The Four-Fingered Man by Cerberus Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

suddenly lit up. ‘I nearly forgot
– I’ve got something to show you! Not here, though. C’mon.’
    He dragged her to the far end of the hotel, rounding a corner and sitting in a little
nook seat where they were shielded from view on three sides.
    ‘Check this out.’ He took from his pocket the little cylinder he’d found the day
before, and twisted one of the brass rings. A little light glowed at one end.
    ‘A torch?’ said Amelia, wondering if they’d finally found something in this place
that was less mysterious than it seemed.
    But then Charlie twisted the ring again, and the light flared up and opened like
a little fan. The fan stared rotating faster and faster to create a cone of light,
its point spinning on the end of the cylinder, its flat end like a circular platform
a handspan above.
    ‘Whaaaaaat?’ Amelia peered closer, and Charlie twisted the ring a third time.

    Now, on the platform of light, a tiny figure appeared – a man wearing an old-fashioned
coat that reached past his knees. The figure rotated on the platform so they could
see it at all angles.
    ‘Whoa. Charlie. What is that?’
    ‘I don’t know. This is as far as I got last night before Mum came in and busted me
for not sleeping. A spy communicator, maybe?’
    Amelia looked at the little figure. Her stomach gave a sudden jolt. If they could
see the man in the old coat, did that mean he could see them too?
    No, she told herself. The figure on the platform was frozen in place, way too still
to be actually alive.
    Amelia shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a real person. More like a 3D picture
of a person. Can it do anything else?’
    ‘I’ll try.’ Charlie twisted a different ring, and a burst of light flashed out of
the other end of the cylinder, blinding Amelia for a moment as it blasted straight
into her face.
    ‘Whoops! Sorry, Amelia.’
    She rubbed her face and blinked until her vision came back. ‘What was that?’
    ‘I don’t know, but look – it’s shut down now.
    Or broken.’
    ‘Weird.’
    Charlie shook the cylinder and twisted different rings in various directions and
combinations. Nothing happened.
    ‘Hey, your dad’s a scientist, right? Have you ever seen anything like this in his
stuff?’
    ‘No,’ said Amelia. ‘He’s not that type of ...’
    She trailed off, the weight dropping back into her stomach. She didn’t think this
thing could be anything of Dad’s. Or anything Dad would know about. But if he and
Mum were keeping secrets for Tom, who knew what else they were hiding?
    ‘Do you think he’d be able to figure it out, though?’ Charlie pushed.
    ‘No,’ said Amelia. Then realising how snappy she’d sounded, she went on, ‘Actually,
James is the one who loves gadgets and puzzles. If you want to ask anyone, you should
–’
    ‘It’s all right,’ said Charlie, pulling the cylinder closer to him. ‘I’ll keep trying
on my own for a while.’
    Amelia looked at the cylinder, her eyes narrowed. There was this thing in science
that Dad always talked about: Occam’s razor. Only it wasn’t really a razor, it was
an idea – a principle. It said that whenever you have a problem that needs explaining,
the simplest solution is usually the right answer.
    Right now, the problem was all over the place: weird, suspect Tom; crazy Miss Ardman;
Miss Ardman’s foul tank of bugs on one hand and amazing jewels on the other; Mum,
Dad and Mary all in on some secret Tom knew about … and now this funny little cylinder.
According to Occam’s razor, the right answer should neatly link all those things
into one story. But what on Earth could link those things together?
    ‘Hey, look,’ said Charlie. He tried the cylinder again, and the light came back on.
    ‘Maybe it reset,’ said Amelia.
    Charlie nodded, and twisted the ring so that the little figure of the man appeared.
So far, so good. He twisted the same ring a fourth time, and this time the man disappeared
but the cone stayed in place. The light kind of