Taking my hand in hers, she led me up the steps and out of the cellar. In the warehouse we paused only to collect our things, and then I looked towards the professor's unnaturally still form. "Should we… I mean, do you think it will be all right to leave him?"
"It pains me, but we cannot take him with us," said Roberta evenly. "In any case, first we must escape this prison ourselves, for if I am not mistaken dearest cousin Edgar locked the door as he departed."
She was correct, because the metal entry door was sealed tight. After giving it a hefty kick or two, Roberta uttered an oath. Then she turned to look along the brick wall, which had been pierced in several places by oak beams from the destroyed machine. "Help me lift one of those," she said. "Perhaps we can finish the job it started."
We laid down our weapons and picked up the nearest beam, staggering under the weight. We carried it away from the wall, and then ran towards it with the beam held under our arms in the manner of a battering ram. We were aiming at a section which had already been holed, and the end of the beam struck the damaged brickwork with a sickening blow, knocking a dozen bricks flying. Repeating our efforts, we soon made a hole large enough to climb through. Roberta scrambled through first, and once she was on the other side she took the haversacks from me. Then I followed, clutching the weapons.
The rain and thunder had ceased, but the air was chill and a dense mist rose from the cobbles, making it hard to see. Each streetlamp was like a beacon in the darkness, and we hurried from one to the next, completely alone in that deathly quiet part of the city. I glanced around, still fearful that the scar-faced man might seek his revenge on us.
"Edgar does not have the brains for this," said Roberta suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"He was not a great thinker," she said. "In addition, he was a follower, not a leader. Septimus, there is someone else behind all of this, you may take my word on it."
"Someone worse?" I asked her. "That idea is troubling indeed."
"Whoever it is, they will not take my father from me," declared Roberta, her face grim and determined. "Ah, here is our destination."
Chapter 35
I stopped, for directly ahead of us was the red brick building of a station. The name above the entrance read Westminster, and there were metal gates below, closed and padlocked. Beyond these was Stygian darkness of the most oppressive kind. "The underground!" I said in astonishment, for suddenly all was clear. "But… it's closed for the night!"
"You think I mean to buy tickets?" asked Roberta, with a weak smile. She led me towards the locked gates, and after looking up and down the road to make sure we were not observed, she set to work with a slender piece of metal taken from the knapsack. It took her a minute or two, but eventually there was a metallic click and the padlock came free. The chain rattled as she withdrew it, and then we passed through, quickly closing the gate behind us.
"Replace the padlock, but do not close the hasp," Roberta told me. "We may have to leave this place in a hurry."
I did as I was told, and then we took the steps down to the platforms, our footsteps reverberating around the big tiled area. At the bottom Roberta climbed down onto the tracks without hesitation, then held her hands out so that I might pass down the equipment. I joined her, and she pointed down the tracks towards the gaping mouth of the tunnel. "We go that way."
"I hope they're not running any trains," I muttered, as we strode along parallel to the rails.
"Do not concern yourself about those. Rather you should be seeking my father's trail."
"Yes, of course."
We walked on, with only the noise of our footsteps on the clinker to break the silence. Roberta guided me, walking close, for my vision was badly affected by the lenses in my spectacles, and in addition I was peering to my left and right as I tried to pick up the trail. Deep within, I feared the spirits may have carried the professor's life force to some deep dark hole far below the Earth, in which case he was already as good as dead. But I said nothing, for there was still a slender hope and I did not wish to trouble Roberta unduly.
"Do you see anything?" she asked me in a whisper.
I shook my head.
"Tell me if you detect the slightest hint of a trail. I do not care if you are mistaken."
"Are you sure you don't want to wear these?" I asked her, indicating the glasses.
"No, I trust you."
My heart warmed at her words, and I redoubled my efforts, staring into every shadow with my eyes open wide. I scarcely dared blink, even though they watered from the effort. And then, as I was beginning to lose hope, I saw it. "There!" I muttered, pointing at the faint strand of light which emerged from the curved brick wall. "It leads away from us, down the tunnel."
"Faster," said Roberta, and she all but dragged me along with her.
I was following the trail, and after two hundred yards or so I took Roberta's arm. "Left here," I whispered, pointing.
There was a big opening in the tunnel wall, surrounded by unfinished brickwork and piles of broken earth. All of a sudden I recognised the place, for we'd passed these diggings on the way to the Snetton house just a day or two earlier. It was the new underground tunnel, the one where a collapse had killed several workers.
"In there?" Roberta asked me.
"I'm afraid so." Then I noticed something even more troubling. "The line we're following… it's getting thinner." It was true, for now I
