The Secret of the Ginger Mice Read Online Free

Souris. Do you think he could have been sent by someone?”
    â€œBy whom?” said Grandpa Nelson. “And why? He seems as bewildered by his presence here as we are. Maybe he’s exactly who he says he is, as strange as his story may seem. We should send a letter to his aunt and uncle telling them where he is, and they can arrange to come and fetch him.”
    â€œAnd if we do that,” Great-Aunt Harriet responded immediately, “how do we know the letter will arrive safely? Do they open mail sent between here and Shetlock? Maybe they’d put us under surveillance.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” said Grandpa. “That might be a little far-fetched.”
    â€œWell, you’d be a better judge of that than me. You go into town once a week to do the shopping, while I have barely left this house in the last dozen years, as you very well know. So tell me: Have you heard anything on your trips to town? Has there been any news of that place lately? Unrest around the border perhaps?”
    Grandpa Nelson pulled the plug from the sink and Alistair couldn’t hear the old mouse’s answer over the sound of water being sucked down the drain.
    When the sound stopped Great-Aunt Harriet was talking again: “—hardly be likely to print it in the newspapers, would they? It’s what they don’t put in . . .”
    â€œI suppose I could ask Granville,” Grandpa Nelson offered hesitantly. “But how much can I tell him?”
    â€œNothing!”
    â€œBut he was Lucia’s godfather. Surely—”
    â€œTell him nothing,” Great-Aunt Harriet repeated. “Just sound him out, see how much he knows.”
    â€œAnd the boy?” asked Grandpa Nelson. “Come on, Harry—we have to help him.”
    Great-Aunt Harriet flung the sodden tea towel onto the table and stalked toward the kitchen door. “Not if it means putting Tibby Rose in danger,” she said fiercely. “Tibby Rose must be protected . . . at any cost. And if contacting the boy’s aunt and uncle means attracting attention to Tibby Rose, then we can’t do it. We’ll just have to keep him here.”

3

Kidnapped
    K idnapped?” said Alex incredulously. “Why would anyone want to kidnap Alistair?”
    His aunt and uncle looked at each other. Beezer gave her husband an imperceptible nod.
    â€œI’ll explain over breakfast,” said Ebenezer. “This is a very serious situation, and one can’t deal with serious situations on an empty stomach.”
    Alex, who hated an empty stomach more than anything, nodded his agreement.
    â€œBut—,” Alice began.
    â€œHe’s right, Alice,” her aunt said quietly.
    Frustrated, Alice took a seat opposite Beezer at theworn pine table as Alex and Ebenezer moved back and forth to the kitchen, bringing in a plate piled with toast, a bowl of fresh fruit, a box of cereal, and a jug of milk.
    When the four of them were sitting around the dining table and had helped themselves to as much (in Alex’s case) or as little (in Alice’s) as they felt like eating, Alice burst out, “So why do you think Alistair has been kidnapped?”
    Uncle Ebenezer cleared his throat. “Well . . . er . . . it’s possible that Alistair might know something—or someone might think he knows something, rather—about . . . about your parents.”
    â€œWhat’s there to know?” said Alice. “Do you think Alistair has been kidnapped by someone who wants to know Mum’s knitting patterns?”
    Ebenezer’s normally merry eyes were somber. “No. No, I’m not suggesting that at all.” He sighed and ran a hand over the rumpled fur on his head. “We hadn’t intended to have this conversation for a couple of years yet—not till you were a bit older. But as it might have some bearing on your brother’s whereabouts, I feel we have no choice but to tell you now,