Five Go to Billycock Hill

by Enid Blyton

  ‘And you heard nothing suspicious last night - nothing to all?’ asked the first man.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Julian.

  ‘Nobody about at all, I suppose?’ asked the second man, looking up from his notebook in which he had been writing.

  ‘Oh - well, yes - there were people about,’ said Julian, suddenly remembering the Butterfly Man, Mr Brent, who had said that he and Mr Gringle were out looking at their moth-traps.

  The first policeman asked some rapid questions and Julian and the others told them what little they knew - though Julian knew the most, of course.

  ‘You’re sure it was Mr Brent you saw?’ asked the policeman.

  ‘Well - he said he was,’ said Julian. ‘And he carried a butterfly net on his shoulder - and he wore the same dark glasses I saw him wearing in the morning. Of course, it was pretty dark - but I honestly think it was Mr Brent. I didn’t see or hear Mr Gringle. Mr Brent said he was some way off. They’re both mad on moth and butterfly hunting.’

  ‘I see,’ said the policeman, and the second one shut his notebook. ‘Thanks very much. I think we’ll just go and pay a call on these - er - what do you call them - Butterfly Men? Where do they hang out?’

  The children offered to guide them on their way, and the whole company went with the two burly men almost to the Butterfly Farm.

  ‘Well, thanks a lot,’ said the first policeman as they came near the tumble-down cottage. ‘We’ll go on alone now. You get back to your camp.’

  ‘Sir - will you send us word as soon as you know it wasn’t my Cousin Jeff?’ asked Toby, forlornly. ‘He’ll be getting in touch with you, I know, as soon as he hears what he’s suspected of.’

  ‘It’s bad luck on you, son - he’s your cousin, isn’t he?’ said the big policeman kindly. ‘But you’ll have to make up your mind to it - it was Jeff Thomas all right that flew off in one of those aeroplanes last night! There isn’t a doubt of it!’

  Chapter Fourteen

  MR GRINGLE IS ANNOYED

  The military police went off down the hill to the Butterfly Farm, and the five children stood disconsolately watching them, with Timmy staring, too, tail well down. He didn’t quite know what had happened, but he was sure it was something dreadful.

  ‘Well - it’s no good waiting about here, I suppose,’ said Julian. ‘I bet the police won’t get anything useful out of the Butterfly Men - they wouldn’t have noticed anything when they were out last night, except their precious moths!’

  They were just turning away when they heard someone screaming in a high voice, and they stopped to listen in surprise. ‘It must be old Mrs Janes,’ said Dick. ‘What’s up with her?’

  ‘We’d better see,’ said Julian, and he and the others, with Timmy at their heels, went quickly down to the cottage. They heard the voices of the two policemen as they came near.

  ‘Now, now, old lady - don’t take on so!’ one was saying in a kindly voice. ‘We’ve only come to ask a few questions.’

  ‘Go away, go away!’ screamed the old woman, and actually battered at the men with her little bony hands. ‘Why are you here? Go away, I tell you!’

  ‘Now listen, Ma - don’t take on so,’ said the other man patiently. ‘We want to talk to Mr Gringle and Mr Brent - are they here?’

  ‘Who? Who did you say? Oh, them! They’re out with their nets,’ mumbled the old woman. ‘I’m all alone here, and I’m scairt of strangers. You go away.’

  ‘Listen,’ said one policeman. ‘Were Mr Gringle and Mr Brent out on the hills last night?’

  ‘I’m in my bed at nights,’ she answered. ‘How would I know? You go away and leave me in peace.’

  The policemen looked at one another, and shook their heads. It was clearly quite useless to find out anything from this frightened old woman.

  ‘Well, we’ll go, Ma,’ said one, patting her shoulder gently. ‘Sorry we’ve scared you - there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  They turned away and came back up the slope of the hill, seeing the children standing silently there: ‘We heard old Mrs Janes screaming,’ said Julian. ‘So we came to see what was happening.’

  ‘The Butterfly Men, as you call them, are out with their nets,’ said one policeman. ‘A funny life, I must say - catching insects and looking after their eggs and caterpillars. Well - I don’t suppose they know anything about last night’s job. Not that there’s anything to know! Two pilots flew off with the planes, we know who they were - and that’s that!’

  ‘Well, one was NOT my Cousin Jeff,’ said Toby, fiercely. The men shrugged their shoulders and went off together.

  The five children went off up the hill again, very silent. ‘I think we’d better have something to eat,’ said Julian at last. ‘We’ve had no lunch - and it’s long past our usual time. Toby, stay and have some with us.’

  ‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ said Toby. ‘Not a thing!’

  ‘Get out what we’ve got, Anne and George,’ said Julian, and the girls and Timmy went to the little ‘larder’. Nobody really felt like eating - but when the food was there, in front of them, they found that they were quite hungry - except poor Toby, who sat forlorn and pale-faced, trying to chew through a sandwich made for him by Anne, but not making a very good job of it!

  Timmy began to bark in the middle of the meal, and everyone looked to see who was coming now. Julian thought he saw a movement some way down the hill, and took his field-glasses and put them to his eyes.

  ‘I think it’s Mr Gringle,’ he said. ‘I can see his net, too. He’s out butterflying, I suppose.’

  ‘Let’s shout to him,’ said Dick. ‘We can tell him why the police went to call at his cottage this morning, when he wasn’t there. He’ll never get any sense out of old Mrs Janes.’

  Julian cooeed, and there came an answering call. ‘He’s coming up,’ said Dick. Timmy ran to meet him, and soon the man was just below them, panting as he made his way up the steep slope.

  ‘I hoped I’d see you,’ he said. ‘I want you to look out for some special moths for me - another day-flying one like the Six-Spot Burnet you saw the other day. It’s the Cinnabar Moth - it’s got rich crimson underwings, and-’

  ‘Yes - I know that one,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll look out for it. We just wanted to tell you that two military policemen went to your cottage a little while ago to ask you some questions about last night - and as we’re sure old Mrs Janes won’t be able to explain anything to you, we thought we’d better tell you ourselves.’

  Mr Gringle looked absolutely blank and bewildered. ‘But - but why on earth should military policemen come to our cottage?’ he said at last.

  ‘For nothing much,’ said Julian. ‘Only to ask you if you saw anything suspicious when you were out looking at your moth-traps last night - you see, two aeroplanes were - ’

  Mr Gringle interrupted in a most surprised voice, ‘But - but, dear boy, I wasn’t out at all last night! It wouldn’t have been a bit of good looking for moths anywhere, on our moth-traps or anywhere else on a night like that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Julian, also surprised, ‘we saw your friend Mr Brent, and he said you were both out looking at your moth-traps.’

  Mr Gringle stared at Julian as if he were mad, and his mouth fell open in amazement. 'Mr Brent!’ he said at last. ‘But Peter - that’s Mr Brent - was at home with me! We were busy writing up our notes together.’

  There was a silence after this surprising statement. Julian frowned. What was all this? Was Mr Gringle trying to hide the fact that he and his friend had been out on the hills the night before?

  ‘Well - I certainly saw Mr Brent,’ said Julian at last. ‘It was very dark, I admit - but I’m sure I saw his butterfly net - and his dark glasses.’

  ‘He doesn’t wear dark glasses,’ said Mr Gringle, still more astonished. ‘What is this tale? Is it a joke of some sort. If you can’t talk better sense than this, I’m going.’

  ‘Wait!’ said Dick, something else occurring to him. ‘You say that Mr Brent doesn’t wear
dark glasses - then who was the man that took the moth from us yesterday evening about six o’clock and gave us five shillings? He said he was Mr Brent, your friend!’

  ‘This is all nonsense!’ said Mr Gringle, getting up angrily. ‘Wasting my time on a poor joke of this kind! Brent doesn’t wear dark glasses, I tell you - and he wasn’t at home at six o’clock yesterday - we’d been to buy some tackle in the next town. He was with me, not at the cottage. You couldn’t possibly have seen him! What do you mean by all this nonsense - dark glasses, five shillings for a moth - and seeing Brent on the hillside last night when he didn’t stir out of the house!’

  He was now standing up, looking very fierce, his brilliant eyes flashing behind his thick glasses. ‘Well,’ said Julian, ‘All this is extremely puzzling, and ...’

  ‘Puzzling! You’re nothing but a pack of nitwitted, ill-mannered children!’ suddenly roared Mr Gringle, quite losing his temper. Timmy gave a warning growl, and stood up - he didn’t allow anyone to rave at his friends!

  Mr Gringle went off angrily, trampling down the heather as if he were trampling down the children. They heard him muttering to himself as he went off. They looked at one another in really great surprise.

  ‘Well - I simply don’t know what to make of all this!’ said Julian helplessly. ‘Was I dreaming last night? No - I did see that fellow - half-see him, anyway - and he did say he was Mr Brent, and that Gringle was somewhere near. But - if he wasn’t Brent, who was he? And what was he doing on a stormy night, hunting moths!’

  Nobody could make even a guess. Toby spoke first.

  ‘Perhaps the man you saw was mixed up in the stealing of those aeroplanes - you never know!’

  ‘Impossible, Toby!’ said Julian. ‘That’s too far-fetched. I can’t say that I understand it at all - but honestly, he didn’t seem like a man who could steal an aeroplane!’

  ‘Who was the man that gave us the five shillings then, if it wasn’t Brent?’ said Dick, puzzled.

  ‘Could it have been Mrs Janes’ son, pretending he was Brent - just for a silly joke?’ said George.

  ‘What was he like?’ asked Toby at once. ‘I know Will Janes - I told you he’s often been to our farm. We don’t have him now because he drinks so much and he isn’t reliable any more. What was this man Brent like - I’d soon know if he was Will Janes pretending to be someone else!’

  ‘He was small and thin, with dark glasses,’ began Dick - and Toby interrupted him at once.

  ‘Then it wasn’t Will Janes! He’s tall and burly - with a thick neck and, anyway, he doesn’t wear dark glasses - or any glasses at all!’

  ‘Then who in the world was it? And WHY did he pretend to be Brent, Gringle’s friend?’ wondered Dick. Everyone frowned and puzzled over the whole thing - but nobody could think of a sensible reason for anyone wanting to pretend to be Mr Brent!

  ‘Well - for goodness’ sake, let’s get on with our meal,’ said George at last. ‘We stopped in the middle of it - and the rest is still waiting for us. Have another ham sandwich, Julian?’

  They all munched in silence, thinking hard. Toby sighed. ‘I don’t really feel that this mix-up with the Butterfly Men and somebody else, whoever he is, has anything to do with the stealing of the aeroplanes. I wish it had!’

  ‘All the same - it wants looking into,’ said Dick seriously. ‘And what’s more - I vote we keep our eyes and ears open. Something’s going on at Butterfly Farm!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  MORE NEWS - AND A NIGHT TRIP

  The Five spent most of the afternoon talking about the mystery of the man who had pretended to be Mr Brent. It really was difficult to understand why anyone should do such a foolish thing, especially as it could be so easily found out.

  ‘I can only think there’s a madman about who has got it into his head that he is Mr Brent!’ said Dick at last. ‘No wonder he didn’t seem to recognise that butterfly we took him!’

  ‘Do you know what I think would be a good idea?’ suddenly said George. ‘Why don’t we slip down to Butterfly Farm tonight, when it’s getting dark, and see if the false Mr Brent is there, and the real one - whom we’ve never seen, by the way, and Mr Gringle?’

  ‘Hm - yes - quite an idea,’ said Julian, seriously. ‘But only Dick and I will go - not you or Anne.’

  ‘I’ll come, too,’ said Toby.

  ‘Right,’ said Julian. ‘But we’ll have to be jolly careful - because if there is something funny going on down there, we don’t want to be caught. It wouldn’t be at all pleasant, I fear!’

  ‘Take Timmy with you,’ said George at once.

  ‘No. He might bark or something,’ said Dick. ‘We’ll be all right, George. Gracious - we’ve had enough adventures by now to teach us how to go about things like this! Ha - I shall look forward to tonight!’

  Everyone suddenly felt much more cheerful, even Toby. He managed a very small smile, and stood up to brush the crumbs off his jersey.

  ‘I’m going now,’ he said. ‘I’ve a lot of farm jobs to do this afternoon - I’ll meet you at the big oak-tree behind the Butterfly Farm - did you notice it?’

  ‘Yes - an enormous one,’ said Julian. ‘Right. Be there at - say - ten o’clock. No, eleven - it will be dark by then, or almost.’

  ‘So long!’ said Toby and plunged down the hill, accompanied for a little way by Timmy.

  ‘Well - I feel much better now we’ve made a definite plan,’ said Dick. ‘My goodness, it’s half past five already! Don’t suggest tea, George - we had our lunch so late!’

  ‘I wasn’t going to,’ said George. ‘We’ll miss it out and have a really good supper later on. And don’t let’s forget to listen to the news at six o’clock - there might be some about Jeff and his friend Ray - and the aeroplanes.’

  So, just before six o’clock, they switched on the little radio set, and listened intently for the news. It came at last - and almost the first piece was about the stolen aeroplanes. The children listened, holding their breath, bending close to the set.

  ‘The two aeroplanes stolen from Billycock Airfield last night, flown away by Flight-Lieutenant Jeffrey Thomas and Flight-Lieutenant Ray Wells, have been found. Both planes apparently crashed into the sea, but were seen, and there is a chance of their being salvaged. The pilots were not found, and are presumed to have been drowned. At Edinburgh this afternoon there was a grand rally of...’

  Julian switched off the news and looked at the others soberly. ‘Well - that’s that! Crashed, both of them! That was because of the storm, I suppose. Well, at least no enemy will be able to get hold of the new devices that were incorporated in the planes.’

  ‘But - that means Toby’s cousin is drowned - or killed,’ said Anne, her face very white.

  ‘Yes. But remember, if he flew away in that plane, he was a traitor to his country,’ said Dick gravely. ‘And traitors deserve to die.’

  ‘But Toby’s cousin didn’t seem like a traitor,’ said George. ‘He seemed so - well, so very British, and I can’t say anything finer than that. I feel as if I shall never trust my judgement of anyone again. I liked him so very much.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Dick, frowning. ‘Well, these things happen - but I just wish it hadn’t been Toby’s cousin. He was such a hero to him. I don’t feel as if Toby will ever be quite the same after this - it’s something so absolutely beastly!’

  Nobody said anything for a little while. They were all profoundly shocked - not only by the idea of Cousin Jeff being a traitor, but also by the news that he had been drowned. It seemed such a horrible end to come to that bright-eyed, smiling your airman they had joked with only the other day - and yet it was an end that a traitor deserved - and that the other man deserved, too.

  ‘Do you think we ought to pack up and go home?’ said Anne. ‘I mean - won’t it be awkward for the Thomases to have us hanging round when they must feel shocked and unhappy?’

  ‘No, we don’t need to bother them much at the farm,’ said Julian. ‘And I don’t think we can desert old T
oby at the moment. It will help him to have friends around, you know.’

  ‘Yes. You’re right,’ said Dick. ‘This is the sort of time to have good friends - poor old Toby. He’ll be knocked out by this last piece of news.’

  ‘Will he be waiting for you at the old oak-tree tonight, do you think?’ asked George.

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Julian. ‘It doesn’t matter if he’s not there, anyway - Dick and I can do all the snooping round that is necessary. And it will take our minds off this shock a bit - to try and solve the mystery down at Butterfly Farm!’

  They went for a walk round the hill, with Timmy leaping over the heather in delight, He couldn’t understand the lack of laughter and the unusual solemnity shown by his four friends, and he was pleased to be able to forget any troubles and sniff for rabbits.

  They had their suppers at eight o’clock and then turned on the radio to listen to a programme. ‘We’ll hear the news at nine,’ said Dick. ‘Just in case there might be any more.’

  But the nine o’clock news only repeated what had been said about the two planes in the six o’clock broadcast, and not a word more. Dick switched off and gazed down at the airfield below.

  There were still quite a lot of planes there, though some of them had taken off and flown away during the day. Julian trained his field-glasses on the field.

  ‘Not so many men scurrying about now.’ he said. ‘Things are quietening down. My word - what a shock it must have been for everyone there last night, to hear the planes revved up, and then flown away! They must have been amazed!’

  ‘Maybe they didn’t hear them go, in the storm,’ said George.

  ‘They must have,’ said Dick. ‘We heard them up here. Well, what about you girls turning-in? Dick and I don’t want to, in case we fall off to sleep - we’ve got to slip away about half past ten or we shan’t be down at the oak-tree at eleven.’