The Apothecary Page 0,35

they were old friends. “Thank you, madam, for the fine hospitality,” he said, imitating Mr Danby’s arch politeness.

The matron scowled at Benjamin, but stood aside and let us out the door.

On the steps of Turnbull, there was sunlight and a fresh breeze, and I realised how sour and unhappy the air inside had been. I breathed deeply, and felt almost safe. Mr Danby was going to make everything all right. “There’s the car,” he said.

A shining green sedan idled in the curving drive. The driver turned to look at us, and smiled a welcoming smile. I felt Benjamin catch my arm, and the blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins.

Mr Danby’s driver was the man with the scar.

CHAPTER 16

The Pickpocket

It took about a second and a half to register what the smiling, scarred face of the driver meant. It meant that we weren’t going to have cocoa, and that Danby was not our friend, and that whatever he did for the Foreign Office— if he did work for the Foreign Office—was not in our interest. Those facts came through in a flood, as if I’d torn off a blindfold in a bright, crowded room. Benjamin and I both had the same response, almost instantly: We ran back into the dismal, foul-smelling, cold Turnbull Hall.

The matron must have been watching us through the cracked door, because we nearly knocked her over as we ran inside. Benjamin slammed the door behind us and leaned his shoulder into it.

“Give me the keys!” he commanded, holding the doorknob so it wouldn’t turn. “Arrest us again! Just give me the keys!”

Danby pounded on the other side. “Open this door!” his muffled voice shouted.

The matron hesitated. “But . . . he’s from the government.”

“No he’s not—he’s a Soviet spy!”

I hadn’t yet put all the information together to get to that point, but I realised that Benjamin was right. Shiskin had told us that the Scar was working for the Soviets, and Danby was working with the Scar, so that meant that Danby was working for the Soviets. If he’d been keeping an eye on Benjamin, it was because of the apothecary, not because Benjamin seemed like raw talent for the British Secret Service.

“Stuff and nonsense!” the matron said, regaining her composure. She moved towards the door as if to open it, and I grabbed the ring of keys from her hand. She yanked my hair with surprising strength, pulling my head back. I tossed Benjamin the keys, then turned and shoved her away. She fell heavily to the floor, and I resisted the urge to apologise.

Benjamin locked the front door and we ran back past the tumbled matron, down the hall. He stuck his head into the classroom full of children.

“There’s a Russian spy chasing us!” he said. “Where’s the back door?”

The children were too surprised to speak, until one small boy piped, “Through the kitchen!”

We ran on, and the children all jumped up from their desks and spilled after us. They filled the hall, blocking the way like a herd of sheep. I heard the matron shouting at them to stand aside.

We ran through the door to the holding cells, and Benjamin found the key to lock it behind us. Pip was still working the lock of his cell with my safety pin, and he looked up at us with surprise. “Where’s your mate?” he asked.

“He’s not our mate!” I said. “Will you help us escape, if we let you out?”

He shrugged. “I’ve almost got this picked.”

Benjamin pushed his hands away and unlocked the cell with the keys.

“I almost had that!” Pip said, stamping his foot. “An’ it’s a bloody hard one!”

“There’s a way out through the kitchen,” I said. “Do you know where the kitchen is?”

“This way,” Pip said, and he led us out the far door of the room.

We ran down one whitewashed hallway, and then another, and encountered a strong, sour soup smell. Finally we arrived in a large, steamy room with pots on the stove, and three cooks in stained aprons. Without slowing down, Pip took a bread roll off a tray and bit into it. Beyond the cooks was a door that looked like it led outside.

“There it is!” I said.

But then the door swung open, and Danby stepped in.

“Turn back!” Benjamin cried.

We ran back down the narrow hallway again.

“Upstairs!” Pip said, through a mouthful of bread. We wheeled right, up a flight of wooden stairs, with Danby close behind. At the top of the stairs there was