by E. Nesbit
CHAPTER 3. BEING DETECTIVES
The next thing that happened to us was very interesting. It was as realas the half-crowns--not just pretending. I shall try to write it as likea real book as I can. Of course we have read Mr Sherlock Holmes, aswell as the yellow-covered books with pictures outside that are so badlyprinted; and you get them for fourpence-halfpenny at the bookstall whenthe corners of them are beginning to curl up and get dirty, with peoplelooking to see how the story ends when they are waiting for trains. Ithink this is most unfair to the boy at the bookstall. The books arewritten by a gentleman named Gaboriau, and Albert's uncle says they arethe worst translations in the world--and written in vile English. Ofcourse they're not like Kipling, but they're jolly good stories. And wehad just been reading a book by Dick Diddlington--that's not his rightname, but I know all about libel actions, so I shall not say what hisname is really, because his books are rot. Only they put it into ourheads to do what I am going to narrate.
It was in September, and we were not to go to the seaside because it isso expensive, even if you go to Sheerness, where it is all tin cans andold boots and no sand at all. But every one else went, even the peoplenext door--not Albert's side, but the other. Their servant told Elizathey were all going to Scarborough, and next day sure enough all theblinds were down and the shutters up, and the milk was not left anymore. There is a big horse-chestnut tree between their garden and ours,very useful for getting conkers out of and for making stuff to rub onyour chilblains. This prevented our seeing whether the blinds weredown at the back as well, but Dicky climbed to the top of the tree andlooked, and they were.
It was jolly hot weather, and very stuffy indoors--we used to play agood deal in the garden. We made a tent out of the kitchen clothes-horseand some blankets off our beds, and though it was quite as hot in thetent as in the house it was a very different sort of hotness. Albert'suncle called it the Turkish Bath. It is not nice to be kept from theseaside, but we know that we have much to be thankful for. We might bepoor little children living in a crowded alley where even at summernoon hardly a ray of sunlight penetrates; clothed in rags and with barefeet--though I do not mind holes in my clothes myself, and barefeet would not be at all bad in this sort of weather. Indeed we do,sometimes, when we are playing at things which require it. It wasshipwrecked mariners that day, I remember, and we were all in theblanket tent. We had just finished eating the things we had saved, atthe peril of our lives, from the st-sinking vessel. They were rathernice things. Two-pennyworth of coconut candy--it was got in Greenwich,where it is four ounces a penny--three apples, some macaroni--thestraight sort that is so useful to suck things through--some raw rice,and a large piece of cold suet pudding that Alice nicked from the larderwhen she went to get the rice and macaroni. And when we had finishedsome one said--
'I should like to be a detective.'
I wish to be quite fair, but I cannot remember exactly who said it.Oswald thinks he said it, and Dora says it was Dicky, but Oswald is toomuch of a man to quarrel about a little thing like that.
'I should like to be a detective,' said--perhaps it was Dicky, but Ithink not--'and find out strange and hidden crimes.'
'You have to be much cleverer than you are,' said H. O.
'Not so very,' Alice said, 'because when you've read the books you knowwhat the things mean: the red hair on the handle of the knife, or thegrains of white powder on the velvet collar of the villain's overcoat. Ibelieve we could do it.'
'I shouldn't like to have anything to do with murders,' said Dora;'somehow it doesn't seem safe--'
'And it always ends in the poor murderer being hanged,' said Alice.
We explained to her why murderers have to be hanged, but she only said,'I don't care. I'm sure no one would ever do murdering _twice_. Thinkof the blood and things, and what you would see when you woke up in thenight! I shouldn't mind being a detective to lie in wait for a gangof coiners, now, and spring upon them unawares, and securethem--single-handed, you know, or with only my faithful bloodhound.'
She stroked Pincher's ears, but he had gone to sleep because he knewwell enough that all the suet pudding was finished. He is a verysensible dog. 'You always get hold of the wrong end of the stick,'Oswald said. 'You can't choose what crimes you'll be a detective about.You just have to get a suspicious circumstance, and then you look for aclue and follow it up. Whether it turns out a murder or a missing willis just a fluke.'
'That's one way,' Dicky said. 'Another is to get a paper and findtwo advertisements or bits of news that fit. Like this: "Young LadyMissing," and then it tells about all the clothes she had on, and thegold locket she wore, and the colour of her hair, and all that; and thenin another piece of the paper you see, "Gold locket found," and then itall comes out.'
We sent H. O. for the paper at once, but we could not make any of thethings fit in. The two best were about how some burglars broke intoa place in Holloway where they made preserved tongues and invaliddelicacies, and carried off a lot of them. And on another page therewas, 'Mysterious deaths in Holloway.'
Oswald thought there was something in it, and so did Albert's uncle whenwe asked him, but the others thought not, so Oswald agreed to drop it.Besides, Holloway is a long way off. All the time we were talking aboutthe paper Alice seemed to be thinking about something else, and when wehad done she said--
'I believe we might be detectives ourselves, but I should not like toget anybody into trouble.'
'Not murderers or robbers?' Dicky asked.
'It wouldn't be murderers,' she said; 'but I _have_ noticed somethingstrange. Only I feel a little frightened. Let's ask Albert's unclefirst.'
Alice is a jolly sight too fond of asking grown-up people things. And weall said it was tommyrot, and she was to tell us.
'Well, promise you won't do anything without me,' Alice said, and wepromised. Then she said--
'This is a dark secret, and any one who thinks it is better not to beinvolved in a career of crime-discovery had better go away ere yet it betoo late.'
So Dora said she had had enough of tents, and she was going to look atthe shops. H. O. went with her because he had twopence to spend. Theythought it was only a game of Alice's but Oswald knew by the way shespoke. He can nearly always tell. And when people are not telling thetruth Oswald generally knows by the way they look with their eyes.Oswald is not proud of being able to do this. He knows it is through nomerit of his own that he is much cleverer than some people.
When they had gone, the rest of us got closer together and said--
'Now then.'
'Well,' Alice said, 'you know the house next door? The people have goneto Scarborough. And the house is shut up. But last night _I saw a lightin the windows_.'
We asked her how and when, because her room is in the front, and shecouldn't possibly have seen. And then she said--
'I'll tell you if you boys will promise not ever to go fishing againwithout me.'
So we had to promise.
Then she said--
'It was last night. I had forgotten to feed my rabbits and I woke up andremembered it. And I was afraid I should find them dead in the morning,like Oswald did.'
'It wasn't my fault,' Oswald said; 'there was something the matter withthe beasts. I fed them right enough.'
Alice said she didn't mean that, and she went on--
'I came down into the garden, and I saw a light in the house, and darkfigures moving about. I thought perhaps it was burglars, but Fatherhadn't come home, and Eliza had gone to bed, so I couldn't do anything.Only I thought perhaps I would tell the rest of you.'
'Why didn't you tell us this morning?' Noel asked. And Alice explainedthat she did not want to get any one into trouble, even burglars. 'Butwe might watch to-night,' she said, 'and see if we see the light again.'
'They might have been burglars,' Noel said. He was sucking the last bitof his macaroni. 'You know the people next door are very grand. Theywon't know us--and they go out in a real private carriage sometimes. Andthey have an "At Home" d
ay, and people come in cabs. I daresay they havepiles of plate and jewellery and rich brocades, and furs of price andthings like that. Let us keep watch to-night.'
'It's no use watching to-night,' Dicky said; 'if it's only burglars theywon't come again. But there are other things besides burglars that arediscovered in empty houses where lights are seen moving.'
'You mean coiners,' said Oswald at once. 'I wonder what the reward isfor setting the police on their track?'
Dicky thought it ought to be something fat, because coiners are alwaysa desperate gang; and the machinery they make the coins with is so heavyand handy for knocking down detectives.
Then it was tea-time, and we went in; and Dora and H. O. had clubbedtheir money together and bought a melon; quite a big one, and only alittle bit squashy at one end. It was very good, and then we washed theseeds and made things with them and with pins and cotton. And nobodysaid any more about watching the house next door.
Only when we went to bed Dicky took off his coat and waistcoat, but hestopped at his braces, and said--
'What about the coiners?'
Oswald had taken off his collar and tie, and he was just going to saythe same, so he said, 'Of course I meant to watch, only my collar'srather tight, so I thought I'd take it off first.'
Dicky said he did not think the girls ought to be in it, because theremight be danger, but Oswald reminded him that they had promised Alice,and that a promise is a sacred thing, even when you'd much rathernot. So Oswald got Alice alone under pretence of showing her acaterpillar--Dora does not like them, and she screamed and ran away whenOswald offered to show it her. Then Oswald explained, and Alice agreedto come and watch if she could. This made us later than we ought to havebeen, because Alice had to wait till Dora was quiet and then creep outvery slowly, for fear of the boards creaking. The girls sleep with theirroom-door open for fear of burglars. Alice had kept on her clothesunder her nightgown when Dora wasn't looking, and presently we got down,creeping past Father's study, and out at the glass door that leads onto the veranda and the iron steps into the garden. And we went down veryquietly, and got into the chestnut-tree; and then I felt that we hadonly been playing what Albert's uncle calls our favourite instrument--Imean the Fool. For the house next door was as dark as dark. Thensuddenly we heard a sound--it came from the gate at the end of thegarden. All the gardens have gates; they lead into a kind of lane thatruns behind them. It is a sort of back way, very convenient when youdon't want to say exactly where you are going. We heard the gate at theend of the next garden click, and Dicky nudged Alice so that shewould have fallen out of the tree if it had not been for Oswald'sextraordinary presence of mind. Oswald squeezed Alice's arm tight, andwe all looked; and the others were rather frightened because really wehad not exactly expected anything to happen except perhaps a light. Butnow a muffled figure, shrouded in a dark cloak, came swiftly up thepath of the next-door garden. And we could see that under its cloak thefigure carried a mysterious burden. The figure was dressed to look likea woman in a sailor hat.
We held our breath as it passed under the tree where we were, and thenit tapped very gently on the back door and was let in, and then a lightappeared in the window of the downstairs back breakfast-room. But theshutters were up.
Dicky said, 'My eye!' and wouldn't the others be sick to think theyhadn't been in this! But Alice didn't half like it--and as she is a girlI do not blame her. Indeed, I thought myself at first that perhapsit would be better to retire for the present, and return later with astrongly armed force.
'It's not burglars,' Alice whispered; 'the mysterious stranger wasbringing things in, not taking them out. They must be coiners--and oh,Oswald!--don't let's! The things they coin with must hurt very much. Dolet's go to bed!'
But Dicky said he was going to see; if there was a reward for findingout things like this he would like to have the reward.
'They locked the back door,' he whispered, 'I heard it go. And I couldlook in quite well through the holes in the shutters and be back overthe wall long before they'd got the door open, even if they started todo it at once.'
There were holes at the top of the shutters the shape of hearts, and theyellow light came out through them as well as through the chinks of theshutters.
Oswald said if Dicky went he should, because he was the eldest; andAlice said, 'If any one goes it ought to be me, because I thought ofit.'
So Oswald said, 'Well, go then'; and she said, 'Not for anything!' Andshe begged us not to, and we talked about it in the tree till we wereall quite hoarse with whispering.
At last we decided on a plan of action.
Alice was to stay in the tree, and scream 'Murder!' if anythinghappened. Dicky and I were to get down into the next garden and take itin turns to peep.
So we got down as quietly as we could, but the tree made much more noisethan it does in the day, and several times we paused, fearing that allwas discovered. But nothing happened.
There was a pile of red flower-pots under the window and one very largeone was on the window-ledge. It seemed as if it was the hand of Destinyhad placed it there, and the geranium in it was dead, and there wasnothing to stop your standing on it--so Oswald did. He went firstbecause he is the eldest, and though Dicky tried to stop him because hethought of it first it could not be, on account of not being able to sayanything.
So Oswald stood on the flower-pot and tried to look through one of theholes. He did not really expect to see the coiners at their fell work,though he had pretended to when we were talking in the tree. But if hehad seen them pouring the base molten metal into tin moulds the shape ofhalf-crowns he would not have been half so astonished as he was at thespectacle now revealed.
At first he could see little, because the hole had unfortunately beenmade a little too high, so that the eye of the detective could only seethe Prodigal Son in a shiny frame on the opposite wall. But Oswald heldon to the window-frame and stood on tiptoe and then he _saw_.
There was no furnace, and no base metal, no bearded men in leathernaprons with tongs and things, but just a table with a table-cloth on itfor supper, and a tin of salmon and a lettuce and some bottled beer. Andthere on a chair was the cloak and the hat of the mysterious stranger,and the two people sitting at the table were the two youngest grown-updaughters of the lady next door, and one of them was saying--
'So I got the salmon three-halfpence cheaper, and the lettuces are onlysix a penny in the Broadway, just fancy! We must save as much as ever wecan on our housekeeping money if we want to go away decent next year.'
And the other said, 'I wish we could _all_ go _every_ year, orelse--Really, I almost wish--'
And all the time Oswald was looking Dicky was pulling at his jacket tomake him get down and let Dicky have a squint. And just as she said 'Ialmost,' Dicky pulled too hard and Oswald felt himself toppling on thegiddy verge of the big flower-pots. Putting forth all his strength ourhero strove to recover his equi-what's-its-name, but it was now lostbeyond recall.
'You've done it this time!' he said, then he fell heavily among theflower-pots piled below. He heard them crash and rattle and crack, andthen his head struck against an iron pillar used for holding up thenext-door veranda. His eyes closed and he knew no more.
Now you will perhaps expect that at this moment Alice would have cried'Murder!' If you think so you little know what girls are. Directly shewas left alone in that tree she made a bolt to tell Albert's uncle allabout it and bring him to our rescue in case the coiner's gang was avery desperate one. And just when I fell, Albert's uncle was gettingover the wall. Alice never screamed at all when Oswald fell, but Dickythinks he heard Albert's uncle say, 'Confound those kids!' which wouldnot have been kind or polite, so I hope he did not say it.
The people next door did not come out to see what the row was. Albert'suncle did not wait for them to come out. He picked up Oswald and carriedthe insensible body of the gallant young detective to the wall, laid iton the top, and then climbed over and bore his lifeless burden into ourhouse and put
it on the sofa in Father's study. Father was out, sowe needn't have _crept_ so when we were getting into the garden. ThenOswald was restored to consciousness, and his head tied up, and sentto bed, and next day there was a lump on his young brow as big as aturkey's egg, and very uncomfortable.
Albert's uncle came in next day and talked to each of us separately.To Oswald he said many unpleasant things about ungentlemanly to spy onladies, and about minding your own business; and when I began to tellhim what I had heard he told me to shut up, and altogether he made memore uncomfortable than the bump did.
Oswald did not say anything to any one, but next day, as the shadows ofeve were falling, he crept away, and wrote on a piece of paper, 'I wantto speak to you,' and shoved it through the hole like a heart in the topof the next-door shutters. And the youngest young lady put an eye tothe heart-shaped hole, and then opened the shutter and said 'Well?' verycrossly. Then Oswald said--
'I am very sorry, and I beg your pardon. We wanted to be detectives, andwe thought a gang of coiners infested your house, so we looked throughyour window last night. I saw the lettuce, and I heard what you saidabout the salmon being three-halfpence cheaper, and I know it is verydishonourable to pry into other people's secrets, especially ladies',and I never will again if you will forgive me this once.'
Then the lady frowned and then she laughed, and then she said--
'So it was you tumbling into the flower-pots last night? We thought itwas burglars. It frightened us horribly. Why, what a bump on your poorhead!'
And then she talked to me a bit, and presently she said she and hersister had not wished people to know they were at home, because--Andthen she stopped short and grew very red, and I said, 'I thought youwere all at Scarborough; your servant told Eliza so. Why didn't you wantpeople to know you were at home?'
The lady got redder still, and then she laughed and said--
'Never mind the reason why. I hope your head doesn't hurt much. Thankyou for your nice, manly little speech. _You've_ nothing to be ashamedof, at any rate.' Then she kissed me, and I did not mind. And then shesaid, 'Run away now, dear. I'm going to--I'm going to pull up the blindsand open the shutters, and I want to do it at _once_, before it getsdark, so that every one can see we're at home, and not at Scarborough.'