Free The Secret Passage by Nina Bawden Page A

fast, “I couldn’t tell you about it because Miss Pin asked me not to. But now you’ve found it for yourselves, it’s all right, isn’t it?”
    He looked anxiously at Mary who took his hard little hand and said, “Of course it’s all right. But a passage must go somewhere . Does Miss Pin know where it goes?”
    Ben shook his head. “She just said it was a place to hide. But we could go and see , couldn’t we?”
    Mary said, “I’ve got a torch. It was hanging up with the keys.” She looked at John. “You go first …”
    John drew a deep breath. It was stupid to be scared, he told himself. He was eleven, nearly twelve—nearly grown-up.
    Ben said eagerly, “I’ll go. I’d like to go.” The menacing, dark hole didn’t worry him at all. What could be there, after all, except a mouse or two?
    John said quickly, “No. It may be dangerous. I’m the eldest. I’ll go.”
    As he pulled himself up to the hole, the torch in his hand, he grinned to himself in spite of feeling so sick and clammy. If he wasn’t so frightened he would be quite ready to let Ben go ahead—it would be more sensible, really. Ben was smaller and less likely to get stuck.
    The hole led to a tunnel which was just high enough for John to crawl through, knees scraping on rubble. It was very short; after about two yards it opened into a much bigger place, high enough for John to kneel up. He swept the torch round and saw brick walls and rafters above his head.
    “We’re under the house,” Mary said, wriggling beside him. “Oh blow—I’ve torn my dress. It must be the foundations of the house.”
    “What a swizz,” John said in a cheerful, grumbling tone, secretly rather relieved that this was all there was—just this dry, clean place with the floors of the house above.
    But it wasn’t all. “Look,” Ben squeaked. “Give me the torch …”
    At one side there was another hole, just above the level of the ground. This time there was no doubt about who was to go first. Ben snatched the torch from John and crawled in. His muffled voice came back to them. “Come on—it goes on an awfully long way.”
    This tunnel was very low and it was more difficult for Mary and John to get through it than for Ben. They had to squirm along on their stomachs, using their elbows and knees, and it was rather alarming because Ben was so far ahead that they couldn’t see the light from the torch. Mary was so close behind John that his feet kicked dust and earth back into her face. At one place the tunnel seemed to be almost blocked by a mess of brick and rubble as if someone had tried to wall it up at some time. John called, “Ben …” and Ben’s voice sounded hollow and strange. “Come on … come on, it’s not far now.”
    Quite suddenly, the tunnel ended. It just stopped, high up in a wall. Ben was shining the torch and John and Mary crawled out, head first, and pitched onto a pile of wood shavings. “Just as well that was there,” John said, sitting up. “Or we’d have banged our heads horribly hard. Give me the torch, Ben.”
    They were in quite a big room, very dry, with a brick floor. It opened into another room with a series of cubby holes along one side, stacked with wine bottles lying on their sides. Atthe far end was a flight of wooden steps and a closed door at the top. John shone the torch up the steps. He caught his breath.
    “Mary,” he shouted, “Mary—do you know where we are? We’re in the cellar of the house next door. We’re in the House of Secrets.”
    He ran up the stairs and tugged at the handle of the door, quite forgetting to be frightened in the excitement of being in the very place he had so longed to see.
    But the cellar door was locked.

CHAPTER SIX
THE HOUSE OF SECRETS
    “P ERHAPS ONE OF those old keys will fit,” John panted as they wriggled back through the tunnel. He was not at all frightened now, he was much too excited. He had been in the cellar of the House of Secrets. He only had to find a