The Mousehunter Read Online Free

cabin door, a proud smile lit up Drewshank’s face.
    “Of course, I couldn’t expect a mere butler to take an interest in the pursuits of gentlemen.”
    “Not at all. Butlers take a very great interest in gentlemen,” replied Spires smoothly. Drewshank’s smile vanished.
    “So, why did you need my help?” he said pointedly.
    Before he could receive an answer, the captain guided Spires into his plush quarters. Oil lamps lit the small cabin, which contained a wide table, a few tall leather-backed chairs, and plenty of mousing trophies. Some decorated cabinets and mirrors were secured to the walls, along with a very indulgent oil painting of Drewshank himself.
    “Mr. Lovelock wishes to commission you,” said the butler.
    “What does he want this time?” Drewshank asked, settling down into the captain’s chair.
    “I don’t know,” replied the butler, “but he requests your presence at Grandview immediately.”
    “Immediately?” exclaimed Drewshank. “A man has to sleep at some point of a night! I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?”
    “Spires, sir.”
    “Right then, Spires. Seeing as you’re stopping me from falling into my hammock, I suggest you give me good reason to leave my quarters. Nothing to do with him, by any chance?” said Drewshank. He raised an eyebrow and pointed to a poster pinned to the wall. In its center was a sketchy representation of the inimitable Captain Mousebeard, underneath which the caption read:

    The butler recognized the poster. They’d been pinned around Old Town, and the frowning, bearded pirate stared out onto every street as though he owned it.
    “If it’s something to do with him, then I may be interested . . . ,” said Drewshank.
    “It’s a wise presumption,” answered the butler, “but I know no more. Our carriage is waiting at the Old Town Gate, to take us there directly. Will you join me?”
    The captain lowered his head and scratched it vigorously. After taking a deep breath, he grabbed his gold-braided overcoat from the back of a chair and stood up.
    “I hope it’s worth my while, Spires. I don’t want to be up all night,” he said, checking his appearance in a grandiose mirror. He looked good, as usual.
    “Very good, sir,” said the butler.
    It was early morning by the time Drewshank and the butler left the carriage and entered the mansion. The house was deadly silent; not even a mouse could be heard squeaking from the mousery.
    “Please wait here, sir,” said Spires as he darted into a small anteroom, removed his cloak, and tidied himself up. He couldn’t be seen looking a mess in front of Mr. Lovelock. After climbing the stairs and speaking briefly to his master, Spires returned, took Drewshank’s overcoat, and hung it neatly by the door. They then started the long ascent of the stairs together.
    The light still glowed from Lovelock’s office, and the butler opened the door and invited Drewshank to sit down. To Drewshank’s surprise, Lovelock was elsewhere.
    “My master will be with you shortly,” said Spires unapologetically, and promptly left the room, closing the door firmly.
    The butler reached the top of the stairs and started the long walk down to the kitchen, finding the quiet of the house calming. Mr. Spires was pleased to be back at the mansion. He took a few steps further and the peace was shattered.
    “Watch out!” shouted Emiline, charging up from the floor below. Dressed once more in her armor, she clasped a peculiar mouse in her hands. It wriggled and squirmed, sniffing the air all the while through its exceptionally long snout.
    “I need to speak with you!” she shouted, breathlessly, while disappearing onto the landing and into the mousery.
    “Are all the escaped mice captured, Emiline?” he replied, his tone letting her know that this sort of behavior could not be tolerated in the mansion.
    Spires received no reply until a door creaked shut and Emiline appeared once more at the stairs.
    “Not quite,” she said