The Mansion in the Mist Page 10

  "We're ready to go," he announced. "If you're coming with me, place your hand somewhere on one of the sides of the desk."

  Anthony got up. So did Miss Eells. Emerson took his place at the desk like an orchestra conductor. On his left stood Anthony, touching the varnished side of the desk. Miss Eells stood on the right. After clearing his throat two or three times Emerson picked up the cards. First he laid the three of spades down in the place marked out for it. Next came the seven and the nine. Last of all, Emerson laid down the ace in the little dotted rectangle on the left. Nothing happened.

  For quite a long time the three of them stood there dead still. Then Miss Eells jerked her hand away from the side of the desk. She felt extremely relieved, but she patted Emerson on the arm and smiled kindly. "Don't feel bad, Em," she muttered. "After all, you tried."

  "Yeah," put in Anthony. "It really wasn't your fault, Mr. Eells."

  Emerson had not moved a muscle. His hand still lay on the ace, and on his face was an angry and humiliated look. With a quick motion, he gathered up the cards and piled them at one corner of the desk. Then he lifted his hand and brought it down on the leather-covered surface with a loud slap. "Blast it all!" he exclaimed. "I thought it would work—I really did!" For several seconds he stood chewing his lip and thinking furiously. Then he turned to Miss Eells. "Tell me, Myra," he said in a commanding voice. "Where was the mirror in the painting? You know, the one you thought was a window?"

  Miss Eells was startled by this question. She didn't have the faintest idea of what Emerson was driving at. "Well," she said slowly, "in the painting of Mr. Ambrose the mirror—the one that looked like a window— it was... was..."

  "Yes?" said Emerson impatiently. "It was where?"

  "Oh, give me time for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Miss Eells in exasperation. "The mirror was up over Mr. Ambrose's left shoulder."

  "That's all I need to know," said Emerson. "Anthony, help me move the desk back toward that wall over there."

  Throwing the shovel to one side for the time being, Emerson helped Anthony lug the desk over to a nearby wall where a painting hung. Emerson took down the painting and put the mirror up in its place. Then he walked back to the middle of the room and picked up the shovel. Once again he propped it against the desk.

  "Places everyone!" he said in a commanding voice. "Myra, Anthony, go stand where you were before with your hands on the desk. We're going to have another try."

  As soon as the other two were in place Emerson picked up the cards and glanced quickly over his left shoulder. Then he lifted the three of spades in the air and put it down on the desk. Immediately the mirror began to glow with a grayish light that cast a shimmering halo around the three people who stood at the desk. A drumming sound began under the floor of the room. At this point Miss Eells would have jerked her hand away from the side of the desk, but she found that she couldn't. Emerson laid down the seven and the nine. The light got brighter, and the drumming got louder. A vase on the library table rocked and then crashed to the floor, and several books fell out of a bookcase. Still remaining calm, Emerson lifted the ace dramatically in the air. He held it upside down, the same position shown in the painting. But as Emerson was about to lay the card down, Anthony let out a loud exclamation.

  "Don't, Mr. Eells! Don't lay it down! It's a trap!"

  Emerson was startled. With the card still held in the air he turned to Anthony. "For heaven's sake, why not?" he asked.

  "Because the ace of spades upside down is death!" Anthony cried desperately. "I read about it in a book somewhere! We'll all die if you put the card down like that!"

  Emerson wondered: Were they being set up for death by the evil Mr. Ambrose? After another moment of hesitation Emerson turned the card around so that the big spade symbol and the word bicycle were right side up facing him. Carefully he laid the card down.

  All of a sudden a lot of things happened. The walls and floor of the room seemed to waver, and the bookcases and paintings sagged. The drumming noise grew to a deafening roar, as the blue light became a blinding glare. Then the three people who were standing at the desk were whirled round and round, as if they were standing on some large spinning turntable. Faster and faster they spun, and just before he blacked out Anthony heard himself yelling, "We're gonna die anyway! Oh no..."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Miss Eells, Anthony, and Emerson came to, they felt very dizzy and scared to death. As before they were grouped around the desk, but they weren't in Emerson's parlor anymore. They were in a gloomy vaulted chamber that seemed to be a crypt. All around them they saw deep niches set in the rough stone walls, and many of these held coffins. Low gray arches supported the ceiling, and rows of squat pillars marched away into the distance. The place smelled damp and moldy and the still air seemed clammy, bone-chilling, and somehow evil. Emerson shuddered and wiped his face with his handkerchief.

  "Well, here we are—wherever that is!" he announced, as he peered around at the grim scene. "Probably we are in some part of the black stone mansion of the Autarchs. We have to go outside to search for the sundial."

  Miss Eells was just recovering from the shock of the whirling journey they had been on. Once again she silently accused herself: If she had not gone along with Emerson's plans, she wouldn't be here. But there was no turning back now.

  Emerson picked up the four playing cards and put them in his hip pocket. Then, after grabbing the shovel, he began to walk down the corridor. Miss Eells and Anthony followed him past the stone arches. The chamber was lit by a grayish glow that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. At last they arrived at a stone staircase that spiraled upward into shadows. But as they were about to start climbing, someone came bounding down the steps to meet them. He was a short, elderly man with a wrinkly face and sagging cheeks. Bare feet peeked out of the folds of his tattered black robe and straggly gray hair hung down over his hunched shoulders. But in spite of his shabby appearance and the frightening way he had jumped out at them, the three travelers somehow knew that they had nothing to fear from this man. There was an air of kindness and gentleness about him, and his mouth was pursed up into a wistful pout.

  "Oh, hello there!" said the little man, waving shyly. "Imagine meeting you folks here!"

  Anthony, Emerson, and Miss Eells had been startled at first, but now they were merely curious. Who was this man, and why was he acting as if he knew who they were?

  Emerson thought a bit. He had a hunch that he knew who this was, but he couldn't be sure yet. Holding out his hand he smiled politely and said, "Emerson Eells at your service! And who, pray tell, might you be?"

  The little man giggled. "I'll bet you know already," he exclaimed. "My name is Wabe. Nathaniel Wabe, formerly of the grand society of Autarchs. Pleased to meet you all!"

  Anthony was stunned, but then his heart sank. This had to be the man who had scratched WABE on the gold coin. But because that was his name was the clue meaningless? Had they come all this way for nothing?

  "In case you were wondering," the man went on, "I'm the one who left the note in the vase in your cottage. I used to make lots of trips back and forth between this world and Earth, but I don't get around much anymore. I became frightened after three people from your world found my note and came here. Unfortunately they were caught and now they're decorating the garden outside. After that happened, I began to realize the true wickedness of what was going on here, and I hid the Logos Cube. Needless to say, I had to hide myself after that, and ever since then I've been living in the secret passages of this mansion, like a rat in a maze. I know ways of getting around that even the Grand Autarch doesn't know, and I've stayed alive by raiding the kitchen at odd hours. Even Autarchs have to munch, you know." He giggled again in a very disconcerting way.

  Anthony's head was whirling. This was the man who had started them on their quest! There were a million questions that he wanted to ask, but he asked the one that seemed most important. "Mr. ... Mr. Wabe," he stammered, "if your name really is Wa
be, then is the clue... I mean, the word, is it..."

  "Is it all just a joke, then?" asked the little man, reading his thoughts. "Of course not! When I lived in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, I used to read a lot, and I know a lot of poems by heart. One of them is Jabberwocky. And I always thought how strange it was that one of the nonsense words in the poem was my last name. So I decided to give the word a little—uh, shall we say—added significance?"

  Emerson beamed—his theory had been right, then! "Are we to understand that the Logos Cube is buried near a sundial?" he asked eagerly.

  The little man laughed and shook his head. "Oh, dear me, no! You've got it all wrong! What I buried is something you need to destroy the cube! It's no good having the cube if you don't possess the thing that can get rid of it."

  Emerson looked puzzled. "But I don't understand," he said. "If you have the thing that will shatter the cube, why in heaven's name don't you use it?"

  The little man sighed. "I can't. Long ago I took a blood oath to protect the cube, and an Autarch's oath has a magical effect on him. I couldn't raise my hand to damage the cube in any way—the weapon would fall from my hand. So I just hid the wretched thing away and tried to provide someone else with the means of getting rid of it."

  "I see," said Emerson, scratching his head uncertainly. "Well, in that case why don't you tell us where the cube is? We can take it to the place where the weapon is hidden and smash it there. Or if we can't destroy it we can at least carry it back to Minnesota with us. Doesn't that make sense?"

  The man smiled sheepishly. "It would," he said, "except for one small problem: I don't remember where I put it."

  Emerson's mouth dropped open. "You... you what?" he spluttered.

  "I said, I don't remember where it is," the man explained patiently. "You see, when I swiped the cube I made the mistake of staring at it too long, and it addled my brain. I've been in hiding for several years, and that doesn't improve your memory. There is a clue inscribed on the weapon that you must use, but I don't remember what it is. Besides, the weapon is buried outside, and I can't go outside for fear of getting caught."

  "Oh, great!" muttered Emerson. He chewed his lip. What should he do next? "Well," he said at last, "can you at least show us a way of getting out of here? I assume that the weapon is buried in that garden—am I right?"

  "Oh, yes, absolutely!" replied the little man, nodding eagerly. "As for getting out of here, I think I remember a way... if it's still there."

  Emerson blinked and stared at the man. To him it seemed that things were getting more confused by the minute. "What do you mean by that?" asked Emerson. "Has someone blocked up the way?"

  "No, no, no!" said the little man, shaking his head vigorously. "I don't mean that at all!" He heaved a sad sigh and sat down on one of the stone steps. "Let me try to make something clear to you," he went on gloomily. "Lately the Logos Cube has gone wild. At first it just did little odd, annoying things, like changing the pictures on walls or the color of flowers in vases. But then rooms began to vanish and passageways were suddenly blocked. Windows were breaking in the night for no reason at all. And when I was eavesdropping on the kitchen help the other day, I heard that one of the Autarchs had vanished!" He chuckled unpleasantly. "Lord knows where he is! The Cube may have sent him off to another dimension, or it may simply have vaporized him. It has a will of its own now, like a rebellious robot or a thinking machine that has gone mad. I'm just trying to warn you about what you'll be up against when you try to get out of this place."

  Silence fell. Suddenly Miss Eells reached out and tugged at Emerson's coatsleeve. "For the love of Pete, Em!" she whispered hoarsely, "let's go back to that desk and get out of here! We're liable to get killed looking for the thing to smash the cube! What are we waiting for?"

  Emerson hesitated. For once he thought that his sister might be right. They had landed in a situation that was much more dangerous than it had seemed. But just as Emerson was turning to lead the way back, a loud crash startled everyone. A stone wall suddenly appeared in the middle of the vaulted chamber—the way back to the desk was blocked.

  Emerson turned to Miss Eells and grimaced. "Any other suggestions?" he said quietly.

  Anthony felt his stomach churning. Were they trapped forever in this frightening world? But when he looked at Emerson he saw the determined look on his face and the glitter in his eyes, and he knew that good old Em would not give up without a fight.

  "We'll go up these steps and see where they lead!" said Emerson, setting his jaw with determination. He turned back toward the stairs, and he half expected to see that Nathaniel Wabe had vanished. But there he was, sitting calmly with a silly smile on his face.

  "You see what I mean?" said the little man, with a helpless shrug. "The cube is liable to do anything, at any time. But if you want to find a way to the outside, I might be able to help you."

  Deciding that bad help was better than no help at all, Emerson sighed and told him to lead on. They walked up the stairs till they came to a broad corridor that stretched in both directions. The walls of the corridor were covered with red velvet and fancy brass wall sconces. Stepping onto the polished hardwood surface, Emerson motioned for Anthony and Miss Eells to follow. Nathaniel started to lead them to the right, but he had not taken many steps when a hole opened in the floor in front of him, and with a loud cry he vanished from sight. The floor closed over him, and silence returned.

  Horrified, Anthony and his friends stared at the place where Nathaniel had been. Now they were really frightened; they were on their own in this treacherous ever-changing place. Suddenly Anthony panicked. With a loud yell he ran to the left. The others ran after him, calling for him to stop. Anthony skidded around a corner and was horrified by what was taking place in the room before him: Silver candlesticks were changing into wormy wooden logs, and the framed paintings on the wall were going blank. A long walnut table turned to rubber and collapsed. Silver bowls flew into the air and popped like soap bubbles. Chairs chased each other on carved knobby legs, and a bust of a Roman emperor turned to a melting wax horror. Nothing seemed solid— would the floor give way next? In fear Anthony stepped back, but as he turned to retrace his steps he found that a blank wall of granite blocks had slid into place, barring his way. He was alone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Meanwhile, Emerson and Miss Eells stood staring helplessly at the stone wall that had unexpectedly cut them off from their friend. In anger Emerson raised his shovel and banged at the blocks with it. The blade rebounded from the hard granite with a loud dinggg! and Emerson turned away in disgust.

  "I was hoping the wall would turn out to be an illusion," he muttered. "But as you see it's solid!" Tears came to Emerson's eyes. It was all his fault. He had led his sister and Anthony on this wild-goose chase. He had been so sure that he could smash the cube and get home without any serious problems. And now where were they? All three of them would probably die for nothing, with their mission unaccomplished.

  As Emerson stood there fighting the urge to cry he felt Miss Eells's soft touch on his arm. "Don't worry, Em," she said quietly. "We'll get out of this. Walls that suddenly appear can vanish. Somehow we'll all get back together and go home. I'm sure of it."

  Emerson smiled weakly. He took off his glasses, dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief, and put the glasses on again. "Thanks, Sis," he said in a voice thick with emotion. Then with a shuddering sigh Emerson pulled himself together. Once more he was the brave, indomitable leader—at least he hoped that he was.

  "Now, then!" said Emerson, setting his jaw purposefully. "We'll have to go down this hall. It's the only way left to us. Somewhere there has to be a passage leading to the outdoors. Come on."

  Emerson and Miss Eells marched down the corridor, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Doors opened and closed on either side of them, and in the rooms they saw objects whiz by and furniture change into all sorts of unlikely things. Finally they came to a door which was firmly closed. Large gold Goth
ic letters announced: COUNCIL ROOM.

  Emerson halted and grabbed Miss Eells's arm. "Wait!" he said as he turned toward the door with sudden interest. "This is the room that Anthony and I spied on. Somewhere in there is the peephole we used, and behind that is the secret passage that leads outside. It's worth a try."

  Seizing the knob firmly, Emerson opened the door.

  Inside the room everything was quiet and orderly. Apparently the Autarchs' magic was still powerful here, in spite of what the cube was doing elsewhere. The long polished table with empty chairs and the ornate cushioned throne that the Grand Autarch sat in were undisturbed. A gilded eighteenth-century clock ticked quietly on the mantel of the marble fireplace, as if everything in the world was going along fine. Brown tapestries hung on the walls; they showed horrible scenes of battle from the Middle Ages.

  "Over there!" said Emerson, pointing at a tapestry on the far wall. "We were looking into the room from that direction, so the passage must be behind that wall." Walking quickly across the room, Emerson stooped and examined a soldier who lay stretched out on the embroidered ground. One of the buttons of his jacket was missing, and the hole where the button should have been was the peephole.

  "Ah-hah!" crowed Emerson, hauling Miss Eells forward so she could see what he was pointing at. "There it is! I was right!"

  "Yes, I see it!" exclaimed Miss Eells. "You've found the peephole—what do we do next?"

  Without a word Emerson walked to the corner of the tapestry and raised it. Behind the heavy dusty hanging was varnished wood paneling. A thin line separated one set of panels from the next, and Emerson began to edge his way along behind the tapestry, testing for openings. Finally he found a knothole plugged with putty. Pushing at it, he tripped a hidden spring and a section of paneling moved inward—he had found the door.