by Enid Blyton
‘Blow!’ whispered Lucy-Ann to the cat on her knee. ‘Blow Gussy! Blow his uncle!’
Bill asked a few more cautious questions, but Mrs Ellis had nothing else to tell him of any interest. He got up, took the milk she had brought him from the dairy, and paid her. He thanked her, said good night, and out he and Lucy-Ann went, into the starry night.
‘I fear – I very much fear – that somebody is on Gussy’s track,’ said Bill, in a half-whisper as they went along together. ‘Now, how could they have guessed he was with us? It’s a pity he’s so striking-looking, and so easily recognizable. I suppose someone must have spotted him with me, made enquiries about me – and as soon as they knew who I was, the rest would be easy. Hm! I don’t like it very much.’
‘Will you and Gussy have to disappear from here?’ whispered Lucy-Ann, so softly that Bill could hardly hear. ‘Please don’t go away, Bill.’
‘I’ll have to discuss things with your aunt,’ said Bill. ‘Don’t say a word to Gussy. He’ll get the wind up properly, if I know anything about him. And on no account must any of you leave him alone anywhere – always keep him in your midst.’
‘Yes, Bill,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Oh dear – I do wish those people weren’t going to the farm. Bill, they might be ordinary people, mightn’t they? They haven’t got to be enemies, have they?’
Bill squeezed Lucy-Ann’s hand. ‘No. I may be wrong. But I get hunches about these things, Lucy-Ann. And I’ve got a hunch this very minute. You needn’t worry. I shan’t let anything happen.’
‘Well – so long as you’re with us,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘But please don’t go away, Bill.’
‘I won’t,’ said Bill. ‘Not unless I take Gussy with me, which would really be the safest thing to do.’
They reached Quarry Cottage, and went in. Gussy and Dinah had gone to bed. Aunt Allie and the boys were still up, reading.
Bill put the milk in the larder and came back. He sat down and told the three of them what Mrs Ellis had said. Mrs Cunningham looked grave.
‘How did they know he was down here?’ she wondered. ‘Oh, Bill – what shall we do now? Shall we leave here at once – all of us?’
‘No. That would tell the enemy too much,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t see that two people – a man and a woman – can do very much by themselves – I mean they can’t fall on us and wrest Gussy away from our midst! As long as there are only the two of them we haven’t much to fear – and Mrs Ellis will soon tell us if any more arrive. One of the boys can go up each day for milk, and get the latest news.’
‘Right. We’ll go on as we are then,’ said his wife, and Lucy-Ann heaved a sigh of relief. ‘You’ll tell Gussy of course, Bill – put him on his guard? He’s got to be very sensible now – keep with us all, not wander away – and I’m afraid the boys must fasten their window at night.’
‘Blow!’ said Jack, who hated a shut window at night. ‘Kiki’s enough of a sentinel, Aunt Allie. She would screech the place down if anyone came.’
‘I’d feel safer with your window shut,’ said his aunt. ‘I think Kiki would screech. Still – I don’t want to run any risks.’
Gussy was told the next morning, and so was Dinah. Philip was posted up by the farm to watch the new people arrive. They came in the same black car that Philip had seen through his field glasses the day before. It was long and low and large – and very expensive-looking.
‘A Daimler,’ said Philip. ‘I bet that can get along! Now – can I spot what the visitors are like?’
There were two. One was a spruce, tall, lean man, wearing a very well cut suit, an eyeglass in one eye, and hair smoothly brushed back. The other was a woman – pretty, young and with a very foreign voice. The man spoke English well, but he was obviously a foreigner too.
He handed the woman out very carefully indeed. Then she leaned on his arm as they walked up the path to the farmhouse door. They went very slowly.
‘Either she’s been ill or she’s pretending to be,’ thought Philip. ‘I’d better go back and tell Bill – and Gussy too. He may recognize them from my description.’
But Gussy didn’t. He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know them.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they come along here sometime today,’ said Bill. ‘Just to have a snoop round. I feel sure they know I’m at this cottage – and that Gussy may be with you all on holiday!’
Bill was right. That afternoon, while Jack was bird-watching near the house, he heard the sound of voices. He peeped through the bushes. It must be the visitors from the farm! The man had an eyeglass in his eye, as Philip had described – and the woman was walking slowly, leaning on his arm.
Jack sped indoors by the back way. ‘Bill! he called. ‘They’re coming. Where’s Gussy? He could peep at them as they go by and see if he knows them!’
Gussy ran to a front window and hid behind the curtain, waiting. But the couple from the farm didn’t go by! They turned in at the front gate and came right up to the cottage door. A sharp sound came on the afternoon air.
Rat-a-tatta-TAT!
Mrs Cunningham jumped. She was having a rest on her bed. Bill opened the door and went in.
‘Allie! It’s the couple from the farm. What nerve to come right to the house! They obviously don’t think that we suspect anything at all. Will you go down and open the door? I shan’t appear – and Gussy mustn’t either. The others can, of course.’
Bill went to tell Gussy to keep out of the way and Mrs Cunningham ran down the stairs to the front door, patting her hair tidy. She opened it.
Two people stood on the step, a man and a woman. The man raised his hat politely.
‘Forgive this sudden visit,’ he said, ‘but my wife and I were taking a short walk, and she has begun to feel faint. A cup of water would help her, I think – if you would be so kind?’
‘Oh – do come in,’ said Mrs Cunningham, hoping that Gussy wouldn’t come running down the stairs. ‘I’ll get some water.’
She took them into the little sitting-room. The woman sank down into a chair and closed her eyes.
‘My wife has been ill,’ said the man. ‘I have brought her down to the farm for a few days – good air, and good food, you know – better than any hotel! But I should not have taken her so far on her first day.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mrs Cunningham, playing her part as best she could. ‘Dinah! Where are you? Get a jug of water and a glass, will you, dear?’
Dinah sped to the kitchen, and came back with a glass jug of ice-cold water, and a glass on a little tray. She put them down on the table and looked curiously at the couple. They looked back at her.
‘And is this your daughter?’ said the woman. ‘What a nice child! Have you any other children?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘Another of my own and two adopted ones. Fetch them, Dinah.’
Dinah went to fetch the others. They came in politely, Lucy-Ann, Philip and Jack. The woman screamed when she saw Kiki on Jack’s shoulder.
‘A parrot! Don’t let it come near me, I beg of you!’
‘Wipe your feet,’ ordered Kiki. ‘Shut the door. Grrrrrrrrr!’
The woman gave an exclamation in a foreign language, and said something to the man. He laughed.
‘My wife says that people who come to visit you should have good manners, or your parrot will soon teach them,’ he said. ‘So these are your four children. But have you not a fifth?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘Only these four belong to me.’
‘I thought Mrs Ellis said there was another little boy,’ said the woman, sipping the water.
Mrs Cunningham reached for the jug and refilled the woman’s glass, hoping that she would not pursue the subject of the ‘other little boy’. But the woman persisted.
‘Perhaps you have a little boy staying with you?’ she said, sweetly, smiling at Mrs Cunningham.
‘Oh, I expect Mrs Ellis means Gussy,’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘Little Gussy is staying for a while – till his family can take him
home.’
‘And may we not see the little Gussy?’ said the woman. ‘I love children. Do not leave this little Gussy out.’
‘Anyone know where he is?’ said Mrs Cunningham, in a voice that made the four children quite certain that she didn’t want them to know. They didn’t know, anyway! Gussy was at that moment in the wardrobe upstairs, where he had put himself straight away at the first sound of the knock on the door. Bill had thought he might as well stay there!
‘I’ve no idea where Gus is,’ said Jack. ‘Doing something on his own, I expect. Do you know where he is, Philip?’
‘No idea,’ said Philip. ‘Messing about somewhere, probably out in the woods.’
‘Ah – he likes to wander about, does he?’ said the man. ‘Well – we may see him when we go back to the farm. Thank you, Madam, for being so kind to my wife. May I please give your four nice children something to buy ice creams with? And here is something for the little missing Gussy also.’
To the children’s surprise he put down a five-pound note on the table in front of Mrs Cunningham. She pushed it back at once, quite horrified.
‘Oh no – please! I couldn’t hear of it. We only got you a glass of water. No, no – take this back. I couldn’t possibly allow the children to have it.’
The man looked surprised and rather uncomfortable. He put the note back in his pocket. ‘Just as you please,’ he said. ‘In my country it is only a courtesy to return a kindness.’
‘What is your country, sir?’ asked Jack, at once. ‘Aha!’ he thought. ‘Now we’ll bring you out into the open.’
The man hesitated, and the woman gave him a quick glance. ‘My country – oh, I come from Italy,’ he said. ‘A beautiful land. Come, my dear, we must go.’
He took his wife’s arm and led her to the door, his eyes searching everywhere for the missing Gussy. He bowed to Mrs Cunningham and went down the path.
She called a sentence after him, and he turned. ‘What do you say?’ he said. ‘I didn’t understand.’
Mrs Cunningham repeated it. He looked puzzled, bowed again, and went out of the gate. He disappeared with his wife up the lane.
‘Well, he’s not from Italy!’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘I called out to him in Italian to say that he was to give my best wishes to Mrs Ellis – and he didn’t understand a word!’
10
An urgent call
Jack slipped out to make sure that the couple went back to the farm. He came back to report that they had and Bill held a conference at once. Gussy had been hauled with difficulty out of the wardrobe.
He had recognized the woman but not the man. ‘She is Madame Tatiosa,’ he said. ‘The wife of the Prime Minister. I hate her! She is clever and sharp and cruel.’
‘What – that pretty young woman?!’ said Mrs Cunningham in astonishment.
‘Yes,’ said Gussy, nodding his head vigorously. ‘Once she was a spy for our country. My uncle told me. A very clever spy. And she married the Prime Minister, and tells him what to do.’
‘Hm,’ said Bill. ‘And you didn’t know the man, Gussy? Not that that matters. You’ve recognized one of them and so we know for certain that they’re after you. I almost think we’d better clear out. I really don’t know what to do for the best! I think I’d better take you and hand you over to the keepers in the Tower of London! You’d at least be safe there!’
‘But you said, Bill, that if there were only two of them, the man and the woman, they couldn’t very well do anything to Gussy,’ said Jack. ‘Why not let one of us keep watch each day to make sure no other car comes down to the farm – or no other visitor? I can easily go and spend the day at the farm, and watch – and Philip can watch the next day.’
‘I think perhaps you’re right,’ said Bill, puffing at his pipe. ‘Anyway – we’ll stay put for the next two days, and wait for the enemy to make the next move. There’s no doubt that they think Gussy’s the boy they want. I expect Mrs Ellis has described him carefully to them – and he’s easily described!’
‘Yes – long hair, for one thing,’ grinned Jack. ‘Shall I nip along to the farm now, Bill, and keep watch for the rest of the day? I can go and ask for some butter or something, and then hang round, helping with a few jobs. I’d like that, anyway.’
‘Right. You go,’ said Bill, and Jack sped off with Kiki on his shoulder. The others got up to go for a walk, well away from the farm! ‘Take your tea,’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘Nobody will know where you are, if you go off for a walk, so nobody will be able to find you! You should be quite safe, Gussy!’
So Gussy, Philip and the two girls went off with a picnic basket. They walked for about two miles and then found a glade that was golden with polished celandines. They sat down, hot with their walk.
‘This is heavenly,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘I do love celandines. They look as if someone polished them every single morning. Jolly good workman he must be – he never misses a petal!’
Dinah gave a scream. ‘Oh – what’s that on your shoulder, Philip! Oh, it’s a mouse!’
Philip’s dormouse had decided that the pocket he lived in was getting too hot for his liking. So he had squeezed his way out, run up Philip’s vest, and appeared through the opening of his collar. There he was now, sitting up on the boy’s shoulder.
‘Oh – a dormouse!’ cried Lucy-Ann in delight. ‘What’s his name, Philip? Will he let me hold him?’
‘His name is Snoozy and it suits him,’ said Philip. He felt in a pocket and brought out a nut. He gave it to Lucy-Ann. ‘Here, take this, offer it to him on the palm of your hand and he’ll run over to you.’
Lucy-Ann balanced the nut on her palm and held it out to the tiny mouse, being careful not to move too quickly. The dormouse watched her hand coming close to Philip’s shoulder, and his whiskers quivered as his nose twitched.
‘He can smell the nut,’ said Philip. ‘Keep quite still, Lucy-Ann. There he goes! How do you like the feel of his tiny feet?’
‘Oh, lovely!’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Isn’t he a dear, Philip. I wish I had one too.’
‘I’ll try and get you one,’ said Philip.
But Dinah gave a squeal at once. ‘No! She sleeps with me, and I’m not having mice in the bedroom.’
‘But this is a dormouse, not a housemouse,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘It doesn’t smell, or anything. It’s just perfectly sweet.’
Snoozy nibbled daintily at the nut. A bit broke off and he took it into his front paws, sitting up just like a squirrel. He looked at Lucy-Ann out of his bright eyes.
‘He’s got such big black eyes that they really are like mirrors,’ she said. ‘I can see my own face, very tiny, in each of them.’
‘Can you?’ said Gussy, in surprise and put his face close to Lucy-Ann’s to look into the big eyes of the dormouse. It fled at once, disappearing down Philip’s neck at top speed.
‘You moved too fast, Gussy,’ said Lucy-Ann crossly. ‘You would manage to startle him.’
‘Excuse, pliss. I pollygize,’ said Gussy. ‘I beg your pardon, Lucy-Ann.’
‘All right. But I do hope Snoozy will come back,’ said Lucy-Ann, rather cross.
He peered out of Philip’s neck once or twice, but he wouldn’t come right out. ‘He’s not absolutely tame yet,’ explained Philip. ‘I’ve not had him long enough. But he soon will be. He’ll be coming out at meal times soon and nibbling his little nut on my bread-plate.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ said Dinah.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Philip. ‘You simply don’t try to like dormice. You . . .’
‘Someone coming,’ said Lucy-Ann, suddenly. Her sharp ears had caught the sound of voices.
‘Get under the bush, Gussy,’ ordered Philip. ‘Go on, quick!’
Gussy vanished at once, and the bush closed over him. It was a pity it was a gorse bush, but Gussy didn’t have time to think of prickles.
Two men came by, talking in the broad accent of the countryside. One was the man who had told Philip so much about badgers. He waved to him.
‘It’ll be a good night for badgers tonight!’ he called. ‘Moonlight – and that’s what they like.’
‘Come out, Gus,’ said Philip, when the men had passed. ‘False alarm.’
Gussy crawled out, scratched on face, hands and knees by the gorse prickles. He was very frightened.
‘He blids,’ said Dinah unkindly. ‘Gus, you are blidding all over.’
‘It’s nothing much,’ said Philip, taking out his handkerchief and scrubbing the drops of blood away here and there. ‘Everyone gets pricked by gorse sooner or later. Cheer up, Gus. And for goodness’ sake don’t complain.’
‘I don’t like blidding,’ said poor Gussy, in a woebegone voice. ‘It makes me feel sick.’
‘Well, be sick then,’ said hard-hearted Dinah. ‘But don’t make a FUSS.’
Gussy made a valiant effort and swallowed hard. He didn’t fuss after all. What a victory!
After they had eaten every crumb of their tea, they decided to go back. Philip wanted to have a look at the quarry on the way to see if he thought that badgers might really make that their haunt.
He wandered round the big deserted place, examining the hedges round for signs of a badger’s sett. The girls and Gussy ran the few hundred yards that lay between the quarry and the cottage. Lucy-Ann thought they ought to, in case any enemy was lying in wait!
‘Any news?’ she asked, as they went indoors, panting. ‘Has Jack come back from the farm yet?’
He hadn’t. Nobody had any news at all, it seemed. Jack had none either, when he came.
‘Not a soul came to the farm,’ he said. ‘And I didn’t even see the man and the woman. They must have been in their room all the time. Once I heard a “ting” – as if somebody was using the telephone. It might have been them.’
‘Can’t tell,’ said Bill. ‘Well – I seem to have had a lazy day. I’ve got some papers to read and then I suppose it will be supper time. There’s going to be a fine moon tonight!’