The Man Who Was Poe by Avi

Author:Avi [AVI]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

EDMUND WAS STILL standing behind a hedge, the entrance of the Hotel American House, when Catherine came rushing out. This time a man was with her. Against the weather he wore a tall hat and a muffler which all but hid his great spread of whiskers. As Edmund looked on, the two hurried off the same way Catherine had come. Edmund tagged behind, keeping his distance.

Suddenly, he realized who the man was. It was the one he’d seen trying on a coat at the clothier that morning, the very one Mr. Dupin claimed was Mr. Rachett, his stepfather! Astounded, Edmund stopped short, then came back to his senses just in time to see the two enter Mrs. Whitman’s house.

Panting for breath, Edmund stood before the closed door trying to decide what action to take. He could steal back behind the house where, he assumed, Mr. Dupin was meeting Mrs. Whitman and tell Mr. Dupin about Mr. Rachett. Then he remembered the man’s words, that he must keep away. The last thing Edmund wanted to do was antagonize him again. No, news of Mr. Rachett would have to wait while he went in search of information about The Lady Liberty. Resolved, Edmund started off for the docks.

But so preoccupied was the boy with thoughts of Mr. Rachett he never noticed that since he’d turned his back on the Hotel American House, he himself was being followed.

* * *

“Let me go!” Dupin gasped, trying to wrench free from Throck’s iron grip.

“Here now,” the night watchman returned. “It’s you who ran into me!” All the same he took his hands from Dupin’s shoulders.

Set free, Dupin instantly swung about, gazing with terrified eyes through the brambles and fog at the mausoleum. Whatever it was that he had seen had vanished. “Did you see anything?” he demanded of Throck.

“What are you talking about?” the night watchman growled suspiciously.

“There!” cried Dupin, pointing where he had seen the figure. “The ghost of a woman. Standing before the mausoleum. Demanding her children.”

“I don’t see a thing.”

“There was!”

“You’re daft.”

Dupin, legs shaking, walked back toward the mausoleum but stopped when he saw that its door was still open. He made a nervous half turn toward Throck. The night watchman stood a few feet behind, peering at Dupin with intense puzzlement.

Dupin pushed himself forward again, edging closer to the tomb. “Is someone there?” he called nervously.

All he heard was his own labored breathing and the monotonous dripping of the rain.

Fighting against the terror he felt, Dupin climbed the steps to the mausoleum and placed his hand on the door. The cold iron drove a spike of chill through him. Summoning what strength remained to him, he grasped the door handle and pulled.

With a rasping, grating sound the door opened further. Dupin, leaning forward, attempted to look into the dark. The stench of decay brought a wave of nausea. It forced him to back out.

Sweating profusely, he clung to the door frame and leaned forward. “Hello!” he called in a hoarse whisper. Only an echo answered.

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