Doctor Illuminatus Read Online Free PDF

teacher stands in front of the class, glares at you and says, ‘Right, who shoved a pencil up the classroom hamster’s bottom? Own up or else,’ you feel like that, don’t you? Even though you didn’t do it, and you know you didn’t do it, you still feel squirmy. It’s the same thing.”
    “Yes,” Pip replied. “And yet . . .”
    It was not until they reached the hedge marking the boundary with the neighboring farm fields, and turned to walk back across the pasture to the house, that they spoke again.
    “The thing is,” Tim said, “whatever the facts are, do we trust him?”
    “He did say he’d tell the truth,” Pip reminded her brother. “Besides, what have we got to lose? We don’t know anyone around here and we probably won’t meet anyone before the term starts. That’s the whole summer away.”
    In the glow of the late sun, the brickwork of the house seemed to radiate a deep, abiding warmth, the sunlight on the windows looking as if the building were alight with a mysterious fire. The shadows of the ancient trees were long upon the grass.
    As they drew near to the house, Tim said, “Anyway, I bet he turns out to be just a local lamebrain. Still,” he finished, “you’re right. We might as well hang out with him. There’s no one else.”

Three
    Sub Terra
    P ip lay fully dressed on her bed, listening. Not for the first time, she checked her alarm clock. The digital numbers flickered —
12:14.
    There was a quiet, metallic rattle. Pip watched the latch on her bedroom door slowly lift and click. Gradually, bit by bit, the door opened and a dark figure entered. The door closed quietly.
    “Has he turned up?” the figure whispered, barely audible.
    “No. Not yet.”
    Tim switched on his Mini Maglite, running the narrow beam quickly over the wall panel. Pip could see he was also fully dressed, in jeans and a dark sweatshirt.
    “Snug under a duvet somewhere,” Tim muttered ruefully.
    Yet no sooner had he spoken than there came slight scuffling sounds from within the wall. The panel opened to show Sebastian’s face hanging as if suspended in the darkness.
    “Hello,” he murmured. “I regret my tardiness. Sometimes when I awake it takes me a few days to adjust.”
    “A bit like being jet-lagged,” Pip suggested.
    “Like he would know?” said Tim. “They had intercontinental jet travel in the 1400s?”
    Sebastian stepped out into the room. He was wearing the clothes Tim had found for him but, over the T-shirt, he had added a sort of coarse, woolen, long-sleeved pullover with a square-cut neck. It hung loosely upon him as if it were several sizes too big. Upon the front was sewn, in silver thread, a design like a jag of lightning.
    “Cool jersey,” Tim remarked.
    “It is a tabard,” Sebastian explained. “Men wore it to cover their armor.” He adjusted it over his shoulders. “I wish now to take you to my chamber,” he added. “It is not far.” Reaching out, he touched both of them lightly on the arm. “Will you follow me?” he said softly. “Take care, for the steps are much worn in the center.”
    With that, he stepped back towards the wall and seemed to disappear without even having to bend down.
    Pip went first, sitting on the floor and lowering herself feet first through the panel, to discover a tightly spiraled staircase beyond it. With her hands pressed to the wall on either side, she started to descend. The glimmer of Tim’s flashlight behind her was the only source of light.
    Reaching the bottom of the steps, some of which were — as Sebastian had warned — well worn, Pip was confronted by a low and narrow stone passageway. The roof was arched and the floor set with flagstones. Sebastian was waiting there.
    “We have but a short distance remaining,” he said, adding, “and Tim, will you please extinguish your source of light?”
    “But it’s as black as a badger’s hole down here,” Tim replied.
    “You will not require illumination,” Sebastian explained. “The