Limbo Lodge by Joan Aiken Page B

still, Shaki-miss, and no harm will come to you.”
    “Remember poor Tonio?” the fat guard said in a thoughtful tone.
    “Yes, the poor lad, and how he turned blue?”
    “He swelled up and turned blue; he took a week screaming and dying.”
    “How he did scream.”
    “May he rest in peace,” both men said. “Into the hut, Shaki-girl; watch out for the furry friend.”
    The door slammed behind Dido. Outside it she could hear one of the guards saying, “Now: you can be black and I shall be white.”
    “ No , caramba! We shall shake the dice for it.” They began to quarrel.
    Dido stood quite still, looking hard about her. She let her eyes grow accustomed to the dusk inside the hut.
    It was tiny, and completely bare: dirt floor, wooden walls, two slit windows, high up, which let in a red light filtered through the clove blossoms. The floor and the corners were in shadow. As Dido stood quietly, leaning against the door, she thought she heard a shuffling, scraping sound in one corner. Looking attentively in that direction, moving her eyes only, she began to interpret the huddled shadow, and saw a frill of white fur, a darker triangle of face, two pale eyes. It was a sting-monkey, flattening itself into the angle of the walls. It was terrified.
    It’s as scared of me as I am of it, thought Dido. Jist so long as it don’t panic . . .
    She stood as still as a post, trying to send mental messages to the creature. I’m harmless, I’m friendly. I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me.
    It’s their tails, she remembered Captain Sanderson telling her. Docked of its tail, a sting-monkey would be as harmless as a kitten. But they are nervous. They flick the tail over their shoulder, like a scorpion – that’s why they are sometimes called scorpion monkeys – and, if the sting touches you, you’re done for. Dead as mutton.
    Dido swallowed. She was still just as thirsty as she had been before. Thirstier.
    So – it seemed – was the monkey. She could see its whiskers tremble, as it smelt the liquor in the bowl. By infinitesimal, creeping stages, it began to inch its way forwards towards the drink it craved.
    What’s that liquor going to do to the beast? Dido wondered. A cold trickle of sweat began to creep down between her shoulder blades.
    The monkey suddenly jumped forward, put its face down to the bowl, and began to drink in audible, splashing swallows.
    If only I had something to bash it with, thought Dido. But there was nothing in the hut, nothing at all.
    Outside, the voices of the two guards grew louder and louder, as they argued about the game.
    The monkey had finished every drop in the bowl. It picked up the bowl in its two slender little black hands, tilting to pour out the last trickle. Then it dropped the bowl, which broke. Then it began to bounce up and down on all four feet.
    As if it were dancing, Dido thought. Croopus! The beast’s as drunk as a fiddler.
    The monkey began to whirl round and round. Its tail flew out like the sail of a windmill. Dido flattened herself against the wall.
    The men outside could evidently hear something of the monkey’s actions. One of them called: “Are you well, Shaki-miss? Why don’t you lie down and go to sleep? Hic ! Capitan won’t come along for some while yet—”
    Dido had no wish at all to go to sleep. But perhaps the monkey will dance itself into a stupor, she thought.
    Outside, the voices grew higher.
    “Ah pig! That was the last of the wine you swallowed!”
    Dido heard the thud of a blow, yells, and the crash of breaking pottery.
    Now, inside the hut, another small noise was making itself audible – the very faintest dragging, as of a finger being stroked on polished wood. At first it was hard to locate, because of the row outside, but soon Dido realised that it was coming from her right-hand side. She slanted her eyes in that direction without moving her head.
    She was not long in suspense about it. From the corner of her eye she saw it coming – the