"All the same." Mrs. Kettle drained her cup.
The tea didn't appear to have had a bouncy
effect on her at all. In fact, she looked quite
dejected. "Cook's such a good friend," she re-
peated, shaking her head.
To cheer her up, Benjamin asked if she had
any electric kettles.
Mrs. Kettle looked quite indignant. "Do you
call them kettles? I certainly don't. A kettle
boils when a hot stove tells it to, not when a
button is pressed."
Benjamin gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
Charlie decided it was time to leave. They
had come for Rembrandt and they had got
him. He stood up and thanked Mrs. Kettle
for the tea.
"You're very welcome, Charlie Bone," said
Mrs. Kettle. "You'll come again, won't you?"
Charlie said, "Yes, of course."
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Mrs. Kettle led the way back into the shop
but, just as he was about to pass through the
archway, Charlie stopped. He felt something
to the left of him, tugging in an extraordinary
way. He had to steady himself against the
wall, and an odd tickle in his
115
throat made him cough. He turned his head,
very slowly, and saw on a round shadowy
table, a dark, lumpish thing. Looking closer,
he saw that it was an ancient kettle,

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"Me?" Charlie quickly replaced the lid. "It's
yours, Mrs. Kettle. I can't take it."
"Just for a while," she said gently. You must,
Charlie. Feromel would want you to."
"But why?" Charlie stared at the round, black
thing, his hands at his sides, his fingers
twitching anxiously. He didn't want the an-
cient kettle with its ability to foretell a death.
How many lives had been lost, he wondered,
while it boiled away, merrily, in dark,
smokey places, poisoning the air with its sin-
ister steam.
"It's not a bad thing, Charlie." Mrs. Kettle lif-
ted her
117
precious heirloom and held it out to Charlie.
And then his tingling fingers had closed
around the handle.
"I hope it will never boil dry for you,
Charlie," said Mrs. Kettle. "These are
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dangerous times for people like you, espe-
cially with that fish boy around, so it's bound
to get warm. It has no need of a stove. It will
sit wherever you want. If there is a hint of
danger in the air it will heat up. The hotter it
gets, the more you will need to look out for
yourself." She smiled at everyone. "Now get
along with you, my dears. And I'll keep an

Charlie pretended he hadn't heard. "And I
really like the way you're doing your hair,
Em."
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119
Emma looked more cheerful. She almost
smiled. "I'll explain it all to Liv. She's very
sensitive about her appearance. But, to tell
the truth, I think she enjoys a bit of drama.
She'll soon get bored with being angry, and
then she'll act like it never happened."
"I hope it's soon," said Charlie.
The small boy by Emma's side had been star-
ing at the black kettle. He suddenly said,
"What's that?"
"This?" Charlie swung the kettle self-con-
sciously. "It's just an old kettle I'm
borrowing."
"Very, very, very old," the boy observed.
Emma cried, "I'm sorry, I forgot! These are
your cousins, Charlie."
"You mean Great-aunt Venetia's children?"
Charlie began to take an interest in the
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waiflike pair. "I'm Charlie." He grinned at
them. "So - my great-aunt is your new
mother."
"We know," said the girl. "I'm Miranda and
this is Eric. We're going to get our dog."
"You wouldn't come with us, would you,

"Oh, er, just an accident," Charlie replied
evasively.
Emma gave him a look that said "thank you
for not going into detail."
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Three sets of steps led up to three black
doors, and a number thirteen, in polished
bronze, was fixed to the center of each door.
"Three thirteens," Billy whispered. (It was
the sort of place that made you speak very
softly.) "Doesn't the mailman get confused?"
"Probably," said Charlie.
A sudden, frantic whining came from inside
the third number thirteen, and Miranda
cried, "It's Chattypatra! You can hear her."
They ran across the courtyard and stopped at
the foot of the steps. Runner Bean began to
bark excitedly. His tail wagged so fast you
could hardly see it.
"Your uncle said the key was under the troll,"
Emma told Charlie.
"What troll?" And then Charlie saw it. A
squat, evil-looking lump of stone standing in
a dark corner of the porch.
122
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"We're coming, Chattypatra," called Mir-
anda. "We're coming."
The whining increased. It grew into a stream
of delirious barks, while Runner Bean joined

Charlie turned to the group behind him, all
looking up expectantly, except for Eric who
was gazing at the troll with an odd, distant
expression.
Charlie took a breath, bent down very
quickly, and pushed the troll backward. And
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there was Great-aunt Venetia's front door
key. He picked it up and flourished it at the
others.
Everyone cried, "Hooray!" and rushed up the
steps.
Charlie fitted the key into the lock, turned it,
and the door swung open without so much as
a squeak, let alone the sinister creak that he
expected.
A small, white dog shot out of the house and
leaped into Miranda's arms.
124
"Oh, Chatty, Chatty!" Miranda's eyes were in
danger of overflowing.
Eric merely smiled in an offhand way.
Runner Bean was beside himself with joy. He
tore away from Benjamin and leaped at Mir-
anda, nuzzling the dog in her arms.
Chattypatra had no objection; in fact, she
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nuzzled him back and yapped very sedately
into one of his ears.
"A marriage made in heaven." Benjamin

"It doesn't seem fair," said Billy. "Those dogs
would much rather be together than with
us."
"Are you going to tell us what they were say-
ing?" asked Charlie.
Billy went pink. "Oh, just love stuff."
Benjamin raised his eyebrows and looked at
his dog. "Like what?"
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Billy cleared his throat. "Like, er, you're the
best thing I've seen since breakfast."
126
"BREAKFAST?" questioned Charlie. "Do you
call that 'love stuff?"
"It was his favorite," Benjamin said thought-
fully. "Leftover steak."
Charlie didn't ask what Chattypatra had said.
He thought he'd probably be disappointed.
He reckoned Billy was keeping a whole lot to
himself. He would be too embarrassed to re-
peat anything very lovey-dovey.
They reached number nine and Benjamin
was invited in to lunch. Billy looked anxious.
As soon as they were inside he carried Rem-
brandt up to Charlie's room. He didn't want
Runner Bean chasing his rat all around the
house.
Maisie had prepared one of her usual, mam-
moth lunches. "You got into number
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danger, into situations that he'd been lucky
to survive.
The front door slammed, and heavy footsteps
could be heard marching across the tiled
hall. Charlie-tried to move the kettle farther
under the table with his foot. But he was too
late. The next minute the door flew open and
Grandma Bone stood there glaring at them.
Her eyes immediately fell on the black kettle.
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It was uncanny how she always noticed the
things that Charlie didn't want her to.
"What's that?" she demanded.
"Nothing, Grandma," said Charlie foolishly.
"Don't be stupid. I can see it isn't nothing.
It's a filthy old kettle. Take it out. I don't
want it in my house."
Maisie pulled back a chair, saying, "Do you
want some lunch, Grizelda?"
Without raising her eyes from the kettle,
Grandma Bone said, "I've had lunch, and
don't try and distract me."
Charlie was suddenly inspired. "It's for
school,
129
Grandma. We were told to find ancient arti-
facts for history. I feel rather proud of
myself."
Grandma Bone's face softened a little. School
work was a priority in her book. She wasn't

A voice from behind her said, "OUR house,
Grizelda."
Grandma Bone nearly jumped out of her
skin. She hadn't heard Uncle Paton creep up
behind her.
"Stop talking nonsense and let us eat in
peace." Uncle Paton seized his sister's
shoulders.
She wriggled out of his grasp, muttering un-
der her breath, then rushed upstairs.
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Uncle Paton walked into the kitchen and
took his place at the end of the table. "Sorry
I'm late," he said as though nothing at all had
happened.
The boys felt like cheering, but restrained
themselves in case Grandma Bone found a
nasty way to get back at them. Benjamin
already had indigestion. It was the only
drawback to visiting Charlie, the gut-churn-
ing scenes with Grandma Bone.
131
The rest of the meal passed very pleasantly.
By the time they'd reached the plum pud-
ding, Charlie had told his uncle all about the
visit to Mrs. Kettle and the rescue of
Chattypatra.
"Let's have a look at this kettle," said Uncle
Paton, when the last bit of plum pudding had
gone.

Ordinarily, Charlie would have gone to the
Pets' Cafe on a Sunday afternoon. But today
didn't feel ordinary. He didn't want to meet
up with Olivia again, and the word was out
that Tancred and Lysander would be with
their girlfriends. Somehow, Charlie didn't
see the Pets' Cafe as a likely place to take
one's girlfriend. The atmosphere was hardly
what you would call romantic.
So the boys watched TV in the kitchen, until
the light left the sky, and a night full of stars
covered the city.
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When Benjamin went home, Runner Bean
still had a yearning look in his big brown
eyes.
133
"I'll have to take him back to see
Chattypatra," Benjamin called across the
street. "Next weekend, maybe."
"Maybe," said Charlie. He thought of the two
small children in Darkly Wynd. He hoped
Chattypatra would be allowed to sleep with
them.
Charlie watched Benjamin go through his
front door and turned to climb the steps of
number nine. A movement down the street
caught his eye. Something bobbed behind a
tree, a low, shapeless thing. He quickly
stepped inside and closed the door.