Even before he had finished speaking, Kipper was on his way down the stone steps into the tunnel. Emily hurried after him. It took them only moments to find the second steep stone stairway, which was hidden in a small cavelike room directly behind the stairs to the Remembrance Room. It was easy to see how this second flight of stairs could be missed.
Halfway up, however, Emily’s footsteps faltered. “Oh, Kipper!” There was a sob in her throat.
“I know what you’re thinking, Emily. You’re thinking o’ what might be on top o’ that trapdoor what ain’t papers,” Kipper said. “Right now, howsumever, we ain’t got any choice but to see.”
He lifted the trapdoor carefully, peered under it, and then whistled. “Wheeoo! Come take a look o’ this, Emily!”
Standing beside Kipper, Emily looked at last upon the ballroom that had once been the source of so much pleasure. But even though the walls were faded and the mirrors tarnished, the flickering light from several gas lamps now danced on a startling display of color and magnificent beauty that far outdistanced anything she had ever seen there before. Shimmering emerald green, scarlet, royal blue, and purple brocades lay spread around the room like sleeping silk serpents. Carved tables of teak, mahogany, and rosewood bore delicate cloisonne and porcelain vases, and bowls carved of precious turquoise, jade, and rose quartz. But what perhaps was the most dazzling of all were the shelves and tables sparkling with diamond and ruby necklaces, heavy chains of gold and silver, emerald and sapphire brooches and rings, and other exotic jewels whose names could only be guessed. It was a scene to take anyone’s breath away. But beyond all this display worth two king’s ransoms, the room was empty.
“No Uncle Twice!” Emily whispered. The ballroom had seemed to offer the last hope of ever finding him, and now all hope was gone. “He really must be dead. I know it now.”
“You don’t know any such thing,” said Kipper staunchly. “Ain’t anybody said he was in this room for certain. He’ll come to light one o’ these times, hale as a halibut and fit as a flounder, as Pa always says.” These words of cheer were, unfortunately, not matched by the look on Kipper’s face.
There was no time now, however, for sorrow or sympathy. Kipper’s eyes quickly searched the room. “Oho! There ’tis, right over yonder by that—that door!” His voice exploded. “By dingus, Emily, there is a door, and it leads right into the snake lady’s room, all nice and disguised by a wardrobe. Always wondered ’bout that second wardrobe with the big lock. Well, now I know!” He darted through the tables, making his way toward the large, heavily carved black desk in the corner.
Emily ran after him, but as she did, she suddenly saw something on a table that gave her heart a sharp stab of joy, mingled with a terrible sadness at the same time. “Kipper!” she cried. “Here is Mama’s necklace of true pearls, given to her by Papa when I was born. I’d know the clasp anywhere. Papa had it made especially with my initials, E. O. L., for Emily Ophelia Luccock.”
“Stole from your trunk, o’ course, Emily!” Kipper exclaimed over his shoulder. He was busy pulling out one drawer after another in the desk. “I trust you ain’t surprised. That’s what all this loot is ’bout—stealing and smuggling. I expect smuggling is how that brass button from a seaman’s uniform come to be in the tunnel. A mighty cozy arrangement, I’d say, a tunnel running right up to this mansion. Oho again!” He lifted out a large sheaf of papers from the bottom drawer. “See, Emily, see here!” He pointed excitedly to the top sheet. “Says ‘Luccock.’ That’s exactly what this indiwidual wanted. Come on! I got ’em now, so let’s go.”
Hesitantly, Emily set the pearl necklace back on the table where she had found it.
“Ain’t you going to take it with you?” Kipper looked astonished.
“Would—would it be all right?”
“If you ain’t the one, Emily! O’ course it’s all right. They’re yours, ain’t they? They was property stolen from you. Here, I’ll pin ’em on you.”
As Emily felt the beloved pearls being clasped around her neck, tears flew to her eyes. These pearls had once been worn by Mama, and might be all she would ever have of her past. Even her present now had a question mark after it, because who knew what would come from this mysterious journey with Kipper. Question following question. Was there ever to be an end to them, or to the horrors of Sugar Hill Hall?
SIXTEEN
The Scary Individual
This was Emily’s first exit from Sugar Hill Hall since her arrival there, and all she was doing was going from a known terror to an unknown one. Even inside the comfort of Kipper’s Pa’s great coat, she shivered.
A night fog, thick as fish chowder, hung over the city of San Francisco. Emily could barely see Kipper right beside her as they crept from the back door of the mansion, out past the coach house, and down an alley to the street. Once out of the alley, Kipper’s footsteps flew over cobbles long familiar to them. And so intent was he in reaching his destination, he suddenly grew silent as the fog.
Emily had to struggle to keep up with him, her breath snatched from her throat, and her feet aching from the hard stones. Thump! Thump! Thump! Was the sound of her footsteps real? Or had she finally become that ghost outside the train window, seeking but never finding a home? Gaslights flickering palely through the fog, and an occasional dark shadow borne past them on the muffled drum of horses’ hoofs only made Emily feel more than ever that she had entered another world. Thump! Thump! THUMP! The
