the casket in a cave and then this lot was built on top of it.â
âSo how do we find it under a jillion tonnes of stonework?â Sam asked.
Ruby pointed to the backpack at Geraldâs feet and clicked her fingers.
âWhat did your last slave die from?â Gerald said as he kicked the pack across to Ruby.
âInsolence,â Ruby said. She pulled out Geraldâs sketch.
âThis shows the island from the bay side,â she said. âSee? The road back to the mainland is behind it.â
Sam chewed on a bread roll. âSo? Gerald drew that when he was in one of his bizarre trances. It could mean anything. Or nothing.â
âMaybe,â Ruby said. âBut Geraldâs trances always seem to point somewhere useful. I say we head out to the other side of the island and look at this exact view.â
âHow do we get out there?â Gerald said. âWeâd need a boat.â
âYou can walk.â The words sliced through their conversation like a razor. âSome more hot chocolate, monsieur?â The man from the reception hovered at Geraldâs elbow, a milk-stained pot in his hand.
âUm, thanks,â Gerald said. âThatâd be great.â
Steam fingers curled up the flow of chocolate as it poured into Geraldâs mug.
âThe tide is out so you can walk into the bay,â the man said, refilling Sam and Rubyâs mugs in turn. âBut take care. When the tide turns, it comes in at the speed of a galloping horse. And there is quicksand.â His voice dropped. âIt clutches at your legs like the devil himself has reached up to steal your soul and leave your bones to the gulls. People have been caught. And drowned.â
Ruby smirked. âQuite the tourist trap then,â she whispered to Gerald.
âI donât get it,â said Sam. âLast night there were waves crashing against the walls. You couldnât walk anywhere. We saw them from the chopper.â
He let out a sharp yelp and grabbed at his shin.
Ruby forced a laugh. âMy brother and his jokes.â
â Très drôle ,â the man said, without a flicker of a smile. âMonsieur will find that the tides here are about the largest in the world. At low tide you can walk halfway across the bay, if you are game.â He checked the clock on the wall. âYou have two or three hours before the water comes in again.â
The man drifted back to the kitchen.
Sam shot his sister a filthy glare. âWhatâd you kick me for?â
âYou donât think three kids turning up after midnight is suspicious enough that you have to go on about the helicopter as well?â Ruby said.
âSpeaking of which, I wonder where Mr Fry is,â Gerald said.
âSleeping in if heâs got any sense,â Sam said, rubbing his shin. âWe better get moving if weâre going to beat that tide.â
As they walked out through the reception, the old man bobbed up from behind the counter. âWill you be staying another night?â he asked, one hand resting on the till, a look of hopeful greed on his face. âI can have the room serviced straightaway.â
Gerald glanced at the others. âIâm not sure,â he said.
âYour friend. Yourâ¦â the man paused, âyour guardian. He asked me to tell you he had to check on the car. Heâll be back later.â
âCar?â Sam said. âWe donât have aââ Sam caught sight of his sisterâs coiled right leg just in time to check himself.
âHe is not friendly, your guardian,â the man said. âNot one for conversation.â
âNo, I guess not,â Gerald said.
âAnd the breakfast? It was to your liking?â
âIt was okay.â
The manâs eyes darted down to his hand by the till, then back to Gerald.
âIt was good? Yes?â
The telephone rang. Gerald put his hands in his pocketsâand left them