The Ghost Box Read Free Page B

old jewelry box.”
    â€œKeys!” He smiled a lop-sided smile. “Well, I have plenty of those.”
    He took out a tray lined with red velvet and she saw it held hundreds of keys. Big, small, gold, tin. Keys with pieces of ribbon tied to them, keys with labels, huge church keys, tiny luggage keys.
    â€œMay I see the box?” he said.
    Sarah undid it in a rustle of plastic. “It’s this.”
    She held it out.
    â€œAh,” the man said. Carefully he took it, his fingers around it. He carried it to a side table and focused a small lamp on it. The silver oak leaves gleamed.
    â€œFine. Very fine. 18th century, perhaps earlier. French. Made in Paris.”
    â€œIs it worth a lot?” She hadn’t meant to ask but she was interested now.
    He looked at her through the glasses. “Do you want to sell?”
    â€œNo ... at least ... it’s not really mine.”
    She hoped he wouldn’t think she’d stolen it, but he wasn’t really listening. He was looking through a magnifying glass he’d taken from a drawer, looking at the writing on the box, the words in the strange language. As he did so, she felt him stiffen.
    â€œI just need a key,” she murmured.
    Morgan Rees put the glass down with a click on the table and stepped back. He took his hands away from the box.
    â€œI’m afraid I don’t have one to fit,” he said in a quiet voice.

Chapter 6
    A Terrible Secret
    For a moment, Sarah didn’t understand. She stared at the shop-keeper, puzzled. “But … you haven’t tried any of them yet!”
    â€œNor will I.” Morgan Rees’s eyes were sharp and thoughtful. Then he took the glasses off and pulled out a white handkerchief. He polished the lenses. “Where did you get this box?”
    At once she held back. “It … it was a present.”
    He looked up. “A locked box?”
    She blushed, angry. “Do you think I stole it?”
    â€œIt would be better if you had. Then you could just put it back.”
    His voice was grave and worried. He said, “Let me tell you something. This is a box that should never be opened. I believe it contains a great danger. The letters around its rim are very old, and tell of a terrible secret. I have heard of such things before. I will not open it for you, and my advice is that you leave it locked and never try again.”
    The fire crackled. Outside, footsteps pattered past the shop window.
    Morgan Rees put one long finger on the box. “Let me give you some money for it. Then I will lock it away in my safe and it will be no danger to you, or anyone. Let me do that.”
    His soft voice made her pause. And then she thought of the boy, his cold, bony hands twisting at the lid, his bitter voice saying, “He locked my soul into the box.” How could she leave him to be trapped for all time?
    â€œI’m sorry.” Sarah reached out and took the box, shoving it back into the plastic bag. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else who will.”
    Morgan Rees shook his head. He seemed dismayed. He said, “Then just let me ...”
    â€œThank you. Goodbye.”
    Sarah was angry. Her fingers shook as she grasped the door and tugged it open. A cold breeze swept into the shop, making the fire roar and fluttering pages of books. Without looking back to see if he followed, she ran up the step and hurried down the little street. When someone called her name she marched on, not knowing why she was so shaken.
    Had he been trying to scare her? She wasn’t scared. She knew what was in the box, and he didn’t. He’d wanted the box for his shop. He’d thought all that nonsense about danger would scare her into selling it cheap. Well, she wasn’t such a fool.
    â€œSarah!”
    She stopped. The man in the shop didn’t know her name. She turned.
    Matt was pushing his bike up the street. He came past the shop and she saw that