by Joan Aiken
Arabel turned and, sure enough, three giraffes had come silently up behind them and were standing in a ring, evidently hoping that more doughnuts were going to be served.
"Their names are Wendy, Elsie, and Derek," Chris said.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Mortimer," Arabel said. "I haven't any more money."
Neither had Chris.
Mortimer made not the least attempt to conceal his disappointment and indignation. He jumped up and down, and he screamed terrible words at the giraffes, who looked at him calmly and affably.
"What the dickens is the matter with that bird?" asked Uncle Urk, passing by with a bucket of wildebeest food.
"Derek ate his doughnut," said Chris.
"Well, for the land's sake, give him another," said Uncle Urk, who was very good-natured. "Here's ten pence."
"Oh, thank you, Uncle Urk," said Arabel. This time she pulled the levers, for Chris had to get on with his evening jobs.
When the doughnut came down the chute, Mortimer, who had been watching like a sprinter waiting for the tape to go down, lunged in and grabbed it just before Wendy could bend her long neck down.
He was so pleased with himself at having got in ahead of Wendy that, contrary to his usual habit, he rose up in the air, holding the doughnut in his beak, and flew vengefully and provokingly round and round the high heads of the giraffes.
"Mortimer, stop it! That isn't kind," said Arabel. "Just eat your doughnut and don't tease."
Mortimer took no notice. He swooped between Derek and Wendy, who banged their heads together as they both tried to snatch the doughnut. This amused Mortimer so much that by mistake he let go of the doughnut—which fell to the ground and was seized and swallowed by Elsie.
Mortimer drew a great breath of fury; all his feathers puffed out like a fancy chrysanthemum.
However, Arabel grabbed him and said, "That just serves you right, Mortimer. I haven't any more money, so you'll have to go without a doughnut now. Come along, we'd better go and see some more of Uncle Urk's zoo."
She walked on, but Mortimer was very displeased indeed, and kept looking back at the giraffes and muttering, "Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore" under his breath.
Then they met Lord Donisthorpe, the owner of the zoo. He was a tall, straggly man who looked not unlike his own giraffes and ostriches, except that he was not spotty and had no tail feathers. He had a very long neck, untidy white hair, and a vague expression.
"Ah, yes," he said, observing Arabel over the tops of his glasses, which were shaped like segments of orange. "You must be Mr. Jones's niece, come to stay. I hope you are enjoying your visit. But your raven seems out of spirits."
This was an understatement. Mortimer was now shrieking, "Nevermore!" at the top of his lungs, and spinning himself round and round on one leg.
"One of the giraffes ate his doughnut," Arabel explained.
"Perhaps he would like an ice cream in the cafeteria?" inquired Lord Donisthorpe. "Perhaps you would, too? They are very good. We make our own."
"Thank you, we should both like that very much," said Arabel politely.
On the way to the cafeteria they passed an immensely tall building made of wood and glass. "That is my new giraffe house," said Lord Donisthorpe.
At the word giraffe Mortimer looked ready to bash anyone who came near him.
The giraffe house was built to suit the shapes of the giraffes, with high windows, so that they could see out, and a spiral staircase in the middle, leading to a circular gallery, so that visitors could climb up and be on a level with the giraffes' faces. The walls of the building were not finished yet; one side was open. Mortimer looked very sharply at the spiral stair, and Arabel kept a firm hold of his leg, for he had been known to eat stairs on several occasions in the past. However, these stairs were made of ornamental ironwork, and it seemed likely that even Mortimer would find them tough.
"Come on, Mortimer, Lord Donisthorpe's going to buy you an ice cream," Arabel said.
"Kaaark," said Mortimer doubtfully.
The cafeteria, just beyond the giraffe house, had another doughnut machine by its door. Mortimer stared at this very hard as they walked by, but Lord Donisthorpe led the way into the cafeteria itself, which had red tables and shiny metal chairs and a counter with orange and lemon and coffee machines and piles of things to eat. Aunt Effie was at the counter, standing behind a glass case filled with cream cheese patties and toffee-covered carrots on sticks.
"We make our own toffee carrots," said Lord Donisthorpe. "They are very wholesome indeed. And we have three different flavors of homemade ice cream: dandelion, black currant, and quince. Which would you prefer?"
Arabel chose the quince, which was a beautiful orange-red color; Mortimer indicated that he would like the dandelion, which was bright yellow.
Aunt Effie gave them a disapproving look. "I don't know; eating again only half an hour after they had their tea," she muttered, scooping out the ice cream and ramming it into cones. "But I s'pose you can't blame them, brought up by that empty-headed Martha."
While she was serving out the ice cream, Mortimer noticed that an empty tray had been left at one end of the cafeteria rail.
Flopping off Arabel's shoulder onto the tray, he gave himself a powerful push-off with his tail and shot along the rail past the counter as if he had been on a toboggan, shouting, "Nevermore!" and spreading his wings out wide. His left-hand wing knocked a whole row of cream cheese patties into the black currant ice-cream bin.
Aunt Effie let out a shriek of rage. "How Martha can stand that fiend of a bird in her house I do not know!" she said. "Ben did warn Urk that he was a real menace, into every kind of mischief, and I can see he didn't exaggerate. Six patties and seventy-five pence's worth of black currant ice! You take him straight back to the house, Arabel Jones, and put him in the meat safe, and there he stays till Ben and Martha come to fetch you."
The various customers sitting at the little red plastic tables were greatly interested in all this excitement, and many heads turned to look at Mortimer, who had ended up jammed headfirst in the knife-and-fork rack at the end of the counter, and was now yelling loudly to be released.
Luckily it turned out that Lord Donisthorpe was very fond of cream cheese patties with black currant ice cream.
"Here," he said, handing Arabel the red and yellow ice-cream cones which he had been holding. "You take these while I find some more money. There you are, Mrs. Jones, this will pay for the damaged patties and all the ice cream with which they came in contact; pray put them all on a large plate, and then I will eat them, which will save my having to boil myself an egg later. Now—if I just remove the raven from the knife rack—I do not believe that any more need be said about this matter."
Aunt Effie looked as if she violently disagreed, but since Lord Donisthorpe was the owner of the zoo, she was obliged to give way. Mortimer was much too busy to trouble his head about the furious glances Aunt Effie was giving him; released from the knife rack, he sat on the red plastic table between Arabel and Lord Donisthorpe, holding his dandelion ice-cream cone in his claw and studying it admiringly. Then he ate it very fast in one bite and two swallows—crunch, hoosh, swallop—and then he looked round to see what everybody else was doing. Arabel had mostly finished her quince ice cream—which was delicious—but Lord Donisthorpe still had quite a number of cream cheese patties to go, so Mortimer helped him with four of them.
Meanwhile, at a table by the window, two men, one of them wearing a hat and one not, had been watching this scene, and were now staring thoughtfully at Mortimer.
The hatless man took his teacup and went back to the counter to have it refilled. "That seems to be a very badly behaved bird," he said to Aunt Effie as she handed him his cup and he gave her the money.
"You can say that again," snapped Aunt Effie. "He has to stay in my house while my brother-in-law has his veryclose veins operated on, but I certainly intend to see he does as little damage as possible while he's here. The havoc that monster
has wreaked at my brother-in-law's you'd never believe—eaten whole gas stoves and kitchen sinks, he has—worse than a tribe of Tartar sorcerers, he is! Into the meat safe he goes the minute he gets back to my house, I can tell you."
"A very sensible plan, madam," the hatless man agreed. "And if I were you, I should put that meat safe out of doors. A bird like that can harbor all sorts of infection—it would be downright dangerous to have it in the house."
"That's true," said Aunt Effie. "We could all come down with Raven Delirium, or get Inter-city-cosis from him. I'll put the meat safe out on the front lawn. And if it rains, so much the better; I don't suppose that black fiend ever had a wash in his life."
The hatless man went back to the window table with his tea. While he was waiting for it to cool, he said to his friend in a low voice, "We can pin the blame on the bird. All we have to do is to open the meat safe. Everybody will think that he let out the animals."
Presently the two men left the cafeteria and strolled away, glancing carelessly at the giraffe house, the zebra bower, and the ostrich haven as they passed. Then they left the zoo.
Arabel thanked Lord Donisthorpe for her and Mortimer's treats. Lord Donisthorpe patted her head and gave her a tenpenny piece. "That will buy your raven another doughnut," he said. "But I should wait till tomorrow."
"Oh yes, he's full up now," said Arabel.
Mortimer, absolutely stuffed with ice cream and cheese patty, made no difficulty about going home to bed.
"I'll be back at the house in twenty minutes," called Aunt Effie from the counter, where she was washing up the used knives and forks. "Don't you let that bird touch anything in the house. Tell your uncle Urk I said so."
Going toward home, Arabel and Mortimer caught up with Uncle Urk, whose jobs were finished and who was intending to watch television.
"Uncle Urk," said Arabel, "I think those two men who were in the cafeteria are animal thieves. They were in the same railway carriage with me and Mortimer, and they were talking about zebras and giraffes and ostriches."
"Course they were talking about zebras and giraffes and ostriches, Arabel dearie," said Uncle Urk kindly. "'Cos they was a-coming to the zoo, see? Natural, people talks about zebras and camels and giraffes when they're a-going to see ostriches and giraffes and camels."
"I think they were thieves," said Arabel. "Don't you think so, Mortimer?"
"Kaaark," said Mortimer.
"Can't take what that bird says as evidence," said Uncle Urk. "'Sides, little gals gets to fancying things, I know. Little gals is very fanciful creatures. That's what you bin a-doing, Arabel dearie—you got to fancying things about animal thieves. We won't mention it to your aunt Effie, eh, case she gets nervous? Terrible nervous your aunt Effie can get, once she begins."
"But, Uncle Urk," said Arabel.
"Now, Arabel dearie, don't you trouble your head about such things—or mine," said Uncle Urk, who was dying to watch Rumbury Wanderers play Liverpool United, and he hurried into the house.
3
Arabel saw that Chris, whose evening jobs were finished, had taken his guitar into Uncle Urk's garden. Arabel and Mortimer loved listening to Chris play, so they went and sat beside him and he sang:
"Arabel's raven is quick on the draw,
Better steer clear of his beak and his claw,
When there is trouble, you know in your bones,
Right in the middle is Mortimer Jones!"
Mortimer drew himself up and looked immensely proud that a song had been written about him. Arabel sucked her finger and leaned against an apple tree.
Inside the house, Uncle Urk suddenly thought, "What if Arabel was right about those men being giraffe thieves? Ben says she's mostly a sensible little thing. I'd look silly if she'd a-warned me, and I didn't do anything, and they really was thieves."
So, after thinking about it for a while, he rang up Sam Heyward, the night watchman, on the zoo's internal telephone. "Sam," he said, "I got a kind of feeling there might be a bit o' trouble tonight, so why don't you let old Noah loose? It's months since he had a night out. You never know, if there's any miscreants about, he might put a spoke in their wheel."
"Okay, Urk, if you say so," said Sam. "Anyways, old Noah might catch a few rabbits; there's a sight too many rabbits about in the park just now, eating up all the wildebeest food."
Sam left his night watchman's hut to let out Noah the boa, who was very pleased to have the freedom of the park again, and slithered quietly away through the grass. When Sam returned to his hut, he didn't notice that a small tube had been slipped under the door, in the crack at the hinge end. As soon as he shut the door, a sweet-smelling gas began to dribble in through the tube. By slow degrees Sam became drowsier and drowsier until, after about half an hour, he toppled right off his stool and lay on the matting fast asleep, dreaming that he had put ten pounds on a horse in the Derby called Horseradish, and that it had been on the point of winning when Noah the boa, who could travel at a terrific speed when he chose to, suddenly shot under the tape just ahead of Horseradish and won the race.
Meanwhile, in Uncle Urk's garden Chris sang,
"Arabel's raven is perfectly hollow,
What he can't chew up he'll manage to
swallow—
Furniture—fire escapes—fencing—and
phones—
All are digested by Mortimer Jones."
Mortimer looked even prouder.
Chris sang,
"When the ice cream disappears from the cones,
When you are deafened by shrieks or by moans,
When the fur's flying, or the air's full of stones,
You can be certain—"
Just at this moment Aunt Effie came home. As soon as she was through the gate, she said, "Chris! Fetch out that meat safe!"
Looking rather startled, Chris laid down his guitar and did as he was told. He placed the meat safe under the apple tree.
Instantly, Aunt Effie grabbed Mortimer, thrust him into the safe (which he completely filled), shut the door, and slammed home the catch.
A fearful cry came from inside.
"There!" said Aunt Effie. "Now, you go up to bed, Arabel Jones, and I don't want to hear a single sound out of you, or out of that bird, till morning—do you hear me?"
Since Mortimer, inside the meat safe, was making a noise like a troop of roller skaters crossing a tin bridge and shouting, "Nevermore!" at the top of his lungs, it was quite hard for Arabel to hear what Aunt Effie said, but she could easily understand what her aunt meant.
Arabel went quietly and sadly up to bed, but she had not the least intention of leaving Mortimer to pass the night inside the meat safe. "He hasn't done anything bad in Aunt Effie's house," Arabel thought, "so why should he be punished by being shut inside the meat safe? It isn't fair. Besides, Mortimer can't stand being shut up."
Indeed, the noise from the meat safe could be heard for two hundred yards around Uncle Urk's house. But Aunt Effie went indoors and turned up the volume of the television very loud in order to drown Mortimer's yells and bangs.
"When he learns who's master he'll soon settle down," she said grimly.
Arabel always did exactly as she was told. Aunt Effie had said, "I don't want to hear a single sound out of you," so, as soon as it was dark, and Aunt Effie and Uncle Urk had gone to bed, Arabel put on her dressing gown and slippers and went very softly down the stairs and out through the front door, which she had to unlock. She did not make a single sound.
Mortimer had quieted down just a little inside the meat safe, but he was very far from asleep. He was making a miserable mumbling, groaning sound to himself, and kicking and scratching with his claws. Arabel softly undid the catch.
"Hush, Mortimer!" she whispered. "We don't want to wake them."
They could hear Uncle Urk's snores coming out through the bedroom window. The sound was like somebody grinding a bunch of rusty wires along a section of corrugated iron, ending with a tremendous rattle.
Mortime
r was so glad to see Arabel that he went quite silently. She lifted him out of the meat safe and held him tight, flattening his feathers, which were all endways and ruffled. Then she carried him back up the stairs to her bedroom.
Mortimer did not usually like sleeping on a bed; he preferred a bread bin or a coal scuttle or the bathroom cupboard; but he had been so horrified by the meat safe that he was happy to share Arabel's eiderdown, though he did peck a hole in it so that most of the feathers came out. Either because of all the feathers flying around or because of the excitements of the day, neither Arabel nor Mortimer slept very well.
Mortimer was dreaming about giraffes. Arabel was dreaming about Noah the boa.
After an hour or so, Mortimer suddenly shot bolt upright in bed.
"What is it, Mortimer?" whispered Arabel. She knew that Mortimer's ears were very keen, like those of an owl; he could hear a potato crisp fall onto a carpeted floor half a mile away.
Mortimer turned his head, intently listening. Now even Arabel thought she could hear something, past Uncle Urk's snores—a soft series of muffled thumps.
"Oh my goodness, Mortimer! Do you think those men are stealing Lord Donisthorpe's giraffes?"
Mortimer did think so. His boot-button black eyes gleamed with pleasure at the thought. Arabel could see this because the moon was shining brightly through the window.
"I had better wake up Uncle Urk," said Arabel. "Though Aunt Effie will be cross, because she said she didn't want to hear me."
She went and tapped on Uncle Urk's door and said in a soft, polite voice, so as not to disturb Aunt Effie, "Uncle Urk. Would you come out, please? We believe that thieves are stealing your giraffes."