The Spin Read Free Page B

looked straight ahead.
    As Mrs Cathcart’s stare went round the hall, it seemed to Stormy that one of her blue eyes lingered on him, watching him with special interest. He tried to make his eyes go glassy and vacant, like Purbeck’s usually were. Oh, lordy! She
couldn’t
know what he’d done! She couldn’t!
    Suddenly the door was flung open so violently that it crashed against the wall. The boys jumped. Mrs Cathcart squealed.
    Otto! The long strands of his hair, usually neatly combed over his skull, hung down on one side of his big face. Sweat gleamed on his cheeks like olive oil. His cheeks were ripe tomatoes.
    â€˜Thief!’ he cried. ‘Robber!’
    Stormy felt his stomach flip over and start to slide away towards his knees. His hand twitched with an automatic desire to own up. His feet even stepped forward involuntarily.
It was me! It was me!
But he said nothing.
    â€˜A robber in the kitchens?’ Mrs Cathcart’s arched eyebrows went even higher. ‘Impossible! Are you suggesting one of my boys might have . . . Never.’
    Otto stamped over to where she stood.
    â€˜My larder!’ he cried. ‘Someone has stolen food! Crumbs on the floor! Touched my muffins!’
    Some of the boys giggled but were soon silenced by a look from Mrs Cathcart. ‘Precisely what is missing, Mr Otto?’ she asked.
    â€˜A raspberry muffin; an apple with a patch of orange-red on it, salami, one and a half inches of bread and – and my finest tweed coat!’
    Mrs Cathcart tapped a plump finger against her chin thoughtfully.
    â€˜It sounds as if that escaped prisoner has paid
us
a visit. I’ll ask the guards to investigate. Boys, you are dismissed! Watch out for anything unusual and report it immediately. Off you go to your porridge!’
    Stormy’s heart was thumping, arms trembling, knees knocking, but he could still walk. Slowly he made his way over to his table, and sat down next to Tex.
    â€˜You could eat anything from the kitchen now and Otto’d just think it had been the old grubbin thief!’ Tex said, spooning up his porridge quickly. ‘We should try.’
    Stormy nodded weakly. He was safe for the moment – that was all he could think about.
    â€˜Funny you asking about grubbins this morning, isn’t it?’ Tex said, grabbing some bread. ‘What wouldn’t you do for a bit of butter, Stormy? And jam, eh?’
    Stormy hardly heard him. He was remembering the two spitfyres skimming down the mountain in the twilight last night. Now he knew what they had been looking for.
    Towards evening a mist came down and even the air in the kitchen became clammy. Stormy peered outside – swirling grey obliterated everything.
    It seemed that everyone was waiting for something to happen, and at last it did. The kitchen door opened and a tall guard came in. His grey leather suit was beaded with moisture from the mist. The skivvies quietly laid down their knives and egg-beaters and inched towards him, hungry to hear news.
    â€˜Mind your dirty guard’s feet on my clean floor!’ Otto snapped.
    The guard grinned. ‘Same jolly Mr Otto we know and love,’ he said. ‘Thought you’d like to know that we’ve caught the culprit, Mr Otto. The food thief.’ With a wink at the boys the guard helped himself to an iced chocolate bun from a heaped dish on the table.
    â€˜Oi, don’t touch that!’ Otto cried. ‘Put that back immediately!’
    â€˜Delicious!’ the guard said, taking a bite. ‘Light and delicious! Mind, I prefer white chocolate myself.’
    â€˜Whatthedevil!’ Otto yelled, and probably would have leapt on him if a second guard hadn’t come in just then, carrying Otto’s old green coat.
    â€˜Look what I’ve got!’ he said, flinging the coat down and helping himself to a bun.
    â€˜My coat!’ Otto cried. ‘Oi! My buns!’
    â€˜Stingy, aren’t you, Otto,