The Box of Delights (28 page)

‘Give me a storm from the north and the east,’ Abner said, ‘or I will torment you in a way that you’ll remember.’

‘No, give me at least half a bag of amethysts,’ the old woman said, ‘for I need them for a cordial that I am making.’

‘I will give you a quarter bag,’ Abner said. ‘Now let me have the storm.’

He produced from his pocket a little canvas bag which did contain amethysts: Kay saw the stones as he emptied them out. A very meagre quarter of the bag was handed to the old woman, who produced
in turn from her pocket a little leather bag tied with three strings at the mouth.

‘Don’t open more than two of those strings,’ the old woman said, warningly, ‘or you may be sorry.’

‘Don’t tell me how I am to proceed,’ Abner said. ‘Away with her!’ At once the little red hands plucked the old woman away.

‘Servant, here!’ Abner cried to the red figure. ‘Away with this to Tatchester. Open two strings from the mouth of this bag and fill the roads and the air with snow, so that
neither cars nor aeroplanes shall come near Tatchester: let any clergyman who tries to get there be buried six feet in snow and not be found until the spring.’

‘He cannot do that,’ the brazen head said. ‘He cannot take life.’

‘Do not interrupt me, you,’ Abner said. ‘As for you, Servant, take that bag to Tatchester. Open all the strings and flood that countryside with the deepest snow since Wolves
Ran. Make the drifts eight feet deep round each Cathedral door. Away with you.’

‘I go, sir,’ the figure said and vanished through the ceiling.

Abner turned to the brazen head.

‘You have interrupted me, you have criticised me,’ he said. ‘All this establishment seems given over to mutiny. I will have you learn respect. You shall be upside down for a
while.’

‘I implore you, Master, not,’ the head said, whimpering.

‘I say, yes,’ Abner said. He plucked the head from its pedestal and jammed it violently down upon it upside down. It whimpered and wailed in that position.

‘Shut up,’ Abner said. ‘Listen to me, and tell me truth: Am I to have that Box today?’ he asked.

‘You will have it under your hand,’ the head said.

‘To do what I like with?’

‘To toss and to tumble. It will be your plaything.’

‘Then I can open the sluices when I choose?’ he asked.

‘Whenever you choose.’

‘Ha,’ Abner said. ‘Who will bring me the Box?’

‘It will come under your hand,’ the head said.

Kay was by this time trembling lest the head should say where the Box was at the moment. It was at this instant that the poor upside down eyes caught sight of the tiny figure of Kay near the
door. The eyes showed astonishment, then Kay felt that they showed excitement. ‘He’ll betray me now,’ Kay thought, ‘so as to be turned right-side-up again.’ Then he
saw that the head was rebelling against Abner for being turned upside down, one of the eyes winked at Kay to reassure him.

‘What are you rolling your eyes for?’ Abner asked.

‘You’d roll
your
eyes if you were upside down,’ the head said.

‘Who will bring me the Box?’ Abner repeated.

‘The spells won’t let me say.’

‘How soon will it be here?’

‘It’s on its way to you now.’

‘Is it near?’

‘It is very near.’

‘Right,’ Abner said. ‘Now mend your manners there.’

‘Oh dear,’ Kay thought. ‘He is to have the Box after all, and what will happen to me when he gets it? And what will happen to all the captives? And what did he mean by
“opening the sluices?” Did he mean that he is going to let water into the caves?’

He had no time to consider these questions, for Abner strode swiftly out of the room; Kay had to follow him at once to avoid being shut in. Abner moved so swiftly to the left, that Kay lost
touch with him. Following on, as fast as he could, he heard something which made his heart leap:

‘So Miss Caroline Louisa,’ Abner was saying, in some dark den in the rock. ‘You would not tell me about the Box, though you must know all about it. Now you may like to know
that it is on its way to me; nothing can stop its coming to me.

‘Once before you stood in my way and were the cause of great trouble to me and mine. I promised then that I would be even with you. I am going to be even with you, never fear, quite soon;
as even as water can make me, for water, when released, finds its own level, they say. This time I shall pay off all our old scores. Goodbye.’

Caroline Louisa did not answer, but Kay heard her cough and knew that she was there. Abner came striding back past Kay; there came a sudden noise of a door rolling in a groove; the cave became
suddenly bright with light.

Kay saw that a door in the rock had slid back; beyond it, a curious motor car, thickly sprinkled with snow, was being opened by masked men, who dragged from it two figures whose arms and legs
were lashed and whose heads were in felt bags.

‘Ha,’ Abner said, ‘the Tatchester Trusties, I presume. Working, no doubt, double time, like good friends of the Cathedral, to find clergy for the services. Excellent work, but
it must now be interrupted for the time. First, action, then, contemplation. Remove them to the cells . . . but stay one moment . . . it is snowing, I perceive.’

‘Snowing,’ one of the masked men said. ‘You’ve said it. I never knew anything like it. It came on all of a sudden, so blind I thought we’d never get
through.’

‘Nice seasonable Christmas weather,’ Abner said. ‘A white Christmas, eh? Well, well; remove them.’

After the two men had been dragged away into the darkness of the corridor, Abner went to a recess where there was something which looked like a typewriter let into the rock; he touched some of
the keys of this, then spoke into the mouthpiece:

‘Is this the
Tatchester Evening News
?’ he asked. ‘The News and Associated Papers? . . . Father Boddledale speaking. I wish to give a message to your evening edition
– perhaps you could make it a special edition – that there need be no alarm whatever about the services in the Cathedral at Tatchester. Got that? Even if none of the missing clergy be
restored in time, it will be possible for my organisation to supply all the services with qualified clergy . . . You can print a special edition to that effect at once, can you? . . . Actually have
the copies in the streets in half an hour, can you? . . . Splendid! . . . Let there be no anxiety whatever. And you will acquaint the London evening papers, will you, that all is arranged? . . .
Father Boddledale of the Ecclesiastical Training Centre will see that services are supplied, although there can be little doubt that the practical jokers, for such they must be, will relent in
time. . . . Thank you so much. And will you allow me to wish you the very happiest of New Years and of Christmastides? Are you running any particular Christmas charity for the Old or the Sick or
the Poor? . . . Oh! will you allow me to put my name down for twenty-five pounds? . . . Father Boddledale . . . Yes: B-o-d-d-l-e- . . . Thank you . . . A most happy Christmas . . . Thank you. And
add that Father Boddledale wishes the good people of Tatchester a most happy Christmas and New Year . . . Thank you.’

He closed the recess and moved away; Kay saw a happy smile upon his features.

In deep thought, Abner moved along the rocky gallery. Kay followed with some difficulty, for this gallery was badly lit. Kay heard a continual murmur of water falling. Presently, he judged that
this noise was not from falling water, but from violent sobbing and lamenting. When they came near to the noise, Abner turned on a light. Kay could see an iron cage, at the bars of which were
pressed some white faces, whose haggard, dark eyes made black patches on the flesh.

‘Ha,’ Abner said, ‘my vocal and orchestral friends from Tatchester! The Choir, I think? And is our cocoa as you like it? And do you admire our brand of bun? Now listen to me,
boys. There is something very disgusting to me in the undisguised grief of boys who do not carry handkerchiefs and use the backs of their hands. Stop snivelling, you little beasts. Do I see Dr
Blowpipe, the famous Organist? Now then, tell me, you, Dr Blowpipe, and you, Organist’s Assistant, and you, members of the Tatchester Choir, which of you has the Box of Delights and where is
it?’

Dr Blowpipe and some of the elder members of the Choir asked him what on earth he meant.

‘You know quite well what I mean,’ Abner said. ‘Where is it: Cole Hawlings’s Box of Delights?’

All repeated that they knew nothing whatever about any box; they protested against their imprisonment and asked to be set free at once.

‘Very well,’ Abner said. ‘You have had your chance, then; your bloods will be on your own heads. You are doomed. Tonight there will be no more choirboy, no more tenor nor
baritone nor bass, no more Dr Blowpipe. Somebody else will play the “Requiem in D Minor” and very soon; because little Abner will turn on the tap and let the water in.’ He paused
and then added: ‘Midnight will soon strike on the Cathedral clock, and there will be no service in the Cathedral – no! for the Cathedral staff will be rolling:

The Box is coming to me, let me tell you. I shall turn on the taps, let me tell you, and you’d better turn off your taps, let me tell you, for you will have water enough
when that happens.’

He walked away, followed by threats from Dr Blowpipe and cries from the baritones and basses:

‘You let us out of here, my joker. This has gone far enough!’

There were piteous wails from the choirboys:

‘Oh please, sir, do let me go home! Oh sir, have mercy!’

The voices and crying died as Abner sped swiftly into the recesses of the cavern. Kay followed as quickly as he could. Abner, who knew the way, walked by the aid of a torch, which he flashed on
from time to time. Kay, on his little tiny feet, had to hurry as best he could after the occasional flashes. Sometimes he fell into some pit in the floor and bumped himself; sometimes he ran into a
projecting stone and bruised himself. He felt to the full the misery of being tiny. From time to time, he thought, ‘If there should be a cat anywhere down in these cellars, I shall be pounced
on and done for.’

Presently, Abner turned on a permanent light. Kay could see that they were in a broad gallery, in the side of which, backed against the rock, was a cage of strong iron bars, raised a little from
the floor. In the midst of the cage, heavily chained, was old Cole Hawlings.

Abner walked up to within a few feet of the bars.

‘Master Cole,’ he said, ‘or Master Lully: great Master, the time has come for us to speak together. You are so beset by my power that you can never escape from here without my
leave. I come to tell you that the Box is now on its way to me: nothing can stop its coming.

‘Once, long ago, you walked from Spain to Italy to buy the Box, with your Elixir of Life. I will sell you the Box for the Elixir. Will you deal?’

‘No,’ Cole said, ‘because you are a greedy scoundrel, unfit to have long life.’

‘I will repeat the offer once more,’ Abner said, ‘but only once. After that, you will see.’

As he turned away up the gallery, Kay, seizing a shoelace, swung himself into the fold of Abner’s turned-up trouser, so that he might not be left behind. He was so light, that Abner did
not feel him scrambling there, but walked swiftly on. Kay found his perch pleasanter than the walking had been, but still a giddy way of travelling.

Hanging within the fold of cloth he was tossed and banged by the rapid going till Abner stopped, unlocked a strongroom, entered it and shut it to behind him. It was a stronger room than any that
Kay had thought possible. No sound of any sort came within it. The walls might have been more than a foot thick of solid iron. It was brightly lit. It was about nine feet high and twelve feet
across. On one side, there was a small sofa with cushions. On another side there was a table on which stood an open iron deed-box; a chair was near the table. On the walls opposite were shelves
holding iron deed-boxes, labelled with capital letters – R. E. P. S. D., etc., etc.. Abner went to the table and burrowed in the open box.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we have done not badly with our little ventures; not badly at all. When the Box of Delights comes, I can sail with these to my quiet island. Ramon Lully will
see wisdom: he will grant me the Elixir too before I go. But I must have a look at these once more.’

He felt at the door to be sure that it was closed:

‘Strange,’ he muttered, ‘once before when I had my hand on a great treasure that little boy, Kay Harker, upset my schemes. Why should he come into my mind now? He’d
better not come into my presence;’ at this he produced from his hip pocket a pistol, which he put upon the table beside him. Kay slipped from the trouser-end to the floor, where he could
watch.

Abner opened one of the bags in the deed-box:

‘Ah, the Duke’s rubies!’ he said. ‘The setting is rather coarse – those Victorians were heavy in the hand – but they are a rare crimson: worth thirty
thousand, if they are worth a penny. And these – those emeralds: twenty thousand. And these are the pearls. We have done well in pearls and they are very light – very light to carry.
Fashionable things – pearls. Liver disease in the oyster, I understand, but ladies don’t know that. Ah! this was the Countess’s that there was such a fuss about. And this was Mrs
Julius K. What’s-her-name’s, who offered the big reward. And this was the dancer’s: a very foolish young woman, if I am any judge. Ninety-four thousand the three. That shows you
what love will do. Then these big ones: anything up to fifty thousand, these. And these are my sapphires – blue and yellow: my favourite stone.’ Kay saw him turn out a little bag of
sapphires on to the table. ‘Ah, I could never part with these,’ he muttered. ‘There is something about this blue and this yellow. Why anybody should prefer other stones I cannot
think. But now for the real box – the rich box.’

Kay watched him open a silver jewel box which contained what looked like rolls of brown paper. He unrolled some of these. Kay could see the glitter of pendants, necklaces, coronets and stars of
glittering diamonds. Abner chuckled as he played with them.