The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 23

Hannover's frazzled nerves slowly settled as reason came to his mind. "Flashmen? Oh, poppycock!" he grumbled, slumping back down in bed. "Timothy, I find this very aggravating. Here I am trying to get a good night's sleep, and you come breaking into my room to tell me about some foolish nightmare! You are imagining things, you flighty simpleton!"

"But, I ain't! I really did 'ear somebody! I weren't dreamin'!"

"And I am supposed to worry my head over that? Do you realize how many people are staying in this hotel? And, much as I'd like to, I can't lock them all into their rooms at night just to keep them from roaming around! There is absolutely no chance of thieves! My house is protected by the best locks! No one could possibly break in! Now for mercy sake, leave me alone and go back to bed."

"But..."

Hannover gave the boy a shove and then hid under his blankets. He was fast asleep in moments, and Timothy stood trembling with new fear.

Dear me, what t' do now? he wondered. He couldn't stay there and do nothing. He knew what he had heard, and he knew it wasn't innocent. Who would be wandering around at one o'clock in the morning?

Tim ventured out into the hall again. Once more he heard the faint sound of a footstep. Then a whispering voice echoed down the hall. He didn't know how he found the bravery to do it, but slowly and quietly, the lad walked toward the plunderer. His sharp ears started catching the hushed words of the deep voice. "So now I know," the man murmured. "You are there. Always there. Watching and listening to all that goes on. But you will be the only one who knows my secret tonight."

Who was the person speaking to? Were there two thieves instead of just one? Timothy had to know. If he could really catch them and know that they were criminals, perhaps he would be able to convince Hannover and gain his help.

The lad crept on, feeling more frightened by the minute. He pressed his shaky hands over his mouth to keep himself from whimpering as he made his way closer and closer to the villain. How his skin crawled as he sensed that he was nearing the end of the hallway. Any minute now, he knew he would see the criminals' shadowy forms up ahead of him.

What am I doin'? he wondered in terror. If I see 'em, p'raps they'll see me too. An' if I gets nabbed, what'll 'appen t' me?

He came to a sudden halt. A feeling of confusion washed over him. A chill more terrifying than any other turned everything inside of him to ice. He had reached the end of the hallway, and there wasn't a soul to be seen. Or was there?

Through the inky darkness, Timothy was afraid he could make out a form standing right in front of him. It was stock still, so still that the little boy second-guessed himself. Then, lightning flashed in the window pane, and for one instant, the boy saw it plainly: a deathly white person with evil, glaring eyes and a hand that was reaching out to grab him.

Timothy stumbled back and almost let out a blood curdling shriek, but right then, he felt an arm seize him from behind, and a large hand was clapped over his mouth.

"Get away from here!" a deep voice growled. "And never let me catch you here again!"

He was instantly released, and the arms which had bound him gave the child a sudden, hard shove. Timothy wasted no time. He was off like a shot, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

The boy was out of his head with terror. He passed the staircase to the attic, never even thinking to go back to his room. How could he go there now? How could he feel safe anywhere? He ran until the eerie place was far, far behind him. Then, shaking in horror and feeling terribly confused, he threw himself into a dark room to hide himself.