Mr Nicely stopped on his way up the main staircase of Empire Hall and paused on the top landing. Something caught his eye and he peered out of the window into the darkness beyond.
There, glimpsed through the cage of branches that cut off the mansion from the graveyard, was a tiny light. It had the frail but bright presence of a single candle flame.
Dr Saint sat in his plum-coloured dressing gown, and took his glass of evening sherry from the silver tray proffered by his butler. Mr Nicely lingered at the doorway.
‘Well, what is it?’ snapped Dr Saint.
‘It’s …’ the butler’s voice faltered. A strange light in the graveyard wasn’t worth troubling his master over.
‘It’s what?’
‘It’s – err, ten o’clock and all’s well,’ said Mr Nicely. ‘I’ve done my rounds and locked up for the night. Not a burglar in sight.’
‘Just as it should be,’ said Dr Saint, sipping his sherry. ‘Nice night, Mr Nicely.’
‘Saintly dreams, Dr Saint,’ said the butler, and headed off for bed.
Theo was dropped over the cemetery wall and landed in a bank of wet nettles, his elbow cracking against a stone vase. A thumping of slow wings faded into the night air somewhere above him. He lay still in the cold and damp, his heart pounding, as the seconds passed.
The Something on the Roof has decided not to eat me.
Theo sat up and looked around. He saw a glowing candle on a tombstone in front of him. Suddenly, a dark figure stepped in front of it.
‘You’re … you’re him, aren’t you!’ the figure said. There was awe in his voice.
Theo was so bewildered, all he could do was nod.
‘Did … did you see the garghoul that dropped you here?’ breathed the young man. From what Theo could tell, the stranger was barely older than him.
‘No,’ said Theo. His terrifying flight had been something of a blur.
‘We’d better move,’ the dark figure said. ‘Follow me!’
They raced down an avenue of yew trees, then threaded their way through a thick woodland, slanting gravestones marking every twist and turn of their way. Theo was led, at a speed he had never moved before, into the obscure depths of the Condemned Cemetery. Here the statues grew more outlandish and giant mausoleums rose up among the trees. The starry, frosty night lent a half enchanted, half ghoulish light to the landscape.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the stranger as Theo paused to pant and overcome the urge to be sick. ‘Your captors won’t really expect you to be here. Still, we don’t want to take any chances.’
They pressed on, along the narrowest of tracks, clutched at by thorny branches. Theo’s elbow was smarting and his legs ached horribly. He had never been on a journey this long before in his life, even on his tenth birthday, when Mr Nicely had taken him to see the city dump and they had briefly got lost among the mounds of seagull droppings.
They soon emerged into a clearing where Theo saw a small tumbledown cottage. It looked abandoned, with paint peeling off the door and one window boarded up, but Theo could see a dim lamp was glowing through the tatty kitchen curtains. In a narrow hallway, the stranger pulled off his coat and tugged off his woolly hat to reveal a mop of fair hair. His round red face and bright blue eyes glowed with excitement.
‘Sam James,’ he said. ‘Society of Unrelenting Vigilance. It’s an honour to meet you.’
Before Theo could introduce himself properly, Sam pushed open a door and showed him into a small parlour. There, sinking into an armchair in the corner, was a shrivelled, ancient man, so old his skin seemed to be almost transparent in places, with long looping veins showing through. His face was a crumpled patchwork of lines and liver spots, his eyes so pale they had no colour at all.
The cemetery keeper, thought Theo. He looked around and, seeing no one else, was relieved to find that there were only two rescuers. The endless tyranny of the Three who had brought him up had made him come to distrust that number.
The cramped little place was a stark contrast to Empire Hall. This was a home such as Theo had read about in stories, with a kettle on a small stove, a hairy rug draped over a shapeless sofa, a table littered with used cups and bowls. And a television. Theo eyed the forbidden apparatus warily.
‘Welcome home, Theo,’ gasped the old man in a strange gurgling voice that sounded like he was sucking in air rather than breathing it out. ‘I am Magnus James, Keeper of the Condemned Cemetery.’
‘Home?’ Theo was starting to have a strange sinking feeling.
‘Yes,’ smiled the old man, screwing up his tiny eyes, which made them leak some kind of gunge. ‘You will always be at home with the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance. It was we who left you that present – we who worked with Clarice. I won’t shake your hand,’ the old man added, nodding towards Theo’s gauntlets.
Theo’s head was spinning. He wondered how much this ancient being knew about him. Suddenly he remembered how important it was to be polite to new acquaintances.
‘I’m, err – delighted to meet you,’ Theo said awkwardly. ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what I really need to know, above all else, is … who am I?’
There was a moment of silence. Sam looked at Magnus, as if hoping the cemetery keeper would say something. But the ancient figure seemed for a moment to be lost in a dream.
‘They – they call me Theo Saint,’ Theo said. ‘But I know that can’t be my real name.’
‘You’re the special one,’ Sam said, grinning. ‘We’ve been watching you for years, making sure you’re OK. And tonight, we actually rescued you!’ Sam pulled a brown bottle out of a musty cupboard and poured a fizzy yellow liquid into two glasses.
‘And to think the garghoul helped us pull it off!’ There was a strange note in Sam’s voice that made Theo feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t quite place it.
‘The garghoul?’ gasped the cemetery keeper. He seemed surprised. ‘Well, well – the tide must be turning indeed!’
Theo was preoccupied by a good-manners problem. The two glasses on offer were so very different it was tricky to know which one it would be polite to take. In the end Theo took the smart but tiny sherry glass, leaving Sam the huge but cracked wine goblet.
‘This is what we’ve been waiting for, Grandad!’ Sam grinned, swooping on the goblet. ‘At last our Society has done something! After all these years of just being vigilant, we’ve finally sprung into action and rescued the prisoner! This is the best day of our lives!’
Theo frowned. He didn’t like being called the prisoner. Surely he had never been that? Magnus just stared into space, as if seeing faraway things, instead of what was in front of him.
Sam started singing a strange, merry song. Theo sipped the liquid. It was disgusting. Theo now realised what it was about Sam that was disturbing him. It was the happy note in his voice, the odd sound of delight.
Happiness, the most terrible thing, Theo thought. The pursuit of happiness made people selfish and greedy – Dr Saint had always made that clear. Now Theo was starting to feel upset. It was past his bedtime and he was exhausted. It had seemed to him that a truly wonderful person must have left him that enchanting parcel with the gold bow. There was no sign of that person here. He was sure neither Sam nor Magnus could have written his name in such beautiful writing.
‘But, who am I really?’ he persisted.
‘You honestly don’t know?’ Sam asked.
Theo shook his head.
The decrepit Magnus slowly raised a trembling, crooked finger. ‘It is not a matter for us to speculate upon,’ he said in a lofty tone. ‘The Mysteries must be respected at all times. The Mysteries will light the way to the Ascendancy.’
‘What’s the Ascendancy?’ asked Theo.
‘That’s one of the Mysteries,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve never been let in on it myself.’ For a moment he glanced resentfully at his grandad, and it was clear to Theo who held the most arcane knowledge. Sam started pulling cans of food out of the smelly cupboard.
‘We’ll tell you what we can,’ Sam said. ‘After we’ve celebrated your escape.’
Theo felt terrible. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but in order to be polite he had eaten a huge helping of cheese on toast, smothered with mustard and piled high with baked beans. He had also drunk several glasses of the sickly sweet cider – to be a good guest – and he was sure he was going to die. His usual diet of millet and greens may have been boring, but at least it didn’t make his stomach feel like it was about to explode.
‘The Society of Unrelenting Vigilance is an order founded in 1892,’ said Magnus, sucking up milky broth from a bowl held in two trembling hands. ‘It is our job to watch over the Society of Good Works and make sure they do not perform any – ahem … bad works.’
Theo nodded to show he understood so far. He couldn’t really imagine Dr Saint and his charity organisation doing anything bad, but since discovering the secret room he had the uncomfortable feeling that anything was possible.
‘Anything else?’ he asked hopefully. The cemetery keeper’s aspect suddenly changed. There was a strange glow in his eyes. For a moment, Theo was almost scared of him.
‘It is also our job to preserve something special about the past,’ Magnus said. ‘Something which other people would try to destroy. You are part of that past.’
‘A dangerous part!’ butted in Sam, hunting around under the sink for more cider. Theo went pale.
‘Don’t frighten him!’ gurgled Magnus, almost choking on his milky glop. ‘Dangerous is a dangerous word. It is not for us to say!’
‘But think how they locked him up, kept him hidden!’ Sam shouted with his head still in the cupboard. ‘Theo must be very –’
‘That’s enough!’ croaked Magnus, sitting up suddenly and letting his bowl crash to the floor. Sam shut up. Magnus smiled apologetically at Theo. The old man looked drained and frail again as he sank slowly back into his seat.
‘This is a delicate matter.’ The cemetery keeper sighed. ‘Tomorrow Theo will be introduced to the Grand Council of the Vigilant. Until then, we must say no more.’
Sam had failed to find any drink, but was delighted to emerge from the cupboard with a packet of jelly beans.
‘Anyway,’ he said with a grin, ‘you are so lucky we rescued you … whoever you are!’
Ordered into silence again, Sam demonstrated his high spirits by throwing the beans up in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.
That night, Theo slept on a lumpy sofa, with a smelly blanket wrapped round him.
They moved on before dawn. My guardian must know I’ve gone by now, Theo thought. There would be bedlam in Empire Hall! Theo couldn’t bear to think about it. He wasn’t entirely sure he had made the right decision in running away. He shivered in the damp autumn twilight.
The three trudged through the scant woodlands on the edge of the great cemetery. Theo, still feeling a horrible gaseous reaction going on in his stomach, was grateful that the ancient Magnus was accompanying them, lurching along on two walking sticks. It kept the pace slow, and even Theo’s feeble muscles started to get used to the activity.
They finally reached what Theo took to be the edge of the cemetery. An iron gate was snarled up in so much bindweed it took all Sam’s strength to tear it open.
‘I’m as excited as you are, Theo,’ Sam said as they squeezed through the gate. ‘I’ve never seen the Grand Council myself! The last time Grandad went, I think I was about three.’
Magnus stopped and sank down between his walking sticks like a scarecrow that had lost half its stuffing.
‘There has been nothing to meet for,’ he said. ‘The Society was created to wait and watch … until the time of the Ascendancy. That time is now.’
‘He didn’t even tell me the rescue was on until seven o’clock last night –’ began Sam sulkily.
‘Tush! Tish! Keep it quiet,’ scolded Magnus. ‘The Mysteries must be respected!’
‘All right!’ groaned Sam.
They hit an abandoned railway track, overgrown with head-high hogweed. The cemetery keeper took the lead and heaved his body along with silent resolution. From behind nearby hoardings, the sound of traffic roared by unseen. Sam gave Theo a conspiratorial look.
‘Grandad can’t hear us now. He’s hard to get away from. He’s very, err …’
‘… Vigilant?’ suggested Theo.
‘Exactly. I can see he trusts you though. He had that special look about him last night. He usually reserves that look for when he talks about Mr Norrowmore.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘The Eternal Vigilance. He’s the geezer we’ll meet at the Watch Tower. He’s our only link to the Grand Council. I’ve been told it like a fairy tale by Grandad ever since I was a kid. Mr Norrowmore sees it all. He points the way to the Council Hall. Do you know that stuff?’
Theo shook his head. ‘I don’t know any stuff,’ he lied. He felt a bit awkward about not telling his new allies about the secret room and the Candle Man, but something held his tongue. There was something dreadful about it all. Too much bad luck, the old robber had said. And Theo, strangely, believed him. If Sam didn’t know about it already, why should Theo drag him into it?
‘You’re special, that’s plain,’ Sam said, almost crossly. ‘I bet you know about the Eighty-eight as well!’
They turned a corner and Magnus loomed right in front of them, his pale eyes bulging with rage.
‘I don’t want to hear that number again, Samuel!’ he rasped.
Sam gulped and nodded.
The three plodded on. Magnus took them through a gap in a boarded-up railway tunnel. Stumbling along the rubbish-strewn old track was exhausting for Theo and trickier still for old Magnus on his walking sticks. Halfway down the tunnel they turned into a side passage, up a flight of stairs, over a covered bridge, through something that looked like an abandoned ticket hall, and finally out into a weed-covered courtyard.
‘The Watch Tower,’ whispered Magnus, gesturing towards the dirty old building before them. It wasn’t a proper tower with a spire like in Theo’s fairy-tale books. In fact, it looked more like the tallest ruin in a collection of derelict railway buildings. Right at the top, a domed roof could be glimpsed among the broken chimneys and rusty aerials – one touch of elegance in the midst of decay.
Magnus produced a long iron key and turned the lock. ‘I signalled ahead to Mr Norrowmore when you two were asleep last night,’ Magnus said. ‘He will be overjoyed to receive us!’
They reached the top of the staircase, and Magnus pushed a door open into a vast circular chamber. Theo looked around, wide-eyed. The top room was like a museum of communications. In the murky daylight that seeped through the narrow, barred windows, he could see robust old wireless sets, Morse-code apparatus and enormous archaic computers topped with rows of electric valves. Vast rows of cubbyholes were stuffed with envelopes and packages, scrolls lay in plastic tubes, and maps covered in string and pegs covered the walls.
But it wasn’t the arcane paraphernalia that held the gaze of the three new arrivals. They were all staring at the skeleton in a suit that lay collapsed over the central radio set. Theo was the first to speak.
‘I think we’ve found Mr Norrowmore.’