Mystery of Tally-Ho Cottage (9 page)

‘I’ve told them not to do it,’ said Ern. ‘But they’re not all that obedient, Fatty. They keep on and on about it. When they first thought of it they almost fell out of the tree with laughing.’

‘Yes. Well, it’s quite a bright idea,’ said Fatty. ‘One we might use sometime, but not just now. Come on - we are all going to the cake-shop for coffee and hot buttered scones.’

They cycled off to the cake-shop. Ern thought that this custom of the Five of popping out to eat and drink in between meals was a Very Very Good One. His aunt didn’t feed him as well as his mother did, and poor Ern was in a constant state of hunger.

The cake-shop woman was very pleased to see them. Six children and a hungry dog were better than twelve grown-ups, because they seemed to eat three times as much! She brought out a plate heaped with hot, buttery scones.

‘Curranty ones!’ said Pip. ‘Just what I like. It’s decent of you to keep standing us this kind of thing, Fatty. You always seem to have a lot of money.’

‘Well, this is my Christmas money,’ said Fatty, who had a good supply of generous aunts and uncles and grandparents. ‘Sit, Buster. Well-mannered dogs do NOT put their paws on the table, and count the number of scones.’

‘They’d take some counting!’ said Ern, eyeing the plate with much approval. Then he jumped violently, as a large burly figure suddenly appeared at the door.

‘Oh - good morning, Mr. Goon,’ said Fatty. ‘Do come and join us. Do you like hot, buttery scones?’

Mr. Goon stalked in, his lips pursed up as if he was afraid he might say something he didn’t mean to. He eyed all the children, and Ern squirmed.

‘I’ve bin looking for you,’ he said to Fatty. ‘Mr. Hoho-Ha! Ho yes, I’ve read it in Larkin’s notebook. Think you’ve made a fool of me, don’t you? Do you want me to tell the Superintendent?’

‘What do you mean?’ said Fatty. ‘I read in the papers that you tackled a strange man very bravely the other day in the grounds of Tally-Ho House. Congratulations, Mr. Goon. I wish I’d been there.’

Ern disappeared under the table, and Buster welcomed him heartily, licking his face all over. Goon didn’t even see him go.

‘What do you mean - you wish you’d been there?’ demanded Mr. Goon. ‘You were there all right, Mr. Hoho-Ha! Just let me say this, Master Frederick Algernon Trotteville - you’d better go back to BONG CASTLE, see! Else you’ll get into Very Serious Trouble.’

Having made this extraordinary fierce joke Mr. Goon marched out again. The cake-shop woman stared after him in amazement. Whatever was he talking about?

‘Poor man. Mad as a hatter,’ said Fatty sympathetically, reaching for another scone. ‘Come out, Ern. You’re safe now. Buck up, or all the scones will be gone.’

Ern came out from under the table in a hurry, still looking rather pale. He opened his mouth to ask a question.

‘We’re not talking about certain things just now, Ern,’ said Fatty warningly, and Ern’s mouth shut, only to open again for a bite at a scone.

‘I suppose Goon saw all our bikes outside, and couldn’t resist coming in to say a few words to you,’ said Daisy in a low voice. ‘I thought he was going to burst!’

The rest of the day passed very pleasantly, as Pip’s mother had asked all the Find-Outers to tea and games.

‘Mother says she will be out from three o’clock till seven,’ said Pip. ‘So if we want to make a noise or do anything silly, she says now’s our chance!’

‘Very thoughtful of her,’ said Fatty approvingly. ‘Your mother is strict, Pip, but always fair. I hope your cook is in?’

Pip grinned. ‘Oh yes - and she says if you go down to the kitchen and do your imitation of the gardener when she’s been and picked some parsley without asking him, she’ll make you your favourite gingerbread.’

‘A very reasonable bargain,’ said Fatty. He had once been at Pip’s when the hot-tempered gardener had discovered the cook picking his parsley, ‘without so much as a by-your-leaf’. Fatty had thoroughly enjoyed his remarks, and the cook had been delighted to hear Fatty acting the whole thing to the others afterwards. She had even lent him her cooking apron for an imitation gardening apron.

Fatty was amused to see the apron waiting on a chair for him. Pip chuckled. ‘It must be nice to be you, Fatty,’ he said. ‘Getting your favourite cake because you can imitate our hot-tempered old gardener - getting the finest oranges at the green-grocer’s because you do a bit of ventriloquism there, and make a cow moo at the back of the shop just to please the shop-boy - and getting…’

‘That’s enough,’ said Fatty. ‘You make it sound like bribery but it’s merely good bargaining! Now, let’s go down and do the Parsley Act straightaway, so that your cook has got plenty of time to make a smashing plate of gingerbread!’

They all went down, Ern following behind. Ern was like Bets - he thought Fatty was a wonder - there couldn’t be anyone like him. He considered that he was very very lucky to be made welcome by every one of the Five. For the hundredth time he made up his mind to serve Fatty faithfully. ‘Or die!’ thought Ern dramatically, as he watched Fatty doing his ridiculous Parsley Act, croaking in the old gardener’s voice, and flapping his apron at the enraptured cook, who was almost dying with laughter.

‘Oh bless us all!’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘I never saw such a thing in my life. You’re old Herbert to the life. He flapped at me just like that! Stop now, I can’t bear any more!’

They had their gingerbread - a magnificent pile - and old Herbert, the gardener, was immensely surprised to see Pip coming out with a very large piece for him. He took it in astonished silence.

‘As a mark of gratitude from us all,’ said Pip solemnly and Herbert was even more mystified.

The evening paper came just as they were all in the hall, saying goodbye to Pip and Bets. It was pushed through the letter-box and fell on to the mat. It lay there, folded in half, with the top half showing clearly. Fatty gave an exclamation as he picked it up.

‘Look here! See what it says! “The Lorenzos reported in Maidenhead!” Why, that’s quite near here!’ He read the paragraph quickly. ‘Oh well - apparently it’s only just a guess by someone. Anyway, surely the Lorenzos wouldn’t be foolish enough to travel about undisguised. I expect we’ll keep on getting these reports from all over the country, just to keep interest alive.’

‘Coo,’ said Ern. ‘Maidenhead! If it was them, they might visit Tally-Ho House - or the Larkins’ cottage to get Poppet.’

‘Will Goon be watching the place tonight, do you think?’ asked Larry.

‘I don’t know. Possibly, if there is anything in the report,’ said Fatty. ‘Ern, keep your eyes skinned tonight, will you?’

‘Oooh, I will,’ promised Ern, thrilled. ‘I wouldn’t mind scouting round a bit myself - but Uncle may be about, and I wouldn’t dare. I’d be sure to bump into him.’

‘I’ll be along before midnight,’ said Fatty, making up his mind. ‘Just in case.’

‘Right,’ said Ern, more and more thrilled. ‘I’ll be up in the treehouse, watching, Fatty. I’ll hoot like an owl to let you know I’m there.’

He put his shut hands to his mouth, with the thumbs on his lips and blew softly. Immediately the hall was filled with the sound of quavering owl-hoots.

‘Jolly good,’ said Larry admiringly. ‘It’s all right, cookie - we haven’t got an owl in the hall!’

The cook, who had run out in surprise, went back into her kitchen. ‘Master Frederick again I expect,’ she said to her friend sitting there. ‘What a one!’

But it was Ern this time, and he hooted again, pleased to have such an admiring audience.

‘Right,’ said Fatty. ‘You be up in the treehouse - and I’ll be scouting around till midnight. I don’t really expect anything to happen, but I won’t leave anything to chance. I’ll look out for Goon, of course.’

‘Goodbye!’ said Larry, hearing seven o’clock strike. ‘Thank you for a lovely time. Buck up, Daisy!’

They all went off, and Pip shut the door. Ern left the others at the corner and rode back to his aunt’s, full of excitement over his night’s plan. The treehouse at night! He’d take a rug and some cushions, and make himsolf comfortable. And a bag of bull’s-eyes to suck.

So, at nine o’clock, when his aunt and uncle had gone early to bed, and the twins were sound asleep in their small room, Ern sat bolt upright and listened to hear if his uncle and aunt were asleep. Yes - as usual they were both snoring - his uncle with great big, long-drawn-out snores and his aunt with little polite ones.

Ern dressed warmly, because the night was cold. He decided to take both the blanket and the rug off his bed. He had already put a couple of old cushions up in the treehouse, and in his coat-pocket he had the bag of bull’s-eyes and a torch. Now for it!

He crept out of bed, and down the little stairway, carrying the blanket and rug. He opened the kitchen door and went out into the garden. In a minute he was at the foot of the tree. He climbed up carefully, the rugs round his neck.

He was soon in the little treehouse, peering through the peep-hole in the branches. The moon was coming up and the night was quite light. Ern popped a bull’s-eye in his mouth and prepared to keep watch. He had never in his life felt so happy!

Fatty did not arrive at Tally-Ho grounds till much later. His parents did not go to bed until ten past eleven that night, and Fatty waited and waited, fully dressed. He was not in disguise, because he did not intend to meet anyone if he could help it!

He had on his very thickest overcoat and a cap pulled over his thick hair. He whispered to Buster to keep quiet. The little Scottie watched him sorrowfully. He knew that Fatty meant to go out without him, and he was grieved. He wouldn’t even wag his tail when Fatty gave him one last pat.

The night was light and dark alternately. When the moon sailed out from behind a big cloud the road was as bright as day. When it sailed behind a cloud, it was difficult to see without a torch. Fatty kept in the shadow of the trees, and walked softly, listening for any footsteps.

He met no one at all. Peterswood had certainly gone to bed early that night!

He went down to the river and walked along the river-path to the wicket-gate leading into Tally-Ho grounds. He felt that to go in at the front gates would certainly attract attention - and, indeed, it was possible that Goon might be there, keeping watch also. ‘Though I don’t really believe that Maidenhead report,’ thought Fatty. ‘For one thing it would be silly of the Lorenzos to try and come back so soon - and for another, if they were going to, they would disguise themselves too thoroughly to be easily recognized!’

He let himself in at the gate. The Larkins’ cottage was in darkness, and there was not a sound. Fatty remembered that Ern would be watching from the treehouse, and he stopped under a bush to send out a hoot.

‘Hoo!’ called Fatty, on exactly the right note. ‘Hoo-hoo-hoo-HOO!’

And back came the answer from Ern in the tree. ‘Hoo! Hoo-hoo-hoo-HOO!’ It was so exactly like an owl that Fatty nodded his head approvingly. Ern was good!

He began to make his way to the big house. It was in utter darkness. Fatty wished he could suddenly see a flicker or flash there, to tell him that somebody was about - that would be exciting. But everything was silence and darkness in the deserted house.

Ern hooted again. Then, before Fatty could answer, there came another hoot, and then another.

Whatever was Ern doing? Then Fatty laughed. Of course! It was real owls this time. They liked hunting on a moonlight night like this.

He thought he would send back a hoot, however, in case it was Ern. So he put his thumbs to his mouth and sent out a long and quavering hoot.

Immediately an answering hoot came, one that sounded quite urgent! Was it Ern? It was impossible to sense exactly the right direction of the hoot. Could Ern be trying to give him a message - was he warning him?

Fatty decided to stand under a thick dark bush for a while and wait quietly. The night was so silent that he might be able to pick up any noise if someone was about.

So Fatty stood absolutely still and listened. He heard nothing at all for about five minutes. Not even a hoot!

Then he was sure he heard a soft crunch as if someone was walking carefully on frosty grass. Oh, very carefully!

Fatty held his breath. Could it be one of the Lorenzos? Had he - or she - come back to get something from the house? They would be sure to have keys. He stood still again. The moon swung out from behind a cloud and everything was suddenly lighted up. Fatty crouched back into the bush, looking round to see if he could spy anyone.

Not a sound! Not a sign of anything at all suspicious. The moon went behind a cloud again - a big cloud, this time, likely to last for some minutes.

The sound came again - a little crunch of frosted grass. Fatty stiffened. Yes - it came from round the corner of the house, he was sure of it. Someone was there - standing there - or moving very cautiously bit by bit.

A loud hoot sounded so near Fatty’s head that he jumped violently. This time it really was an owl, for he saw the dark shadow of its wings, though he could not hear the slightest sound of the bird’s flight.

The tiny crunch came again. Fatty decided that it was someone waiting there - standing on the frosty grass, and occasionally moving his feet. Who was it?

‘I really must see,’ thought Fatty. ‘If it is Lorenzo I’d better scoot off and telephone Superintendent Jenks. It can’t be Goon - I should hear his heavy breathing. This fellow doesn’t make any sound at all, except the tiny crunching noise.’

As the moon was still behind the cloud Fatty decided he had better try and have a look at the man, whoever he was, straightaway. He made his way very very carefully from the bush, glad that the grass was not so frosty on his side of the house.

He trod unexpectedly on some dead leaves and they rustled. Fatty stopped. Had the noise been heard? He was nearly at the corner of the house now. He went forward again, and then nerved himself to peer round.

He slid his head carefully round the corner - and, very dimly, he saw a figure standing by the windows of Tally-Ho House. The figure was absolutely still. Fatty could not see any details at all, except that it seemed to be a fairly tall man. It was certainly not the short, burly Goon.