Inkheart

30. TALKATIVE PIPPO

The next morning, at around ten o'clock, Elinor called Fenoglio's house. Meggie was sitting upstairs with Mo, watching him remove a book from its mildewed binding as carefully as if he were releasing an injured animal from a trap.

"Mortimer!" Fenoglio called up the stairs. "Come down at once, will you? There's some hysterical female on the phone, shouting in my ear. I can't make head nor tail of it. Says she's a friend of yours. "

Mo put the book to one side, minus its cover, and went downstairs. Fenoglio handed him the receiver with a gloomy expression on his face. Elinor's voice was pouring rage and despair into the peaceful study. Mo himself had some difficulty in making sense of what she was saying.

"But how did he know… oh, of course…," Meggie heard him saying. "Burned? All of them?" He passed a hand over his face and glanced in Meggie's direction, but she had a feeling that he was looking straight through her. "All right, " he said. "Yes, of course, though I'm afraid they won't believe a word of it. And the police down here aren't responsible for what's happened to your books… yes, of course. Naturally… I'll pick you up. Yes."

Then he hung up.

Fenoglio could not conceal his curiosity. He scented a new story in the offing. "What was all that about?" he asked impatiently as Mo just stood there staring at the telephone. Rico was clinging to Fenoglio's back like a little monkey. It was Saturday, but the other two children hadn't turned up yet. "What's the matter, Mortimer? Aren't you talking to us anymore? Look at your father, Meggie! Standing there like a stuffed dummy!"

"That was Elinor, " said Mo. "Meggie's mother's aunt. I told you about her. Capricorn's men broke into her house. They swept the books off the shelves all over the house and trampled on them, and the books in Elinor's library…" He hesitated for a moment before going on. "Her most valuable books – they took them out into the garden and burned them. All she found in her library was a dead rooster."

Fenoglio let his grandson slide off his back. "Rico, go and look for the kittens, " he said. "This is not for your ears. " Rico protested, but his grandfather pushed him out of the room and closed the door after him. "What makes you so sure Capricorn is behind this?" he asked, turning back to Mo.

"Who else would do such a thing? Anyway, as far as I remember the red rooster is his emblem. Forgotten your own story, have you?"

Fenoglio was looking downcast. "No, no, I remember that, " he murmured.

"What about Elinor?" Meggie's heart beat anxiously as she waited for Mo's answer.

"Luckily, she wasn't back yet when it happened. She took her time going home. Thank heavens. But you can imagine how she feels. Her finest books – my God!"

Fenoglio was picking up some toy soldiers from his rug with trembling fingers. "Yes, Capricorn likes fire, " he said huskily. "If it was really his doing, your friend can think herself fortunate he didn't burn her, too. "

"I'll tell her. " Mo picked up a matchbox lying on Fenoglio's writing desk, opened it, and slowly closed it again.

"What about my books?" Meggie hardly dared to ask. "My book box – I hid it under the bed."

Mo put the matchbox back on the desk. "That's the one piece of good news, " he said. "No one touched your book box. It's still under the bed. Elinor looked."

Meggie took a deep breath. Was it Basta who had set fire to the books? No, Basta was afraid of fire; she remembered only too well how Dustfinger had mocked him for it. But in the last resort it made no difference which of the Black Jackets it had been. Elinor's treasures were gone, and not even Mo could bring them back.

"Elinor is flying back down here. I'm supposed to pick her up at the airport, " said Mo. "She's taken it into her head to set the police on Capricorn. I told her I didn't think she'd have much luck. Even if she had evidence that it was his men who broke into her house, how can she prove he gave the order? But you know Elinor."

Meggie nodded gloomily. Oh yes, she knew Elinor – and she understood her rage only too well.

But Fenoglio laughed. "The police! You don't get anywhere by setting the police on Capricorn!" he said. "He makes his own rules, his own laws -"

"Oh, be quiet! This isn't a book you're writing!" Mo interrupted him. "Very likely it's amusing to invent a character like Capricorn, but believe you me, it's not in the least bit funny to cross his path. I'm off to the airport. I'll leave Meggie here. Look after her."

And he was out of the door before Meggie could protest. She ran after him, but Paula and Pippo met her coming down the street. They caught hold of her, trying to make her go with them. They wanted her to be a cannibal, a witch, a six-armed monster – the characters from their grandfather's stories with which they populated their games. By the time Meggie had finally managed to shake off their little hands, Mo had long since gone. The place where he had parked the rental car was empty, and Meggie stood in the square, alone with the war memorial and a few old men gazing out to sea with their hands in their pants pockets.

Restlessly, she wandered over to the steps in front of the memorial and sat down. She didn't feel like chasing Fenoglio's grandchildren around his house or playing hide-and-seek with them. She just wanted to sit there and wait for Mo's return. The hot wind that had blown through the village overnight had left fine sand on all the windowsills. The air was cooler than it had been for the last few days. The sky above the sea was still clear, but gray clouds were forming above the hills and every time the sun disappeared behind them a shadow fell over the village rooftops, making Meggie shiver.

A cat stalked toward her, stiff-legged, tail erect. It was a thin little creature with ticks in its gray fur and ribs showing through its thin coat like stripes. Meggie enticed it over, speaking to it gently, until it put its head under her arm and purred, asking to be petted. It didn't look as if it belonged to anyone: no collar, not an ounce of fat on it, nothing to suggest it had a caring owner. Meggie scratched its ears and chin and stroked its back as she looked down the road that went around a sharp bend as it left the village and disappeared from sight beyond the houses.

How far was it to the nearest airport? Meggie propped her chin on her hands. The clouds above her were massing more and more ominously. They loomed overhead, becoming closely packed and gray with rain.

The cat rubbed against her knee, and as Meggie's fingers stroked its dirty fur an awful thought suddenly occurred to her. Suppose Elinor's house wasn't all Dustfinger had told Capricorn about? Suppose he'd also told him where she and Mo had been living? Would they find a heap of ashes waiting for them at the farmhouse? No, she wouldn't think about that. He doesn't know, she whispered. He has no idea! Dustfinger didn't tell him. She kept whispering it like a magic charm.

After a while she felt a raindrop on her hand, then another. She looked up at the sky. There wasn't so much as a speck of blue to be seen. How quickly the nearby sea could make the weather change! All right, I'll just wait in the apartment, she thought. We might even have some milk there for the cat. The poor thing weighed no more than a small damp towel. Meggie was afraid of breaking something when she picked it up.

It was pitch dark in the apartment. Mo had closed the shutters that morning so the sun wouldn't make it too hot. Meggie was shivering and wet from the fine drizzle when she entered the cool bedroom. She put the cat down on her unmade bed, slipped on Mo's sweater, which was much too big for her, and went into the kitchen. The milk carton was almost empty, but if she diluted what was left with a little warm water there was just enough for a saucerful.

The cat jumped down so quickly when Meggie put the milk on the floor beside the bed that it almost fell over its own paws. Rain was falling harder and harder outside. Meggie listened to it drumming on the paving stones. She went over to the window and opened the shutters. The narrow strip of sky visible between the rooftops was as dark as if the sun were about to set. Meggie went over to Mo's bed and sat down on it. The cat was still licking the saucer, its little tongue greedily rasping over the flower-patterned china, hoping for a last delicious drop. Meggie heard footsteps out in the street and then a knock at the door. Who was that? Mo couldn't possibly be back yet. Or had he forgotten something? The cat had disappeared, probably to hide under the bed. "Who's there?" called Meggie.

"Meggie!" a child's voice called back. Of course, Paula or Pippo. Yes, it must be Pippo. They probably wanted to go looking for ants with her again, even though it was raining. A gray paw emerged from under the bed and patted her shoelace. Meggie went out into the tiny hall. "I don't have time to play just now!" she called through the closed door.

"Please, Meggie!" begged Pippo's voice.

Sighing, Meggie opened the door – and found herself looking straight into Basta's face.

"Well, well, who do have we here?" he asked in a menacingly soft voice, his fingers around Pippo's thin little neck. "What do you say to that, Flatnose? She doesn't have time to play. " Basta pushed Meggie roughly aside and came through the door with Pippo, followed, of course, by Flatnose, whose broad shoulders would hardly fit through the doorway.

"Let go of him!" Meggie snapped at Basta, although her voice shook. "You're hurting him."

"Am I indeed?" Basta looked down at Pippo's pale face. "Not very nice of me, is it, especially since he showed us where you were hiding?" With these last words he squeezed Pippo's neck even more firmly.

"Do you know how long we lay in that filthy hovel?" he snarled at Meggie.

She took a step backward.

"A very long time!" Basta emphasized the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie's she could see herself reflected in his eyes. "Isn't that right, Flatnose?"

"Those damn rats almost nibbled off my toes, " growled the giant. "Wouldn't I just love to twist this little witch's nose until it's pointing the wrong way around!"

"Later, maybe." Basta pushed Meggie into the dark bed room. "Where's your father?" he asked. "This little lad, " he said, letting go of Pippo's throat and prodding him in the back so roughly that he stumbled against Meggie, "told us he's gone out. Gone out where?"

"Shopping. " Meggie could hardly breathe, she was so frightened. "How did you find us?" she whispered but instantly knew the answer. Dustfinger. Of course. Who else? But why had he betrayed them this time?

"Dustfinger, " replied Basta as if he had read her thoughts. "It's just too easy to find that fellow. There aren't so many crazy jugglers in this world who go around breathing fire and who have a tame marten, not to mention one with horns. So we only had to ask around a little, and once we were on Dustfinger's trail we were also on your father's, of course. We arrived just in time to see you drive away from the hotel parking lot, and we'd certainly have paid you a visit before now if this fool, " he said, digging his elbow so hard into Flatnose's stomach he let out a grunt of pain, "hadn't lost sight of you on our way here. We searched almost a dozen villages, wore out our voices asking questions, ran ourselves off our feet, until we finally got here, and one of those old fellows who spends all day staring out to sea remembered Dustfinger's scarred face. Where is he? Is he – er – out shopping, too?" asked Basta, with a scornful twist of his mouth,

Meggie shook her head, "He went away, " she replied tonelessly, "Ages ago, " So Dustfinger hadn't given them away after all. Not this time. And he'd slipped through Basta's fingers. Meggie could almost have smiled.

"You burned Elinor's books!" she said, holding Pippo close. He was still speechless with terror. "You'll be sorry you did that. "

"Oh, will we?" Basta smiled unpleasantly. "I wonder why. As far as I know Cockerell had a lot of fun with those books. But that's enough talk. We don't have forever. That boy, " he said, pointing at Pippo, who retreated as if Basta's forefinger were a knife, "has told us some strange stories about a grandfather who writes books and a book in which your father took a particular interest. "

Meggie swallowed. Stupid Pippo. Stupid, talkative little Pippo.

"Lost your tongue?" asked Basta. "Should I squeeze the boy's skinny neck again?"

Pippo began crying and buried his face in Mo's sweater. Meggie stroked his curly head comfortingly.

"His grandfather doesn't have the book you're thinking of anymore, " she told Basta. "You and your friends stole it long ago!" Her voice sounded hoarse with hatred, and her own thoughts sickened her. She wanted to kick Basta, hit him, stab him in the stomach with his own knife, the brand-new knife he wore stuck in his belt.

"Stole it. Just imagine!" Basta grinned at Flatnose. "I think we'd better make sure of that for ourselves, don't you?"

Flatnose nodded distractedly, looking around him. "Hey, hear that?"

There was a scratching sound under the bed. Flatnose knelt down, pushed the hanging edge of the sheet aside, and poked around under the bed with the barrel of his gun. Spitting, the gray cat shot out of hiding, and when Flatnose tried to grab it the cat raked his ugly face with its claws. He leaped to his feet with a yelp of pain. "I'll wring its neck!" he bellowed. "I'll break that cat's neck!"

Meggie was about to stand in his way as he lunged for the cat, but Basta got in first. "You'll do no such thing!" he spat at Flatnose as the gray cat disappeared under the dresser. "Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?"

"Nonsense! Superstitious garbage! I've wrung several of the brutes' necks already!" said Flatnose angrily, pressing one hand to his bleeding cheek. "And has my luck been worse than yours? You could drive a man crazy, the way you carry on:

Don't walk in that shadow, it's unlucky; oh, watch out, you put your left boot on first, that's unlucky; oh my, someone yawned – mercy me, that means I'll fall down dead tomorrow!"

"Shut up!" snapped Basta. "If anyone around here is talking nonsense it's you. Get those children to the door!"

Pippo clung to Meggie as Flatnose forced them out into the corridor. "Why are you bawling like that?" he growled at the little boy. "We're off to see your grandfather now."

Pippo never let go of Meggie's hand once as they stumbled after Flatnose. He was clutching it so hard his stubby finger nails dug into her skin. Oh, she thought, why didn't Mo listen to me? We could have gone home. It was still raining heavily. Raindrops ran over Meggie's face and down her neck. The streets were empty; there was no one around to help them. Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain. When they reached Fenoglio's house Meggie's feet were wet through, and Pippo's curls were plastered to his head. Perhaps he won't be at home, Meggie hoped. She was just thinking about what Basta would do then, when the red door opened and Fenoglio stood facing them.

"What on earth do you children think you're doing, running around in weather like this?" he said angrily. "I was just going out to look for you. Come on in, and hurry up. "

"May we come in, too?"

Basta and Flatnose had been standing on either side of the door with their backs to the wall so that Fenoglio wouldn't see them immediately, but now Basta moved up behind Meggie and put his hands on her shoulders. Fenoglio stared at him in surprise as Flatnose stepped forward and planted a foot in the open doorway. Pippo scurried past him, nimble as a weasel, and disappeared into the house.

"Who are these people?" Fenoglio looked at Meggie as crossly as if she had brought the two strangers there of her own free will. "Friends of your father's?"

Meggie mopped the rain off her face and looked back at him with equal reproach. "You ought to know them better than I do!" she said. Basta's fingers were digging into her shoulders.

"Know them?" Fenoglio looked at her blankly. Then he studied Basta. His face froze. "Great heavens above!" he murmured. "I don't believe it!"

Paula peered out from behind his back. "Pippo's crying!" she announced. "He's hidden in the cupboard. "

"Well, you go back to him, " said Fenoglio, never taking his eyes off Basta. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"How much longer are we going to stand out here, Basta?" growled Flatnose. "Until we shrink in this rain?"

"Basta!" repeated Fenoglio without stepping aside.

"Yes, that's my name, old man. " Basta's eyes always narrowed when he smiled. "We're here because you have something that interests us a great deal – a book."

Of course. Meggie almost burst out laughing. He didn't know! Basta didn't know who Fenoglio was. How could he? How could he know that this old man had invented him, made him up out of paper and ink, made up his face, his knife, his evil nature?

"That's enough talk!" growled Flatnose. "The rain's running into my ears. " He brushed Fenoglio aside like a troublesome fly as he pushed past him into the house. Basta followed with Meggie. Pippo was still sobbing inside the kitchen cupboard. Paula was standing in front of it, talking to him soothingly through the closed door. When Fenoglio came into the kitchen with the strangers she spun around and looked at Flatnose's face nervously. It was as dark and dismal as ever.

Sitting down at the table, Fenoglio beckoned Paula over without a word.

"Well, where is it?" Basta was looking around, scanning the room, but Fenoglio was too deeply absorbed in the sight of his two creations to reply. He couldn't take his eyes off Basta in particular, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"I told you: There's no copy of it here!" Meggie replied for him.

Basta acted as if he hadn't heard her and gestured impatiently to Flatnose. "Look for it!" he ordered. Grumbling, Flatnose obeyed. Meggie heard him trampling up the narrow wooden staircase that led to the attic.

"Right, little witch, how did you and your father find the old man?" Basta prodded her in the back. "How did you know he still has a copy?"

Meggie cast Fenoglio a warning glance, but unfortunately he was as ready to talk as Pippo, who had so willingly told Basta all about her and his grandfather.

"How did they find me? I wrote the book!" announced the old man proudly. Perhaps he expected that Basta would instantly fall on his knees before him, but Basta only gave a pitying smile.

"Oh yes, of course you did!" he said, taking the knife from his belt.

"He really did write it!" Meggie couldn't resist saying so. She wanted to see the fear that had turned Dustfinger pale when he heard about Fenoglio appear on Basta's face, too, but Basta just smiled again and began carving notches in Fenoglio's kitchen table.

"Who thought up that story?" he asked. "Your father? You think I look stupid? Everyone knows that stories in books are as old as the hills and were written by people dead and buried long ago." He jabbed the blade of the knife into the wood, pulled it out, and jabbed it in again. Flatnose was trampling around overhead.

"Dead and buried. How interesting. " Fenoglio sat Paula on his lap. "Did you hear that, Paula? This young man believes all books were written in the distant past by dead people who picked up the stories from heaven knows where. Plucked straight from the air, maybe?" Paula couldn't help giggling. It had grown very quiet in the cupboard. Pippo was probably listening at the door, holding his breath.

"What's so funny about that?" Basta reared up like a snake when someone has trodden on its tail. Fenoglio ignored him. Smiling, he looked down at his hands – as if remembering the day when they had begun to write Basta's story. Then he looked straight at him.

"You always wear long sleeves, don't you?" he said. "Should I tell you why?"

Basta narrowed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Damn it all, why is it taking that idiot so long to find a book?"

Fenoglio looked at him, his arms folded. "Easy: He can't read!" he said quietly. "You can't read either – unless you've learned by now? None of Capricorn's men can read, anymore than Capricorn himself can. "

Basta drove the knife so far into the surface of the table that he had difficulty pulling it out again. "Of course he can read. What are you going on about?" He leaned threateningly over the table. "I don't like the way you talk, old man. Why don't I carve a few more wrinkles in your face?"

Fenoglio smiled. Perhaps he thought Basta couldn't hurt him because he, Fenoglio, had made him up. Meggie wasn't so sure of that. "You wear long sleeves, " Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, "because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has set the fire and you confine yourself to playing games with knives. "

Basta jumped up so suddenly that Paula slid off Fenoglio's lap and hid under the table. "Like to make yourself out to be clever, do you?" he growled, holding his knife under Fenoglio's chin. "When all you've done is read the wretched book. Well?"

Fenoglio looked him in the eye. The knife under his chin didn't seem to scare him half as much as it did Meggie. "Oh, I know all about you, Basta, " he said. "I know you'd give your life for Capricorn any day, and you're always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you've loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you're stupid and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it's his own doing that you're still so ignorant. And he wouldn't hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?"

"Hold your filthy tongue, old man!" Basta's knife came alarmingly close to Fenoglio's face and, for a moment, Meggie thought he would slit his nose. "You don't know anything about Capricorn. Only what you read in the stupid book. I think I ought to cut your throat – now!"

"Wait!"

Basta whirled around to look at Meggie. "And you keep out of this! I'll deal with you later, you little toad," he said.

Fenoglio's hands were pressed to his own throat. He was staring blankly at Basta, having at last realized he was by no means safe from the man's knife.

"But you can't kill him. Really you can't!" cried Meggie, "If you do -"

Basta's thumb stroked the blade of his knife. "If I do, then what?"

Desperately, Meggie searched for the right words. What should she say? Oh, what? "Because… because Capricorn would die, too, " she managed. "Yes. That's it. You'd all die, you and Flatnose and Capricorn. If you kill this old man you'll all die, because he made you up. "

Basta's lips twisted in a scornful smile, but he lowered his knife and, for a moment, Meggie even thought she saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

Fenoglio cast her a relieved glance.

Basta stepped back, examined the blade of his knife closely as if he had discovered a mark on it, then rubbed it clean on the hem of his black jacket. "I don't believe a word of it!" he said. "But this is such a weird story, I think Capricorn might like to hear it, too. So, " he added, giving the shiny blade a lastpoish before snapping the knife shut and putting it back in his belt, "we won't take only the book and the girl, we'll take you, too, old man. "

Meggie heard Fenoglio draw in a sharp breath. She herself was so scared she wasn't sure if her heart was beating at all. Take them away. Basta was going to take them away. No, she thought, oh please, no!

"Take us away where?" asked Fenoglio.

"Ask the girl here!" Basta pointed mockingly at Meggie. "She and her father have had the honor of being our guests already. Bed and board thrown in."

"But this is nonsense!" cried Fenoglio. "I thought it was the book you wanted."

"Then you thought wrong. We didn't even know there was supposed to be another copy. No, we were just sent to bring Silvertongue back. Capricorn doesn't like his guests to leave without saying good-bye, and Silvertongue's a very special guest, isn't that right, sweetheart?" Basta winked at Meggie. "But he isn't here, and I have better things to do than hang around waiting for him. So I'll take his daughter – and he'll come chasing after her of his own accord." Basta went up to Meggie and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "She makes pretty bait, wouldn't you say?" he asked. "Oh yes, old man, take it from me: If we have this little creature we'll have her father, too. He'll come like a dancing bear led by a ring in his nose. "

Meggie struck his hand aside, trembling with fury.

"Don't you do that again!" Basta whispered in her ear.

Meggie was glad that Flatnose came trudging downstairs at this moment. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, breathless and with several books under his arm. "Here!" he said, dumping them on the table. "They all begin with this single upright stroke followed by the three up-and-down lines. Just the way you drew it. " He put a stained piece of paper down beside the books. The letters I and N were clumsily traced on it, and it looked as if the hand that set them down had found the task very difficult.

Basta spread the books out on the table and pushed them apart from one another with his knife. "These are no good," he said, pushing two off the table so that they landed on the floor with crumpled pages. "Nor are these." Two more landed on the floor, and finally Basta swept the rest off the table, too. "Are you quite sure there isn't another one beginning like that?" he asked Flatnose angrily.

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"You'd better not be wrong. Because I do assure you, you'll be the one to pay for it, not me!"

Flatnose cast a worried look over the books at his feet.

"Oh, and another little change of plan: We're taking him with us as well." Basta pointed his knife at Fenoglio. "So he can tell the boss his amazing stories. Very entertaining they are, too, believe you me. And just in case he's hidden a book somewhere – well, we'll have plenty of time to ask him about that once we get back. You keep your eye on the old man and I'll watch the girl."

Flatnose nodded and hauled Fenoglio up from his chair. But Basta reached for Meggie's arm. Back to Capricorn – she had to bite her lips to stop herself from bursting into tears as Basta dragged her to Fenoglio's kitchen door. No. Basta wouldn't see her weep, she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. At least they haven't got Mo, she thought. And suddenly there was only one thought in her head: Suppose he crossed their path before they left the village? Suppose he came to meet them on his way back with Elinor?

All at once she couldn't wait to get away, but Flatnose had paused in the doorway. "What about the little girl and that crybaby in the cupboard?" he asked.

Pippo's sobs died away, and Fenoglio's face turned even whiter than Basta's shirt.

"Right, old man, what do you think I'm going to do with them?" asked Basta scornfully. "You say you know all about me. "

Fenoglio couldn't utter a word. Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes, then he turned to Flatnose. "The other children stay behind, " he said. "Our little madam here will do. "

With difficulty, Fenoglio recovered his powers of speech. "Paula, go home!" he said as Flatnose forced him down the hall. "Do you hear? Go home at once. Tell your mother I've gone away for a few days, all right?"

"We'll just look in at that apartment again, " Basta said as they were standing in the street outside. "I forgot to leave a message for your father. I mean, he ought to know where you are, don't you think?"

What kind of message will it be, thought Meggie, when you can scarcely write two letters together? But of course she didn't say so out loud. She was terrified the whole time that Mo might come to meet them. But when they reached the front door of the apartment there was only an old lady walking down the street.

"One word out of you and I'll go back and wring both children's necks!" Basta whispered to Fenoglio as the old lady slowed down.

"Hello, Rosalia, " said Fenoglio huskily. "Guess what – I have new tenants for my apartment. How about that, then?"

The suspicion vanished from Rosalia's face, and a moment later she had disappeared around a corner of the street. Meggie opened the door, and for the second time let Basta and Flatnose into the apartment where she and Mo had felt so safe.

In the hall she remembered the gray cat and looked around anxiously, but it was nowhere to be seen. "The cat has to go out, " she said when they were in the bedroom. "Or it'll starve to death. That's unlucky. "

Basta opened the window. "Right, it can get out now, " he said.

Flatnose snorted scornfully, but this time he made no comment on Basta's superstitious nature.

"Can l take some clothes?" asked Meggie.

Flatnose just grunted, and Fenoglio looked unhappily down at himself. "I could do with a change of clothes, too, " he said, but no one took any notice. Basta was busy with his message. Carefully, with the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he was gouging his name in the wood of the dresser with his knife. BASTA. Mo would understand that only too well.

Meggie hastily stuffed a few things in her backpack. She kept on Mo's sweater. She was about to put Elinor's two books in with the clothes but Basta knocked them out of her hand.

"Those stay here, " he said.

Mo did not return in time to meet them as they walked to Basta's car. All that long, endless way, he didn't appear.