“That’s what we got to find out,” said Kipper. “But right now we’d best hurry you back to the Remembrance Room and me out o’ it in case them two ladies decides to pay you a visit. You know, you could o’ knocked me over when I seen them in The Jolly Sailor. I ain’t ever seen them going in, nor out either. Beats me how they sneak in and out so secret. O’ course—”
Kipper was interrupted by the distant, but loud, clap of the trapdoor behind them being slammed shut. Footsteps tapped sharply on the stone stairs, and a moment later the screeching, hissing voices of Mrs. Meeching and Mrs. Plumly echoed hollowly down the tunnel.
“What the-!” exclaimed Kipper softly. “Them loony vipers is usin’ the tunnel! Come on!” He grabbed Emily’s hand and nearly pulled her off her feet. “We better move faster’n we ever done in our lives!”
If the trip down the tunnel had been terrifying, not knowing what was before them, then the trip up the tunnel was ten times more so, knowing what was behind them. Stumbling on the rocky path, gasping for breath in the stagnant air, they ran. But the twists and turns of the tunnel protected them, and the loud, echoing voices of Mrs. Meeching and Mrs. Plumly drowned out the sound of their footsteps. When they reached the stairway to the Remembrance Room, they scrambled up the stone steps and hurled themselves into the room. Then they swiftly, but carefully, carefully lowered the trapdoor and flattened themselves on top of it like two panting, trembling small animals who have just escaped their hunters, listening. The voices came nearer.
And nearer. They paused at the foot of the stairs to snarl and hiss for a few moments. Then the voices moved on in the direction of the stone wall. And disappeared!
Kipper stared round-eyed at Emily. “Them two ain’t elves what can vanish. Must be steps what we missed.”
“Steps?” said Emily. “To where?”
Kipper shrugged. “Beats me.”
Then Emily gasped. “Do—do you suppose they lead into the ballroom? It should be just about overhead, Kipper.”
“Dingus, Emily, you could be right!” exclaimed Kipper. “O’ course, it’s more rightly the ballroom what was, ’cause ain’t likely any balls is being held there now, what with no windows and doors what we know of. More like a tomb, if you ask me.”
Kipper had no sooner said the words than his face froze. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t o’ said that, Emily.”
“It’s all right,” Emily said quickly. “I—I’ve already thought it—that Uncle Twice might be in that room, buried alive.”
Or dead! Wasn’t that a possibility, too? But nobody said it. The words weren’t necessary. The thought filled the small room like a crushing stone.
FIFTEEN
A Necklace of True Pearls
The distant clock tolled the hour of one o’clock in the morning as Emily tossed and turned restlessly on the hard bench. Where was Kipper? Why hadn’t he come at midnight just as before? He had promised he would be there. What could have happened to him? The minutes dragged slowly by, and another half hour passed. Then suddenly there was the familiar sound of a key grating in the lock. Joyfully, Emily jumped from the bench and ran to the door.
It was Kipper, just as she had expected, but what a different boy he appeared this time. His head was a mat of dishevelled red curls, with some clinging damply to his forehead in small, wet corkscrews. His eyes were huge, and he was panting heavily as if he had been running hard and fast for a long distance.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Emily cried. “Is someone after you?”
Kipper shook his head dazedly. “No, ’tain’t anything like that, Emily. But there’s more dark, mysterious goings-on afoot, and all got to do with you!”
“M-m-me?”
Kipper nodded. “And what you got to do now is come with me, ’cause you been sent for.”
Emily started. “S-s-sent for?”
“Oh, no need to fear. ’Tain’t by the snake lady or Mrs. P., but by an indiwidual what don’t want to be made known to you ’til he’s spoke his case.”
Emily felt as if all the blood had suddenly been drained from her body. “U-U-Uncle Twice?” she breathed. “Kipper, did you find Uncle Twice?”
Kipper’s eyes filled with sympathy. “No, ’tain’t your Uncle Twice, Emily. But you got to come anyways, and no ‘don’t,’ nor ‘won’t,’ nor ‘can’t.’ No use minding the old folks right now, much as you’d like, ’cause there’s others with lives hanging on it, namely you and your Aunt Twice!”
“But what of Uncle Twice’s life?” whispered Emily faintly.
“I don’t know anything ’bout that, Emily. All I know’s this indiwidual’s waiting for you at Pa’s place. Pa sent ’long one o’ his own old seagoing jackets. He knows as how you’ll get lost in it, but he says ’twill keep you warm. Besides, ’twouldn’t do to go wearing velvet coats nor fur collars in the part o’ town we got to cross to get to Pa’s.”
Emily took from Kipper a navy blue jacket faded by salt and sun and thick with the smells and stains of a thousand journeys over the sea. Kipper’s Pa’s jacket! The thought of being wrapped in this comforting object was the only thing holding Emily up at that moment.
“Don’t put it on just yet,” Kipper said quickly. “You can leave it here, ’cause first we got to make a visit to a place in Sugar Hill Hall to find some papers what this indiwidual says he got to have. And the papers is in that ballroom you been talking ’bout, Emily!”
The ballroom! They were going into it at last! “But how—how will we get there?” Emily asked.
“Same way as what the snake lady and Mrs. P. got there, through the tunnel, up the stairs, and through the trapdoor. We unlock it with this, what the indiwidual gave me!” Kipper held up a large tarnished brass key. “We can go in safety,
