the same time: thirteen o’clock. Lex narrowed his eyes at this. Thirteen o’clock? the witching hour. If there ever were such a thing as a dream-fox, then thirteen o’clock would be the time it would come. It certainly explained why the number thirteen appeared so often within the house. Could it actually be that a giant fox really had -
Lex shook his head, impatient with himself. If he didn’t watch out, he’d end up as nutty as Nathaniel. He’d never heard of a dream-fox before? never in all the books he’d read. And Lex was very well read.
He went on, past staircases that led up into ceilings and windows set into the floor. At one point, the entire floor was made out of glass. It looked directly down on to the umbrella room. Lex could tell because he could see the umbrellas? all of different colours? opened out beneath his feet.
He spent a few minutes in the entrance hall examining the paintings there. He noted that the one with Nathaniel having tea with a giant fox was entitled, Taking Tea With Plantagenet. Not only that, but the fox appeared in several other paintings, too, usually in the background and sometimes partially obscured. One painting of Nathaniel showed him serenely strolling, stick in hand, through a battlefield. An ancient battlefield from the looks of things because the warriors all seemed to be half naked, and wielding bows and arrows. Indeed, even Nathaniel’s top hat had an arrow sticking through it. And there, at the bottom right-hand corner of the painting, was a fox’s tail, only just visible.
In another painting, Nathaniel stood, balancing on one leg, in a river, surrounded by pink flamingos. He had his umbrella up, despite the fact that it wasn’t raining. And on the nearby bank, peering through a bush, was what looked suspiciously like a giant fox in a waistcoat.
Lex spotted the fox in a few more paintings but it was always partially hidden or obscure. The teatime one was the only one that showed him clearly. Clear enough to see that he couldn’t possibly be real.
Lex moved on to the fourth floor. At one point, he opened a door and almost went through it before realising? just in time? that there was no floor beyond? just a sheer drop to the courtyard below. Later on, he came across a sort of games room that might have been fun were it not for the fact that all the balls on the snooker table, and all the chessmen on the chess table, were nailed firmly in place.
He did not come across another person during his explorations. The cowboys staying in the house were all either asleep or still down in the bar. But, in actual fact, Lex could have easily got away with wandering about the house, even as Sid the Kid, for it was just so easy to get lost, which was probably why the other cowboys stuck to the bar and the bedrooms rather than attempting to navigate the rest of this madhouse.
As Lex went on, he began to feel a little disheartened, for the house was just so big. It had taken years to build and it would take years to search. Jesse had been here on four separate occasions looking for the sword and had no luck. Hundreds had attempted the task before him but with no success. Lex had only four days before the third round began. Four days to do what everyone before him had failed to do.
He had an excellent sense of direction but, when he started trying to make his way back to his bedroom, he found it extremely difficult, even with the map he’d drawn. The problem was that most of the rooms had doors leading to several other rooms. It was not simply a case of one room following on from another in a logical order.
At one point, he came across a room that was full of doors. There was a grand total of twenty, set around the walls. Lex opened every single one of them, sure that many must lead to the same room. One door led nowhere: when Lex opened it, there was just a brick wall behind it. And another led to a room so small there was no way any human would ever be able to get into it. But the other eighteen doors all led to different rooms. How was that even possible? Surely there should not be enough space for them all. Granted, they were all narrow rooms but even so…
Lex felt a mounting sense of frustration. The house was too big and there was no logic to it. He could be the cleverest person in the world and still be unable to crack the riddle on the stained-glass windows. Trying to unravel the messed-up mind of a madman was like trying to untangle a never-ending ball of string.
Still, there was nothing for it but to forge on. Lex spent most of that night exploring the house. In fact, due to the fact that he got hopelessly lost, he was later back to his room than he’d intended, and only fell into his hammock a bare hour before the sun began to rise.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next two days were a tiresome, irksome business for Lex. His time was split between playing Jesse’s pet monkey for the entertainment of the other cowboys down in the bar, and searching for the sword at night. It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. If Lex had had a proper riddle to work with, he would have cracked it already by now, but all he had to go on was a madman’s drivel that might not even hold the answer at all.
Something unexpected happened on the second morning, though: Jeremiah came to Dry Gulch House. Lex was in the bar when he arrived. Jeremiah came on his own, by carriage? the fool. He must have brought the carriage with him on board his ship, for it had the East coat of arms emblazoned in gold on the door. No doubt he had travelled across the desert in it when he reached the Western shore and was forced to leave his ship behind.
Lex was sitting by the window eating a tin of beans when Jeremiah arrived. Someone had given him a spoon but, for the look of the thing, he felt compelled to spill most of them down the front of his shirt, anyway.
No one actually noticed Jeremiah until he walked into the bar. When he came in, dressed in his fancy royal- blue coat with the golden buttons, hair brushed, jaw shaved and generally looking as clean cut as a man can be without being a woman, he couldn’t have stuck out any more than he did. Everyone went quiet, staring at him in amazement. Everyone knew that only cowboys were allowed into Dry Gulch House, now. Peasants weren’t allowed, farmers weren’t allowed and noblemen definitely were not allowed.
‘I am Jeremiah East,’ he announced to the room. His booted feet were planted firmly apart on the floor like he owned the place. It was clear that he was pleased with the fact that everyone had gone silent at his appearance. He had no idea that this was just the calm before the storm. ‘This house was the rightful property of my great-great-uncle, Nathaniel East. It was unlawfully taken from him a hundred years ago by savages. I have consulted a lawyer who has assured me that, despite the time that has elapsed, no deed of ownership was ever passed. This house is therefore still the property of the East family. You are all trespassing. I will give you one hour to vacate the premises. I expect you all to provide me with contact details so that later we can negotiate reparations for the vandalism done to the house. If you carry out my instructions to the letter then I will agree to waive my lawful right to collect rent for the period during which this house has been illegally occupied.’
Lex goggled at him. He’d known Jeremiah could be stupid, but he hadn’t realised just how stupid. As an ex- law-student, Lex knew that everything Jeremiah had said was, technically, true. But things like that just didn’t matter out here. Not here in the Wild West where disputes were decided by duels and the sheriff was just someone to throw stuff at on a slow-moving day.
The scar-faced cowboy Lex had crossed earlier was the first to react. He stood up from the table where he’d been drinking and told Jeremiah? with rather a lot of unnecessary swearing? to get out. Jeremiah actually looked shocked and outraged by this. It was clear that he had expected his little speech to work flawlessly.
‘The law is on my side,’ he said, going quite pale with anger. ‘I have the documentation with me, if you’d like to examine it. It’s quite bad enough that my poor uncle was slaughtered right here in his own home by a gang of savages like you, without having his house overrun by them as well! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! You’re a corrupt, contemptible lot of cowards and I want you out of my family’s house right now.’
Calling them cowards was going just that little bit too far. These were men who produced far too much testosterone as it was, and prided themselves on being tough and manly and other such meaningless things. Yet there Jeremiah stood, looking rather smug and clearly thinking that he had just put everyone in their place, when, actually, the most likely reaction now was for one of the cowboys to stand up and shoot him straight in the chest.
‘Y’know I’m getting the sort of feeling that history is about to repeat itself,’ the scar-faced cowboy said. ‘First the uncle, then the nephew. We’ll put your head up in the trophy room, kid.’
‘You wouldn’t dare touch me!’ Jeremiah sneered.
