s weasely features were screwed into an odd smirk and his scraggly red hair stuck out in oily spikes. If it hadn’t been for his yellow eyes, you would have found it hard to believe he could turn into a beast.
“Her name’s Belle,” Manfred continued.
“Belle what?” said Tancred, his pale hair bristling with electricity.
“It’s not important.” Manfred waved his hand.
“It is to me,” Tancred persisted. “I like to know a person’s whole name.”
Charlie wished Tancred would look away before Manfred did something nasty. The head boy had an angry, hypnotizing stare coming on.
Tancred’s friend, Lysander, gave him a warning nudge. “Leave it, Tane.”
But Tancred was like a dog with a bone. “My name’s Torsson,” he said, looking at Belle, “and what …”
“Donner,” Belle said suddenly.
“Belledonner? That’s deadly nightshade,” said Gabriel Silk. “It can kill you.”
“Actually, that’s belladonna,” said Belle. “In small quantities it dilates the pupils. Eyes become shinier, more lustrous and beautiful.” All at once, her own round blue eyes flashed with purple lights.
The effect was so startling that even Tancred was speechless. All around the table, books were opened and pens clutched. Homework began in silence.
Above the door the Red King stared out from his portrait. The cracked and ancient painting always raised Charlie’s spirits. But he’d never managed to hear the King’s voice. Sometimes he caught a low muttering, sometimes a creak and the swish of a cloak, but then a shadow would fall behind the King, like a dark stain on the canvas: a hooded figure that chilled the blood just to look at it. And Charlie knew that the sinister shadow was blocking his contact with the King.
Eleven of us now, thought Charlie. Last semester there had been twelve endowed children. What would happen if there were ten, like the original ten children of the Red King? Would the pattern be repeated, five on one side, five on the other? And this time, who would win?
“Get on with your homework, Bone!” Manfred’s voice made Charlie jump.
“Yes, Manfred.” Charlie looked down at his open book.
After homework, Emma caught up with Charlie as he made his way to the dormitories. “It was Ollie, wasn’t it?” she said breathlessly. “The toe under the table?”
Charlie nodded. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get him back again,” he whispered. “He was terrified. And I’ve got a nasty feeling Manfred knows.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Boldova,” said Emma.
As they approached Emma’s dormitory, they saw two girls standing outside the door. Their heads were close together and their furtive giggling seemed to imply that they were sharing an unpleasant secret.
“Belle and Dorcas,” Emma observed. “It’s as if Belle has put Dorcas under a spell. They go everywhere together.”
“Good luck, Em,” Charlie muttered as Emma slipped into the dormitory.
“Trying to ignore me, Charlie Bone?” said Belle as Charlie walked past.
“Not at all,” Charlie called without looking back. “I can see that you’re busy.”
“You ignore me at your peril, Charlie!”
Was it Belle who had spoken? Charlie couldn’t be sure. The voice belonged to someone much older, someone whom it would be foolish to disobey.
Charlie hurried on.
Belle and Dorcas were seldom seen apart after that day. Charlie became convinced that Belle wasn’t what she pretended to be. And then there was Ollie Sparks. The summer term was proving to be more than a little interesting.
“You’d better watch it, Charlie,” said Fidelio one day. “If you go up in the attics again, you’re bound to get detention.”
“Or worse,” muttered Olivia.
“Hypnotized for life,” said Emma meaningfully. “Like Manfred tried to do to me.”
They were sitting on a log pile in blazing sunshine. It promised to be a brilliant summer, which was just as well because the school play would be performed in the open air.
“What’s Belle like as an artist?” Charlie asked Emma. “I mean, can she draw?”
Emma shrugged. “Who knows? She makes things. We’ve been asked to design clothes for the play and the set.”
The hunting horn sounded and the four children slid off the logs and headed toward the academy.
“I wish we could do something about Ollie,” said Emma as they reached the garden door. “Maybe if we got detention and stayed in school till Saturday … What about you, Charlie?”
Charlie was tempted but he had other responsibilities. “Runner Bean,” he said. “I’ve got to get home to look after him.”
It had just been decided that they would all meet on Sunday to discuss Ollie’s problem, when Fidelio suddenly announced, “I can’t. I’ve got to play in a concert.”
Charlie was sorry to hear this. Fidelio was such a good person to have around in a crisis. He had excellent ideas, and he never gave up. But Fidelio was also a brilliant musician. Charlie was afraid he would be seeing less and less of his friend this semester.
When Charlie got home on Friday evening, so many things went wrong he forgot all about Ollie. He had expected to see his great-uncle, but Paton hadn’t returned and there was not even a word from him.
“I’m a bit concerned,” said Maisie. “It’s not like Paton. And I’m afraid it gets worse, Charlie. I’ve got to leave here tomorrow.”
“What!” Charlie was really worried. His mother had to work on Saturday, and the thought of spending a day alone with Grandma Bone was unpleasant to say the least. “Where are you going? Can’t I come with you?”
“No chance, Charlie.”
Maisie’s sister, Doris, had taken ill. Maisie would have to go and look after her. There was no one else. But something would have to be done about Runner Bean. While Charlie was at school, there’d be no one in the house to feed him and look after him.
“You’d better take him for a run now,” said Maisie. “I haven’t had time. You can’t keep him hidden much longer, Charlie; a lively dog like that is bound to be found out.”
As Charlie ran up to his room he could hear Runner Bean whining and scratching the door.
“Shhhh!” Charlie leaped into the room and slammed the door behind him.
Runner Bean put his paws on Charlie’s shoulders and licked his face.
“Thanks, but yuck!” whispered Charlie.
There was a creak on the landing and a voice called, “Is that you, Charlie, slamming doors?”
“It’s me, Grandma,” Charlie sang out. “I’m changing out of my school stuff.”
When Charlie put his head out of the door. Grandma Bone had gone back to her room.
“Come on, Runner,” Charlie said softly.
He ran downstairs with the dog bounding behind him. They left by the back door and slipped into the narrow street that led to the park. An hour later, Charlie and the dog arrived back at number nine, exhausted and hungry.
His mother was getting anxious and Charlie explained that he didn’t know the time because he’d sort of lost his watch. Mrs. Bone sighed, “Honestly, Charlie. I suppose you’d better wear mine until you find yours.” She handed him her watch, which was fortunately not too feminine. “I’m just going to help Maisie with her packing,” she said. “Back in a minute.”
Charlie searched for the cans of dog food Maisie had hidden. He’d just spotted a can of Bonio in the pantry when there was a loud scream and then a growl.
Charlie looked around to see Grandma Bone rooted to the spot, just inside the door. “WHAT’S THAT DOING IN HERE?” she screeched, pointing at Runner Bean.
“It’s Benjamin’s dog,” Charlie said nervously. “You know, Runner Bean.”
“Of course, I know, but why isn’t it in Hong Kong?”
Before Charlie had time to answer, Runner Bean, snarling horribly, rushed at Grandma Bone, who shrieked again.
“Get it out!” she shouted.
“Er …” Charlie played for time.
Runner Bean bared his teeth and snapped at the old lady’s ankles.
“That’s it!” yelled Grandma Bone. She backed out of the kitchen shouting, “I’m calling pest control — the dogs’ home — the police. They’ll have to put that dog down. It’s dangerous.”
“Grandma, you can’t,” Charlie pleaded.
But Grandma Bone was already on the phone, giving her address, telling someone about the killer that needed exterminating. “They’ll be around at half past six, and I’m not coming downstairs until that wretched Bean has gone.”
Charlie was horrified. He didn’t know what to do. Maisie and Mrs. Bone came running down to see what all the fuss was about. But they didn’t know what to do either. Maisie was so worried about her sister, she said she couldn’t think straight.
“If only Uncle Paton were here,” Charlie wailed. “He’d know what to do.”
Charlie felt like taking Runner Bean and rushing over to Fidelio’s or Emma’s, or even Olivia’s place. But could they hide the big dog, or would they want to, with Runner Bean looking so wild? He hated being shouted at; his eyes were rolling and low growls kept coming from his throat.
“We’ll explain to whoever comes that he must on no account be put down,” said Mrs. Bone. “We’ll tell them that he’s never bitten anyone, ever.”
“Perhaps he’ll go to a nice dogs’ home where you can visit him,” Maisie said hopefully.
“He’d hate it,” cried Charlie. He took a large dish of goose liver pâté and ten slices of honey-roast ham out of the fridge and poured them into the dog bowl that Maisie had hidden under the sink.
“Grandma Bone’s specials,” said Maisie in hushed tones.
“I don’t care,” said Charlie. He kneeled beside Runner Bean and stroked the dog’s wiry head.
It was very satisfying to see his grandmother’s favorite food being wolfed down a shaggy throat.
The time was twenty-five minutes past six.
Charlie stood up. “I’ve made a decision. I’m going to ask Fidelio to hide Runner until Benjamin comes back.”
“With all those noisy musicians?” said Maisie. “He wouldn’t last a minute.”
And then someone rang the doorbell.
“Is that the dog people?” called Grandma Bone.
Charlie’s heart sank.
“Don’t worry, Charlie. We won’t let them do anything nasty,” said his mother.
Grandma Bone was already in the hall. She opened the front door and gave a yelp of surprise.
Charlie ran into the hall. A small furry-looking man stood on the doorstep. Charlie recognized him immediately. It was his friend, Mr. Onimous. Behind him stood three fierce-looking cats — the cause of Grandma Bone’s yelp. She hated cats, particularly orange cats. These were orange-, yellow-, and copper-colored.
“Are you the dog exterminator?” she said suspiciously. “I’ve seen you before, and these peculiar cats.” She took a step backward.
The man held up a card. “Orvil Onimous, madam. Pest control.”
“You’d better come in and get the dog,” said Grandma Bone. “Charlie, if it’s got a leash, fetch it.”
Charlie leaped back into the kitchen, followed by Mr. Onimous and the cats.
“It’s OK,” Charlie whispered to Maisie and his mother. “Mr. Onimous has come.”
Maisie pulled the leash out of her apron pocket and handed it over. “You be good to that dog,” she insisted.
Mr. Onimous winked.
There was some good-natured growling and sniffing between cats and dog as Mr. Onimous clipped the leash to Runner Bean’s collar, but the big dog seemed very happy to see them all again.
“How did you know about Runner?” Charlie whispered.
“The cats,” said Mr. Onimous. “They wanted to pay you a visit. I didn’t know nothing till I got here. Come and see us at the café, Charlie.”
Grandma Bone called, “Come on, come on! Get that dog out of here.”
Mr. Onimous led the cheerful dog away, and Runner Bean looked back, just once, to give Charlie an encouraging bark.
“Cheerio, folks,” said Mr. Onimous.
Grandma Bone slammed the door. Luckily, it was Charlie who answered the bell when the real pest con
troller turned up. “It’s OK,” Charlie told the man, “we found the dog a home.”
With one problem solved, Charlie had a good night’s sleep; in fact he overslept. The next thing he knew, Maisie was shaking him awake.
“I’m off now, Charlie. The taxi’s waiting. Your mom’s already gone to work, and Grandma Bone’s off somewhere.” She put a scrap of paper on Charlie’s pillow. “It’s the Yewbeams’ address. In case you need them. After all, they are your aunties. I’m leaving you on your own, love, but I’ve got no choice.”
“I’ll be OK,” yawned Charlie. He couldn’t imagine why he would need to call on the Yewbeams.
Maisie gave him a peck on the head, and then she was gone.
It seemed unnaturally quiet. Charlie couldn’t remember ever being completely alone in the house before. Uncle Paton had always been there. Always. What had become of him?
After breakfast, Charlie stopped by the market to see his mother. She was weighing apples for an impatient-looking man and there was a long line behind him.
“I can’t stop now, Charlie,” she muttered. “See you at lunch. You’ll be all right, won’t you?”
“Sure, I’m going over to Emma’s,” Charlie said cheerfully.
Emma lived with her aunt, Julia Ingledew, in a bookshop behind the cathedral, but as Charlie began to make his way up the steep road to Ingledew’s, he found himself pulling Maisie’s scrap of paper out of his pocket. His aunts had a very strange address: number thirteen Darkly Wynd.
“Darkly Wynd,” murmured Charlie. Was that a road, an alley, or another town entirely? Charlie went into a newsstand. He bought a package of peppermints and showed his scrap of paper to the woman behind the counter.
“Darkly Wynd? You’re not going there, are you?”
“I thought I might,” said Charlie.
“Not a good idea. It’s a nasty place. Not suitable for young lads like you.”
Charlie was intrigued. “Why?”
“Very dark. No streetlights.”
“But it’s daytime,” Charlie pointed out.
“Things have happened in that place, love. Better not go.”