Basil and the Royal Dare Read online

  I glanced around the cabinet. A few crumbs of that sugary pastry littered the pile of glass photographic plates upon which the young mice had been sitting.

  “I see that you haven’t been hungry, at least,” I said with a smile, my own stomach rumbling slightly at the memory of my interrupted breakfast.

  “No, but we’ve been dreadfully frightened!” Florrie exclaimed. “And besides that . . .” She hesitated, glancing at the other teens.

  “What is it, Florrie?” George asked. “What’s wrong? You’re safe now.”

  “Perhaps not,” Marek said grimly. “You see, something terrible has happened!”

  9

  A Curious Confession

  “EXPLAIN,” BASIL DEMANDED. THEN HE peered out into the ballroom. “No—wait. You can explain once we’re safely back in the walls. Come with me—quickly!”

  He leaped out of the camera cabinet. I followed, along with the others. A maid was just passing, dressed in a voluminous floor-length black skirt. Basil dashed beneath the skirt, and we followed, scurrying along while carefully keeping clear of the woman’s clunky black shoes as she crossed the room. In that way, we stayed hidden from the humans, who had by now removed both Pes and Cecil from the room. Once we came close enough to the hidey-hole, we dashed out from under the skirt and were safe again. By the time we arrived, Elwood was already waiting for us, breathless and with his furry blue disguise abandoned outside.

  “Good work, sir,” Basil told him. Then he turned to the teenagers once more. “Explain,” he repeated. “What terrible thing has happened, other than worrying your families half to death?”

  “We’re sorry about that.” Clara’s face looked drawn and anxious. “We didn’t mean to make them worry.”

  Marek nodded. “It’s just that we took our last dare a step too far,” he added.

  “Yes.” Clara glared at him. “It was his idea.”

  Marek shrugged. “I admit it. I overheard a human saying that the royal family—ours, that is”—here he glanced at the other Bohemians—“would be sitting for a photographic portrait in the breakfast room first thing this morning.”

  “So he dared us to pop up behind them as the photograph was taken,” his sister, Pavla, went on. “That way we would appear in the photograph—with the humans none the wiser!”

  I couldn’t help smiling. It was a clever plan indeed! “And then what happened?” I asked, kicking at a bit of sugar still lingering on the floor nearby. “Did you pull it off?”

  “Of course.” Young Hugo puffed out his chest with pride. “We hid until just the right moment, then posed behind the humans’ shoulders. None of them noticed a thing—not even the photographer!”

  Marek grinned for a second. Then his shoulders slumped. “But then we heard that this photo would be presented at the ball tomorrow night,” he said. “That’s when we realized our terrible mistake.”

  I blinked, not sure what he meant. But Basil was nodding.

  “I see,” he said. “When that photograph is unveiled, someone is sure to spot the mice in the background.”

  “Yes,” Clara said worriedly. “And given Prince Leo’s hatred of mice . . .”

  “The humans are likely to stop at nothing to drive all mice out of Marlborough House,” her cousin Florrie finished for her.

  “To say nothing of how we will ever get home,” Marek added. “Leo’s father insisted he keep Pes caged for most of the journey here. But if he thinks there could be mice about . . .”

  “He’s likely to give the beast free rein of the carriages and ship, just in case,” Pavla finished grimly.

  “Oh dear,” I said, finally seeing the problem.

  All the teens looked worried. But Prince Marek forced a smile. “Worst of all,” he said, “they’re likely to lock up their stores of my favorite delicious Abertam cheese!”

  “Abertam, eh?” I licked my chops, hungrier than ever at the mention of cheese. “I don’t think I’ve tried that one.”

  “It’s a Bohemian specialty,” Basil told me absently. “But never mind that, Dawson. We have more important things than cheese to occupy our minds at the moment.”

  That was easy for him to say! I was about to mention as much when his next words drove all other thoughts from my mind:

  “We must get our paws on that photographic plate!” he cried.

  10

  Search and Destroy Mission

  “WE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT,” MAREK told Basil glumly. “That’s why we ended up hiding in the camera. We hoped to find the plate there and destroy or smudge it somehow.”

  Clara nodded. “But the camera cabinet contains only unexposed plates,” she said. “The others must already have been taken to the darkroom.”

  “Oh dear,” I said. “It could already be too late!”

  Basil shook his head firmly. “Nonsense, Dawson,” he said. “If that photograph had already been developed, the search for the mice would be on by now.”

  “That’s true,” young Silvie agreed. “The humans wouldn’t be shooing Pes away as a nuisance—they would be encouraging him!”

  “Correct,” Basil said with an approving nod for the youngster. “That means we still have time.”

  I realized he was right. The ball wasn’t until the following evening—more than twenty-four hours hence. We did have time, at least a little. . . .

  “All we have to do is find that plate,” Basil declared, pacing back and forth in the limited space between the walls. “Then we can spirit it off if possible, or at least break the glass so it’s ruined.” He stopped and spun to face Clara. “Now, where is the humans’ darkroom?”

  Clara and Hugo traded a look. “It’s at the opposite end of the house from where we stand now,” Hugo said.

  Princess Clara sighed. “If only we hadn’t agreed to that stupid prank!”

  “You might as well come out and say it—you blame me!” Marek snapped, glaring at her.

  She returned his hostile expression. “You’re right. I do blame you,” she retorted. “I knew you were a show-off!”

  “That’s enough,” Basil said, silencing them. “We’ll need our wits about us if we’re to fix this. There’s no time to waste in sniping at each other.”

  “Sorry,” Marek mumbled, while Clara just shrugged and turned away, frowning.

  “We’d better set off at once for the darkroom,” Elwood suggested. “It’s this way. . . .”

  As we followed him through the walls, I leaned closer to Basil. “Marek and Clara don’t seem to get along too well,” I murmured. “I hope their obvious distaste for each other doesn’t cause an international incident to add to our problems!”

  As promised, the journey across the massive house was a long one. We crept through walls, across vacant rooms, and up and down pipes and molding.

  The trip seemed to take longer than it might have otherwise, since the teens kept moaning and worrying aloud over what they’d done. Marek and Clara, in particular, found every opportunity to blame each other for what had happened and otherwise show their disdain for the other.

  But I did my best to ignore all that and focus on the case at hand, just as I imagined Basil—or Mr. Holmes himself—might advise. I suspected we would need all our strength, mental and physical alike, once we reached the darkroom.

  After nearly an hour’s travel, George paused and peered out through a hidey-hole. “Here,” he said. “We can take a shortcut through the prince’s study.”

  “Are you certain?” Elwood sounded worried. “At this time of the evening he’s usually in there.”

  Young Hugo shrugged. “He’s not there now,” he said, peering out to make sure of it. “Besides, his dogs are banished to the kennels while the visitors are here, remember? It’s safe enough.”

  Elwood nodded, and the rest of us took him at his word—especially once he mentioned that the shortcut would subtract at least fifteen minutes’ scurrying off our journey.

  George led the way out of the wainscoting into the large but co
zy study, which was filled with comfortable leather furniture, dark paneling, worn but luxurious rugs, and wooden cabinets full of trophies, glassware, and other items.

  We were about halfway across the room when the door opened—and Pes raced in, barking like mad as he careened toward us!

  11

  A Terrifying Attack

  WE WERE ONLY A YARD from the nearest wall, with an inviting hidey-hole visible. “Run!” George cried, flinging himself in that direction.

  Most of the group followed, including myself. But I paused and glanced back, realizing that Basil wasn’t beside me.

  Indeed, he had stopped to look back as well, and I soon saw why—Clara stood frozen with terror, staring wide-eyed and pale as Pes lunged toward her!

  “Clara!” Basil shouted, diving toward her.

  Swallowing my terror, I followed, grabbing one of her arms as Basil took the other. In that way, we lifted her bodily between us, tossing her into a sturdy wooden cabinet through a missing pane in its glass doors and then following her ourselves. A second later came the thump and rattle of Pes flinging himself against the cabinet, though his barking was somewhat muffled by the glass and wood.

  I collapsed onto the cool glass cabinet floor, shaking with fear at our near miss. “I—I’m sorry!” Clara cried. “I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t move. . . .”

  “It’s all right, miss,” Basil told her. “The mind can play funny tricks upon one at moments of great stress. It’s quite natural.”

  “Do you think the others got away?” she exclaimed. “What if that terrible dog caught them?”

  She went quite pale and shaky, presumably concerned about the well-being of her brother and cousin. But Basil quickly reassured her.

  “The others most certainly escaped—you can count on it,” he said with great conviction. “Otherwise that beast wouldn’t be trying to get at us.”

  “Oh! That’s true.” Looking much relieved, Clara sat down and leaned against a bottle to catch her breath. Meanwhile, I looked around. We appeared to be in some sort of large cabinet containing fancy glass bottles filled with liquids of various hues, along with vessels of different shapes from which to drink them.

  Outside, two humans had hurried into the room as well, perhaps drawn by the dog’s frenzied barking.

  “Pes, no!” the smaller of the two—Prince Leo, as I could see when I pressed my face to the frosted glass—shouted, pulling the dog away from the cabinet. He added a few more words in what I could only assume was his native tongue.

  “I say, what a racket,” commented the larger human. My eyes widened as I realized who it was—the Prince of Wales himself, Edward, second-eldest child of Queen Victoria and the master of this house!

  I didn’t hear the rest of what the prince said. But a moment later he and Leo departed, pulling the study door firmly shut behind them—with Pes still on our side!

  “Oh dear,” Clara said, peering out at the dog. He was prowling around the cabinet, sniffing for a way in. “They’ve locked that creature in here with us!”

  “Yes. Leaving no obvious path of escape until they return for him.” Basil seemed disgruntled—an unusual state for him. “As I’ve mentioned, Mr. Holmes often uses canine behavior to aid him in his cases, but this particular beast seems to exist only to hinder mine!”

  Clara nodded. “It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?” she said softly.

  Basil didn’t seem to hear her, having drifted into deep thought. But I smiled at the girl kindly. “What’s that, miss?”

  She shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine life in a place with such a dog around all the time,” she said. “Especially after growing up here, with lazy Cecil.”

  Basil suddenly snapped back to attention. “Now that we’ve a moment to catch our breath,” he said, “why don’t you tell me about that photograph. Every detail—leave nothing out.”

  I was surprised by his questioning. “What difference do such details make, Basil?” I asked. “All we need to do is find and then break the blasted plate, after all.”

  Basil shrugged. “No knowledge is wasted, Dawson.” He nodded at Clara. “Please—tell me everything.”

  She did so, running out of descriptive words after about fifteen minutes. For another three quarters of an hour or more, we sat in near silence.

  Well, Clara and I sat. Basil paced incessantly, dodging between decanter and glass, then past several cloudy bottles before making the turn at the end and stalking past us, over and over.

  By the time a full hour had passed, my stomach was grumbling loudly enough for Clara to hear. She offered me a shy smile—and then a scrap of cheese pulled from her pocket.

  “Here,” she said. “Take this. It sounds as if you haven’t eaten in a while.”

  “Are you sure?” I said, my stomach growling anew at the delectable scent of it. “There’s no telling how long we’ll be in here. You might want to keep it for yourself.”

  “It’s all right. I’m not hungry.” She held out the cheese. “Please, take it.”

  I needed no third invitation, gobbling the cheese greedily. “Mmm,” I said. “Delicious! But what is it? I’ve never tasted a cheese quite like it before.”

  Basil stalked past again just in time to hear me. “It’s a ripe Abertam, of course,” he said. “That’s the Bohemian cheese young Prince Marek mentioned as a particular favorite of his. The scent is quite distinctive.” He paused in his pacing, staring at Clara. “Did the prince give it to you?”

  “No!” she blurted out quickly, blushing. “Er . . . I mean, of course not. Why would you assume such a thing? It was, um, his sister, Pavla.”

  Basil stared at her, then nodded. “I see,” he said, and then resumed his pacing.

  I licked the last crumb of cheese off my paw, then settled myself to wait. For how long? I could only guess. . . .

  12

  The Long Wait

  AN UNKNOWN PERIOD OF TIME later, I awoke with a start when Basil shook me by the shoulder.

  “Wake up, Dawson,” he said. “Someone has just entered.”

  I sat up, yawning and trying to catch my bearings. Nearby, Clara looked sleepy too, though Basil was wide-awake and peering out through the broken pane in the cabinet door.

  I joined him there. “It’s Leo!” I whispered.

  Sure enough, the human lad had just entered the study. “Pes!” he called, adding a whistle and a few words in his own language.

  The dog pricked an ear toward the boy but stayed where he was, on alert in front of the cabinet where we hid. Leo frowned, looking annoyed.

  “Get over here,” he said. “You are already in trouble for disrupting the cleaning of the ballroom earlier. Now you wish to make trouble in the prince’s study as well?” He stepped forward. “Hmm . . . unless perhaps you’ve found a—a mouse?” His voice trembled slightly on the last word.

  “Quick—hide!” Basil hissed, giving me a sudden shove.

  The three of us scurried to the back of the cabinet, huddling behind an especially large decanter of dark, sour-smelling liquid.

  A second later the cabinet door swung open. Leo peered in, looking nervous. Pes pranced around just behind him, clearly hoping for a chance to leap inside.

  “Stay back,” the human child warned the dog. “We cannot have you breaking the prince’s things. I shall check for—for mice.”

  With a gulp, he reached forward, tipping up a glass to look inside. He then moved several of the bottles. Would he find us? And if so, would we be able to escape before his killer dog set upon us?

  “If he lifts this bottle, run that way,” I whispered to Clara, pointing. “Basil and I will distract him while you break for the wall.”

  “No!” she cried softly. “I can’t leave you here to—”

  “Hush!” Basil said. “The boy is afraid—he won’t dare reach this far in.”

  As it happened, he was right. After peeking into a few more glasses and behind another bottle or two, Leo gave up and swung the door shut.


  “I don’t see anything,” he told his dog. “So let’s go.”

  But Pes dodged him when he tried to grab his collar. The prince made one more attempt, then let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Stay here if you choose, then!” he exclaimed, stomping toward the door.

  “Oh no!” I said as I realized we were once again trapped in the room with Pes. “Now what?”

  Basil shrugged. “Now we wait.”

  And so we did. We waited as the shadows in the room grew long and the sky darkened outside. I hoped that Pes might become bored and curl up to sleep, giving us a chance to escape. But he remained on alert, circling the cabinet nonstop.

  Eventually I felt my eyes grow heavy. Clara was already sound asleep, curled up inside a short, heavy glass. I found a comfortable spot of my own and was soon snoring away.

  When I next opened my eyes, bright daylight was pouring in through the windows. For a moment I thought Basil must have woken me again, for he was standing nearby.

  But then I heard the rumbling voice of the Prince of Wales outside and realized it must have been his entrance that had pulled me out of my slumber. “What are you still doing in here, you rascal?” the prince was exclaiming, sounding half-amused and half-annoyed. “Look at the mess you’ve made! Out with you now!”

  “Quick!” Basil said to me and Clara, the latter of whom had apparently awakened before I did. “This is our chance.”

  As soon as the prince turned to toss the little dog out of his study, we leaped out through the broken pane and sprinted for the wainscoting. Seconds later we were safely back within the walls.

  “Hurry!” Basil said, not giving us a chance to celebrate. “We have to get back to the others and find out if any progress has been made on my plan.”

  Luckily, Clara knew the way home. But our luck ended there, for when we reached the rest of the royal clans, they had some bad news for us.