Free Arnie Jenks and the House of Strangers by Tim Bradley Page A

outside. ‘They’re coming! I must get to the front door before they wake the whole house up.’
    They made their way quickly down to the ground floor and into the hall. Emily turned to Arnie.
    â€˜Once I’ve sent them on their way…’
    â€˜â€¦me to deal with Thomas!’
    â€˜Agreed!’ said Emily.
    Arnie tried to follow but she waved her hand, ‘No, if they see you it may confuse them. They might think you’re the soldier they’ve come for. Stay here.’
    Reluctantly, he did as he was told and watched Emily disappear down the dim corridor out of sight. He listened, as he heard the heavy scrape of bolts being carefully drawn across and then the sound of a muffled conversation, too low to make out what was being said. Then all went quiet. No talking, no movement, no sound at all.
    Arnie counted the seconds until a full minute had passed and then edged forward, slowly and carefully, crossing to where Emily had gone. He stopped dead and stared through the open front door. He was quite alone.
    Beyond, a dog howled for a moment before the sound was carried away by the wind.
    â€˜Thanks Emily,’ Arnie whispered. ‘If you are standing there watching me, then – well done!’ he grinned.
    Oh yes! he reminded himself, better do my bit! He raced back towards Thomas high up in the secret room.
    A clock on the landing was chiming 11pm as he reached the black door. He looked around to check the coast was clear before fishing out the key and letting himself in. He stood in the dark and listened for a moment, to make sure he felt safe, before walking over and opening the panel in the wall.
    â€˜Thomas!’ he whispered, as he peered inside. The space was empty.

CHAPTER NINE
    On the Run

    Arnie leaned further into the chamber, which appeared to him thin in width, tall in height, rectangular and unremarkable. He saw that part of the back wall had tilted forward slightly, revealing a small gap top and bottom. Careful not to touch anything and wary of being trapped, he climbed in and gently pulled the vertical slab down towards him. It pivoted like a see-saw, opening just enough to allow him to slither underneath and through to the other side.
    He wriggled until his feet slipped over an edge and landed onto something solid. He dragged himself out fully, onto the cold stone spiral staircase that rose up to his right and fell away below him to the left. Carefully he made a slow descent into the dark, stroking the cool wall lightly with his fingers to guide him.
    Arnie counted fifty-seven steps, the last bringing him hard up against a solid door. Not finding a handle, he leant all of his seven stone eight pounds in weight against the heavy timber and with a not too great a shove it gave way easily, leading him to believe that it had recently been used.
    Outside, he stumbled into the long grass. Above, the tower stood majestic and fairy tale-like, while around him, a blanket of humid air hung limp and for a moment he felt he was in a perfumed flower garden in the midst of a vibrant summer. The willows waved benevolently as Arnie made his way across the lawn into the red-brick walled garden and reached a rickety summerhouse overhung by heavily laden plum trees. Arnie looked inside but could see nothing of interest. Then he sniffed something hanging in the soft air – burnt tobacco – and he smiled.
    â€˜Was that you Thomas? Here just now?’ he muttered to himself, as something glinting on the porch caught his eye.
    Arnie recognised it as the same cigarette lighter that Thomas had handled in the Blue Room less than an hour earlier. He slid it into his trouser pocket to consider later, just at the same moment that out of his peripheral vision, he saw someone nipping through the garden. He flicked his head round. A figure in the mid-distance was running for the woods.
    The tall, overbearing yews, which populated the area beyond the manicured lawns, stood like ogres