Mystery of the Strange Messages (11 page)

"That must be old Grimble sawing logs at the bottom of the
garden," said Fatty, seeing a sturdy old man there,

a battered hat at the back of his head, and the dark blue apron of
a head gardener over his corduroy trousers "Let's go into the field nearby
and speak to him over the hedge "

So they went down a side-path into the field that skirted the
bottom of Grimble's garden Bets called to him over the hedge "Please, are
you Mr. Grimble?"

"Yes, I am," answered the old fellow, peering over at
Bets "What do you want with me?"

"Oh please, could you tell me what this plant is?" asked
Bets, with her sweetest smile, and handed up the pot "It's got such pretty
leaves, and I do want to know its name You know the names of every plant, don't
you. Mr. Grimble?"

Grimble beamed down at her "Well, I know a tidy few, Missie
This here plant is a young Coleus—but you want to take it home and keep it in
the warm It don't like cold air."

"Have you ever grown Coleuses?" asked Bets.

"Oh aye' Thousands," said old Grimble "I used to
work at that old place, Fairlin Hall—I were head gardener there for years—and I
always kept one corner of the heated greenhouse for them Coleus Pretty things
they are, with their patterned leaves—all colours!"

"Oh. Fatty—he used to work at Fairlin Hall," called
Bets, anxious to bring the others into the conversation "Wasn't that the
place we saw this morning—you know, where that old woman lives, whose husband
we fetched medicine for."

Fatty came up at once, pleased with Bets The others followed,
amused at her little performance.

"Good morning," said Fatty, politely "Yes, we did
go into the front drive and round to the back this morning We didn't see much
of the garden though."

"Ah, it's a terrible place now," said Grimble, sadly
"I worked there, man and boy, for years, young sir, and was made head
gardener. You should have seen my roses—'twas a show-place, my rose garden. I
never go down

that road now—can't bear to see my old garden gone to ruin."

"The house is absolutely
covered
with ivy now."
said Pip, putting in a word himself. "Even the chimneys are green with it.
Was it covered with ivy when you were there. Mr. Grimble?"

"Oh yes—but not as thick as it is now," said Grimble.
"My father planted that ivy, so he told me. It weren't called Fairlin Hall
then, you know. It were called The Ivies."

This welcome bit of news came so suddenly that all the children
had quite a shock. So they were right! Fairlin Hall
was
once ‘The Ivies.'
It
was
the house spoken of in those anonymous notes. But how strange
that the writer didn't know that it had a different name now—it had been called
Fairlin Hall for years and years!

"Why was the name changed?" asked Fatty.

Grimble looked at him and said nothing for some twenty seconds.
Then he spoke in a curiously sad voice "The Ivies got a bad name," he
said. "Something happened there. My master and mistress, Colonel and Mrs. Hasterley,
couldn't bear their home to be pointed at—it were in all the papers, you
see—and they sold up and went. And when new people bought the place, they changed
the name. Yes—it were once The Ivies—but that's a long time since."

The children were silent for a minute or two, and the old gardener
began his sawing again, looking sad and far-away.

"What happened?" ventured Fatty, at last. "Was
it—was it something bad that your master did?"

"Nay—he were as good a man as ever lived," said old
Grimble. "It were his son. Master Wilfrid, that brought shame on the old place,
and on his parents too." And to the children's horror, tears gathered in
the old man's eyes, and dripped onto his saw!

"Let's go," said Fatty, at once "Come on—let's
go."

Mr. Goon is pleased with himself.

The five murmured a quiet good-bye to old Grimble, who took no
notice at all. He was evidently lost in far-off memories, which were still
powerful enough to upset him. They all felt very sorry to have made the old
fellow weep. Bets felt tears in her own eyes.

"We shouldn't have asked him questions. Fatty." she
said. "I feel dreadful about it."

"Well, we couldn't tell that he would take it like that,"
said Fatty, feeling rather uncomfortable himself. "My word, though—we were
right. Fairlin Hall
was
The Ivies. I wonder what dreadful thing Wilfrid
Hasterley did to bring the house such shame and notoriety—enough to make its
name known all over the country, and force his parents to sell it."

"We'd better find out," said Larry. "How can
we?"

"I almost think I'd better ask Superintendent Jenks about
it," said Fatty. "If he can tell us what the shocking happening was,
it might make all this business of the anonymous notes a bit clearer. It's
plain that the writer wants old Smith to be cleared out of Fairlin Hall—and
it's also plain that he, the writer, must have been away for a good long time,
if he doesn't know that the name has been changed for twenty years or more.
It's a proper mystery, this!"

"You'd better telephone the Super when you get home.
Fatty." said Larry. "Gosh, it's almost one o'clock! Daisy, come
on—we'll be late for lunch!"

Fatty went home thinking hard. There were a great many questions
in this mystery that had no answers. Who was the writer of the notes? How did
he keep putting them where Goon could find them, and yet never be

seen himself? Why didn't he know that The Ivies was now Fairlin
Hall, and had been for years? Why did he want Smith sent out of Fairlin
Hall—and why did Smith apparently have a false name?

"Too
many
mysteries this time," said Fatty,
cycling home fast. "Well—the time has come to tackle the Super about it.
I'll telephone immediately after my lunch."

He went to the telephone at two o'clock, hoping that The Super
might have finished his own lunch. Alas, he was away in the north of England.
His deputy, who knew a little about Fatty's amateur detective work, was
sympathetic, but not very helpful.

"You could go and see Mr. Goon, the constable in your
village," he suggested. "He might be able to help you. In fact,
Master Frederick, I think that is the thing you
should
do. I believe we
have had information from Mr. Goon that some rather peculiar anonymous notes
have been arriving at his house, and if you know anything that ties up with
those, it's your duty to inform him. I'll tell the Super when he comes back—but
I don't expect him for some days."

This was extremely disappointing. Fatty put down the telephone
with a groan. Blow! Now he'd
have
to go to Goon! The Super would not be
at all pleased with him if he held up his information just because he wasn't
friendly with Goon. He sat down and considered the matter.

"Well—it's no good. I'd better get it over," thought
Fatty. "I'll cycle down to Goon's house now. How cock-a-hoop he'll be to
think I'm passing on my information to him. Well—I jolly well shan't tell him
how
I got it!"

Fatty fetched his bicycle and went off to Goon's, feeling
decidedly down in the dumps. He knew quite well that Goon would pretend to the
Super that
he
had found out most of the information himself, and give no
credit to Fatty and the others. He came to Goon's house and knocked at the
door. Mrs. Hicks opened it. breathless and panting, as if she had been running a
mile.

"Mr. Goon's not in," she told him. "But Ern is. Do
you want to see him? He's up in his room, watching out of the window. We had
another of them ominous notes this morning."

Fatty was interested. He went up to Ern's room, and found the boy
sitting close to his window, his eyes glued on the yard below. "I heard
your voice. Fatty," he said, without turning round. "I'm on the watch
again. We've had another note this morning—pegged to the washing line it
was!"

"What—right in the middle of the yard!" said Fatty, astonished.
"I must say the writer's bold. Nobody saw him, I suppose?"

"No," said Ern. "But nobody was watching. Funny
note it was. It didn't say The Ivies' this time. It said Fairlin Hall. 'Ask
Smith at Fairlin Hall what his real name is,' that's what it said."

"Oho! So the writer has at last found out that The Ivies has
changed its name," said Fatty. "I suppose this means that your uncle
has gone racing round to Fairlin Hall. Ern?"

"Yes," said Ern. "He wasn't half pleased about it,
either—getting in on Mr. Smith like that. He doesn't know that you saw old Mrs.
Smith this morning, and found out so much."

"Poor old Smith," said Fatty. "I wouldn't like to
be in
his
shoes when old Goon asks him questions. He'll be pretty
beastly to the poor fellow. I think I'll stay here till be comes back, Ern. He
may have some news. Gosh—to think we've all been working so hard to find out if
Fairlin Hall was once The Ivies—and now Goon's been lucky enough to have the
information handed to him in one of those notes!"

A scream came suddenly from downstairs, and made Fatty and Ern
jump. "That's Mrs. Hicks," said Ern, and they both ran downstairs.
Mrs. Hicks was lying back in the kitchen arm-chair, fanning herself with the
dish-cloth.

"What's the matter?" cried Ern.

"Another note!" wailed Mrs. Hicks. "I went to my
larder just now—and there was a note, pushed in through the larder window—on
top of the fish, it was. It give me such a turn, seeing it there. You go and
get it, Ern. I'm getting so as I don't want to touch the things. Horrible
ominous notes!"

Fatty went to the larder before Ern. He looked in at the open
door, and saw the square envelope lying on top of a plate of fish, just beside
the open larder window. He took it and tore it open, though he knew he ought to
wait for Mr. Goon.

"Found out about Smith yet, you dunderhead?" said the
note, in the familiar cut-out, pasted letters.

"When did you go to the larder last, Mrs. Hicks?"
demanded Fatty.

"About twenty minutes ago," said Mrs. Hicks. "The
note wasn't there then, I'll swear it wasn't. I got some fish for the cat, off
that dish—and put it back again on the shelf."

"It
couldn't
have been put there in the last twenty
minutes," said Ern, at once. "Haven't I been watching out of that
window for the last half-hour? You know I have!"

"Ah, but your friend went up to see you," said Mrs.
Hicks. "The note must have come then, when you were talking to him and not
keeping a watch."

"I
was
watching," said Ern, angrily. "I
never took my eyes off the yard. Did I. Fatty?"

"Well,
I
heard you talking all right," said Mrs.
Hicks. "And when people talk, they can't watch too.
You'll
catch it
from that uncle of yours!"

"I don't know how the messenger has the nerve to walk across
the yard and back like that," said Fatty. "He must know that Ern was
watching—he could easily see him at the bedroom window. It must mean that the
messenger hides himself somewhere very near, and watches his chance."

"That's it, sir," said Mrs. Hicks. "Artful as a
bagful of

monkeys he is. I've never seen him—though once or twice I've
thought I heard him. It scares me proper, it docs."

"There's Uncle," said Ern, looking suddenly anxious.
"Loveaduck—won't he be angry with me when he hears there's another note,
left under our noses—me watching and all!"

Mr. Goon came in, whistling softly. "Pleased with
himself!" said Ern, looking at Fatty. Goon walked into the kitchen,
calling to Mrs. Hicks.

"A cup of tea, please, Mrs. Hicks. Hallo—you here. Master
Frederick? And why aren't you watching at your window, Ern?"

"Er—well, Mrs. Hicks found another note, Uncle," said
Ern, warily. "And she screamed, and me and Fatty, we shot down to see what
was the matter."

"Well—there won't be any
more
notes," said Goon.
"Not as soon as the writer of them hears that old Smith has gone from Fairlin
Hall. I sent him packing!"

"But why, Mr. Goon?" asked Fatty, troubled to think that
poor old Mrs. Smith should have had to turn out with her sick husband.

"Come into the office," said Goon, who was looking very
pleased with himself. "Do you good, Master Fred-crick, to hear how the
police can get to work and settle things." Fatty and Ern followed him,
leaving Mrs. Hicks alone in the kitchen, looking annoyed at being left out.

"Sit down," ordered Goon, and Ern and Fatty obediently
sat down. Goon leaned back and put his finger-tips together, looking at the two
boys in a most irritating way.

"Well, acting on information received, I went round to
Fairlin Hall—you probably don't know, but it was once called The Ivies,"
began Goon. "And there I found this fellow Smith, talked about in those
notes. His wife was most obstructive—said he was ill, and I wasn't to disturb
him—such nerve to tell
me
that," frowned Goon.

"Well, I soon told her I wasn't standing any nonsense, and
pushed her aside..."

"Not really
pushed}"
said Fatty, horrified to
think of the gentle old lady being roughly handled by the big policeman.