Return of the Emerald Skull Read Online Free Page A

‘Audley-Bishop's
Birds of the Rainforests
, plate number seventy-three: the catincatapetl,’ he murmured reverently, ‘or
emerald messenger of darkness
– named after the Toltec demon god Catincatapetl, Master of the Underworld and Lord of Chaos.’ He fixed me with a stare. ‘Do you know how rare this bird is?’
    I shook my head as I opened my haversack and carefully took out the small crate.
    ‘No, of course you don't. How could you?’ chuckled the headmaster, greedily seizing the box and examining its wooden sides minutely. ‘If you'll excuse me, Barnaby, Imust go to the bird hall at once and unpack our illustrious guest with the greatest care imaginable … Here.’
    He fumbled in his waistcoat and drew out three large banknotes, thrusting them into my hand.
    ‘But, Headmaster,’ I protested, ‘that's far too much …’
    ‘Nonsense, nonsense,’ Archimedes Barnett called over his shoulder to me, brushing my objections to one side as he strode out of his study and along the corridor. ‘You've made an old ornithologist very happy.’
    I shook my head as I made my way outside, the banknotes neatly folded in the top left-hand pocket of my poacher's waistcoat. I'd wanted to tell the headmaster about the strange ship and the bloody stain on my hand, but he hadn't given me a chance. He was just delighted to get his hands on his precious bird, no questions asked.
    And if
he
was satisfied, then so was I. I'dbeen rewarded handsomely for my trouble, the
Ipanema
had left the docks and the headmaster had his parcel.
    Job done. Or so I thought …
    I couldn't have been more wrong if I'd baited an elephant trap with a mouse. Not that I knew it that beautiful sunny evening as I strode across the playing fields of Grassington Hall towards the gates.
    I was just passing the main field when a groan went up from the crowd. I glanced across to see a boy in grass-stained flannels rolling around by one of the targets, clutching his head. There was a heavy leather ball lying by his right foot. A loud whistle sounded and a tall, heavily built man with bushy hair, ruddy cheeks and watery blue eyes came striding over.
    ‘A fine save, Thompson,’ he shouted sarcastically. ‘But next time you might try stopping the ball with your hands, not your head!’
    There were sniggers from the watchingpupils as the tall games master stood over the youth. It was the fair-haired boy who'd been my guide on my first visit to the school.
    ‘Come on, Thompson!’ The master prodded the prone boy with a muddy boot. ‘Stop rolling around like a Highfield lady with a touch of the vapours …’
    I pushed through the crowd and knelt by my stricken friend. Gently I pulled his hand from his face and examined the nasty-looking swelling above his left eye.
    ‘Better get yourself off to the infirmary and have Matron look at it,’ I advised Thompson, who was blinking up at me, a dazed expression on his face.
    ‘On your feet!’ bellowed the master. ‘
Now!
’
    ‘Y-y-yes, sir, Mr Cripps,’ Thompson mumbled, trying to get up.
    I helped him climb unsteadily to his feet. ‘This boy is in no condition to continue,’ I protested.
    Mr Cripps turned on me, his face red with suppressed rage. ‘
I'm
the games master!’ he shouted. ‘And I decide who's fit or not fit to continue. Thompson is up next, as fifth hitter – or Ibis House loses the game!’
    ‘Not if I take his place,’ I said smoothly, slipping off my topcoat and rolling up my sleeves.
    A cheer went up from the crowd as the games master blustered about substitutions and second-half rules and how he had never seen me on the fives field before.
    ‘The name's Grimes,’ I told him, winking at Thompson, who was being helped to the sideline, ‘and I'm a new boy, you could say.’
    Again the crowd roared their approval. Mr Cripps blew his whistle and shouted, ‘Well, get on with it, then, Grimes!’
    I strode over to the plate, picked up the fives bat and glanced around the field. From what