The Improbable Tales of Baskerville Hall Book 2 by Ali Standish

Author:Ali Standish
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Two

A Confrontation in Kipper’s Clearing

“OH NO,” IRENE GROANED. “THAT WAS NOT good.”

“I need to go after him,” Arthur said.

“Should I come, too?”

Arthur shook his head. This was a conversation he needed to have on his own. He should have had it their first night back at school after he’d overheard Jimmie and Mr. Moriarty. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t mention anything about your parents.”

By the time he had rushed down the stairs to the library’s ground floor, Jimmie was nowhere to be seen. Arthur decided to check the buttery first, since he was so close. But Jimmie wasn’t among the crowd of students streaming through the door nor seated at the first years’ table.

Planning to check the tower next, Arthur pushed his way back through the students and into the entrance hall. The doors to Mrs. Hudson’s parlor were firmly closed. D. I. Smith and Professor Malone would still be in there, awaiting her police escort.

As he burst out into the bright, frigid day, Arthur just caught sight of a figure disappearing into the wood. He knew by the narrow silhouette and the rounded shoulders that it was Jimmie, headed in the direction of Kipper’s clearing.

Hugging his coat tighter to him and wishing for his knit scarf, Arthur plunged after his friend. The wind was still blowing, whipping snowflakes up from one drift and setting them down again atop another. By the time he reached the edge of the forest, his cheeks stung with cold. At least Jimmie had carved out a path through the trees, which made the going easier for Arthur.

Jimmie was perched on the bottommost branch of a sprawling elm tree, his feet skimming the ground, his back to Arthur. He gave a series of low whistles, and the branches began to rustle in a nearby birch tree, sending plumes of snow falling to the ground with barely a sound. Kipper poked her head out from her perch and, seeing Jimmie, gave a squawk and soared down to him.

“You’ve grown on her, huh?” Arthur said.

They both turned to look at him. Jimmie scowled. Kipper gave an excited flutter of her wings as Arthur neared. He brushed snow from the top of the branch and sat next to Jimmie, who stood up in the same instant. Kipper sidled in next to Arthur, taking Jimmie’s spot and rubbing her leathery head against his shoulder.

“Don’t go, Jimmie,” Arthur said. “Just let me explain.”

“Explain?” Jimmie’s voice was as cold and sharp as the rows of icicles glittering from the branches. “Certainly. I would love to hear what possible explanation you have for believing that I might be running around secretly trying to murder all our professors.”

“I never thought that,” Arthur said. “At least, I never thought you were the one actually doing the poisoning.”

Kipper, impatient for more attention, nipped the back of Arthur’s hand, making him gasp. Jimmie gave a hollow laugh.

“Look, will you just come and sit down?” Arthur knew Jimmie was angry, but he wasn’t exactly having a wonderful time, either, and now his glove had a hole in it.

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