The Secret of the Ginger Mice (18 page)

“Waterfall!” came his friend's urgent reply. “We're headed for a waterfall!”

They were bucking and bouncing now as the water churned around them. Tibby was thrown off-balance and fell to her knees where she remained, still clutching the now useless pole. As water washed over the raft, Alistair, paddling frantically to no avail, watched with regret as the cloth bag containing the remainder of Mags's provisions was swept overboard. Then it occurred to him that they themselves might be swept overboard—and if not, that they were about to be plunged over what might be a very high drop. He was wondering if it would be better to jump overboard rather than hurtle to their deaths on their flimsy craft when, with a sense of dread, he remembered that Tibby couldn't swim. He knew that he couldn't abandon her after everything they'd been through, which meant they had only one option: they would go over the waterfall together.

13

A
lice grabbed her brother's arm. “
Get rid of them?
Did she mean—?”

“Shhh.” Alex flapped a hand to shush her. “I'm trying to listen.”

Below them, Horace shivered. “They're only children, Sophia.”

“They're
Gerandan
children, Horace, the children of spies, and they'll grow up to be members of that frightful FIG. Don't forget who you work for, dear. We'll be in enough trouble as it is for allowing the ginger brat to slip through our fingers. I just wish I knew who had him. From what those two say the aunt and uncle haven't
a clue, which suggests that FIG has nothing to do with his disappearance.” She pointed her breadstick at her companion. “It's a mystery, Horace, and I don't like mysteries—unless I've caused them myself.”

She rose from her chair, stretched her slender arms above her head, and gave a little yawn. “I suppose we'd better turn in. We've got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow. I'll check that the little dears are safely tucked up in their beds before I go to my room. And you will keep a watch on the front door, won't you, Horace? Just in case they should take it into their heads to slip off without us.”

“Of course, Sophia,” said Horace dismally. “Don't worry about me. I don't need sleep.”

“There's a dear,” said Sophia, and with a wave of her dainty hand she disappeared inside.

“Quick,” Alice hissed. “Close the shutters and then get under the covers and pretend you're asleep.”

She scampered back to her bed and climbed beneath the sheet, then waited with her heart pounding for Sophia to appear.

Minutes later they heard Sophia's light footsteps coming up the corridor. Then the door opened and a crack of light shone in, hitting Alice's face. Although her pulse was racing, Alice did her best to keep her breaths deep and regular and her eyelids motionless. From his
bed under the window Alex gave a snore. Then the door closed and they heard a fumbling at the lock before Sophia's footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall to the staircase.

“Alex,” Alice said in a small voice, “who has the key to the room?”

“I don't know,” said Alex's voice in the dark. “I think Horace had it. He took it when he brought our rucksack up.”

“I don't think he has it anymore,” said Alice. Slipping out of bed she hurried over to the door and tried the handle. “We're locked in!”

“Whoa,” said Alex. “This is not good.”

“We have to get out of here,” Alice said in a rush. “I'm scared.”

“But even if we could get out, Horace is watching the front door,” Alex replied.

“What about the window then?”

Alex shook his head. “It's too high,” he said. “Unless we had some kind of rope . . .” He looked around the room as if there might be a convenient coil of rope lying around. “I know.” He slipped off the bed and tugged at his sheet until it came free of the mattress.

“Not long enough,” he said. “Give me your sheet, sis.”

“Do you think the old tying-sheets-to-make-a-rope trick really works?” said Alice, as she watched her
brother knotting the two sheets together.

“Have you got a better idea?” Alex demanded.

“No.”

“Then keep quiet and let me do this.”

Alice kept quiet until she remembered another problem: “Sophia has the room under ours.” She shook her head in despair. “She really has thought of everything. If we go out the window, we'll have to climb down right past her window.”

Alex paused and rubbed his chin. Finally he shrugged. “Well, I can't think of another way out. We'll just have to wait till she's asleep and climb down as quietly as we can—and then run for it.”

He resumed work, tying one end of the makeshift rope to the bedhead, tugging to make sure the knot would hold.

“That should do it,” he said. “How long do you reckon we should wait?”

Alice shook her head. “I don't know . . . an hour?”

They lay on their beds in silence, struggling to stay awake as they waited for the hour to pass. Sophia's words replayed over and over in Alice's mind.
We'll get rid of them . . . ginger brat . . . They're Gerandan children, the children of spies
. . . . She felt a cold chill run down her spine and sat up abruptly.

“Let's go.”

Very quietly, Alex eased open the shutters and leaned over the window ledge. “Okay,” he said in a whisper, “her light's off.” He slowly fed the tied sheets out the window, then turned to face his sister. “There might be a bit of a drop at the bottom if the rope doesn't reach all the way down, but it shouldn't be too bad. I'll go first. When I give you the thumbs-up, throw me the rucksack, then you climb down.”

He gave a last tug of the sheet where it was tied to the bedhead, then slipped off the window ledge.

Alice watched anxiously as he descended. The white sheets seemed to glow against the wall, drawing attention to their escape attempt.

She peered into the dark as Alex slipped silently past Sophia's window, half expecting to hear a shout as they were discovered.

At last he was standing on the terrace, and Alice could just make out his thumbs-up. She lifted the rucksack and dropped it into his outstretched arms. There was a faint
oomph
as he caught it. Then it was her turn to descend.

She climbed onto the windowsill. It looked like a long way down. Her hand was trembling as she clutched the rope. She closed her other hand around the rope and, holding it tight, dropped off the ledge. She swung in the air for a moment, the flagstones of the terrace spinning dizzily, then her feet touched the wall of the hotel and
she was able to steady herself. One hand after the other, knees gripping the rope, she inched down. She resisted the impulse to shut her eyes as she passed Sophia's window, concentrating instead on her careful progress. It seemed like ages before she felt Alex grab her knees. She let go of the rope, and he lowered her to the ground.

Alex slung the rucksack over one shoulder, and they crept around the side of the hotel to the road.

“Okay,” he said, “let's get out of here.”

They began to run, anxious to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the treacherous Sophia and Horace.

Once they were out of sight of the hotel, and the rush of adrenaline from their narrow escape began to ease, they slowed their pace to a steady jog, glancing behind them frequently to make sure they weren't being followed.

When she felt like her legs could no longer carry her, Alice gasped, “I need to stop for a minute, Alex.” Her lungs were burning as she stood by the side of the road, hands on her knees, panting for breath.

Alex, who didn't appear out of breath in the slightest, looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, sis?”

Alice straightened. “Yes . . . no . . . I don't know. I feel like we're further from finding Alistair than ever. If Sophia and Horace are Sourian agents and they don't
have him, then who does? And who do you suppose told them to follow us?”

Alex dropped the rucksack to the ground and rolled his shoulders to ease the muscles. “I don't know. Queen Eugenia?”

“Queen Eugenia?” It didn't seem possible to Alice that the Queen of Souris could possibly be interested in the doings of two young mice from Smiggins in Shetlock. But something wasn't right. The two spies seemed to know too much about them. “Maybe we're going the wrong way,” said Alice. “We should go back to Smiggins. What if Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer are in danger? What if Horace and Sophia didn't know for sure that Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer had been in contact with FIG, and they were trying to trap us into admitting it? Oh no!” Alice put her hands to her cheeks. “I can't believe we've been so stupid! If we had said ‘What's FIG?' they wouldn't have known for sure that Beezer and Ebenezer had anything to do with it. But we as good as admitted that the whole family was part of it. What if, while we're in Shambles, Horace and Sophia decide to go back to interrogate our aunt and uncle about the resistance?”

Alex, who looked like he was having trouble following Alice's disordered thoughts, argued, “But what about Alistair? What if he
is
in Shambles and Sophia and Horace go there and find him?”

Alice covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head. “I don't know what to do,” she wailed. “Who's in more danger: Alistair, or Beezer and Ebenezer?”

“Or us?” added Alex, glancing back down the road. “Look, their first priority seems to be Alistair, so I think he should be our first priority too. Besides, Beezer and Ebenezer have each other, and Alistair only has us to help him.”

And so it was decided. They'd continue on to Shambles.

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