Fidelio, who seemed to have read Benjamin's mind, said, "It's possible that Charlie never meant to go into that painting. He might have been sucked in, against his will, just like Runner Bean."
"Hmm," Benjamin grunted.
The boys were now entering the narrow cobble-stoned street that led to the cathedral. On either side of them Tudor houses with ancient, crooked roofs leaned over the cobblestones at dangerous angles. The bookstore stood directly opposite the great domed cathedral; a sign above the door read Ingledew's, in old-world script, and in the window two large leather-bound books were displayed against a curtain of dark red velvet. Miss Ingledew sold rare and precious books.
If the boys had paid attention to the gleaming black car that stood outside the store, they might have had second thoughts, but they were in such a hurry they rushed straight in. A small bell, attached to the inside of the door, tinkled pleasantly as they entered the store. The sight that met their eyes, however, was not at all pleasant.
Sitting in a wheelchair beside the counter was Mr. Ezekiel Bloor, the owner of Bloor's Academy. Mr. Ezekiel, as he liked to be called, was a hundred and one years old and his head was as close a thing to a living skull as you're ever likely to see. He was covered in a tartan blanket and wore a red woolen hat pulled well down over his large wrinkled ears. There was very little flesh covering his huge nose with its high knobbly ridge or the sharp cheekbones and long chin. Mr. Ezekiel's eyes, however, were another matter. They glittered beneath the protruding forehead, as black and lively as the eyes of a devious ten-year-old.
Behind the ancient man's wheelchair stood a burly, bald-headed man - Mr. Weedon, the school janitor, chauffeur, handyman, and gardener. There was nothing he would not have done for Mr. Ezekiel, including murder.
Fidelio and Benjamin would gladly have stepped back out the door, but it was too late to escape. They reluctantly descended the three steps into the store.
"Aha!" croaked Mr. Ezekiel. "What have we here? Odd customers for a rare book, I'd say. I bet you haven't got a hundred pounds to spare, Fidelio Gunn, not coming from a family of eight. You can't even afford a pair of shoes, I'd say." He directed his mocking gaze at Fidelio's worn-out sneakers.
Fidelio shifted his feet self-consciously, but he was not the sort to be outdone, even by the owner of Bloor's Academy. "I save my best for school, sir," he said. "And we've come to see Emma Tolly."
"Girlfriend, is she?" snorted Ezekiel. "The little girl?"
"Not at all, sir," Fidelio said calmly. "She's a friend."
"And who's the scrawny boy trying to hide in your shadow?" Mr. Ezekiel twisted his head to see
Benjamin, who was, indeed, trying to hide behind Fidelio. "Who are you, boy? Speak up."
Benjamin was now in quite a state; desperate to get help for Runner Bean, he could scarcely concentrate on anything else, yet he knew he couldn't mention his dog's disappearance to Mr. Ezekiel.
"Come on, you half-wit," spat the old man.
Fidelio said, "He's Benjamin Brown, sir. Charlie Bone's friend."
Mr. Weedon decided to enter the conversation. "So, where's Charlie Bone today?" he asked with a sneer.
Benjamin croaked, "Busy."
Mr. Ezekiel gave a nasty chuckle. "I know who you are. Your parents are private detectives. Hopeless sleuths. Where's your dog, Benjamin Brown?"
Benjamin screwed up his face, gritted his teeth, and sent Fidelio a helpless look of despair. "Er..."
Fidelio came to his rescue. "He's at the vet. Benjamin's very upset."
Mr. Ezekiel threw back his head and cackled lustily. Weedon joined in with a deep chortle, while the boys watched them in baffled silence. What was so funny about a dog being at the vet?
The curtains behind the counter parted, and an elegant woman with chestnut hair appeared. She was carrying a heavy gold-tooled book, which she laid very carefully on the counter. "Hello, boys. I didn't know you were here," said Miss Ingledew.
"They're after your little assistant." Mr. Ezekiel snickered.
Miss Ingledew ignored his remark. "I think this might be what you want, Mr. Bloor," she said, turning the book so that he could read its title.
"How much?" snapped the old man.
"Three hundred," Miss Ingledew told him.
"Three hundred." Mr. Ezekiel slammed a mottled hand onto the valuable book, causing Miss Ingledew to wince. "I only want to know a bit about marquetry. Mother-of-pearl inlaid boxes in particular, dates and sizes, et cetera." He began to flip the pages over with his long, bony fingers. "Help me, Weedon."
While the old man was occupied with the book, the two boys moved swiftly across the store and around the counter. Mr. Ezekiel began to whine about the small print as they stepped through the curtains and entered Miss Ingledew's back room.
Here, there were even more books than in the store itself. Shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with old, faded, yellow books, large on the bottom shelves and very small at the top. They gave the room a musty, leathery smell that was rather comforting. But it was, after all, a living room, so there were several tiny tables, a sofa, two armchairs, an upright leather chair, and a desk. Hunched over the desk was a black-haired man who, even sitting down, seemed exceptionally tall.
The man paid no attention to the boys, but continued to pore over the papers in front of him.
Fidelio cleared his throat.
Without looking up, the man said, "If you want Emma and Olivia, they've gone to the Pets' Cafe."
"Actually, Mr. Yewbeam, it's you we wanted," said Fidelio.
"Ah," said Charlie's uncle. "Well, I'm busy."
"This is urgent," Benjamin blurted out. "Charlie's gone into a painting, and so's Runner Bean, and they won't come out."
"They will." Uncle Paton continued to scrutinize the papers. "Eventually."
"You don't understand," said Fidelio in as urgent a tone as he could muster. "This time Charlie's gone right in - he's disappeared - vanished."
Uncle Paton raised his eyes to peer at them over the top of his half-moon glasses. "Vanished?"
"Yes, Mr. Yewbeam. Completely gone," said Benjamin, on the verge of tears. "There was this painting in your cellar, and Charlie's grandma, the nice one, asked me to go down and help because Charlie had disappeared. So I went down and
Runner Bean followed me, and then he... went in, too."
Uncle Paton frowned. "What sort of painting was this, Benjamin?"
"A horrible one," said Benjamin. "Lots of dark towers and mountains. It had a name at the bottom. Badlock, I think it was."
"BADLOCK."" Uncle Paton sprang up so rapidly his chair fell over and all the papers fluttered off the desk.
"Is it a dangerous place?" Benjamin asked breathlessly.
"The worst place in the world," said Uncle Paton. "Though I can't be certain that it was ever actually in this world."
Benjamin's mouth fell open. He gaped at Paton Yewbeam, trying to make sense of what he had said. Even Fidelio was lost for words.
"No time to lose. Come on, boys." Uncle Paton brushed aside the curtain and marched into the store, quickly followed by Fidelio and Benjamin.
CHAPTER 3
SQUIRM STEW
Julia Ingledew was anxiously watching Ezekiel Bloor as he thumbed through her precious book. She didn't want to wrestle it away from him in case even more damage was done. When he saw Paton Yewbeam, however, the old man looked up.
"Aha! Paton Yewbeam!" Ezekiel declared. "Thought you didn't go out in daylight?"
"I go out when I please," Uncle Paton retorted, snatching his fedora from a hat stand in the corner.
"Hmmm," the old man sniffed as Paton strode to the door. "I suppose that's why this oldie-worldie shoppie is so dark. You could do with a bit of electricity in here, Miss Books."
Uncle Paton stopped mid-stride, causing Benjamin to walk straight into him. "Watch your tongue, Ezekiel Bloor," growled Paton.
"Or else... ?" sneered Ezekiel. "I hope you're not thinking of asking this
good lady to marry you, Paton.
She'd never have you, you know." He broke into a fit of cackling.
The boys watched uneasily as both Miss Ingledew and Paton Yewbeam turned very pink. Ezekiel had let go of the book to wipe his mouth and Miss Ingledew took the opportunity to slide the rare book away from him. But Mr. Weedon pulled it back again.
Recovering his composure, Paton said, "Kindly keep your nose out of my business, Mr. Bloor."
"And you run along about yours." Ezekiel waved his wet hand dismissively.
Paton hovered, glaring at the old man. "I hope you're not damaging a rare book." He looked at Miss Ingledew. "Ju... Miss Ingledew, do you want me to... ?"
"No, no," said Miss Ingledew, still very pink. "You go, Pa... Mr. Yewbeam. I can see it's urgent."
"It is, rather." Paton was now in an agony of indecision. He clearly wanted to stay and protect Miss Ingledew, but Benjamin was already halfway up the steps and tugging at his sleeve.
"I'll call you" - Miss Ingledew picked up her cell phone - "if anything goes wrong...."
"You do that." Paton gave her a meaningful look and stepped through the door that Benjamin was impatiently holding open.
"What are you going to do, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Fidelio, as they sped down the street.
"It depends what is called for," said Paton.
"Look!" Benjamin pointed down the street.
Running toward them were two girls: Emma Tolly, in a blue jacket, with her blond hair flying over her face, was struggling with a large basket. Beside her, Olivia Vertigo also carried a basket, this one smaller and obviously easier to hold. Olivia looked quite spectacular in an oversized sweater with "star" spelled out in gold sequins on the front. She also wore a sparkly white hat and a gold scarf. Her hair was a deep purple today.
"Mr. Yewbeam," called Olivia. "You've got to help."
"Please, please, please," cried Emma. "Something awful has happened."
The two parties met in the middle of the street.
"We're extremely busy, girls." Uncle Paton brushed past them and continued on his way.
"What's your awful happening?" asked Benjamin, stopping in spite of himself.
"The Pets' Cafe has been closed," wailed Emma. "Permanently. It's awful. We could see Mr. Onimous sitting at the table. His head was in his hands. He looked so depressed."
"We can deal with that later, Em." Fidelio stepped around the girls. "Something worse has happened to Charlie."
"And Runner Bean," Benjamin added. "They've both gone. Vanished. Completely disappeared into a painting."
Emma lowered her basket, from which a loud quacking could be heard. "What are you going to do?"
"We won't know till we get to Charlie's house," said Fidelio, anxiously watching the departing figure of Uncle Paton.
"We'll come!" Olivia was never one to be left out of things. "Let's leave our pets at the bookstore, Em."
"Wouldn't go in the store if I were you," Fidelio called over his shoulder. "Old Mr. Bloor is there."
The two boys ran on while the girls stood making up their minds. Eventually, Emma decided she couldn't leave her auntie Julia alone with Mr. Bloor. She carried on up the street with her pet duck, Nancy, while Olivia hastened after the boys with her white rabbit, Wilfred.
It was a tricky time for Uncle Paton. He had emerged onto High Street, where lights blazed in every store window. Paton pulled the brim of his black hat well down over his face, trying vainly not to glance at the windows. But today was Saturday and High Street teemed with shoppers. Leaden clouds had covered the sun and raindrops were beginning to fall, softly at first, and then with a vengeance. Umbrellas were hastily put up, and being so tall, Paton was immediately at risk. "Watch it!" he gasped as he nearly lost an eye. Leaning sideways he found himself looking into a window full of prancing mannequins.
Bang! The plate glass window shattered.
Amid screams of shock and disbelief, Paton hurried on. He failed to notice a red light as he sailed through the intersection, and a blue Volvo almost ran him down. "Sorry, sorry," called Uncle Paton, glancing at the car's fog lights. This time the explosion was quieter, a mere pop. The driver didn't even notice, and Uncle Paton was able to reach the curb undetected.
Unfortunately, another car, unable to brake fast enough, had crashed into the back of the Volvo. Both drivers leaped out and ugly words rose into the damp air.
Suspecting that Uncle Paton might have something to do with the broken window, the two boys pushed their way through the crowd and were just in time to see Paton, bent almost double, running away from the scene of his latest "accident." He had nearly reached number nine Filbert Street by the time they caught up with him.
"Was that you, Mr. Yewbeam?" asked Benjamin. The window thing, I mean."
"Fraid so, Benjamin. I'd be grateful for your silence in the matter."
"Of course, Mr. Yewbeam."
They ascended the steps of number nine, Uncle Paton leading the way. As he opened the door, he raised a finger to his lips and whispered harshly, "Not a sound. My sister may be at home."
"She is," Benjamin whispered back.
There was a shriek from the street, and Olivia came flying up to them, the basket swinging wildly from her hand. "Wait for me!" she called.
"Shhh!" hissed the boys.
"Sorry," said Olivia, catching her breath. "Is the demented grandma around?"
Benjamin nodded. Olivia scrambled up the steps and hopped into the hall with the others. Uncle Paton quietly closed the door, and Olivia plunked her basket beside the coat stand.
They tiptoed into the kitchen, where Maisie was waiting anxiously. "Nothing's happened," she said. "Not a sign. I keep taking a look, but the wretched picture just sits there, looking back at me. D'you know what? I can feel a kind of smugness coming from it."
"We'll take a look." Uncle Paton removed his hat.
Benjamin's stomach gave a loud bleat.
"Goodness," Maisie exclaimed. "I've even forgotten lunch. That's a first. I'll get a bit ready while you all go down the cellar."
Uncle Paton thought it unnecessary for them all to visit the cellar. Telling Fidelio and Olivia to wait in the kitchen, he chose just Benjamin to accompany him. Benjamin had, after all, seen Runner Bean vanish, and he could tell if the painting had changed at all.
Paton lit three candles in a tall candelabra that stood on the shelf. "Don't, whatever you do, turn the light on in the cellar," he told Benjamin.
"Of course not, Mr. Yewbeam," Benjamin said emphatically.
Paton made his way down the steps backward with the candelabra in his right hand. Benjamin followed.
"Ye gods, what a grim place!" Paton declared, as the flickering candlelight played over the surface of the painting.
Benjamin shuddered. Badlock had looked sinister before. But in candlelight it looked terrifying. He could hardly bear to think what might have become of Runner Bean in such an awful place. And then he saw it. At the bottom of the painting, peeking around the corner of one of the towers, was a dog. Runner Bean. His mouth was open in a silent howl.
Benjamin screamed.
"What the... ?" Uncle Paton almost dropped the candelabra.
"Look, look, Mr. Yewbeam!" Benjamin pointed a shaking finger at Runner Bean.
Paton bent closer to the dog's head.
Benjamin's scream had brought the others rushing to the cellar door.
"What is it? What's happened?" Maisie demanded.
"Can I come down, please," begged Olivia. "I can't stand not knowing."
"Runner's h... h... here," Benjamin quavered.
"Here?" said Fidelio.
"Here... but, not here. THERE," moaned Benjamin.
"In the painting." Uncle Paton's tone gave the already tense atmosphere an edge of menace. This was too much for Olivia, who began to scramble down the steps. She was stopped by a shout from the hall.
"RABBIT!" screamed Grandma Bone from upstairs.
Grandma Bone was scared of most animals,
but harmless rabbits were her betes noires.
Olivia reluctantly climbed back, while Fidelio said calmly, "It's all right, Mrs. Bone. It won't hurt you."
"It's EVIL," shrilled Grandma Bone, and then she saw Olivia. "What are you doing here, you harpy?"
Olivia had never been called a harpy before. She was rather pleased. Her rabbit, Wilfred, had escaped from his basket and was now halfway up the stairs, happily grazing the carpet. Grandma Bone was standing at the top; one of her small black eyes was screwed shut, the other watched the rabbit's progress in horror.
Olivia leaped up the stairs, grabbed her rabbit, and carried him back to his basket. "He honestly wouldn't hurt a fly," she said, fastening the basket lid.
"I asked you what you were doing here." Feeling safer, Grandma Bone slowly descended the stairs.
Before Olivia could think of a reply, Uncle Paton emerged and said, "I think it's about time you answered a few of my questions, Grizelda."
"Such as?" Grandma Bone tossed her head imperiously.
"Such as - what is that painting doing in the cellar, and where has it come from?"
"None of your business." With a wary glance at Wilfred's basket, Grandma Bone swept back up the stairs and crossed the hall into the living room. Uncle Paton followed her and the three children trooped after him. Maisie, however, sank onto the hall chair with a baffled sigh.
"It is my business," Uncle Paton insisted.
Grandma Bone settled herself in an armchair and picked up a newspaper.
"Are you listening to me, Grizelda?" roared Uncle Paton, and then, to the concern of the three children hovering by the door, he said, "Your grandson has vanished into that painting."
Benjamin muttered, "We're not supposed to tell..."
Grandma Bone lowered her newspaper. Her long, grumpy face was momentarily transformed by a look of pure delight. "But that's what he does," she said.
In the giant's tower, Charlie gave Runner Bean a brief wave before being lowered to the floor.
"A dog?" said Otus. "Their like is ne'er seen in Badlock."
"We must rescue him before those awful troll things come back," said Charlie, making for the door.