word of a wolf!
But I get Flasheart and the boy, sir!'
Sir Hotspur gave a wild stare. Slowly Chester held
out the key and dropped it onto Hotspur's hairy palm.
The Fangen closed his hand greedily. In a second he
had removed the chain and Moonstone from around
his neck.
'At last! I shall have what is mine once again,
and Flasheart will rue the day he ever returned to
Farfang,' he roared. 'And as for that foolster Frederick
– I'll squish him! Squish him like a jellied frog, that
I will, sir!'
'Okay . . .' Chester interrupted, 'so now we've got
the vows of revenge out of the way, perhaps we can
get down to business?' He moved the candle and laid
his parchment on the table.
'Where exactly is the entrance to the Hidden
Halls?'
Batty withdrew her muzzle from the gap under the
hut's door. She was right not to have trusted Chester
Puceley, for here he was with Freddy's hateful uncle,
the very man who had betrayed his own family.
They were up to something, and she had a deep sense
that Freddy was in danger. She had to warn him, but
how? She lay on the ground in the shadow of the hut
for some minutes, unsure of what to do. Then her ears
jumped high as the idea pinged into her head.
She ran back to the castle, through the back door
and up the spiral stairs to Freddy's tower room. She
pulled the long sausage bag from under his bed –
the label was still on the handle. She gave a howl of
delight at her plan.
In the woods, frowning over the map, Sir Hotspur
froze. 'Is that the howl of a . . .' He could barely speak
the word. '. . . a dog , sir? In my castle?'
'Yes, a stinking mongrel,' Chester confirmed. 'It
should be at the bottom of the moat.'
'It soon will be, sir.' Hotspur shuddered. 'To think
Flasheart has allowed Farfang to have fallen so low. But
that can wait. Do you have a Blavendoch? It says here
on your paper that the treasure cannot be discovered
without it.'
'Ah – well, no,' Chester admitted. 'Freddo let us
down there.'
'Of course he did, the boy's a foolster!' Sir Hotspur
slammed his fist on the table. 'But never fear, there
may be another way.'
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
A Cold Shower
Freddy walked back to the school disconsolately,
scuffing his soft black ballet slippers on the gravel.
How had the hero been reduced to this? At least it
couldn't get any worse.
He looked up to see Madam waiting for him on
the doorstep. The gargoyles on the grim grey building
laughed and gurned down at him. The tiny lady
looked him up and down in distaste. Bits of spinach
were matted into his hair, and his pink tights were
black with mud.
'Zis is ze only boy's outfit we have.' She frowned
in disgust.
'And you burnt all my clothes!' he growled, in no
mood for politeness.
Her mole hairs reached out for him and he leaned
back – that was too weird.
'And you ztink.' She twitched her nose.
'He always does.' Harriet's hateful face peeked out
from behind Madam.
'Who asked you, cheese-brain?' Freddy glared.
'You vill take ze zhower.' Madam pointed around
the side of the house. 'But in ze outhouse. Chariot, my
cherub, zhow him vere to go! Get clean, boy, and you
can eat later.'
Although reluctant to do anything to please
Madam, the thought of food was too tempting. Half
a bowl of cereal and a chocolate poo had not really
been enough. With his nose in the air, he slouched off
behind Chariot.
'In there, dog-stench.' The pink boy pointed and
gave Freddy a friendly kick.
'Thanks, fart-breath.' Freddy dead-legged his
cousin. He couldn't stand those twins.
'Great,' he muttered when he saw the old stone
room. Cold wind howled in through a broken window,
and there were cobwebs everywhere. Freddy tried to
look cool in front of Chariot, but was rather nervous
about the prospect of spiders.
'Clear off now, dung-pong,' Freddy ordered, and
slammed the door.
With a forlorn sigh, he peeled off his muddy clothes
and hung them on a hook. He looked about – there
was just a small
But I get Flasheart and the boy, sir!'
Sir Hotspur gave a wild stare. Slowly Chester held
out the key and dropped it onto Hotspur's hairy palm.
The Fangen closed his hand greedily. In a second he
had removed the chain and Moonstone from around
his neck.
'At last! I shall have what is mine once again,
and Flasheart will rue the day he ever returned to
Farfang,' he roared. 'And as for that foolster Frederick
– I'll squish him! Squish him like a jellied frog, that
I will, sir!'
'Okay . . .' Chester interrupted, 'so now we've got
the vows of revenge out of the way, perhaps we can
get down to business?' He moved the candle and laid
his parchment on the table.
'Where exactly is the entrance to the Hidden
Halls?'
Batty withdrew her muzzle from the gap under the
hut's door. She was right not to have trusted Chester
Puceley, for here he was with Freddy's hateful uncle,
the very man who had betrayed his own family.
They were up to something, and she had a deep sense
that Freddy was in danger. She had to warn him, but
how? She lay on the ground in the shadow of the hut
for some minutes, unsure of what to do. Then her ears
jumped high as the idea pinged into her head.
She ran back to the castle, through the back door
and up the spiral stairs to Freddy's tower room. She
pulled the long sausage bag from under his bed –
the label was still on the handle. She gave a howl of
delight at her plan.
In the woods, frowning over the map, Sir Hotspur
froze. 'Is that the howl of a . . .' He could barely speak
the word. '. . . a dog , sir? In my castle?'
'Yes, a stinking mongrel,' Chester confirmed. 'It
should be at the bottom of the moat.'
'It soon will be, sir.' Hotspur shuddered. 'To think
Flasheart has allowed Farfang to have fallen so low. But
that can wait. Do you have a Blavendoch? It says here
on your paper that the treasure cannot be discovered
without it.'
'Ah – well, no,' Chester admitted. 'Freddo let us
down there.'
'Of course he did, the boy's a foolster!' Sir Hotspur
slammed his fist on the table. 'But never fear, there
may be another way.'
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
A Cold Shower
Freddy walked back to the school disconsolately,
scuffing his soft black ballet slippers on the gravel.
How had the hero been reduced to this? At least it
couldn't get any worse.
He looked up to see Madam waiting for him on
the doorstep. The gargoyles on the grim grey building
laughed and gurned down at him. The tiny lady
looked him up and down in distaste. Bits of spinach
were matted into his hair, and his pink tights were
black with mud.
'Zis is ze only boy's outfit we have.' She frowned
in disgust.
'And you burnt all my clothes!' he growled, in no
mood for politeness.
Her mole hairs reached out for him and he leaned
back – that was too weird.
'And you ztink.' She twitched her nose.
'He always does.' Harriet's hateful face peeked out
from behind Madam.
'Who asked you, cheese-brain?' Freddy glared.
'You vill take ze zhower.' Madam pointed around
the side of the house. 'But in ze outhouse. Chariot, my
cherub, zhow him vere to go! Get clean, boy, and you
can eat later.'
Although reluctant to do anything to please
Madam, the thought of food was too tempting. Half
a bowl of cereal and a chocolate poo had not really
been enough. With his nose in the air, he slouched off
behind Chariot.
'In there, dog-stench.' The pink boy pointed and
gave Freddy a friendly kick.
'Thanks, fart-breath.' Freddy dead-legged his
cousin. He couldn't stand those twins.
'Great,' he muttered when he saw the old stone
room. Cold wind howled in through a broken window,
and there were cobwebs everywhere. Freddy tried to
look cool in front of Chariot, but was rather nervous
about the prospect of spiders.
'Clear off now, dung-pong,' Freddy ordered, and
slammed the door.
With a forlorn sigh, he peeled off his muddy clothes
and hung them on a hook. He looked about – there
was just a small
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