The Black Room Read Online Free
Author: Gillian Cross
feel the difference. The little clods of earth had been broken down into a fine, soft dust.
Helga began to whine, pushing at his hand so that it knocked against the little stack of twigs, dislodging two of them. Tom knew he ought to take her home and come back later on his own. But he couldnât wait. That little hole in the hedge bank was the key to all Robertâs weird behavior. Helga would have to put up with being tied to a bush.
She didnât like it. As soon as she realized what he was going to do, she started to whine and complain. But Tom hardened his heart and tied the leash to a strong bush a safe distance away. Then he went back to the hedge bank.
The light was just starting to fail, and the woods had an edgy, dangerous feel. He crouched down and peered at the bank, running his fingers very lightly over the cold, damp earth. It took him a few moments to find the telltale patch of smooth earth around the hole, but once his fingers had recognized it, his eyes found it, too. He bent over and ran his forefinger around it again. Then he slid the finger in as far as it would go.
He couldnât feel anything except the sides of a narrow tunnel, worn smooth like the earth around its entrance. Standing up, he hunted along the hedge for a strong, straight twig. The one he found was twice as long as his finger, with a little jagged stump near its base, like a rough hook. He snapped it off the hedge and sank back onto his heels, pushing the twig into the hole, hooked end first.
Three quarters of it went in easily. Then it hit some kind of obstacle. He moved it around, probing gently at whatever was in the way. When he pressed, it gave way slightly, with an unexpected springiness. When he pushed harder, the hooked end snagged suddenly, catching in something. Tom began to pull, steadily and very, very gently, and the obstacle moved toward him, dragging at the sides of the tunnel. He bent down, with his nose close to the earth, to see what he had discovered.
It was a bit of dead plant. A little clump of dry, scratchy shoots twisted together into a dense knot. Peering closely, Tom could see that the ends of the shoots had been threaded back into the knot, very cleverly, to hold it together in a ball. He couldnât imagine how anyone had made something so small and intricate. His own fingers were much too thick and clumsy.
And anywayâwhy bother? Unless ...
Unless the knotted stalks were just a stopper. Something to block up the hole and hide the real secret inside. If theyâd really put anything precious in the tunnel, it would be a good idea to plug it. And it made sense to use something that looked like rubbish.
Putting the woven ball carefully on one side, Tom felt around in the shadows for the twig heâd been using. He slid it back into the hole, running the hook down one side of the tunnel and closing his eyes so that he could concentrate on feeling the shape of it.
The tunnel was smooth and regular, with a flat surface at the bottom and an even, arching roof. The stick went straight in, almost to its full length, and Tom was expecting it to hit another obstructionâwhatever Robert and Emma were keeping down there. But that didnât happen. Instead, he felt the tunnel open out. The floor stayed solid, but when he wiggled the twig around, its tip moved through empty air.
He closed his eyes, struggling to imagine what the space looked like. He hardly noticed Helgaâs sudden, friendly yap because his mind was completely focused on the tunnel and the messages coming through his fingers. He was deaf to everything else until, suddenlyâ
WHAM!
Something thudded into him, fast and fierce, without any warning. It knocked the breath out of him, and he sprawled over, falling sideways and backward, into the ditch.
4
WHEN THE ATTACK CAME, EVERYONE WAS WORKING HARD. The whole cavern was full of foodânuts and grains, seeds and dried fruits, fresh green leaves and wedges of
Helga began to whine, pushing at his hand so that it knocked against the little stack of twigs, dislodging two of them. Tom knew he ought to take her home and come back later on his own. But he couldnât wait. That little hole in the hedge bank was the key to all Robertâs weird behavior. Helga would have to put up with being tied to a bush.
She didnât like it. As soon as she realized what he was going to do, she started to whine and complain. But Tom hardened his heart and tied the leash to a strong bush a safe distance away. Then he went back to the hedge bank.
The light was just starting to fail, and the woods had an edgy, dangerous feel. He crouched down and peered at the bank, running his fingers very lightly over the cold, damp earth. It took him a few moments to find the telltale patch of smooth earth around the hole, but once his fingers had recognized it, his eyes found it, too. He bent over and ran his forefinger around it again. Then he slid the finger in as far as it would go.
He couldnât feel anything except the sides of a narrow tunnel, worn smooth like the earth around its entrance. Standing up, he hunted along the hedge for a strong, straight twig. The one he found was twice as long as his finger, with a little jagged stump near its base, like a rough hook. He snapped it off the hedge and sank back onto his heels, pushing the twig into the hole, hooked end first.
Three quarters of it went in easily. Then it hit some kind of obstacle. He moved it around, probing gently at whatever was in the way. When he pressed, it gave way slightly, with an unexpected springiness. When he pushed harder, the hooked end snagged suddenly, catching in something. Tom began to pull, steadily and very, very gently, and the obstacle moved toward him, dragging at the sides of the tunnel. He bent down, with his nose close to the earth, to see what he had discovered.
It was a bit of dead plant. A little clump of dry, scratchy shoots twisted together into a dense knot. Peering closely, Tom could see that the ends of the shoots had been threaded back into the knot, very cleverly, to hold it together in a ball. He couldnât imagine how anyone had made something so small and intricate. His own fingers were much too thick and clumsy.
And anywayâwhy bother? Unless ...
Unless the knotted stalks were just a stopper. Something to block up the hole and hide the real secret inside. If theyâd really put anything precious in the tunnel, it would be a good idea to plug it. And it made sense to use something that looked like rubbish.
Putting the woven ball carefully on one side, Tom felt around in the shadows for the twig heâd been using. He slid it back into the hole, running the hook down one side of the tunnel and closing his eyes so that he could concentrate on feeling the shape of it.
The tunnel was smooth and regular, with a flat surface at the bottom and an even, arching roof. The stick went straight in, almost to its full length, and Tom was expecting it to hit another obstructionâwhatever Robert and Emma were keeping down there. But that didnât happen. Instead, he felt the tunnel open out. The floor stayed solid, but when he wiggled the twig around, its tip moved through empty air.
He closed his eyes, struggling to imagine what the space looked like. He hardly noticed Helgaâs sudden, friendly yap because his mind was completely focused on the tunnel and the messages coming through his fingers. He was deaf to everything else until, suddenlyâ
WHAM!
Something thudded into him, fast and fierce, without any warning. It knocked the breath out of him, and he sprawled over, falling sideways and backward, into the ditch.
4
WHEN THE ATTACK CAME, EVERYONE WAS WORKING HARD. The whole cavern was full of foodânuts and grains, seeds and dried fruits, fresh green leaves and wedges of
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