The Society of Dread by Glenn Dakin Read Free Book Online Page B

starving. He knew fromall his story books that bad men didn’t prosper, and not getting to eat much was the least he expected them to suffer.
    Theo felt off-balance. Suddenly he remembered Chloe – how he wished that she were there to advise him! She would say it was bad tradecraft to let an enemy eat your breakfast or something clever like that.
    ‘So tell me,’ said Theo. ‘What can
I
do?’
    Lord Dove jumped up as a heavy tread sounded at the door.
    ‘Rapscallion,’ said a lowered voice. It was Montmerency. ‘I think the time might be right, sir,’ he said. ‘I would get moving if I were you.’
    ‘All right,’ said Lord Dove. He turned back to Theo. ‘So will you help? If I give you the means to enter the network, will you go?’
    Theo nodded. Freddie Dove was with Sam and Magnus. They were all survivors together. Anything Theo could do to help Freddie would also benefit his friends. It might – Theo hardly dared to hope – also lead him towards Chloe.
    Lord Dove leant forwards. A little nerve was quivering under the haggard man’s left eye.
    ‘Do you have the seal of the Society of Good Works?’ Lord Dove asked.
    Theo nodded. The Society’s solicitor, Mr Sunder, had made it clear Theo should keep the seal secret, and near to him at all times. Theo had already used it once or twice, making documents official by pressing its symbol into wax.
    Lord Dove now looked very nervous. Theo awaited what he had to say. He had the feeling that a lot depended on what Lord Dove was about to ask. The whiskery face drew nearer to him.
    ‘And have the police said anything to you about the ice house?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Then let me show you a little secret.’

Chapter Eleven
The Capsule
    ‘W here are we?’ Sam whispered.
    Darkness was all around them. The prisoners were exhausted after a long march down a series of broken stone stairways and winding tunnels. Every step of the way, thorny tendrils had slithered over their feet and around their ankles, reminding them of their peril. Now they had stopped on the edge of a big black crater, the rim of which could just be made out, due to a faint glow from within.
    The air was full of drifting fumes. The distant rumble and clank of machinery reverberated all around them.
    ‘Judging from the acoustics,’ Magnus said, ‘my guess as to our location –’ Here he stopped and gasped for air, his eyes bulging. ‘Hurrrrgh!’
    Magnus opened and shut his mouth like a drowning goldfish.
    ‘Great Scott,’ Freddie Dove gasped. ‘He’s going to drop dead!’
    Sam slapped Magnus on the back.
    ‘No, he’s not,’ Sam said. ‘Magnus always does this. His eloquence is too long for his wind. Keep it short, eh, Grandad?’
    The prisoners fell silent as one of the Sewer Rats walked by, then disappeared down a stairway into the crater. Sam went to peer down after him, but a tendril pulled him back sharply.
    ‘Don’t annoy them, you idiot!’ Freddie snapped.
    ‘I was going to say,’ whispered Magnus, ‘that I believe we have now reached the bottom of the Well Chamber, the great cavern where Dr Saint performed his experiments.’
    Sam looked puzzled. ‘But – but I thought all this was destroyed in the big battle.’
    Magnus nodded. ‘The great alchemical explosion did destroy the mechanical contrivances of the Well Chamber, but –
hurrrgh
– they appear to have awoken something else . . . underneath. There are old Society legends,’ he added, ending with a deepfrown, and silence.
    ‘Go on,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t stop there!’
    ‘I don’t want to worry you,’ said Magnus.
    ‘For Pete’s sake!’ Sam exploded. ‘What could be more worrying than you saying: “I don’t want to worry you!”?’
    ‘Silence!’ bellowed Hollister, the enormous Sewer Rat chief.
    ‘The Mysteries must be respected,’ muttered Magnus, lapsing into silence.
    ‘But, Grandad – arrrgh!’ Sam cried out as he received a blow to the head from Hollister’s wooden staff. The great,