by Enid Blyton
‘Yes - that’s a good idea,’ said George. ‘She must know what her son has been up to - especially if he has been hiding people there. She would have to feed them, of course. Yes - old Mrs Janes could tell you - if she would!’
‘But now,’ said Julian, snuggling down in the heather on his rug, now, you two gabblers, I want to go to sleep. Good night!’
‘Well! Who’s been doing the gabbling!’ said George. ‘We have hardly been able to get a word in! Come on, Anne - we can go to sleep all right now. I wonder if Toby’s home safely, and fast asleep in bed!’
Yes, Toby was home, but he wasn’t asleep! He was still brooding over his Cousin Jeff. If only he could do something - but he couldn’t. Cousin Jeff had disappeared, and he, and he only, could clear himself of the hateful charge of traitor ... but people said he was drowned.
Next morning the Five awoke late, even Timmy. There wasn’t a great deal left in the larder, and Julian hoped that Toby would bring up some more food. If not, they must certainly go down to Billycock Farm and get some. They breakfasted on bread and butter and cheese, with water to wash it down and a humbug from the tin to follow!
‘We’ll go straight down to the Butterfly Farm, I think,’ said Julian, taking the leadership as he always did when there was any quick decision to be made. ‘Dick, you’d better take on the asking of questions - the old lady was so touched when you gave her that five shillings! She’s probably got a soft spot for you now.’
'Right,’ said Dick. ‘Well, are we ready?’
They set off to the Butterfly Farm, Timmy at their heels. When they came near, they slowed their steps, not wanting to run into Will Janes. But there did not seem to be anybody about at all, not even the Butterfly Men themselves.
‘They’ve probably gone off butterfly-hunting, I should think,’ said Dick. ‘Look - there’s poor old Mrs Janes trying to peg up her washing - dropping half of it on the ground. Go and help her, Anne.’
Anne ran over to the little woman. ‘I’ll peg up the things for you,’ she said. ‘Here, let me have them.’ Mrs Janes turned to her and Anne was shocked to see that her right eye was black and bruised.
‘However did you get that black eye?’ she began. ‘Here, give me the whole basket. Gracious, what a lot of washing!’
Mrs Janes seemed a little dazed. She let Anne peg up the things without a word - she just stood and watched her. ‘Where are Mr Gringle and Mr Brent?’ asked Anne as she pegged.
Mrs Janes mumbled something. Anne made out with some difficulty that they had gone butterfly hunting. ‘And where is your son, Will?’ she asked, having been prompted to ask this by signs from Julian.
To her dismay Mrs Janes began to sob. The old woman lifted her dirty apron and covered her head with it, and then, half-blinded by it, she stumbled towards the kitchen door, her arms stretched out in front of her.
‘Gracious - whatever’s the matter with her this morning?’ said Anne to the others. Dick ran to the kitchen door and guided the old lady in, sitting her down in her rocking-chair. Her apron slid down from her head and she looked at him.
‘You’re the one that give me five shillin’,’ she mumbled, and patted his hand. ‘Kind, you are. Nobody’s kind to me now. My son, he’s cruel. He hits me.’
‘Did he give you that black eye?’ asked Dick, gently. ‘When? Today?’
‘Yes. He wanted money - he allus wants money,’ wept Mrs Janes. ‘And I weren’t going to give him that five shillin’. And he hit me. And then the police came and took him away.’
‘What! The police took him - this morning do you mean?’ asked Dick, astonished. The others came a little closer, astonished, too. Why - it was only last night that Will Janes had captured two of them!
‘They do say he thieved,’ sobbed Mrs Janes. ‘Robbed old Farmer Darvil of his ducks. But it’s those bad men that changed my son. He were a good son once.’
‘What men?’ asked Dick, patting the skinny old hand. ‘You tell us everything. We understand. We’ll help you.’
‘You’re the one that give me five shillin’, aren’t you?’ she said once more. ‘You’ll help a pore old woman, won’t you? It was those men, I tell you, that changed my son.’
‘Where are they now? Did he hide them here?’ asked Dick. Mrs Janes clung to his hand and pulled him closer.
‘There was four men,’ she mumbled, in such a low voice that Dick could hardly hear. ‘And my son, he was promised money if he hid them here, on Billycock Hill. They all had a secret, see? And they only talked about it when they was hid up in my bedroom there - but I listened and I heard.’
‘What was the secret?’ asked Dick, his heart beating fast. Now perhaps he would hear what all this mystery was about.
‘They was watching something,’ whispered Mrs Janes. ‘Watching something out on the hills. Sometimes day-time, sometimes night-time, always watching. And they hid up there in my little old room, and cook for them I did, and got nothing for it. Bad men they were.’
She sobbed again, and the four children felt sad and embarrassed. ‘Don’t worry her any more,’ said Anne.
Then there came the sound of feet outside and Mr Gringle walked by the window. He looked in and was astounded to see such a crowd in the little kitchen.
‘What! You again!’ he cried, as he saw Julian and Dick. ‘You just look out! I told the police about you when they fetched Will Janes this morning. They’ll be after you next, and you’ll be punished for prowling round here at night and smashing my glass-house! How dare you come here again?’
Chapter Eighteen
NOBODY KNOWS WHERE TO LOOK
‘Let’s go,’ said George. ‘We can’t find out any more from the poor old woman. I’m glad that son of hers has been arrested for thieving. At least he won’t be here to knock her about any more!’
Mr Gringle began to talk angrily again, but the Five had had enough. Timmy growled and made him retreat.
‘We’re going, Mr Gringle,’ said Julian coldly. ‘We shall be very glad to see the police, if you have really sent them after us. Quite a lot has been going on here that you don’t know anything about. You’ve noticed nothing but your butterflies and moths.’
‘Anything wrong in that, you uncivil boy?’ shouted Mr Gringle.
‘Well, it would have been a good thing if you had noticed how that fellow Janes knocked his poor mother about,’ said Julian. ‘I suppose you haven’t even seen the bruised black eye she has this morning? No? I thought not. Well, maybe the police will be asking you a few questions soon - about the four strangers that have been hiding in that little bedroom up there!’
‘What? What’s that you say? What do you mean?’ stammered Mr Gringle, astonished. ‘Men? Where from? Who?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Julian. ‘I wish I had.’
And then the Five walked off together, leaving a very puzzled and worried Mr Gringle behind them.
‘It serves him right,’ said Julian. ‘To think that he could make that miserable little woman slave for him, and never even notice how frightened and unhappy she was - or even see that she had a black eye from that scoundrel of a son. Let him get back to his butterflies!’
‘What did Mrs Janes mean - mumbling about men hidden in that room - four of them she said,’ wondered Anne. ‘And why did they go and watch on the hill-side? What for? That must have been one of them you saw that night of the storm, Julian - the one you spotted with the butterfly net, who said he was Mr Brent. I suppose he pretended to be him, so that nobody would ask him why he was prowling out there!’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Julian. ‘Of course, they may have been watching the airfield, you know - yes, of course that’s what they were doing! Why didn’t I think of that before? They were watching it night and day - two by day, I suppose, and two by night - and paid Janes to keep them hidden in that room. What were they up to?’
‘Julian - could it - could it possibly be anything to do with the stolen aeroplanes?’ asked George, with sudden excitement in her voice
.
‘It might. It certainly might,’ said Julian. ‘But I don’t know how it ties up with Jeff Thomas and Ray Wells flying them away. That doesn’t seem to fit, somehow. You know - I do really believe we are on to something here! Let’s go down to Billycock Farm and see if Mr Thomas, Toby’s father, is about. I think we ought to tell him all we know.’
‘Yes, that’s a fine idea,’ said Anne, pleased. ‘We do want a bit of help over this now.’
‘Well, come on then,’ said Julian, and off they went at top speed down the hill, taking the path to Billycock Farm. They soon came to the farm-yard and called Toby.
‘Toby! Where are you? We’ve got a bit of news.’
Toby appeared at the barn-door, looking rather pale, for he had had a bad night. ‘Oh, hallo - what news? The only news I want to hear is about Jeff. I can’t get it out of my mind.’
‘Where’s your father?’ asked Julian. ‘We think he ought to hear what we’ve got to say. He’ll know what to do. I’m afraid we don’t - it’s a puzzle we can’t seem to fit together!’
‘I’ll call Dad,’ said Toby at once, and sent a shout over the field where red-and-white cows were grazing. ‘Da-ad! Da-ad! You’re WANTED!’
His father came hurrying over the field. ‘What is it? I’m busy.’
‘Dad - Julian and Dick have got something to tell you,’ said Toby. ‘It won’t take very long - but they’re a bit worried.’
‘Oh - well, what is it, lads?’ said Mr Thomas, turning his kindly brown face to the boys. ‘Got into any trouble?’
‘Oh no, sir - not exactly,’ said Julian. ‘I’ll tell you as shortly as I can.’ And he began to tell him the tale of the Butterfly Farm - and of the man he had seen at night on the hill - of the old woman at the Butterfly Farm, and of Will Janes, who treated her so badly. The farmer nodded at that.
‘Ay!’ he said. ‘Will’s changed this last year. Got into bad company, of course.’
‘We’ve met some of the “bad company”,’ said
Julian, and told of their adventure the night before - and then ended by telling Mr Thomas what the old woman had said to them that morning.
‘Now what has Will Janes been up to?’ said the farmer. ‘Bad enough to get into ill company - but worse to ill-treat his poor old mother! He’ll have to say who these men are that he’s been harbouring up there at Butterfly Farm - and why they go out at night - watching the airfield, as you say, I don’t doubt. Why, maybe they’ve even had a hand in the stealing of those planes!’
Toby became very excited at this and his face grew crimson. ‘Dad! Maybe it was those men who took the planes! There were four, weren’t there? They would be strong enough to capture Jeff and Ray and take them off somewhere - and then two of them could fly off the planes, and the other two watch poor Jeff and Ray, wherever they are!’
‘You know - you may be right, young Toby,’ said his father. ‘This is a matter for the police - and at once, too. They must get on to Will, and get everything out of him - make him confess. If Jeff and Ray are held prisoner anywhere, they must be freed.’
Toby was dancing round in excitement. ‘I knew it wasn’t Jeff! I knew he couldn’t do a thing like that! I’m sure it was two of those men. Dad, get on to the police at once.’
Mr Thomas hurried indoors to the telephone, and was soon telling the police all he knew. They listened in astonishment, and at once saw the tremendous importance of the information the children had given.
‘We’ll question Will Janes at once,’ they said. ‘He’s held on a matter of thieving, so we’ve got him under our hands. We’ll call you back, sir - in about half an hour.’
That half-hour was the very longest the children had ever known. Julian looked at his watch a score of times, and nobody could sit still, least of all Toby. Anne was fidgety, too, and thought she would play with Benny. But neither Benny nor the pigling were there, so she had to wait in patience.
When the telephone bell at last shrilled out everyone jumped violently. Mr Thomas ran to it. ‘Yes - yes - that’s the police speaking, is it? Yes, I’m listening. What’s the news? Oh... yes... yes...’
The farmer held the telephone close to his ear, nodding as he listened intently. The children watched him just as intently, trying to glean something from his few words, and from his face.
‘I see. Well - that’s very disappointing,’ they heard Mr Thomas say, and their hearts sank. ‘Thank you. Yes, very worrying indeed. Good-bye!’
He put down the receiver and faced the children. Toby called out to him. ‘Was it Jeff who stole the plane, Dad? Was it?’
‘No,’ said his father, and Toby gave a wild yell of joy, and leapt into the air.
‘Then nothing else matters!’ he cried. ‘Oh, I knew it wasn’t Jeff!’
‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘There’s something very worrying.’
‘What?’ said Toby, startled.
‘Will Janes has confessed that those four men were sent to steal those two planes,’ he said. ‘Two of them were first-class pilots - foreign, of course. The other two were thugs - bullies - sent to capture Jeff and Ray that night in the storm. They knocked them out and dragged them away from the airfield, and hid them somewhere. Then the pilots got out the two planes, and flew them away. When the alarm was raised, it was too late.’
‘So - when the planes crashed into the sea, it was the foreign pilots who were drowned, not Jeff and Ray?’ said Julian.
‘Yes. But here’s the worrying part. The other two men, the ones who captured Jeff and Ray, have hidden them away, but didn’t tell Janes where!’ said Mr Thomas. ‘They refused to pay him any money for his help, because the planes had crashed and their plans had failed - and they also refused to tell him where Jeff and Ray were hidden...’
‘And now I suppose the two thugs have left the district - made their escape - and left Jeff and Ray to starve in some place where they may never be found!’ said Toby, sitting down heavily and looking suddenly subdued.
‘Exactly,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘And unless we find out where they are pretty quickly, things will go hard with them - they’re probably bound hand and foot - and are dependent on the two bullies for food and water. Once the men are gone, there is no one to bring them anything!’
‘Oh, I say!’ said Toby, horrified. ‘Dad, we must find them, we must!’
‘That’s what the police think,’ said his father. ‘And what I think, too. But nobody knows where to look!’
‘Nobody knows where to look!’ The words repeated themselves in everyone’s mind. Nobody knows where to look!
Chapter Nineteen
A MORNING OF WORK
There was a dead silence after Mr Thomas had said those despairing words - ‘Nobody knows where to look!’ Where were Jeff and Ray lying, worried and anxious, knowing their planes to be stolen, picturing them in the hands of an alien country, being dismantled to discover the new and secret devices built into them!
‘They must be absolutely furious to think how easily it was all done!’ said Dick. ‘Taken by surprise like that! Surely there must be someone on the airfield who was in the secret?’
‘Bound to be,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘These things are carefully planned to the very last detail - and, of course, it was a bit of luck for the men to have a storm going on just at the time when they needed something to make their getaway unseen and unheard - unheard, that is, until the planes were actually up in the air, and then it didn’t matter!’
‘Yes - the rain simply slashed down that night,’ said George, remembering. ‘Nobody would be out in it - even the guards on the airfield would be under shelter somewhere. It was a bit of luck for those fellows!’
‘I expect they were delighted to look out of that tiny little window at the cottage and see a storm blowing up on the very night they wanted one!’ said Dick.
‘It beats me how Mr Gringle and Mr Brent never heard or suspected anything - with four strange men hanging about Butterfly Farm,’ said Julian.
&nbs
p; ‘There can’t be anything in their heads but butterflies or moths,’ said Toby. ‘I bet the police will have something to say to them!’
‘The thing is - what’s to be done now?’ said Julian, frowning. He turned to Mr Thomas, who was deep in thought. ‘What do you think, sir? Is there anything we can do?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘The police have had reports of two men driving a closed van at a fast speed - the number was taken by two or three people who complained - and they think that it might have been one used to transport Jeff and Ray to some distant hiding-place - somewhere in a disused quarry - or in some deserted cellar. Likely places of that sort.’
Everyone groaned. There certainly was absolutely nothing they could do, then - it would be impossible to hunt for miles for old quarries or other hiding-places!
‘Well - I must get on with my work,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘Where’s your mother, Toby? You’d better tell her about all this.’
‘She’s gone shopping,’ said Toby, looking at the clock. ‘She’ll be back just before dinner-time.’
‘I suppose Benny has gone with her,’ said Mr Thomas, going to the door. ‘Where’s Curly, his pigling? Surely he hasn’t taken him, too!’
‘I expect he has,’ said Toby. He looked at the other four children, suddenly remembering something. ‘I say - aren’t you a bit short of food up at the camp? Shall I get you some to take back with you?’
‘Well - if it isn’t an awful bother,’ said Julian, apologetically. It seemed rather dreadful to think about food when probably Jeff and Ray were lying tied up somewhere, hungry and thirsty, with no chance of food of any sort.
‘I’ll get some. You come with me, Anne, and say what you want,’ said Toby, and he and Anne went off together to the kitchen, and opened the door of the immense larder. Soon Anne was choosing what she wanted, trying to cheer up poor, downcast Toby at the same time.