Mystery of Banshee Towers (13 page)

“It all started with the disappearance of a tiny boat in a big picture in the Picture-Gallery at Banshee Towers,” he began.

“A boat in a
picture
!” said the Inspector, astonished.

“Yes, sir. You see, we thought we’d make a few expeditions these holidays, and that was one of them - to Banshee Towers to see the lovely sea-pictures there,” went on Fatty.

“It was Ern and I who
really
wanted to go,” said Bets.

“So we all went up on our bikes, and paid a shilling to go in. We had a look round - the pictures were grand,” said Fatty, “and Ern here stood for ages in front of a very big one…”

“Smashing, it was!” said Ern, taking up the story. “And it had a tiny red boat, sir, painted on a wave near the bottom of the picture.”

“Well, what about it?” said the Inspector.

“Well, sir, we went again the next day. and I went to look at that picture agan - and the boat was
gone
!” said Ern. “And it wasn’t painted out or anything - it just wasn’t there.”

“Strange,” said Inspector Jenks. “You must have made a mistake - looked at another picture perhaps.”

“No, sir - Bets here can say the same as me,” said Ern. and Bets nodded.

“That was the beginning of the Mystery,” said Fatty. “I sort of smelt something fishy from that very moment. I didn’t much like the turnstile man, and I certainly didn’t like the owner of the pictures, a man called Mr Engler. And I didn’t much like one of the artists there, a Frenchman.”

“Oh - there were artists there, were there?” said the Inspector. “Copying the pictures?”

“Yes, sir - but not awfully well, in my opinion,” said Fatty. “Except the Frenchman, sir - honestly he was very very good. He wasn’t very nice, though - he painted Ern right across the face by slashing at him with his brush. But he was a
real
artist, sir. the others were only art-students from some art-school.

“It said in the catalogue, sir, that the pictures there belonged to a Count Ludwig, of Austria, who had lent them to this Mr Engler to show in his gallery. Mr Engler is an Austrian too, I believe. The artists were copying them just for practice, or to sell as copies afterwards. They were most of them awful - I wouldn’t have given ten shillings for any of them!” went on Fatty.

“Frederick, you may as well know that we have reason to believe Engler is a crook,” said the Chief. “Please tell me straight out if
you
have any reason to believe he is, and if so, WHAT reasons? This is as important for you, as for me.”

“All right, sir. I can give you plenty of reasons,” said Fatty, briskly. “I’m pretty sure that what he does is to get that French artist to copy the pictures he has had lent to him from various Art galleries all over the place. Then he takes the original picture out of its frame, and rolls it up - and sticks the finished copy in its place - and I must say that Francois Ortalo makes some wonderful copies!”

“He sells the originals somewhere, for a large sum of money, of course,” said Inspector Jenks. “Just what we suspected - but couldn’t prove!”

“Well, you can prove it now, sir,” said Fatty. “That French artist made a big mistake when he copied that fine sea-picture that Ern and Bets loved - he forgot to put that tiny boat into the copied picture! That’s the
only
difference that Ern and Bets could see in the two pictures!”

“A very, very small omission!” said Inspector Jenks “One that might have gone unnoticed for years - in fact, it might
never
have been spotted. I don’t think anyone but sharp-eyed children would notice and remember a tiny boat so clearly! Ern - I congratulate you! You may be the means of catching a very clever and remarkable swindler!”

Ern went as red as a beetroot, tried to say something, and couldn’t.

“Of course,” went on the Inspector, “we want to know quite a few more things, before we can charge this rogue with stealing. Perhaps you can tell me some of them, Frederick?”

“Well. I don’t know, sir,” said Fatty. “I
can
tell you a few things, though. The Frenchman’s
real
name and address, for instance. I found it in a book when I - er - broke into his bedroom.”

Everyone stared at Fatty in surprise. “What’s his name - quick, give it to me,” said the Chief, opening a notebook.

“His name is Francois Henri Ortalo, of 91 Rue Carnot, Paris,” said Fatty. “He knows all about the famous pictures on the Continent of Europe. I found his name in a book about them.”

The Chief gave a little whistle. “Oho - so Francois Ortalo has turned up here, has he?” he said. “I wouldn’t like to say how many different countries want him for swindling people over pictures. Good work, Fatty! Anything else?”

“Well, I know which Art Galleries in America
buy
the original pictures,” said Fatty, and gave Inspector Jenks the list he had written down that morning in the office at Banshee Towers.

“Bless my soul!” said the Chief, hardly able to believe his ears. “Am I dreaming? We’ve been looking everywhere for this information. How in the world do you know this?”

“Well - I just
happened
to see Mr Engler’s office desk,” said Fatty, “and I just glanced at a few things, sir.”

“I can only hope, Frederick Trotteville, that when you are grown-up, you will join the police-force and not the ranks of the burglars!” said the Inspector. “I suppose you do know that you had no right to go snooping in that fellow’s desk, rogue though he is!”

“Well, I wasn’t sure, sir,” said Fatty, with a twinkle in his eye. “But Ern here was rather shocked, weren’t you, Ern?”

“Well, yes, I was,” said Ern. “But then I didn’t know that Fatty was getting information to pass on to
you
, sir.”

“Is there really a Count Ludwig, sir, who lends these pictures to Mr Engler?” asked Fatty.

“Oh yes,” said the Inspector. “And he must be a poor judge of art - because although Engler never sends him back his valuable original pictures, but only dud copies, he has apparently never noticed the difference!”

“Then he won’t notice that the tiny little boat is missing when he gets the copy?” said Bets, amazed.

“He certainly won’t,” said the chief. “You are much smarter than he is, little Bets! And Ern too!”

“Can you charge Mr Engler - and the artist - and perhaps the turnstile man - with robbery and swindling? “asked Fatty.

“It’s difficult,” said the Inspector. “I’d feel safer if I could find out how he gets the original pictures safely out of the Art Galleries he shows them in - such as Banshee Towers, for instance. It isn’t easy to smuggle big pictures out of a place you know - or into one, for that matter. It’s been really puzzling us. We’ve watched and watched that fellow - not only here but in other places too - and we’ve never been able to lay our hands on any pictures being smuggled out or in!”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Fatty. “I guessed that early on, sir.”

“Fatty! You never told us!
How
did they get the pictures out?” said Larry, astonished.

“Do you remember that there were always lengths of fat lead pipes about - supposed to be for repairs?” said Fatty. “Well, I went and snooped down one - and I saw something tightly rolled up in it - I couldn’t imagine then what it was - but now I’m absolutely certain that it was a rolled-up, canvas - a picture off the walls. It wouldn’t be missed, for a copy would be immediately slapped into place!”

“FATTY! Remember that ladder this morning - and the cutting sound we heard when we were locked in that room - and the slapping of a brush?” almost shouted Ern, half-leaping from his chair. “That was what they were doing then! They climbed up the ladder to cut the picture out - then they slapped some sort of gluey paste on the empty space - and stretched the copy over it - it stuck almost at once, of course.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Fatty. “You’re quite right, Ern. You’ve been pretty clever over this.”

“Why didn’t you tell us all these things?” said Bets.

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure how everything fitted,” said Fatty. “You know, it was a bit like a jigsaw. I couldn’t see the whole picture, or know what it meant, till I’d found
every
bit of the jigsaw. It wasn’t till this morning that I found the last piece - the pipes in the shed! Then at last I knew how they managed to get the pictures out without anyone guessing!”

“You’ve done remarkably well. Fatty. But I rather fear the men have smelt a rat and gone,” said the Chief, shutting his notebook. “Someone must have tipped them that we were on the watch. They went away in a blue van and a car, apparently. The man we had on watch unfortunately wasn’t quick enough to take the numbers. So I fear we can’t set up road-blocks anywhere, or issue a general warning to the police. We
have
to know the registration numbers of the vehicles.”

“Oh those - I nearly forgot,” said Fatty. “I saw the numbers this morning. Now - let me see - yes - one was Pair of Rogues, and…”

“Pair of Rogues -
that’s
not a car-number!” said Larry.

“And the other was Jolly Bad Lot,” said Fatty. “Yes - POR 202 and JBL 333, sir. FOR for ‘Pair of Rogues!’ and JBL for ‘Jolly Bad Lot’. Easy way to remember those vehicles, sir - the letters described the occupants so well!”

“Well, I won’t say what a marvel I think you are, or you
might
get a swelled head,” said the Inspector, jotting down the numbers at once. “Do you happen to have memorized the number of
my
car in the same way. Fatty?”

“Yes, sir. Your car number is VGF 888.” said Fatty, promptly. “Er - VGF stands for Very Good Fellow, sir.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that” said the Inspector, getting up. “Thanks, Fatty, thanks, Ern. We can now pin down those three rogues, and put them somewhere where, I am pretty certain, they will not see many beautiful pictures!”

“What about Mr Engler’s complaint about me, sir?” asked Fatty. “You know - breaking and entering into Banshee Towers. Actually we didn’t
break
in, sir - we came up that underground passage.”

“Hm: well, in the circumstances, considering that you have given me so much help in this case, Frederick, I shall cross out that complaint in my books,” said Inspector Jenks, with a very broad smile indeed. “And you needn’t worry about Mr Goon. I am going straight up to the police station to tell him of the unexpected - and really astonishing - help you have given me this morning. I must say that I think the Five Find-Outers are remarkably good detectives!”

“What about Ern?” asked Bets, anxiously. “Will it be
safe
for him to go back to Mr Goon’s?”

“QUITE safe,” said the Inspector. “I shall tell him that his nephew Ern was clever enough to spot what is probably the only clue in existence that could lead to the arrest of a smart rogue like Mr Engler. Well done indeed, Ern!”

And with that, out went the Inspector, murmuring something to himself. “Let’s see now - my car’s number is VGF - and Fatty said it stood for Very Good Fellow. Hm - I just wonder what
else
Fatty makes those letters stand for, when I’m
out
of favour. He’s certainly worth watching, is Master Frederick Trotteville!”

18 - YOU
NEVER
KNOW WHAT OLD FATTY IS UP TO!

Mr Goon was amazed to hear what Inspector Jenks had to say. He simply couldn’t believe his ears.

“All those pictures copied, and the originals
sold
! That fellow Engler must have made a fortune. And you say Ern - ERN, my nephew, was the one that spotted the first clue! I’d never have thought it of Ern, never.”

“Well, Goon, I shouldn’t be surprised if your nephew doesn’t make a very fine police-officer in some years’ time,” said Inspector Jenks, briskly. “It’s a pity you scared him so much, and he ran away. He might have been of some use to you.”

“Yes, sir. I sort of lost my temper,” said Mr Goon. “I’d like him back, sir. If he’s going to be as brainy as you think he is, well, I wouldn’t mind teaching him a few things myself, sir, that might be useful to him later on.”

“
That’s
the way to talk. Goon,” said the Chief, getting up, and clapping the policeman on the back. “Youngsters nowadays have some fine stuff in them, you know. As for that boy Frederick Trotteville - well, I pity all the rogues and swindlers and thieves in a few years’ time. Once Frederick gets those brains of his to work, they won’t have a chance!”

“I think I’ll go down to the Trottevilles’ house, and have a word with Ern,” said Goon, getting up. “His mother’s been after me about him, when she heard he wasn’t here. Downright angry she was - not with Ern, but with
me
. Just like her sauce!”

“Ah, you just tell her how clever Ern has been - that will smooth her down,” said the Inspector. “Well, goodbye, Goon. I’ll let you know when we catch those swindlers. You’ll have Ern back, of course, and no hard words said on either side. And by the way, what a VERY nice, well-behaved dog he has, hasn’t he! Even SITS when he’s told. I’m sure you’ll enjoy having Bingo back, too, Goon!”

He departed, leaving Mr Goon feeling rather like a pricked balloon, with the air slowly departing from him. Well, he’d better go down and see those “Find-Outers” as they called themselves. Silly name - but no doubt about it, somehow or other they
did
solve mysteries, and find out extraordinary clues.

“Maybe it’s silly of me to go against them,” thought Goon, frowning. “Be better if I was more friendly, like, then they’d tell me things. That Ern now - whoever would have thought he had a brain in his head? I can’t believe it!”

He set off on his bicycle to ride to Fatty’s house, keeping a sharp lookout for dogs. It was a curious thing, but as soon as dogs saw Mr Goon riding majestically down the road on his old bicycle, they seemed to have but one thought in their doggy minds, and that was to race out into the road at top speed, barking at the top of their voices, and leap at poor Mr Goon’s ankles, as his feet went up and down on the pedals.

Down in the shed no one guessed that Mr Goon was coming. They were all talking about their adventures in Banshee Towers. “THE most exciting part was where we set off the wailing banshee machinery,” said Larry. “My word, that was a clever stunt of Mr Engler’s, wasn’t it!”