second chamber, bigger and cooler than the one Mr Tucker was using as his laboratory. In the middle an oblong marble coffin stood on a platform. Screwed into it was a gold plaque.
The group tiptoed towards it. Michael flashed his torch at the plaque.
H OWARD M ACKINTOSH T OFFLY
1879–1934
M AY HE FINALLY BE AT PEACE
‘It’s like a fridge in here.’ Callie shivered.
‘That’s so his corpse doesn’t decompose,’ Mr Tucker said helpfully.
CRASH!
A gust of wind blew the door shut. The only light came from the thin beams of their torches.
Callie screamed.
‘It’s okay, darling!’ Mrs Cheddar held her hand.
They flashed their torches around.
There was no sign of Atticus.
‘He must be here somewhere,’ Mrs Cheddar said, her voice shaking.
The children felt their way around the walls. ‘Atticus!’ they whispered. ‘Atticus!’
‘What about down here?’ Mrs Tucker said.
In one corner of the room was a trapdoor. Someone had lifted it up. Steep steps led down from it into the dark earth.
‘Atticus couldn’t lift that.’ Mrs Cheddar frowned.
‘If he can paddle across a lake, he can lift a trapdoor ,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I reckon he’s sleepwalking. And when you’re sleepwalking, you can do pretty much anything your brain tells you to. Come on.’ She put Mimi in her basket and led the way carefully down the narrow steps. Michael came next with the torch. Mrs Cheddar followed with Callie. Mr Tucker limped along at the rear, cursing his wooden leg.
‘There he is!’ Callie cried.
Atticus was a little way ahead of them, padding slowly down the steps into the darkness.
‘Atticus!’ Michael whispered.
‘Atticus!’ Callie said it louder. Her voice echoed off the damp walls.
Atticus didn’t seem to hear them. He padded on.
‘Shhhh,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘If he’s sleepwalking we need to be careful how we wake him up.’
‘Why?’ Callie hissed.
‘In case he gets stuck in his dream,’ Mrs Tucker whispered grimly.
The steps ended in a passageway. Atticus padded along it. Suddenly he stopped. He’d reached a brick wall.
‘It’s a dead end!’ Michael sounded half relieved, half disappointed.
‘Wait!’ Callie breathed. ‘What’s he doing now?’
‘He’s looking for something!’ Mrs Cheddar said.
Atticus paced up and down, his eyes fixed to the wall. Eventually he found what he was looking for. He raised a paw. He placed it against a brick. There was a grinding sound as part of the wall rolled sideways.
‘The secret chamber!’ Callie whispered.
Atticus disappeared through the opening.
The others followed a safe distance behind. They paused to gaze at the wall in the torchlight. It was covered in strange symbols.
‘Hieroglyphs!’ Mrs Cheddar whispered.
There were paintings too.
‘The cat pharaoh!’ Mrs Tucker gasped.
The paintings were of a large black-and- brown-striped tabby with white socks and deep green eyes. He was wearing a pharaoh’s headdress of blue and gold.
‘It’s Atticus!’ Michael and Callie said together.
‘Flamin’ fishfingers!’ Mr Tucker whistled.
‘It looks just like him!’ Mrs Cheddar stared.
‘I knew it!’ Mrs Tucker muttered.
They entered the secret chamber. The floor was littered with statues of the cat pharaoh. They looked identical to the paintings outside.
‘They can’t all be real,’ Mrs Cheddar said.
‘They’re not.’ Mrs Tucker picked one up and examined it.
‘How do
you
know, Edna?’ Mr Tucker asked, bewildered.
‘Because when I was Agent Whelk, I spent several months in Egypt living with the Bedouin in the desert,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I’ve been to the pyramids. I’ve seen Ancient Egyptian treasure. These are fake.’
‘So where’s the book?’ Michael whispered.
‘I’ll bet one of these is a
real
statue Howard Toffly stole from the lost city of Nebu-Mau.’ Mrs Tucker looked round slowly. ‘He’s tried to disguise it by having all these replicas made. My guess is the book will be hidden
The group tiptoed towards it. Michael flashed his torch at the plaque.
H OWARD M ACKINTOSH T OFFLY
1879–1934
M AY HE FINALLY BE AT PEACE
‘It’s like a fridge in here.’ Callie shivered.
‘That’s so his corpse doesn’t decompose,’ Mr Tucker said helpfully.
CRASH!
A gust of wind blew the door shut. The only light came from the thin beams of their torches.
Callie screamed.
‘It’s okay, darling!’ Mrs Cheddar held her hand.
They flashed their torches around.
There was no sign of Atticus.
‘He must be here somewhere,’ Mrs Cheddar said, her voice shaking.
The children felt their way around the walls. ‘Atticus!’ they whispered. ‘Atticus!’
‘What about down here?’ Mrs Tucker said.
In one corner of the room was a trapdoor. Someone had lifted it up. Steep steps led down from it into the dark earth.
‘Atticus couldn’t lift that.’ Mrs Cheddar frowned.
‘If he can paddle across a lake, he can lift a trapdoor ,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I reckon he’s sleepwalking. And when you’re sleepwalking, you can do pretty much anything your brain tells you to. Come on.’ She put Mimi in her basket and led the way carefully down the narrow steps. Michael came next with the torch. Mrs Cheddar followed with Callie. Mr Tucker limped along at the rear, cursing his wooden leg.
‘There he is!’ Callie cried.
Atticus was a little way ahead of them, padding slowly down the steps into the darkness.
‘Atticus!’ Michael whispered.
‘Atticus!’ Callie said it louder. Her voice echoed off the damp walls.
Atticus didn’t seem to hear them. He padded on.
‘Shhhh,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘If he’s sleepwalking we need to be careful how we wake him up.’
‘Why?’ Callie hissed.
‘In case he gets stuck in his dream,’ Mrs Tucker whispered grimly.
The steps ended in a passageway. Atticus padded along it. Suddenly he stopped. He’d reached a brick wall.
‘It’s a dead end!’ Michael sounded half relieved, half disappointed.
‘Wait!’ Callie breathed. ‘What’s he doing now?’
‘He’s looking for something!’ Mrs Cheddar said.
Atticus paced up and down, his eyes fixed to the wall. Eventually he found what he was looking for. He raised a paw. He placed it against a brick. There was a grinding sound as part of the wall rolled sideways.
‘The secret chamber!’ Callie whispered.
Atticus disappeared through the opening.
The others followed a safe distance behind. They paused to gaze at the wall in the torchlight. It was covered in strange symbols.
‘Hieroglyphs!’ Mrs Cheddar whispered.
There were paintings too.
‘The cat pharaoh!’ Mrs Tucker gasped.
The paintings were of a large black-and- brown-striped tabby with white socks and deep green eyes. He was wearing a pharaoh’s headdress of blue and gold.
‘It’s Atticus!’ Michael and Callie said together.
‘Flamin’ fishfingers!’ Mr Tucker whistled.
‘It looks just like him!’ Mrs Cheddar stared.
‘I knew it!’ Mrs Tucker muttered.
They entered the secret chamber. The floor was littered with statues of the cat pharaoh. They looked identical to the paintings outside.
‘They can’t all be real,’ Mrs Cheddar said.
‘They’re not.’ Mrs Tucker picked one up and examined it.
‘How do
you
know, Edna?’ Mr Tucker asked, bewildered.
‘Because when I was Agent Whelk, I spent several months in Egypt living with the Bedouin in the desert,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I’ve been to the pyramids. I’ve seen Ancient Egyptian treasure. These are fake.’
‘So where’s the book?’ Michael whispered.
‘I’ll bet one of these is a
real
statue Howard Toffly stole from the lost city of Nebu-Mau.’ Mrs Tucker looked round slowly. ‘He’s tried to disguise it by having all these replicas made. My guess is the book will be hidden
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