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Meggie pushed her aside and ran along the corridor.

"Meggie!" Elinor called after her. "Wait!"

But what was there to wait for? For the strangers to take her father away? She heard Elinor

running after her. Elinor's arms might be stronger, but Meggie's legs were faster.

There was still no light in the entrance hall. The front door stood wide open, and a cold wind

blew in Meggie's face as she stumbled breathlessly out into the night.

"Mo!" she shouted.

She thought she saw car headlights come on where the drive disappeared into the trees, and an

engine started. Meggie ran that way. She tripped and fell, grazing her knee on the gravel, which

was wet with dew. Warm blood trickled down her leg but she took no notice. She ran on and on,

limping and sobbing, until she had reached the big wrought iron gate. The road beyond it was

empty. Mo was gone.

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Chapter 7 – What The Night Hides

A thousand enemies outside the house are better than one within.

– Arab proverb

Dustfinger was hiding behind a chestnut tree when Meggie ran past him. He saw her stop at the

gate and look down the road. He heard her calling her father's name in a desperate voice. Her

cries, as faint as the chirping of a cricket in the vast black night, were lost in the darkness. And

when she gave up it was suddenly very quiet, and Dustfinger saw Meggie's slim figure standing

there as if she would never move again. All her strength seemed to have forsaken her, as if the

next gust of wind might blow her away.

She stood there so long that Dustfinger eventually closed his eyes so as not to have to look at

her, but then he heard her weeping and his face turned hot with shame. He stood there without

a sound, his back to the tree trunk, waiting for Meggie to go back to the house. But still she didn't

move. At last, when his legs were quite numb, she turned like a marionette with some of its

strings cut and went back toward the house. She was no longer crying as she passed Dustfinger

but she was wiping the tears from her eyes, and for a terrible moment he felt an urge to go to

her, comfort her, and explain why he had told Capricorn everything. But Meggie had already

passed him and had quickened her pace as if her strength were returning. Faster and faster she

walked, until she had disappeared among the black trees.

Only then did Dustfinger come out from behind the tree, put his backpack on his back, pick up

the two bags containing all his worldly goods, and stride off toward the gate, which was still

open.

The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.

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Chapter 8 – Alone

"My darling," she said at last, "are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of

your life?"

"I don't mind at all," I said. "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like so long as

somebody loves you."

– Roald Dahl, The Witches

Elinor was standing in the brightly lit doorway of the house when Meggie came back. She had

put on a coat over her nightdress. The night was warm, but a cold wind was blowing from the

lake. How desperate the child looked — and lost. Elinor remembered the feeling. There was

nothing worse.

"They've taken him away!" Meggie's voice almost choked in her helpless rage. She glared angrily

at Elinor. "Why did you hold me back? We could have helped him!" Her fists were clenched as if

she wanted to hit out blindly.

Elinor remembered that feeling, too. Sometimes you wanted to lash out at the whole world, but

it did no good, none at all. The grief remained. "Don't talk such nonsense!" he said bluntly. "How

could we have helped him? They'd just have taken you, too, and how would your father have

liked that? Would it have done him any good? No. So don't stand around here any longer —

come indoors."

But Meggie didn't move. "They're taking him to Capricorn!" she whispered, so softly that Elinor

could hardly make out what she was saying.

"Taking him where?"

Meggie just shook her head and wiped her sleeve over her tearstained face.

"The police will be here any minute," said Elinor. "I called them on your father's cell phone. I

never wanted one of those, but now I think I'd better get one after all. They simply cut my phone

line."

Meggie still hadn't moved. She was trembling. "They'll be well away by now anyway," she said.

"Good heavens, I'm sure no harm will come to him!" Elinor wrapped her coat more closely

around her. The wind was getting up. There would be rain soon, she felt sure.

"How do you know?" Meggie's voice was trembling with anger.

Heavens, thought Elinor, if looks could kill I'd be pushing up the daisies. "Because he went with

them of his own free will," she said crossly. "You heard him, too, didn't you?"

Meggie bowed her head. Of course she'd heard him.

"Yes," she whispered. "He was more worried about the book than me."

Elinor had no answer to that. Her own father had been firmly convinced that books deserved

more attention than children, and when he suddenly died she and her two sisters had barely

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noticed his absence. It was as if he was just sitting in the library as usual, dusting his books. But

Meggie's father wasn't like that.

"Nonsense. Of course he was worried about you!" Elinor said. "I don't know any father who's

more besotted with his daughter than yours. You wait and see, he'll be back soon. Now, do come

in!" She reached out her hand to Meggie. "I'll make you some hot milk with honey. Isn't that

what children get when they're really miserable?"

But Meggie ignored the hand. She turned suddenly and ran away as if something had suddenly

occurred to her.

"Here, wait a minute!" Muttering crossly, Elinor slipped her feet into her gardening shoes and

stumbled after her. The silly girl was running around behind the house to the place where the

fire-eater had given his performance. But of course there was no one on the lawn now, just the

burnt-out torches still stuck in the ground.

"Well, well, so Master Matchstick-Swallower seems to be gone, too," said Elinor. "At least, he's

not in the house."

"Perhaps he followed them!" The girl went up to one of the burnt-out torches and touched its

charred head. "That's it! He saw what happened and followed them!" She looked hopefully at

Elinor.

"Of course. That's what must have happened." Elinor really did try hard not to sound sarcastic.

How do you think he followed them, she added silently in her mind, on foot? But instead of

saying so out loud she put a hand on Meggie's shoulder. Heavens above, the girl was still

shaking. "Come on!" she said. "The police will be here soon, and there's nothing we can do just

now. Your father will surely turn up again in a few days' time, and perhaps your fire-breathing

friend will be with him. You'll just have to put up with me in the meantime."

Meggie merely nodded and unresistingly let Elinor lead her back to the house.

"On one condition, though," said Elinor as they reached the front door.

Meggie looked at her suspiciously.

"While we're here on our own, do you think you could stop looking at me as if you wanted to

poison me all the time? Could that be arranged?"

A small, sad little smile stole over Meggie's face. "I should think so," she said.

The two policemen whose car drew up on the gravel forecourt a little later asked a lot of

questions, to which neither Elinor nor Meggie had many answers. No, they had never seen the

men before. No, they hadn't stolen money nor anything else of value, just a book. The two men

exchanged amused glances when Elinor said that. She immediately gave them an angry lecture

on the value of rare books, but that only made things worse. When Meggie finally said they'd be

sure to find her father if they tracked down a bad man called Capricorn, they looked at each

other as if she had seriously claimed that Mo had been carried off by the big, bad wolf. Then they

drove away again, and Elinor took Meggie to her room. The silly child had tears in her eyes once

more, and Elinor hadn't the faintest idea of how you went about comforting a girl of twelve, so

she just told her, "Your mother always slept in this room," which was probably the worst thing

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she could have said. She quickly added, "Read a story if you can't get to sleep," cleared her throat

twice, and then went back through the dark, empty house to her own room.

Why did it suddenly strike her as so big and so empty? In all the years she had lived alone here it

had never troubled her to know that only her books awaited her behind all the doors. It was a

long time since she and her sisters had played hide-and-seek in the many rooms. How quietly

they always had to slip past the library door. . . .

Outside, the wind rattled the shutters of the windows. Heavens, I won't be able to sleep a wink,

thought Elinor. And then she thought of the book waiting beside her bed, and with a mixture of

anticipation and a very guilty conscience she disappeared into her bedroom.

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Chapter 9 – A Poor Exchange

A strong and bitter book-sickness floods one's soul. How ignominious to be strapped to

this ponderous mass of paper, print and dead man's sentiment. Would it not be better,

finer, braver to leave the rubbish where it lies and walk out into the world a free

untrammeled illiterate Superman?

– Solomon Eagle

Meggie didn't sleep in her own bed that night. As soon as Elinor's footsteps had died away she

ran to Mo's room. He hadn't unpacked yet, and his bag stood open beside the bed. Only his books

were on the bedside table, and a partly eaten chocolate bar. Mo loved chocolate. Even the

mustiest old chocolate Santa Claus wasn't safe from him. Meggie broke a square off the bar and

put it in her mouth, but it tasted of nothing. Nothing but sadness.

Mo's quilt was cold when she crept under it, and the pillow didn't yet smell of him either, only of

laundry detergent. Meggie put her hand under the pillow. Yes, there it was: not a book, a

photograph. Meggie drew it out. It was a picture of her mother; Mo always kept it under his

pillow. When she was little she believed that Mo had simply invented a mother for her one day

because he thought she'd have liked to have one. He told wonderful stories about her. "Did I like

her?" Meggie always asked. "Yes, very much." — "Where is she?" — "She had to go away when

you were just three." — "Why?" — "She just had to go away." — "A long way away?" — "Yes, a

very long way." — "Is she dead?" — "No, I'm sure she isn't." Meggie was used to the strange

answers Mo gave to many of her questions. By the time she was ten she no longer believed in a

mother made up by Mo, she believed in one who had simply gone away. These things happened.

And as long as Mo was there she hadn't particularly missed having a mother.

But now he was gone, and she was alone with Elinor, and Elinor's pebble eyes.

She took Mo's sweater out of his bag and buried her face in it. It's the book's fault, she kept

thinking. It's all that book's fault. Why didn't he give it to Dustfinger? Sometimes, when you're so

sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry. But then the tears came back again all the

same, and Meggie fell asleep with the salty taste of them on her lips.

When she woke all of a sudden, her heart pounding and her hair damp with sweat, it all came

back to her: the men, Mo's voice, the empty road. I'll go and look for him, thought Meggie. Yes,

that's what I'll do. Outside the sky was just turning red. Not long now and the sun would rise. It

would be better if she was gone before it got really light. Mo's jacket was hanging over the chair

under the window, as if he'd only just taken it off- Meggie took his wallet out of it — she'd need

the money. Then she crept back to her room to pack a few things, only the essentials: a change of

clothing and a photograph of herself and Mo, so that she could ask people if they'd seen him. Of

course she couldn't take her book box. She thought of hiding it under the bed, but instead, she

decided to write Elinor a note:

Dear Elinor, she wrote, although she didn't really think that was the correct way to address an

aunt. I have to go and look for my father, she went on. Don't worry about me. Well, Elinor wasn't

likely to do that anyway. And please don't tell the police I've gone or they'll be sure to bring me

back. My favorite books are in my box. I'm afraid I can't take them with me. Please look after them.

I'll come and get them as soon as I've found my father. Thank you. Meggie.

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