It was midday. Theo had slept for several hours.
Injections had taken all of the feeling out of his broken cheek, and he had been dribbling on his pillow. He sat up in bed. Every bit of him that hadn’t been injected hurt.
The calm, the silence and the solitude were nice. Theo looked around the old dining room that had been converted into a ward. He had never been in here before. The shiny mahogany panelling was much more splendid than the bare old room he had lived in. He shook his head wonderingly at his guardian’s endless deceptions, now all over.
For a moment he felt a pang of regret for the passing of his old life. What was it today, Thursday? On a Thursday, round about now, he would usually be sitting in his room, staring at the shadows on the wall, or looking through his favourite book – Woolcombe’s Bestiary of Post Diluvian Extinctions – while waiting for Clarice to bring him in a glass of warm water.
Compared to a life of panic, alchemy, smogs and slaughter, his old tedium seemed almost desirable. But now, Clarice was dead. There was no one to bring him water any more, and no one left to force him to drink it. Everything about his life had changed forever. Scary.
There was a knock on the door. Sergeant Crane, in his hideous brown suede jacket, opened the door to admit Mr Nicely. Chloe followed. The annoying silver-haired man, Mr Sunder, tried to sneak in just behind her. He was repelled by Sergeant Crane, who dragged him away down the hall.
‘I have a perfect legal right to be here …’ the man continued, but his muffled voice soon disappeared in the distance.
The room fell silent. Chloe came and sat next to Theo. Still defending me, he thought to himself.
Mr Nicely held up his bandaged hands. ‘I’ve been discharged by the doctor,’ he said, ‘but I, err … don’t think the police have entirely finished with me.’
‘Not by a long chalk,’ said Chloe.
Theo looked up at the butler with a wan smile. Mr Nicely’s torn waistcoat was hanging off him and he seemed to have lost weight.
‘They, err … said I could come and see how you were,’ Mr Nicely said, ‘before I go off for questioning.’ He hung his head.
Theo looked at the man he had known all his life, as if he were seeing his face for the first time. ‘You saved the day, Mr Nicely,’ Theo said. ‘If you hadn’t turned against Dr Saint –’
‘Don’t,’ Mr Nicely said sadly. ‘I don’t deserve any commendation for anything I’ve done.’ He pondered for a moment. He looked older; his chubby face was sagging, and his cheeks were speckled with silver stubble.
‘What made you turn against him in the end?’ Theo asked.
Mr Nicely considered deeply, then looked at Theo with clear, sad eyes. ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I’ve been given a lot of orders over the years, mostly stupid tasks given to me by stupid people. But right at the start there was one order that stood out: “Look after Theo.” That was what the Society of Good Works asked me to do. And after all the years, and after all the rubbish I had to do, that was the one task that really meant anything to me.’
He looked down, embarrassed at the sentiment he didn’t usually show. ‘“Look after Theo,”’ he repeated to himself, with a tired smile. ‘Best orders I ever had.’
‘Thank you,’ said Theo. ‘I’m glad you decided to follow them – in the end.’
A policeman quietly entered the room and nodded at Chloe. Mr Nicely sensed his time was up.
‘It’s all a bit of a mess now – the Society of Good Works,’ Mr Nicely said quickly. ‘But when I – when I get out – I’ll be glad to come back and help out a bit … if asked, I mean.’
‘That would be good,’ Theo said. ‘Whatever’s left of the Society might be good for something one day, I suppose. Maybe you can be in charge of pretending everything is all right all the time,’ he added with a faint smile.
‘I hope to, err … give up the pretending lark and be a bit more useful than that,’ Mr Nicely replied. ‘If there ever is a next time.’
At a nod from Chloe, the policeman led the butler away. Theo watched him go, the last one of the Three who had once ruled every instant of his life. Instead of feeling happy, he felt anxious, cut adrift.
As the door was closing, the annoying little man nipped through.
‘Theo Saint?’ he asked nervously.
Theo looked up in surprise.
‘Who are you?’ Chloe groaned.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve assured Inspector Finley of my bona fides,’ he said, seating himself in the most comfortable chair in the room. ‘I’m Mr Arnold Sunder, solicitor for the Society.’
Theo closed his eyes and lay back. He had finally had enough.
‘Do you have to do this now?’ Chloe asked.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Mr Sunder replied. ‘There are wheels – shall we say – to be set in motion!’
‘What wheels – what motion?’ Theo sat back up.
The little man opened a leather-bound file. ‘We’ve heard,’ he said simply. ‘And I’d like to offer my condolences for the death of your guardian.’
Theo didn’t know what to say.
‘We thought you should know as soon as possible, sir, that Dr Saint made no special provision for the incidence of his own sudden demise. Nothing in writing at all. So under the circumstances, you being his ward …’
Chloe’s eyes suddenly widened, and she quickly suppressed a smile.
‘Err, yes?’ Theo prompted, still puzzled at the intrusion.
‘It actually means, sir – and I hope you’ll be in some way comforted to hear – that you are now the Master of Empire Hall.’
‘I – I’m what?’ Theo gasped.
‘If there’s anything you need, anything you want – anything at all, you only have to say the word.’ The little man beamed.
Chloe clapped Theo on the shoulder.
‘Congratulations.’ She grinned. ‘Theo, you are the new head of the Society of Good Works.’
Theo groaned and buried his head in his pillow.