Free The Stolen Lake by Joan Aiken
Authors: Joan Aiken
after he had done this for some time, the stick lost its power. And by degrees he lost all his wealth. Finally he was reduced to stealing and other bad ways, was imprisoned, and in the end sentenced to death."
Dido heaved a sigh, but said nothing.
"His brothers would not help him. His eldest brother was now king of the country; and at the last, since the condemned man was, after all, his brother, he sent a message that, on the night before his execution, the prisoner might have anything that he wished."
"
I'd
have wished to be let out!"
"Anything but that."
"So what did he wish?"
"He asked that someone should go to the wood and cut him a stick."
"Did they?"
"A stick was brought to his cell. And the prisoner—who now, through wild living and vice and despair, looked like an old, old bent man—mounted, trembling, on the stick and said, 'Fly quick, my stick, carry me away.'"
"And did it?" said Dido eagerly.
"Here we are at The White Hart," said Bran. "Good night, Dido Twite."
"But—mister! Hey! The end of the story! Did it carry him?"
She heard a laugh in his voice as he said, "We shall meet again." Then he disappeared into the darkness.
Dido went gingerly into The White Hart. For all she knew, the two dressmakers would be somewhere about, waiting to waylay her again. But luckily the first person she saw was Captain Hughes, pacing about the hall with an expression of wrath and perturbation on his brow. When he saw Dido he pounced on her and almost shook her.
"
Miss Twite!
Where the deuce have you
been
? We have had the whole place turned upside down searching for you. How dare you go out when I forbade you to?"
"Here, hold hard, Cap!" said Dido aggrievedly, rubbing her bruised arms where he had gripped them. "Don't
you
go a-banging me, now! It were that dicey pair as called 'emselves dressmakers—they took and abducted me."
"Balderdash! Do not seek to pull the wool over
my
eyes, miss! Fabricate me no Banbury stories!"
"Wool? It were a blasted
pincushion
—not any fabricoction," Dido was beginning indignantly, when Mr. Holystone came down the stairs. His face broke into a beaming smile of relief at the sight of Dido, and he exclaimed, "
There
you are! We have been so concerned about you."
"I was nabbled," Dido repeated, and, encouraged by Mr. Holystone's sympathy and evident belief, she poured out the story of what Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Vavasour had done to her. Taking the two men up to her room, she pointed to the chest which contained the secret entrance.
"It does not open," said the captain, trying it. "It is nailed shut. This must be pure invention!"
Mr. Holystone, however, pulled out his clasp knife and prized open the lid. The stair inside was revealed. On it lay a tuft of Dido's brown hair, a scatter of pins, and the buckle from her left brogan.
"Good God!" Captain Hughes was aghast. "Then the child's tale is true! This is atrocious! An outrage! Where was this warehouse, child? On the dockside? I shall have the constables summoned—those two women apprehended! Where is the innkeeper?"
He strode toward the door, turning round to bark, "Do you keep watch over the child, Holystone! Don't let her out of your sight for a single instant!"
"I say, Mr. Holy," said Dido, as the captain clattered off down the stairs, shouting for the landlord, officers of the watch, Bow Street runners, and justices of the peace, "I say, I ain't half hungry."
"You poor child, you must indeed be famished. Come down to the inn parlor and I will bespeak a meal."
In the parlor, a pleasant, shadowy, paneled room, they found a fire burning, for the temperature of New Cumbria, hot during the day, dropped abruptly once the sun had set. Mr. Holystone summoned a waiter and ordered food for Dido. While it was being prepared, she told him her story in greater detail. He shook his head.
"I doubt if those two women will be caught. They have probably discovered by now that you managed to escape, and will have made themselves scarce.
Dido heaved a sigh, but said nothing.
"His brothers would not help him. His eldest brother was now king of the country; and at the last, since the condemned man was, after all, his brother, he sent a message that, on the night before his execution, the prisoner might have anything that he wished."
"
I'd
have wished to be let out!"
"Anything but that."
"So what did he wish?"
"He asked that someone should go to the wood and cut him a stick."
"Did they?"
"A stick was brought to his cell. And the prisoner—who now, through wild living and vice and despair, looked like an old, old bent man—mounted, trembling, on the stick and said, 'Fly quick, my stick, carry me away.'"
"And did it?" said Dido eagerly.
"Here we are at The White Hart," said Bran. "Good night, Dido Twite."
"But—mister! Hey! The end of the story! Did it carry him?"
She heard a laugh in his voice as he said, "We shall meet again." Then he disappeared into the darkness.
Dido went gingerly into The White Hart. For all she knew, the two dressmakers would be somewhere about, waiting to waylay her again. But luckily the first person she saw was Captain Hughes, pacing about the hall with an expression of wrath and perturbation on his brow. When he saw Dido he pounced on her and almost shook her.
"
Miss Twite!
Where the deuce have you
been
? We have had the whole place turned upside down searching for you. How dare you go out when I forbade you to?"
"Here, hold hard, Cap!" said Dido aggrievedly, rubbing her bruised arms where he had gripped them. "Don't
you
go a-banging me, now! It were that dicey pair as called 'emselves dressmakers—they took and abducted me."
"Balderdash! Do not seek to pull the wool over
my
eyes, miss! Fabricate me no Banbury stories!"
"Wool? It were a blasted
pincushion
—not any fabricoction," Dido was beginning indignantly, when Mr. Holystone came down the stairs. His face broke into a beaming smile of relief at the sight of Dido, and he exclaimed, "
There
you are! We have been so concerned about you."
"I was nabbled," Dido repeated, and, encouraged by Mr. Holystone's sympathy and evident belief, she poured out the story of what Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Vavasour had done to her. Taking the two men up to her room, she pointed to the chest which contained the secret entrance.
"It does not open," said the captain, trying it. "It is nailed shut. This must be pure invention!"
Mr. Holystone, however, pulled out his clasp knife and prized open the lid. The stair inside was revealed. On it lay a tuft of Dido's brown hair, a scatter of pins, and the buckle from her left brogan.
"Good God!" Captain Hughes was aghast. "Then the child's tale is true! This is atrocious! An outrage! Where was this warehouse, child? On the dockside? I shall have the constables summoned—those two women apprehended! Where is the innkeeper?"
He strode toward the door, turning round to bark, "Do you keep watch over the child, Holystone! Don't let her out of your sight for a single instant!"
"I say, Mr. Holy," said Dido, as the captain clattered off down the stairs, shouting for the landlord, officers of the watch, Bow Street runners, and justices of the peace, "I say, I ain't half hungry."
"You poor child, you must indeed be famished. Come down to the inn parlor and I will bespeak a meal."
In the parlor, a pleasant, shadowy, paneled room, they found a fire burning, for the temperature of New Cumbria, hot during the day, dropped abruptly once the sun had set. Mr. Holystone summoned a waiter and ordered food for Dido. While it was being prepared, she told him her story in greater detail. He shook his head.
"I doubt if those two women will be caught. They have probably discovered by now that you managed to escape, and will have made themselves scarce.