‘Now, Timmy!’ said George, warningly, and Timmy turned a despairing eye on his mistress. Surely she wasn’t going to stop him looking to see if there were any rabbits? Only just looking! What harm was there in that?
Ah – there was a rabbit! And another and another! They sat all about, looking at the little company coming up from the shore. They flicked their ears and twitched their noses, keeping quite still.
‘Oh, they’re as tame as ever!’ said Anne in delight. ‘Aunty Fanny, aren’t they lovely? Do look at the baby one over there. He’s washing his face!’ They stopped to look at the rabbits. They really were astonishingly tame. But then very few people came to Kirrin Island, and the rabbits multiplied in peace, running about where they liked, quite unafraid.
‘Oh, that one is began Dick, but then the picture was spoilt. Timmy, quite unable to do nothing but look, had suddenly lost his self-control and was bounding on the surprised rabbits. In a trice nothing could be seen but white bobtails flashing up and down as rabbit after rabbit rushed to its burrow.
‘Timmy!’ called George, crossly, and poor Timmy put his tail down; looking round at George miserably. ‘What!’ he seemed to say. ‘Not even a scamper after the rabbits? What a hard-hearted mistress!’ ‘Where’s Uncle Quentin?’ asked Anne, as they walked to the great broken archway that was the entrance to the old castle. Behind it were .the stone steps that led towards the centre. They were broken and irregular now. Aunt Fanny went across them carefully, afraid of stumbling, but the children; who were wearing rubber shoes, ran over them quickly.
They passed through a ruined doorway into what looked like a great yard. Once there had been a stone-paved floor, but now most of it was covered by sand, and by close-growing weeds or grass.
The castle had had two towers. One was almost a complete ruin. The other was in better shape. Jackdaws circled round it, and flew above the children’s heads, crying ‘chack, chack, chack’.
‘I suppose your father lives in the little old room with the two slit-like windows,’ said Dick to George. ‘That’s the only place in the castle that would give him any shelter. Everywhere else is in ruins except that one room. Do you remember we once spent a night there?’ ‘Yes,’ said George. ‘It was fun. I suppose that’s where Father lives. There’s nowhere else – unless he’s down in the dungeons!’ ‘Oh, no one would live in the dungeons surely, unless they simply had to!’ said Julian. ‘They’re so dark and cold. Where is your father, George? I can’t see him anywhere.’ ‘Mother, where would Father be?’ asked George. ‘Where’s his workshop — in that old room there?’ She pointed to the dark, stone-walled, stone-roofed room, which was really all that was left of the part in which people had long ago lived. It jutted out from what had once been the wall of the castle.
‘Well, really, I don’t exactly know,’ said her mother. ‘I suppose he works over there. He’s always met me down at the cove, and we’ve just sat on the sand and had a picnic and talked. He didn’t seem to want me to poke round much.’ ‘Let’s call him,’ said Dick. So they shouted loudly. ‘Uncle QUEN-tin! Uncle QUEN-tin! Where are you?’ The jackdaws flew up in fright, and a few gulls, who had been sitting on part of the ruined wall, joined in the noise, crying ‘ee-oo, ee-oo, ee-oo’ over and over again. Every rabbit disappeared in a trice.
No Uncle Quentin appeared. They shouted again.
‘UNCLE QUENTIN! WHERE ARE YOU?’ ‘What a noise!’ said Aunt Fanny, covering her ears. ‘I should think that Joanna must have heard that at home. Oh dear – where is your uncle? This is most annoying of him. I told him I’d bring you across today.’ ‘Oh well – he must be somewhere about,’ said Julian, cheerfully. ‘If Mahomet won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mahomet. I expect he’s deep in some book or other. We’ll hunt for him.’ ‘We’ll look in that little dark room,’ said Anne. So they all went through the stone doorway, and found themselves in a little dark room, lit only by two slits of windows. At one end was a space, or recess, where a fireplace had once been, going back into the thick stone wall.
‘He’s not here’ said Julian in surprise. ‘And what’s more – there’s nothing here at all! No food, no clothes, no books, no stores of any sort. This is not his workroom, nor even his store!’ ‘Then he must be down in the dungeons,’ said Dick. ‘Perhaps it’s necessary to his work to be underground -and with water all round! Let’s go and find the entrance. We know where it is – not far from the old well in the middle of the yard.’ ‘Yes. He must be down in the dungeons. Mustn’t he, Aunt Fanny?’ said Anne. ‘Are you coming down?’ ‘Oh no,’ said her aunt. ‘I can’t bear those dungeons. I’ll sit out here in the sun, in this sheltered corner, and unpack the sandwiches. It’s almost lunch-time.’ ‘Oh good,’ said everyone. They went towards the dungeon entrance. They expected to see the big flat stone that covered the entrance, standing upright, so that they might go down the steps underground.
But the stone was lying flat. Julian was just about to pull on the iron ring to lift it up when he noticed something peculiar.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘There are weeds growing round the edges of the stone. Nobody has lifted it for a long time. Uncle Quentin isn’t down in the dungeons!’ ‘Then where is he?’ said Dick. ‘Wherever can he be?’
Chapter Four
WHERE IS UNCLE QUENTIN?
The four of them, with Timmy nosing round their legs, stood staring down at the big stone that hid the entrance to the dungeons. Julian was perfectly right. The stone could not have been lifted for months, because weeds had grown closely round the edges, sending their small roots into every crack.
‘No one is down there,’ said Julian. ‘We need not even bother to pull up the stone and go down to see. If it had been lifted lately, those weeds would have been torn up as it was raised.’ ‘And anyway, we know that no one can get out of the dungeon once the entrance stone is closing it,’ said Dick. ‘It’s too heavy. Uncle Quentin wouldn’t be silly enough to shut himself in! He’d leave it open.’ ‘Of course he would,’ said Anne. ‘Well – he’s not there, then. He must be somewhere else.’ ‘But where?’ said George. ‘This is only a small island, and we know every corner of it. Oh – would he be in that cave we hid in once? The only cave on the island.’ ‘Oh yes he might be,’ said Julian. ‘But I doubt it. I can’t see Uncle Quentin dropping down through the hole in the cave’s roof – and that’s the only way of getting into it unless you’re going to clamber and slide about the rocks on the shore for ages. I can’t see him doing that, either.’ They made their way beyond the castle to the other side of the island. Here there was a cave they had once lived in. It could be entered with difficulty on the seaward side, as Julian had said, by clambering over slippery rocks, or it could be entered by dropping down a rope through a hole in the roof to the floor some way below.
They found the hole, half hidden in old heather. Julian felt about. The rope was still there. ‘I’ll slide down and have a look,’ he said.
He went down the rope. It was knotted at intervals, so that his feet found holding-places and he did not slide down too quickly and scorch his hands.
He was soon in the cave. A dim light came in from the seaward side. Julian took a quick look round. There was absolutely nothing there at all, except for an old box that they must have left behind when they were last here themselves.
He climbed up the rope again, his head appearing suddenly out of the hole. Dick gave him a helping hand.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Any sign of Uncle Quentin?’ ‘No,’ said Julian. ‘He’s not there, and hasn’t been there either, I should think. It’s a mystery! Where is he, and if he’s really doing important work where is all his stuff? I mean, we know that plenty of stuff was brought here, because Aunt Fanny told us so.’ ‘Do you think he’s in the tower?’ said Anne, suddenly. ‘He might be in that glass room at the top.’ ‘Well, he’d see us at once, if he were!’ said Julian, scornfully. ‘And hear our yells too! Still, we might as well have a look.’ So back to the castle they went and walked to the queer tower. Their aunt saw them and called to them. ‘Your lunch is ready. Come and have it. Your uncle will turn up, I expect.’ ‘But Aunt Fanny, where is lie?’ said Anne, with a puzzled face. ‘We’ve looked simply everywhere!’ Her aunt did not know the island as well as the children did. She imagined that there were plenty of places to shelter in, or to work in. ‘Never mind,’ she said, looking quite undisturbed. ‘He’ll turn up later. You come along and have your meal.’ ‘We think we’ll go up the tower,’ said Julian. ‘Just in case he’s up there working.’ The four children and Timmy went to where the tower rose up from the castle yard. They ran their hands over the smooth, shining sections, which were fitted together in curving rows. ‘What’s this stuff it’s built of?’ said Dick.