The Mousehunter by Alex Milway Page A

Emiline felt a hand take hold of her ankle and tug it gently.
    “All right!” she replied, pulling the wooden trapdoor over her head.
    A loud banging on the door woke Algernon from his dreams of machines and mice.
    “Who is it?” he shouted sleepily. Swinging himself out of bed, Algernon opened the window onto the chilly night. He slipped his glasses over his nose and finally saw who was making the racket. A band of soldiers were huddled around his door, swords and rifles held at the ready.
    “Algernon Mountjack,” ordered a soldier, “on the orders of the Mayor of Hamlyn, open your door. You are under arrest for conspiring against the state. As of now, your premises are under the control of the Hamlyn Guard.”
    Algernon jumped back from the window and composed himself. He ticked all the mental notes off one at a time in his brain: he liked to prepare for instances such as these, but they would always surprise you no matter how ready you were. He slipped on his shoes and overcoat, picked up his goggles and leather hat, and bundled down the stairs at breakneck speed.
    Once more the soldiers rapped on the door.
    “Right, break it in!”
    Algernon sped through to the bar, avoiding the two sleeping Elephant Mice not far from the doorway. He patted his pockets with his palms, and found them empty.
    “Gah! Keys . . . ,” he muttered to himself. “Keys . . . where are you?”
    He kicked a load of crates out of the way and pushed aside some empty beer glasses. His keys were nowhere to be seen.
    “Come on, I need you!” he growled.
    The front door banged as the soldiers made their first hit. It shuddered and cracked, but nothing gave. Inn doors, particularly in Hamlyn, were always sturdily built for fear of rowdy pirates breaking in.
    Algernon scampered around, scouring one surface after another, and then his thoughts turned a corner and he remembered exactly where he’d put them. He jumped up onto the bar and grabbed the key chain from a peg high up on the wall.
    “Aha!” he cried as the front door was rammed again; this time its top twisted inward and the hinges buckled and snapped. Algernon jumped to the floor and budged a rusty old beer pump on the bar with his elbow. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and stinging his eyes. As the front door finally smashed open with a third and final bang, a trapdoor dropped down right before Algernon’s feet, revealing a twisting staircase.
    “Get him!” ordered an officer in the doorway as five of his men ran past him into the Giant’s Reach. The Elephant Mice didn’t take kindly to noisy strangers and shook themselves frustratedly from their sleep. They made angry low-pitched squeaks and charged toward the oncoming soldiers, hitting two men squarely and painfully in the kneecaps.
    Algernon rushed down the steps and reached a round wooden door. He took out the key chain and selected a little bronze key, placed it in the lock, and twisted it. His arm jolted as it failed to open.
    “Damn things!” he cursed, removing it and checking that it was the right one. It was, he was certain of it, and he tried again. He heard a gunshot, a loud wail, and a thud on the floor above. His heart seized — the soldiers had killed one of his Elephant Mice. He hit the door with his hand in anger.
    “There he is!” shouted a soldier, appearing through the trapdoor. The man fired a reckless shot downward, and Algernon ducked as it flashed off the wall to his side. He twisted the key again.
    “Don’t kill him just yet!” shouted another soldier. “We want him for questioning!”
    The key clunked as it spun around. Algernon sighed with relief. He pulled open the door just as another bullet bounced off the wall above him.
    “Stop right there!” ordered a soldier, running down the stairs.
    Algernon jumped through the door and locked it shut. He stopped to catch his breath in the darkness, hearing gunshots cracking into the door behind. Placing his hand to his right, he yanked a metal