Candleman Read Free Page A

of an Alsatian.
    ‘Police! We’ve got no choice now,’ Brady said, advancing on Theo. ‘We’ll never get away dragging him along. He’s heard us talk, knows our faces …’
    Brady swung the wrench back, ready to strike a fatal blow.
    ‘No!’ cried Theo. He raised a feeble hand in self-defence, grabbing at his attacker’s wrist.
    Then it happened.
    Brady’s arm stopped in mid-swing, as if frozen. His body glowed with a soft green light. And then, before their eyes, he melted.

Chapter Three
The Open Door
    I t had not been a dream. Theo sat up in bed and saw the familiar shadows cast by the morning sun on the wall. He saw his bookcase of fairy tales and guides to manners. But when he closed his eyes he saw the robber, Brady, dissolving into a pool of oily slime and seeping into the deep hall carpet.
    The events of the night before, brought to so sudden an end by the arrival of his guardian and the police, had left his mind scarred forever.
    My rare disease
, Theo thought.
My special condition, which, by the way – sorry we didn’t mention it before – actually means that if you touch people they die.
    Theo shivered inside. He had melted someone. The killing had been in self-defence, of course, which Mr Nicely had once told him was all right. But it didn’t make Theo feel much better. Strange thoughts and doubts flitted through his mind, images he could not drive away. He recalled the picture he had seen of that hideous figure, the Dodo. How could a real man come to resemble an extinct bird? Suddenly his world was full of mysteries and misgivings.
    Theo ran through the events that had happened after Brady had melted. The old robber, Foley, had bolted – out through a side window – and hadn’t been seen again. Dr Saint had appeared and raced up the stairs without even checking to see if Mr Nicely was still alive.
Not very saintly, Dr Saint,
thought Theo. He didn’t know what his guardian had done upstairs, but he certainly hadn’t mentioned the secret room to the police. Theo didn’t mention it either.
    Clarice came in with a cup of hot water, Theo’s morning treat. Tea was apparently too stimulating for him and might lead to enjoyment – never a good thing for someone like Theo. She proceeded to check his temperature, blood pressure, the circumference of his head and the endless other measurements and readings that made his life a masterpiece of tedium.
    ‘The thing is, Clarice,’ Theo said, ‘I was always told by Dr Emmanuel Saint that I was a mystery baby – abandoned at one of the orphanages run by his Society of Good Works, with just a note saying my parents had died and could someone look after me.’
    Clarice searched for lice – or something – in Theo’s hair.
    ‘So what I want to know is,’ Theo continued, ‘why, hidden away in a secret room upstairs, is there a picture of a man who looks just like me?’
    Theo put on a dressing gown.
    ‘Secrets, Clarice. That’s what you’re good for. You can’t hear, so you can’t tell tales, I suppose. Is Dr Saint being kind by employing a deaf maid, or is he actually being … careful?’ Theo sipped his hot water thoughtfully. It was the only hot drink he would get all day.
    ‘Dr Saint has been keeping secrets from me, that’s for sure,’ Theo resumed. ‘I can’t help wondering about
everything
now …’
    Theo stopped. He was suddenly reminded of the mysterious gift he had received, the snow globe that covered a miniature London in black flakes. Had it been some kind of message? He needed to look at it again.
    ‘A special treat for you, Theobald!’ came the strident voice of Dr Saint from the doorway. Theo looked round. In came Mr Nicely, his head wrapped in bandages, beaming a big smile – but his eyes looked rather glazed and he was moving stiffly.
    ‘Your butler and, dare-I-say-it, best friend, is back on the case!’ grinned Mr Nicely. ‘I mean, back on duty,’ he corrected himself. ‘In fact, what I ought to have said, is