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about Mum and Great-aunt Maddy, but at least they never laughed atme. Aunt Maddy had strange visions herself at irregular intervals, so she probably knew just how it felt when no one believed you.
    “Is he nice?” whispered Nick. The beam of his flashlight danced over the stairs.
    “Who?”
    “Your ghost, of course.”
    “It all depends,” I said truthfully.
    “What does he look like?”
    “He’s rather cute. But he thinks he’s dangerous.” As we went down on tiptoe to thesecond floor, which was occupied by Aunt Glenda and Charlotte, I tried describing Xemerius as well as I could.
    “Cool,” whispered Nick. “An invisible pet! I wish I had one!”
    “Pet! Don’t you ever say that when Xemerius is within earshot!” I half hoped to hear my cousin snoring through her bedroom door, but of course Charlotte didn’t snore. People who are perfect don’t make nasty, frowsty noisesin their sleep.
    Halfway down to the next floor, my little brother yawned, and I instantly felt guilty. “Listen, Nick, it’s three thirty in the morning, and you have to go to school later. Mum will murder me if she finds out I’ve kept you awake.”
    “I’m not a bit tired! And it would be mean of you to leave me out now! What did Grandfather hide in the chest?”
    “I’ve no idea. Maybe a book explainingeverything to me. Or at least a letter. Grandpa was Grand Master of the Lodge and its Guardians. He knew all about me and this time-travel stuff, and by the time he died, he knew it wasn’t Charlotte who inherited the gene. Because I met him in the past, in person, and explained it all to him.”
    “You’re so lucky,” whispered Nick, adding almost as if ashamed of himself, “To be honest, I can hardlyremember him. But he was always good-tempered and not a bit strict, just the opposite of Lady Arista. And he used to smell of caramel and something herby.”
    “That was the tobacco he smoked in his pipe—careful!” I stopped Nick just in time. By now we were past the second floor, but there were a few tricky steps on the stairs down to the first floor that creaked badly. Years of sneaking down tothe kitchen by night had taught me to avoid them. We carefully walked around the creaking places, and finally reached Great-great-great-great-great-uncle Hugh’s portrait.
    “Okay. Here we are.”
    Nick shone his flashlight on our ancestor’s face. “It was mean of him to call his horse Fat Annie! She’s lovely and slender—he’s the one who looks like a fat pig with whiskers.”
    “I agree with you.” I wasfeeling behind the picture frame for the bolt that started the mechanism to open the secret door. As usual, it stuck a bit.
    “All sleeping like babies.” Xemerius landed on the stairs beside us, puffing. “That’s to say, all but Mr. Bernard. He obviously suffers from insomnia, but don’t worry. He’s eating a plate of cold chicken in the kitchen and watching a Clint Eastwood film.”
    “Good.” The pictureswung out with its usual squealing sound, showing a few steps fitted between the walls. They ended only about six or seven feet away in front of another door. This door led into the first-floor bathroom, and it was hidden on the bathroom side by a floor-length mirror. We often used to come through it for fun—we got our kicks by not knowing if there’d be anyone in there using the bathroom—butwe hadn’t yet found out what the point of this secret passage was. Maybe one of our ancestors had just thought it would be nice to be able to get away to this quiet place whenever he liked.
    “So where’s the chest, Xemerius?” I asked.
    “On the left. Between the wallsh.” I couldn’t make him out clearly in the dim light, but it sounded as if he was picking something out of his teeth.
    “Xemerius isa bit of a tongue-twister,” said Nick. “I’d call him Xemi. Or Merry. Can I go in and get the chest?”
    “It’s on the left,” I said.
    “Tongue-twishter yourshelf,” said Xemerius. “ Shemi or Merry