The Mansion in the Mist (5 page)

"It's the gateway to Hell," said Miss Eells grimly.
"And if you go through it, Em, you're an even bigger fool than I think you are!"

This remark really stung Emerson, and he flinched. But then he pulled himself together and squared his shoulders. "I'm going," he announced stubbornly, "and that's all there is to it!" He turned to Anthony. "Anthony, my boy," he said, "will you go with me? I need you to guide me. With amulets around our necks, we'll be perfectly safe, I promise you."

At this Miss Eells completely lost her temper. "Emerson Eells!" she exclaimed furiously. "Are you so irresponsible that you would lead this young man into terrible danger? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

Emerson blushed and stared at the floor. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, Anthony," he said in a low voice.

Strangely enough, Anthony found that he was eager to go. He was scared, of course, but he also wanted to revisit that strange, shadowy world. After a short pause he spoke up. "I'll go, Mr. Eells," he said firmly. "When do we start?"

"Now. I'll get the amulets," Emerson said. For himself he chose the tube of sand from the Gobi desert. Anthony picked a miniature Russian icon of St. Basil the Great, and together they climbed the creaky stairs of the old cottage and walked down the hall toward the room where the chest was. After a deep sigh Miss Eells went to the living room and lit three of the oil lamps. Then she sat down in a rocking chair and grimly went
to work on her knitting. She was trying to make a sweater for her niece's small daughter, and it was not coming out very well—one arm was longer than the other, and the stitches kept coming unraveled. But it was all she could think of to do at this point. The rocker creaked, the knitting needles clacked, and the Waterbury clock on the shelf ticked noisily. Miss Eells heard the lid of the chest slam loudly, and she jumped.
God help us now,
she thought.
God help us all now.

The night dragged on, and still Emerson and Anthony did not return. Miss Eells threw her knitting into a corner and paced up and down the living room floor, chewing her lip anxiously. Every now and then she would go to the front door of the cottage, open it, and peer out into the night. The wind was rising, and it made an eerie sound among the thick-clustered pines. After staring into the pitch-blackness for a while, Miss Eells would close the door and go on pacing while the shelf clock ticked endlessly. Miss Eells was a good imaginer, and she was dreaming up all sorts of horrible things that might have happened. Finally, at a little after two in the morning, the chest lid slammed thunderously overhead. Oh, thank God! breathed Miss Eells, as she clasped her
hands prayerfully. Presently she heard footsteps on the squeaky steps, and she rushed to the bottom of the staircase. Out of the shadows Emerson and Anthony appeared. They both looked pale and haggard, and sweat was streaming down their faces. Woodenly they clumped on down, and Miss Eells stepped out of the way to let them pass. She followed them into the living room and watched as they sagged into armchairs. So far, neither one of them had said a word.

Miss Eells perched on a rocking chair and waited. Finally Emerson spoke. He sounded incredibly weary, and his voice shook.

"I never would have believed that it was possible," he said, as he took off his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief. "I really never would have! But it's true! That strange otherworldly world is really out there, and I'll tell you something else. The world is in danger—our world, I mean. I don't want to sound over-dramatic, but we've got to do something, and we've got to do it soon!"

Miss Eells looked utterly bewildered. "Em, what on earth do you mean?" she asked. "You are talking absolute total nonsense!"

Emerson stared hard at his sister, and a weary frown curled his lips. "Am I? Am I really?" With a heavy sigh, he picked up his meerschaum pipe, which lay in a glass ashtray on a nearby table. He unzipped a leather pouch and filled the pipe. Then he struck a match. Clouds of smoke spewed out into the room. "Tell her,
Anthony," Emerson sighed. "Tell her the whole ghastly, unlikely story."

Anthony's mouth dropped open. He had never thought that he was terribly good with words, and here was Emerson asking him to tell the tale! Anthony took a deep breath, and after a lot of hemming and hawing he began: They had wound up spying on another meeting of the Autarchs, and they really got an earful. The Autarchs and their servants were turning the mansion and the grounds upside down looking for the mysterious Logos Cube. As Anthony had heard before, they needed it to keep their otherdimensional world in place. But they had another purpose, a far more sinister one in mind. They wanted to use the cube to drag the earth and its inhabitants off into their dimension.

Anthony stopped talking, and for a long time no one said anything. The clock clattered on, and the wind rattled the windows of the old cottage. Finally Miss Eells spoke.

"It all seems a bit hard to believe," she said in a weak, throaty voice. "I mean..."

"Yes, it is hard to believe," snapped Emerson, cutting in suddenly. "But then appearing and disappearing chests are hard to believe too. Mansions in other dimensions are hard to believe. But those things are there— Anthony and I have seen them. Maybe it's impossible for the Autarchs to find the Logos Cube. Maybe it's impossible for them to carry out their nasty, unthinkable scheme. But what if they could do it? Would you enjoy
living in a world lit by misty moonlight, a world where plants scream and vines try to grab you? No, I didn't think you would. And I'll tell you something else. In case you think that the Autarchs would be kindly dictators, I've found out what happened to the three people I rented this cottage to a few years ago."

Miss Eells's jaw dropped. "You have?"

Emerson nodded grimly. "Yes. As Anthony and I were leaving the mansion, I happened to glance toward that evil garden. It has three statues in it, three very strange statues in the shape of people writhing in hideous torment. The light was weak, but it was good enough for me to see the face of one of the figures, and..." Emerson paused and swallowed hard. "...and," he went on in a strained voice, "...and the face looked very much like the face of one of the three tourists who rented this cottage from me."

Miss Eells stared in amazement. "You mean..." she began hesitantly. "You mean..."

"Yes, I do indeed mean," said Emerson. "Somehow those three poor people discovered the secret of the chest. They probably used the card that Anthony found in that dusty old vase, and they paid for their curiosity with their lives. It's awful to think about, isn't it? And that is the fate that lies in store for people in our world if they come under the domination of the Autarchs."

"I don't think they can do it," muttered Anthony stubbornly. "They're not powerful enough to do that, are they? Well, are they?"

Emerson heaved a weary sigh. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I honestly do not know. But as long as there is even a small chance that such an evil thing might happen, I think I had better go back there and find that dratted cube."

Miss Eells was aghast. "Em, have you gone completely out of your mind? You haven't a clue that would lead you to the cube."

Emerson stared at the burning tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. "Oh, I don't know about that," he said. "There is that card that Anthony found. Where is it, by the way?"

Anthony got up and walked across the room to a round mahogany end table. He yanked open a drawer and pulled out a wrinkled piece of cardboard. Without a word he handed it to Emerson, who adjusted his glasses and squinted at the neat square printing.

"Auro est locus in quo conflatur,"
he muttered. "Gold, gathered together somewhere. A nugget? A gold statuette? A necklace? And how would such a thing help us find the Logos Cube? I can't imagine how. Then there's this thing about the great clue being in the Temple of the Winds. But I didn't see anything that looked like a miniature temple when we were at the mansion. Of course, there may be more to that ghoulish estate than what we've seen. There's that mass of trees, and who knows what may lie beyond it? At any rate, I intend to go back and explore, and I will not listen to anyone who tells me not to go!" Emerson
folded his arms and looked as stubborn as he possibly could.

Miss Eells was near despair. "Well, if you want to kill yourself, I suppose it's your own business," she said bitterly.

"Oh, I don't know," said Emerson, who was turning back into his usual optimistic self. "I got the two of us back safe and sound, didn't I?"

Miss Eells said nothing for several minutes. Then she pulled herself to her feet and yawned. "I don't know about you two, but I'm going to bed. And if I were you, Emerson Eells, I'd think long and hard before I went back to that dark and dangerous place. You may think you're saving the world, but you'll end up breaking your neck!"

Emerson sniffed disdainfully. Then he got up and walked off to the foot of the stairs to get a candle to light his way to bed. The other two followed him.

For the next several days Miss Eells and Anthony tried to go on with their vacation life of fishing and boating, which was a bit hard to do at this point. Emerson went with them sometimes, but it was clear that his mind was someplace else. Many times during the day he would go up to the room where the chest appeared, and he would stand in the doorway chewing his lip impatiently and drumming his fingers on the woodwork. "There has got to be a reason why the chest shows up when it does," Emerson would mutter from time to time. "It can't just be chance." He examined every inch of the barren, dusty little room, but he found only one odd thing: The window was divided into nine small panes, and the one in the upper right-hand corner had turned purple. This
usually happens only in very old houses with glass that is 200 years old or more. Impurities in the glass mix with sunlight to cause this change, but—as Emerson said to himself—this cottage was only about ninety years old. Which meant that somebody had deliberately put that purple pane up there. But why?

One evening as the three vacationers were enjoying a delicious fish dinner in the kitchen, Emerson announced that he had figured it all out. He had a very irritating know-it-all way of telling people about his discoveries, but Anthony and Miss Eells were used to him by now.

"The chest appears when some star or other shines through that purple pane," he said, as he munched a piece of fish. "That has got to be the explanation." Fussily, Emerson plucked a bone out of his fish fillet and laid it on the edge of his plate.

Miss Eells eyed her brother skeptically. "Then why doesn't the stupid chest appear every night? The summer constellations are in the sky now, and they'll be there for quite a while. If some star controls that chest, it would have been shining in the window at the same time every night for at least several weeks."

"Not if the sky was overcast," said Emerson smugly. "Personally, I think the star must be Arcturus. It is in the southern sky at present, and that window faces south."

"But wouldn't the chest disappear when the star moved past the window, or when clouds came to cover the stars?" put in Anthony timidly. He never felt good about
challenging Emerson's theories, but in this case he felt he had to.

Emerson rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "Good comment," he muttered. "Very good. As I recall, your solo expedition took place during a storm. But the stars had been out earlier that night, before the storm arose. All I can say is this: The star must make the chest appear, and once it's there, the chest stays until morning and then vanishes. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"About as reasonable as pineapple upside-down cake," said Miss Eells tartly. "As
I
recall, the very first time Anthony saw the chest, the stars were out, all right. But he took us straight up to the room, and the chest had disappeared. How do you explain that, Emerson Einstein Eells?"

Emerson looked cranky, but then he chuckled. "Elementary, my dear Myra. Anthony said he opened the chest and then closed it again. Obviously, opening the chest prepares it for its journey to Whatsis Land. We know what a
person
then has to do to travel in the chest: Climb in and say the magic words. But suppose you
didn't
want to make the trip yourself?"

Miss Eells muttered, "That wouldn't strain my supposer at all."

Emerson ignored her. "Let's say you only wanted to send some
object
to Foggy Bottom, something like, oh, a CARE package or an A-bomb. An object couldn't say the magical abracadabra, so you'd simply put it inside the chest and close the lid. Closing the lid puts the con
traption on automatic pilot and sends it on its merry way. So when Anthony closed the thing, he dispatched it to the other dimension. By the time we got to the room, the chest was off to the land of mist."

Miss Eells snorted. "You have an answer for everything, don't you, Mr. Smarty? I suppose we have to wait for a clear night to see if your theory works. Personally, I hope the sky stays clouded over till Labor Day. I think you're crazy to want to go back to that mansion!"

Emerson said nothing, but he got up and went to the cookstove to see if there were any fish fillets left. He had caught the fish himself, so of course he thought they tasted delicious.

Three straight days of rain and cloudy weather followed. All day it drizzled, and at night heavy downpours hid the lake from sight. Finally, though, the weather cleared, and Emerson began to get all worked up. It was a Thursday in mid-July, and that night he would be going back. Meanwhile, Miss Eells and Anthony had done a lot of talking in secret, and they had finally reached a decision: Come hell or high water they would go with Emerson. Anthony was sure he could help Emerson in some way, and Miss Eells felt that she would go out of her mind waiting for the other two to return. Besides, she was beginning to believe in the power of the amulets.