“No, it is not OK, Araminta,” the pink rabbit said.
“But you are going to do it?” I asked.
“I suppose,” grumbled the pink rabbit.
I led the way along the little creepy corridor, making sure that the pink rabbit was following me. When we got to the end I peered around the corner to the big entrance hall with the four pillars. Brilliant! Both Vultures were outside Miss Gargoyle’s door. We tiptoed over and hid behind the nearest pillar.
“Hur-hur,” the Yellow Vulture was saying. “Those two little weeds who arrived yesterday won’t last another night.”
“Not after their day down the cellar,” sniggered the Blue Vulture. “With all those spiders. Hey, Foul, did you see how scared they were?”
“Yeah. That was fun.”
“You know, I’ll miss this place. Best fun we’ve ever had. But job done.”
“So when’s Dad coming, Vile?”
“I told him tonight at midnight. I’m waiting until this afternoon when old Gargoyle is desperate for her tea, then we’ll do a raid and grab the register.”
“But the weed is still signed in, Vile,” said the Yellow Vulture.
“Don’t worry, Foul. I’ll fix that somehow. She won’t be on that register by midnight, you can be sure of that. Hur-hur!”
“Ooh, Vile, you are clever.”
“Yeah, I am. So it’s bye-bye Gargoyle Academy for stupid girls and silly little weeds!”
The pink rabbit and I looked at each other. The rabbit was as cross as I was. “Weeds!” it mouthed. “We’ll show them weeds, Araminta!” It straightened up the bent wire in its ears so they stood up properly and gave me a double thumbs-up sign. I grinned and did the same. Spook’s Detective Agency was in business.
The pink rabbit shot out from behind the pillar and I watched its fluffy white tail bob up and down as it bunny-hopped across the chequered floor. The Vultures stared at it like they had seen a ghost. Their mouths dropped open and stayed that way and their vulture eyes went all round and googly, just like Wanda’s do sometimes. The pink rabbit was very brave. It hopped right up to them and got so close that I was afraid one of them might grab it—but the Vultures were too surprised to move.
The rabbit waved its arms and yelled out, “Hey, smelly Vultures sitting on a tree, you’re so stupid you can’t catch me! He he he!” Then it turned and ran. It shot right past me and I saw it had a big smile on its face. I was afraid for a moment that it would give me away by saying something to me as it ran past, but it didn’t even give me a glance. It was a True Professional.
Then the Blue Vulture yelled out, “Grab it!” and they were off. They hurtled by and disappeared into the creepy corridor after the pink rabbit. I really wanted to watch and make sure the rabbit got into the cellar all right, but there was no time to lose. I raced over to Miss Gargoyle’s study, undid the bolt and ran in. Miss Gargoyle hadn’t moved since I saw her through the window. She looked up and opened her mouth to say something but I didn’t give her a chance.
“I have come to rescue you,” I said. “Come with me. Quick, before the Vultures come back.”
Miss Gargoyle understood at once. She jumped to her feet, snatched up the school register from her desk and, clutching it to her like a baby, she followed me out. As I was bolting the door I heard the clicketty-clacketty of their footsteps coming back. Miss Gargoyle looked at me in panic—there was no time to get out of the front doors. She grabbed hold of me, pulled me across to a cupboard labelled Trunks, dragged me inside with her and closed the door.
I could not believe a headmistress could be so stupid—she had got us both trapped in an even tinier place than her study. Added to that it was totally dark in the cupboard; there were no windows. Even though she was the headmistress, I wanted to tell her what a total twit she was but I couldn’t even do that because outside, only a few feet away, were the two Vultures.
“What on earth was that stupid rabbit thing?” one of them was saying.
“Don’t be daft, Foul. Didn’t you recognise those googly eyes? It was one of the weeds.”
“But they’re locked in the cellar.”
“Not any more, dumbo. Obviously, they’ve got out.”
“Yeah, right. They get out and what’s the first thing one of them does—changes into a rabbit costume and starts dancing right in front of us? No, Vile, I don’t think so.”
“Well, I’m going to go and check the cellar. Something’s up, Foul. And I don’t like it.”
I heard Miss Gargoyle tut-tut under her breath. Then she reached across me and pressed something in the wall. The floor gave a little lurch and suddenly we were moving. “It’s all right, Araminta dear,” she said. “It’s a lift. For the school trunks.”
Aha, I thought. I knew what Uncle Drac would say just then: Miss Gargoyle is not as green as she is cabbage looking. Which is a funny way of saying that someone is not as daft as you thought they were.
We got out of the trunk lift and stepped into our attic corridor. As soon as I closed the lift door it went back down again—someone had called it.
Miss Gargoyle hurried along the attic corridor with the school register tucked firmly under her arm. “Come along, Araminta,” she said. “We are going to see Matron. I need to keep the school register safely under lock and key. I am not letting those—what did you call them, Vultures was it? Very good, I like that—Vultures get hold of it. Never, never, never!”
Now, a good detective always makes sure she has all the facts. And there was one fact I was missing: why was the school register so important? So I said, “Why do the Vultures want to get the school register, Miss Gargoyle?”
Miss Gargoyle looked at me with her little blue eyes, which were sad beneath her spectacles. “There is what they call a covenant on the use of Gargoyle Hall. It says as long as there is at least one girl signed in the school register, Gargoyle Hall must be used as a school. This register,” Miss Gargoyle held the fat, red leather book up for me to see, “is an important legal document and I fear that Violetta and Philomena are not to be trusted. I am not letting this out of my sight.”
“Why don’t you just expel them?” I asked as we reached Matron’s bank-vault door.
Miss Gargoyle looked wistful. I could tell she wanted to. “It’s complicated, dear,” she said. “I don’t want to upset their father. He owns the school, you see. And of course, if I did expel them, you would be the only girl in the school.”
“Not the only one, Miss Gargoyle,” I said. “My friend Wanda Wizzard is here too. She stowed away in my trunk. And she dressed up as a pink rabbit to be a diversion so that I could rescue you. She would love to be in the school register. In fact, you could put her in right now!”
Miss Gargoyle looked at me and smiled. “Well, Araminta, you do tell me the strangest things. But I am sorry to say I can’t put your friend in the register. She must sign it for herself.”
“I could sign it for her,” I offered. “I can do her signature really well.”
Miss Gargoyle sighed. “That is very kind of you, Araminta, but at Gargoyle Hall we do the right thing and abide by the rules. And to tell you the truth, neither you nor your friend may want to stay for much longer. There is a rumour about a Beast of Gargoyle Hall. It roars at night, and I have to admit I have heard it. And of course, when Gargoyle girls hear it, they don’t want to stay at the school any more.”
“We have heard it too,” I told her. “We thought it was very interesting. It is nice to have something like that in a school, I think.”
“How quaint. But sadly no one else sees it like that.”
“I know. Which is why we are going to help to get rid of it for you. And then all the girls who left because it scared them will come back and this will be a school for ever and ever.”
“Ah, the optimism of youth,” Miss Gargoyle sighed. “Now, let’s see if Matron is in.” She knocked loudly on the door.
“Who is it?” We heard Matron’s voice trill nervously.
“
Open the door, Brunhilde!” Miss Gargoyle shouted. “It is I, Ermintrude!”
There was the clanking sound of all the bolts being drawn and chains being taken off, then Matron opened the door and peered out.
“We are seeking sanctuary,” said Miss Gargoyle.
Matron looked blank. “Seeking who?”
“Just let us in, will you?” Miss Gargoyle sounded quite snappy. She glanced over her shoulder anxiously. We could hear the trunk lift coming back up—a Vulture was on her way. “Step aside, Brunhilde!” Miss Gargoyle pushed me into Matron’s room, then she hurried in after me and very quietly closed the bank-vault door.
Matron’s room had a sweet little arched window and a squashy sofa, but there was no way I could stay. “Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I said. And before Matron could start turning keys and shooting home bolts, I zoomed out.
I had a pink rabbit to find.
Outside Matron’s room I stopped and listened. I heard the trunk lift arrive and I knew I had to hide—I had a dangerous Prime Suspect looking for me. One of the things you have to do when you are a Chief Detective is to think fast. And what I was thinking, very fast indeed, was that the first place a Vulture would look was in our cabin. So, as the door to the trunk lift banged open, I slipped into the cabin opposite. Success! The Blue Vulture went clicketty-clackettying into our cabin and while she was looking under the beds I crept out and ran to the trunk lift.
Unfortunately, Vultures have really good hearing. The Blue Vulture poked her beak out of our door. “Oi, weed!” she yelled and raced after me. But she was not fast enough—I was already in the lift. I slammed the door closed and frantically pressed the button with B for basement on it. And then, to the sound of lots of door-rattling and some very rude words, the trunk lift began to move. And there was Chief Detective Spook, squished into a dark little box, heading down through Gargoyle Hall, escaping one dangerous Prime Suspect. But was she heading straight for another one?
The B lit up and the lift came to a stop. Very carefully, I pushed open the door, but it made a really loud creak. Bother. Outside the lift it was very gloomy and had that damp spider smell, so I knew I was in the basement, which was good. But suddenly, I heard the clicketty-clacketty sounds of Vulture feet coming my way.
“Hey, Vile,” a Vulture voice called out. “Did you find old Gargoyle and the register?”
I shot out of the lift, leaving its door open so that the Blue Vulture couldn’t call it back up, then I zoomed around the corner into the shadows.
“Vile? Vile, is that you?” The Yellow Vulture’s voice echoed eerily in the gloom of the narrow basement passage.
I tiptoed away—very fast—and saw some steps heading up to a glass-panelled door. Hooray! Through the glass I could see a tree; I was nearly outside. I raced up the steps, pushed open the door and almost fell out into a grassy ditch. I hurried along the ditch heading towards where I thought the little cellar window was. I got there just in time to see a pair of pink ears wobbling around, as if they were trying to make up their minds what to do. So I made up their minds for them—I grabbed them and pulled.
“Argh! Getoffme!” the rabbit yelled.
“Shut-up-Wanda-it’s-me!” I hissed. I gave another massive pull and a very grubby pink rabbit fell into the ditch. “We-gotta-get-outta-here!” I whispered (because that is what detectives always say). The rabbit nodded, its ears bouncing up and down in a way I would have laughed at if we hadn’t had more important things to do right then—like make ourselves scarce. Which is what detectives have to do sometimes when a pair of dangerous suspects have decided to chase them.
“Hey, Foul! I can see them!” came a yell from the Blue Vulture.
“Oh, ha ha! Look at those stupid ears!” the Yellow Vulture laughed.
The pink rabbit looked really cross at being laughed at, but I grabbed hold of its paw and we headed for the woods bordering the drive at top speed. Just before the woods there was a fence, but there were lots of holes in it, so I squeezed through and pulled the rabbit after me. Then we raced across to a really big tree and stopped to catch our breath, listening hard for the sound of any approaching Vultures.
“They’re laughing,” the pink rabbit said.
“Don’t be silly, why would they be laughing? Anyway, how come you can hear it and I can’t?”
“Because I have big ears.”
“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” I listened a bit harder and I realised that the pink rabbit was probably right. There were some very odd cackling noises coming from the other side of the fence. I peered around the tree to see if the Vultures were following us but there was no sign of them at all.
Now we had to get to what we detectives call the rendezvous. This is a place where you have agreed to meet someone—and our rendezvous was the boarded-up lodge at the end of the drive. We set off, trying to keep out of sight of the hall by dodging from tree to tree.
At last we reached the lodge. We headed around the back and found a little ramshackle greenhouse and we sat in there. And waited. At first it was quite exciting; we ate the pink shrimps and made lots of plans about how Fang was going to hunt down the Beast of Gargoyle Hall and get rid of the horrible Vultures. But as time went on and there was no sign of Mathilda, it began to get boring. And then, as it grew colder and spots of rain started falling through the broken glass of the greenhouse it got very boring indeed. By now all the pink shrimps were gone and both our tummies were rumbling. It was growing dark and we were getting desperate—we were playing I-Spy.
“I-Spy with my little eye, something beginning with … P,” said Wanda.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ve done all the Ps already. We’ve done Pots, we’ve done Potatoes (mouldy), we’ve done Parsley (dead), we’ve done Pebbles, we’ve even done Pants—and I know you can’t see my pants, Wanda. There aren’t any more things beginning with P.”
“Do you give up?” asked Wanda.
“I give up.”
Wanda waggled one of her rabbit ears. “Pink!”
“Pink is not an object,” I told her. “Pink is a description of an object. And besides, the object is not pink any longer. It is yukky grey and—ooh! I can hear a motorbike!”
We both jumped up and rushed around to the front. We saw the single light from the headlamp on Mathilda’s motorbike. As it drew nearer we saw the outline of the sidecar, and sitting in the sidecar we saw the unmistakable shape of Sir Horace.
The motorbike came to a halt. It was making its usual putt-putt-putter-putt sound but now it had a strange rattle as well. I hoped there was nothing wrong with it. Fang was sitting on Sir Horace’s lap with his tongue hanging out, looking very excited, but Sir Horace looked decidedly wobbly, like a pile of cups that have been stacked up too high and you just know that if you even breathe on them they will fall over. Personally, I do not think it is a good idea for five-hundred-year-old suits of armour to travel in motorbike sidecars.
Mathilda pushed up her goggles and quickly said, “Before you say anything, Araminta, Sir Horace insisted on coming. He said he could not leave a … oh, what was it … a dismal in this dress—”
“Damsel in distress, actually, Mathilda,” I said.
“Yeah? Well, one of those, whatever it is, to face such danger alone. So then I had to get him out of the house without Aunt Tabby seeing. It wasn’t very easy.”
I didn’t imagine it was. There was no way Aunt Tabby would have allowed her favourite suit of armour to go roaring off in a motorbike sidecar. But now we had a problem. While it would be easy to sneak the ghost of a wolfhound into Gargoyle Hall, it was a completely different matter with a rusty old suit of armour that looked as though it was about to fall to bits at any moment. I now realised that it wasn’t the motorbike making the odd rattling noise—it was Sir Horace. He raised a shaky armoured glove and gave me a little salute.
“At your service, Miss Spook,” he boomed, and I was relieved that his voice was still as loud as ever. He pointed at the lights of Gargoyle Hall, which we
could see flickering through the trees. “Onwards! We shall take them by storm and defeat the Foul and Vile Vultures.”
Mathilda revved up the bike. “Don’t look so worried, Araminta!” she shouted over the engine noise. “Sir Horace has a plan! We’ll see you there!” And she zoomed away down the drive. As I watched them go I saw Edmund riding pillion behind her, hanging on like a limpet.
I was not pleased. As Chief Detective it is my job to have the plans—it is definitely not the job of a rusty five-hundred-year-old ghost. And I was not pleased to see Edmund, either, as I knew he would just get scared and be in everyone’s way. But there was nothing I could do about it. Mathilda and her three ghosts were now no more than a red light bouncing along the drive, heading towards Gargoyle Hall—with a pink rabbit following them.
“Come on, Araminta!” the rabbit yelled. “This is going to be fun!”
I knew Wanda was excited because Edmund was there, and I felt cross because Wanda is my sidekick. I didn’t want Wanda listening to Edmund and not to me, which is what usually happens. Not that I was jealous or anything.
As we got nearer the hall I saw something suspicious. There was a long ladder going all the way up to an attic window—a little arched window, just like the one in Matron’s room.
“Look at that ladder,” I whispered to Wanda. “That is very suspicious.”
“Why?” Wanda asked.
“Because ladders always are. Every detective knows that.”
I wanted to investigate, but we had to get to Gargoyle Hall before Mathilda barged in with Sir Horace and messed up all my plans. We arrived, completely puffed out, just in time to see the big doors close as Sir Horace, Fang, Edmund and Mathilda disappeared inside. I was about to grab Wanda and push her up the steps to follow them when the Vultures came marching around the corner, so I pulled Wanda back behind a column. Then I peered out to see what my two Prime Suspects were doing. I gasped.
“What is it?” whispered Wanda.
I was too shocked to reply.