A broken rowing-machine-type thing crouched horribly in the long grass near the cat. My heart thumped and my face went hot, but – oddly – my legs were freezing. I looked back for Sam but couldn’t see him now: I’d come too far.

The cat plunged into a tangle of plants under the trees, scattering midges like splatters of paint, and I followed, smooth as an eel, treading sideways to squash a mat of weeds to walk on. Soon I was beneath the first massive tree.

The second one had branches that swept down to the ground like a living tent, and that’s where the cat went. I buried my face in the waving tips, breathing in the woody, dusty pine smell and waiting, listening, like Dad says I should. It’s better than crashing around.

The cat curled herself between the thick tree roots and fixed her weird blue eyes on mine. The tree-tent gave her a greenish tinge. Then she did a quick wash: chest, stomach creases and leg creases. It must be like wearing a baggy suit. (Wow. I haven’t got the words for how amazing this cat is. No whiskers or even eyelashes.)

Then crackle, snap, patter – she skittered off sideways into an open patch of ground. I followed, and that’s when I saw the box.

The box is today’s outstanding piece of evidence.

6

The Prisoner

The box was in a clearing. Mr Clemm must have sunk it into the ground near his trees and let everything grow around it. Made of metal and as long as me, it didn’t make any sense. And yes, I did think coffin.

When I took a step closer, my heart nearly stopped – everything I’d thought was a leaf or a twig twitched into life. Moths. Dozens of them, quivering on every millimetre of the box. As I watched, still as a statue, they calmed down until their wings were just opening and closing slowly. These were some of the Moth Man’s moths, for sure. Might they let me take them for a walk?

And was this a moth trap?

Seconds went by. Minutes, probably. I crouched down and reached for the box. I did it slowly, but it was too much. They fluttered away in every direction.

The box’s lid was made of blue glass. Shiny silver wires ran along the sides and over the top, like something scientific was going on. Sweat beads prickled all over my face, but I touched the lid. It was still wet from the rain and so smooth. Close up, the box smelt of tar.

A beetle trundled past my foot, and that’s when I noticed how cold everything was going. In seconds, it was freezing, like someone had emptied a bagful of ice-cold air over my head. One of the laces on my trainers totally iced up.