Gauge Read Online Free PDF Page A

figure. “I seem to live here permanently now, if that’s any help.”
    “Who are you?”
    “I am Sir Rufus Trenchcombe. Clockmaker to the Crown.”
    Higson shook his head in confusion. “Are you the, err, keeper of this clock or something?”
    Sir Rufus’s chest seemed to barrel with pride. “Indeed, one could say so. Do you have an interest in time-pieces, sir? Were you seeking to release the stuck counter-sprocket by striking it with your planking?”
    Higson clicked his tongue. “I was sent here to, err, service it, yeah. This, erm, counter-sprocket. Is that what’s wrong with it, then?”
    “Indeed so! Faulty these three years past.”
    Higson lifted his piece of wood. “So if that broke, then…?”
    “It would need a vast repair. But the part is sturdy. The King’s cannon would surely struggle to break it. ’Tis made from the finest metals in Kent. A greater problem lies with the pendulum arm.”
    Higson gave an interested nod. “And where’s that?”
    “Why, there,” said Sir Rufus. In a flash, he seemed to disappear and reappear instantly on the other side of Gauge. He pointed to a long piece of rope which dangled down into the depths of the tower. “The balancing weight is missing. If this were adjusted and the counter-sprocket oiled, my clock would run appropriately and the chime would be restored.”
    “Oh, would it?” Higson grunted.
    He sounded disappointed. Then Sir Rufus added, “Of course if the weight be far wrong then the mechanism will altogether stop.”
    Higson narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, he noticed Gauge balancing on the rail. Though he was clearly confused and wondering why a clay dragon was in the tower, he nevertheless snatched Gauge up. “How about this for a weight?” He tossed Gauge loosely in his hand.
    “A most unlikely prospect,” said Sir Rufus.
    The man gave a villainous smile. “Let’s try it.”
    Before Sir Rufus could argue, Higson had drawn up the rope, tied Gauge to the end of it and thrown him down the tower shaft, into the darkness. The old clock ground to a weary halt.

    Sir Rufus made a strange kind of wailing sound. “Treachery!” he cried. And he stretched out a hand as if to rescue Gauge, but his hand passed straight through the rope.
    “Stone me, you’re a ghost!” Higson cried. And with a gurgling scream he fled down the stairs, leaving the clock in silence and Gauge still dangling somewhere in the darkness…

Chapter Eight

    Until that point, the policemen had been struggling to clear the library. But things were about to change. As Councillor Trustable’s assistant burst through the door crying, “A ghost! Help! There’s a ghost in the tower!” half the protesters leapt to their feet. No one needed to be convinced of Higson’s sincerity. His hair was as stiff as a row of staples and his face as white as a ping-pong ball. He ran for the glass doors, hit the pane when it didn’t open automatically and almost knocked himself out.

    “Ghost?” someone queried.
    Henry Bacon helpfully put in, “Rumour has it that the spirit of Sir Rufus Trenchcombe roams the tower. Utter nonsense, of course.”
    “You’re the librarian. Go and look!” someone cried.
    Henry glanced uncomfortably at the stairway. “Not in my job description.”
    Just then, the library clock gave a deep and resounding bong. Then another. And another. And another. And after a few seconds’ gap, another.
    “The ghost’s angry,” someone suggested nervously.
    But Lucy thought she could hear a joyous wail floating down the stairs. A ghostly breeze whooshed through the library. People screamed and ran for the street. To Lucy’s relief, the policeman who’d been escorting her mother to the door buckled at the knees and promptly fainted.
    Lucy saw her chance. She tugged her mum’s sleeve and whispered, “Mum, I let Gauge go up there.”
    Liz rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better go and see what he’s up to,” she hissed.
    Lucy ran towards the tower door. “It’s all