The Tiger's Egg Read Online Free PDF Page B

said Lady Partridge frostily.
    â€œYes, well,” said Fowler, “apologies for that. We keep odd hours, being in the licensed trade, and as soon as we heard that you had taken in the Wednesday boy as well as the rest of our old work . . . our orphans, Mrs. Pinchbucket insisted that I deliver this token of our appreciation. If you see what I mean.”
    Lady Partridge eyed the sweating man suspiciously as he opened the box and lifted out a largemantel clock. It had a black lacquered case, arched at the top and otherwise completely plain. The face was painted with roman numerals, and the hands stood at a minute to midnight.
    â€œVery nice,” said Fabio, breaking the silence.
    â€œYour house’ll never blow away with that in it,” said Umor.
    â€œWell, thank you, I’m sure,” said Lady Partridge, rather taken aback. “Can I offer you a drink before you leave, Mr. Pinchbucket?”
    â€œNo thanks,” said Fowler, touching the brim of his cap. “I’m needed at the taps.”
    As he made to leave, a whirring sound came from the clock, and everyone turned to look. It began to chime, and what a chime it was! The sound was as light and pure as the clock was plain and heavy. It swirled around the candlelit room, carrying with it a flavor of foreign lands that was so strong you could almost smell it. No one moved or breathed until the last echoes faded into silence. Even Fowler Pinchbucket stood transfixed, his hand on the door handle, and a smile invading his sulky face.
    â€œWhy, that’s absolutely beautiful,” breathed Lady Partridge.
    â€œLike a lark in a cinder block,” said Gila. “What would you say, Sky Beetle?”
    â€œI like it,” said Little. “Whoever made that lives beside water, and has listened very well to the songbirds.”
    â€œIs anyone eating that?” said Fowler Pinchbucket, pointing to the last pork rib on the platter.

CHAPTER FIVE
A DEEPER SECRET
    M iles Wednesday, scarf-wrapped and half-awake, sat on the box seat beside Fabio, who drove the Bolsillo brothers’ wagon at an easy pace along the road that led from Larde to the distant mountains. The birds were beginning to awaken in the trees, and the sky ahead of them lightened toward dawn. Fabio spoke softly to the massive horses that plodded slowly ahead of them, and Miles listened in comfortable silence, not yet awake enough for conversation. He tried to make out what Fabio was saying, but the words were unfamiliar, and punctutated with little chucks and whistles that did not seem to have any meaning.
    The three long trucks that carried the big top had gone well ahead of them, and were long since swallowed up by the orange blob of the rising sun. With them had gone the tent boys, K2 the Strongman and the Bolsillo brothers’ hardworking elephants, Tembo and Mamba. They would reach Shallowford well before the rest of the circus, and there they would make ready the tent to be raised, once more hands had arrived.
    Miles had been allocated the spare bunk in the Bolsillo brothers’ wagon. He had cleared it of polka dot socks and luminous wigs, and found a space among the ropes, the hoops, the cymbals and horns and greasepaint for the small trunk that Lady Partridge had packed for him. Little was to ride with the Toki sisters, a troupe of contortionists who had arrived just weeks before from the Far East. Miles had seen the Toki sisters at practice, tying themselves into a fantastic beast with four heads and many limbs, and he had heard that they could fold themselves up like deck chairs, or make themselves into hoops and roll effortlessly around the ring.
    He leaned out and looked back along the road to see if he could spot Little. Directly behind them came the blue and silver wagon of the mysteriousDoctor Tau-Tau, and behind that was the lion cage, driven by the haughty Countess Fontainbleau, and the battered van belonging to Stranski the Magician,