"House On Parchment Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

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She sat down on the stairs. "Scotland? I don'tЧI don't even know what it's like."
"You'll like it," Bruce said. "There are dark green hills, miles of them, with sheep feeding on them, and the ruins of old stone walls running up and down them. It's beautiful."
"It sounds beautiful. I've never camped before."
"That," Aunt Catherine said, "is a different proposition entirely. You get up in a faint drizzle in the mornings to drink lukewarm tea, after chasing spiders out of your cold bedЧ"
"A little rain never hurt anybody," Bruce said. He stopped. His eyes flickered to Uncle Harold's face. "I put the tools away, in case it decides to rain overnight. I didn't mean to be gone all day."
Uncle Harold shook his head surprisedly. "It's all right." He took his papers and books into the study.
Aunt Catherine said, "I suppose I should feed you. Alexander, you're welcome to supper, if you don't mind taking a chance." She went upstairs with her packages. Bruce looked at Carol.
"What's the matter? You're so quiet."
"I've got an idea." Her voice shook in spite of herself. She glanced at Alexander, lounging against the banister, and he straightened.
"Don't you want me to hear?" he said wistfully. "I like ideas."
She looked doubtfully at Bruce, but his eyes were on Alexander's face. Then he dropped beside her.
"Go ahead. Just say it."
"All right. Emily Raison says they built a tunnel during the Civil War for priests to move from the house to the church without getting caught."
"A tunnelЕ ." he breathed.
"A priest tunnel."
He stared at her without seeing her. Then his face broke into a slow grin of pure joy.
"A tunnel!" he shouted, and clapped his hands over his mouth. Alexander dropped on one knee before them.
"Oh, please." His hands were clasped in petition. "Oh, please. I've always wanted an underground tunnel. Tell me what's happening."
Bruce stood up, nudging him off-balance. "Get up before Dad hears. Come onЧ" They followed him into the front yard and sat by the fishpool.
Bruce said, "Tell me what Emily said."
"She said it was a legend, about the tunnel. She said Mrs. Brewster had looked for it, but she couldn't find it, so she said it didn't really existЧit was only a story. But Bruce, Edward could have been escaping through the tunnel. And the girl was going to lead him through it. But the man was waiting there for him. I don't know what happens after thatЧhe might have captured Edward or maybe Edward captured him. But it does explain why they keep walking through the wall, as though there were a door there Е or an archЕ ."
Bruce drew a deep breath. He stared into the pool, his eyes wide, dark with thought. "And we know exactly where it is."
"If it's still there. If it ever was there."
"Something was there, unless they're just walking through a wall for the fun of it. And if we do find the tunnel or the remains of it, that will be proof of what we've seen."
"Bruce," said Alexander. "Bruce, what are you talking about? Who is Edward? Who keeps walking through walls?"
"The girl in the painting in my Dad's study," Bruce said. "And a man with a sword. They keep walking through our cellar wall."
Alexander's mouth opened. It closed slowly, then opened again. His voice came finally, hushed. "You have ghosts in your cellar, and you kept them all to yourself. Of all the rotten, selfishЧAnd now you've got a tunnel, too."
"Mrs. Brewster has a tunnel. Or she's going to."
"I wanted to tell you," Carol said. "But you don't believe in ghosts."
"Of course I don't. Who does? I didn't believe Bruce could draw cows, either, or do something as incredibly stupid as diving into a blackberry bush, but I've learned, haven't I? There's always room for learning. Knowledge is a sacred, never-dying flame, and that's what Mrs. Brewster is going to breathe if you tear her wall apartЧfire and smoke like a dragon. I
want to be there when she does. Bruce, if you don't let me help, I'll pine away at your doorstep and haunt it."
Bruce chuckled. But there was a worried line above his eyes. He dropped his fingers over the pool's edge and let the goldfish nibble at them. "I think we should," he said finally. "At any rate, I'm going to." He moved, and the goldfish started away, filling the pool with ring upon ring of widening ripples. "I don't think Mrs. Brewster will mind if we're right. But if we're wrong, and Dad finds out, and we have to tell him about ghosts he can't see and tunnels that aren't thereЕ ."He shook his head, lifting his wet hand to rub his eyes. "I don't even want to think about it."
Alexander, watching him quietly, shifted on the grass. He picked a tiny blue dower absently and stared at it. "BruceЧ"
There was an odd note in his voice. Bruce looked up. "What?"
Alexander was silent. He tossed the flower away and smiled his slow, imperturbable smile. There was a trace of color in his face. "Nothing. Are these private ghosts, or can anybody see them?"
"Dad can't. And Father Malory can't. Carol and I can, and I think whoever painted the picture of the girl saw her, and possibly a maid in the house when Mrs. Brewster was young. At any rate, she ran up from the cellar one day and looked at the picture and had hysterics."
"Why? The girl looks harmless."
"I know, but it's a bit startling when she walks through the wall."
"You didn't have hysterics, did you, Carol?" Alexander asked.
"No. I just ran."
"I promise I won't scream." His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Ghosts. If you're going to Scotland next week, we'd better get started."
"Mm. Tomorrow."
"There will be noise from our chisels. What will we do with it?"
"I don't know. It's right under Dad's studyЕ ." He smiled slowly, his eyes glittering a little in the light from the study window. "He won't hear it. He won't hear a single tink from our chisels. Because all he'll be hearing tomorrow and the next day and the day after, is the Middleton Civil Sewage men drilling a hole in Parchment Street."
VII.
THEY COULD HEAR THE WHINE OF THE DRILLING FAINT and steady from the cellar the next morning. Overhead they could hear Uncle Harold's footsteps as he moved across the study. The stones were chilly; the sun was warming the back of the house, and the front lawn lay in shadow. Alexander stared at the solid wall.
"Where?"
"Under the window," Bruce said. He looked at Carol and she nodded.
"Straight under."