through the boxes and pulled one of the smaller containers from the shelf. He produced a knife from his pocket and applied it to the end. Within a minute he had it open and leafed through the interior, pulling straw out and onto the floor.
“Nothing,” he said.
“You mean, nothing of importance?” Scarlet asked.
“No, I mean there is nothing in this box. Apart from straw.”
They all stared into the empty box.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said.
“Agreed,” Mr Doyle said. He went to another much larger box. “Jack, please help me to get this down.”
They pulled the box onto the floor, opened it and thoroughly searched the interior. Again the container held nothing but packing. Wordlessly, Mr Doyle repacked both the boxes, reattached the lids and stacked them back on the shelves. He stood back, stroking his chin.
Finally he said, “I’ll wager that every box in this warehouse is empty.”
“But why?” Scarlet cried. “Why fill a warehouse with empty cartons?”
“If you want to hide a book, place it on a bookshelf,” Mr Doyle replied. “I believe there is something to be found here. Probably something very unusual.”
“How will we find it?” Jack asked.
Mr Doyle did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked two circuits of the warehouse, finally crossing to one of the shelves and running a finger along the edge of it.
“Just as I thought,” he said, examining the dust on his finger. “These boxes have been here for quite some time. And there are tracks here from a steam truck, but they are quite old. Nothing has moved in or out of here for quite some time.”
“So is this a dead end?” Scarlet asked.
“Not at all,” Mr Doyle replied. “We will search until we make a relevant discovery.”
He continued to stride up and down the length of the warehouse. Finally his eyes settled on a spot in the middle of the floor. He moved over to it with sudden excitement, moved his foot around in a wide circle and finally fell to his feet. Scooping out his knife, he started to work at an indentation in the floor.
“Aha,” he said. “I think we have it.”
Jack and Scarlet crowded around him as he revealed a large ring set into the ground. Mr Doyle pulled on it and a trap door lifted, revealing a set of stairs leading down into darkness. Jack retrieved a lantern hanging on a nearby nail. They lit it and started down into the murkiness.
“I pray…” Scarlet’s voice faltered.
“Scarlet?” Jack asked.
“I pray my father is not down here,” she said.
“He is not,” Mr Doyle said. “This chamber has remained undisturbed for some time.”
The lantern dimly illuminated the interior, revealing a large empty room with a damp floor and moss growing over most of the walls. Supporting beams held up the roof. They were below the river level and Jack felt his heart beat a little faster as he thought about the river moving past them only a few feet beyond the stone walls.
A rectangular object lay in the centre of the room, measuring about eight feet by three and standing about four feet high. A huge sheet lay draped over it. Mr Doyle looked at his companions before he slowly walked over to the shape and grasped hold of the sheet.
He pulled back the covering.
Scarlet screamed.
Chapter Eight
Jack had only ever seen two dead bodies in his life – those of his parents, although his memory of them swam with confusion. It was like one of those shows at the magic lantern theatre – unclear and disjointed. Jack could only ever remember separate images from that terrible day. Never the entire incident.
Blackness swam around him like a fog. He saw his father swinging from one trapeze to meet his mother in the middle. She hung upside down. Her arms outstretched. His hands met hers. Jack stood on the sawdust ring below.
The crossbar supporting his father snapped.
Jack cried out. Never had this happened in over a thousand performances. But as they tumbled towards the net, in the
“Nothing,” he said.
“You mean, nothing of importance?” Scarlet asked.
“No, I mean there is nothing in this box. Apart from straw.”
They all stared into the empty box.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said.
“Agreed,” Mr Doyle said. He went to another much larger box. “Jack, please help me to get this down.”
They pulled the box onto the floor, opened it and thoroughly searched the interior. Again the container held nothing but packing. Wordlessly, Mr Doyle repacked both the boxes, reattached the lids and stacked them back on the shelves. He stood back, stroking his chin.
Finally he said, “I’ll wager that every box in this warehouse is empty.”
“But why?” Scarlet cried. “Why fill a warehouse with empty cartons?”
“If you want to hide a book, place it on a bookshelf,” Mr Doyle replied. “I believe there is something to be found here. Probably something very unusual.”
“How will we find it?” Jack asked.
Mr Doyle did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked two circuits of the warehouse, finally crossing to one of the shelves and running a finger along the edge of it.
“Just as I thought,” he said, examining the dust on his finger. “These boxes have been here for quite some time. And there are tracks here from a steam truck, but they are quite old. Nothing has moved in or out of here for quite some time.”
“So is this a dead end?” Scarlet asked.
“Not at all,” Mr Doyle replied. “We will search until we make a relevant discovery.”
He continued to stride up and down the length of the warehouse. Finally his eyes settled on a spot in the middle of the floor. He moved over to it with sudden excitement, moved his foot around in a wide circle and finally fell to his feet. Scooping out his knife, he started to work at an indentation in the floor.
“Aha,” he said. “I think we have it.”
Jack and Scarlet crowded around him as he revealed a large ring set into the ground. Mr Doyle pulled on it and a trap door lifted, revealing a set of stairs leading down into darkness. Jack retrieved a lantern hanging on a nearby nail. They lit it and started down into the murkiness.
“I pray…” Scarlet’s voice faltered.
“Scarlet?” Jack asked.
“I pray my father is not down here,” she said.
“He is not,” Mr Doyle said. “This chamber has remained undisturbed for some time.”
The lantern dimly illuminated the interior, revealing a large empty room with a damp floor and moss growing over most of the walls. Supporting beams held up the roof. They were below the river level and Jack felt his heart beat a little faster as he thought about the river moving past them only a few feet beyond the stone walls.
A rectangular object lay in the centre of the room, measuring about eight feet by three and standing about four feet high. A huge sheet lay draped over it. Mr Doyle looked at his companions before he slowly walked over to the shape and grasped hold of the sheet.
He pulled back the covering.
Scarlet screamed.
Chapter Eight
Jack had only ever seen two dead bodies in his life – those of his parents, although his memory of them swam with confusion. It was like one of those shows at the magic lantern theatre – unclear and disjointed. Jack could only ever remember separate images from that terrible day. Never the entire incident.
Blackness swam around him like a fog. He saw his father swinging from one trapeze to meet his mother in the middle. She hung upside down. Her arms outstretched. His hands met hers. Jack stood on the sawdust ring below.
The crossbar supporting his father snapped.
Jack cried out. Never had this happened in over a thousand performances. But as they tumbled towards the net, in the
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