Free Spell of the Sorcerer's Skull by John Bellairs Page A

hills of Isle au Haut!
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    Father Higgins clamped his hand over the strings, and they were silent. "There!" he said triumphantly. "That's it! You get it, don't you?"
    Johnny was still mystified. It was clear that one of the lines they had found was from a song. But Johnny did not have the faintest idea of where the hills of Isle au Haut were.
    Father Higgins looked at Johnny askance. His lips curled up into a sarcastic grin. "Oh, come on, now! You don't know where Isle au Haut is? You really don't know?"
    Johnny shrugged helplessly. "I'm from Long Island, Father! I... I don't know very much about New England. Is Isle au Haut someplace in Maine? I mean, there are islands along the coast of Maine, aren't there?"
    Father Higgins laughed. "Is it someplace in Maine? Are there islands along the coast? Is the Pope a Catholic? Holy Saint Patrick! You outlanders don't know anything about New England, do you?"
    Johnny felt sheepish. "Nope, I guess not," he muttered.
    "Well, here! I'll show you!" said the priest, and he took off the guitar and leaned it against the dresser. Taking the map from Johnny's hands, he unfolded it and held it up. Father Higgins's large hairy forefinger moved along the coast of Maine, which even on a map looked as if it had had big chunks chewed or ripped out of it. Far up the coast, Johnny saw the two long bays that had been scooped out of the shoreline millions of years ago: Penobscot Bay and Blue Hill Bay. Both bays were full of islands large and small. But at the place where the two bays met was a cluster of islands and islets. Even though the priest was holding the map at a slight distance, Johnny's nearsighted eyes could pick out the names of the larger ones. On the left were two together—the one above was North Haven, and below it was Vinalhaven. Then, slightly to the east of these two, was another fair-sized island called Isle au Haut.
    Johnny looked up wonderingly at Father Higgins. "You mean... you think the professor is out here somewhere?"
    Father Higgins nodded. "That is indeed what I think. But whereabouts in this ungodly wilderness of islands he is, God only knows."
    Johnny gazed at the map, and then he shook his head sadly. "But why, Father? I mean, I don't understand why anybody would kidnap the professor and take him out to one of these islands."
    Father Higgins looked grave. He folded the map back up and laid it on the dresser. "Neither do I, Johnny. Neither do I. It may not even be a some body that's done it—from all that you've told me, it is more likely to be a some thing that did it. One of the powers of darkness, in other words. We'll know more when we get to the islands, I suppose, and by that time we may wish that we knew less. Of course, there's always the possibility that he's not out on these blasted islands, but the more I think, the more sure I am that we're on the right track. You see, I've doped out the other clue too. And it leads us right to Vinalhaven Island!"
    Johnny's mouth dropped open. "Huh?"
    Father Higgins scratched his nose and grinned. "Well you may say, 'huh'! I'll admit it isn't terribly apparent at first, but I'll tell you what I did. You see, I figured that a great reckoning in a little room had to refer to that blasted dollhouse you told me about. And I'm sure you reached the same conclusion. Anyway, I called up the owner of the Fitzwilliam Inn to see if we could... you know, kind of make an appointment to examine that clock and see what we could find out. And do you know what he told me? He told me that he had sold the clock to a guy who runs a clock museum. The guy's name is Herman Finnick, and his museum is out on Vinalhaven Island! Now, doesn't that just beat everything?"
    Johnny nodded. He felt stunned by all the information that had suddenly been dumped on him. And then it was as if a light had come on inside his brain. He snapped his fingers. "Hey, Father!" he exclaimed. "It all fits!"
    Father Higgins blinked. "Huh? What fits?"
    Johnny grinned.