Mystery of the Burnt Cottage tffabtd-1

by Энид Блайтон

  "Things are moving!" said Pip, rubbing His hands together. "They certainly are moving! I don't believe Horace Peeks had anything to do with it at all. Not a thing. I think it was Mr. Smellie. Look how scared he was when you and Daisy spoke to him about his walk that evening. Why should he be scared if he hadn't done anything wrong?"

  "And we know His shoes are the right size, even if the rubber-soles don't match the drawing," said Daisy.

  "Maybe he has got a pair that do match," said Fatty, "but he's hidden them somewhere in case he did leave footprints behind. He might have thought of that".

  "Yes, that's so," said Larry. "If only we could find some one with a torn grey flannel suit — that really would settle matters!"

  "We really ought to search and see if we can find those shoes," said Daisy. "I should think they are in His study somewhere. You know he told us that Miss Miggie isn't allowed to tidy up in there. He could easily pop them into a cupboard there, or behind those rows of books or somewhere."

  "Daisy, that's a clever idea of yours," said Larry, pleased. "I believe you're right. Shall I creep in tonight and have a hunt?"

  "Are we allowed to get into people's houses and hunt for their shoes?" said Pip doubtfully.

  "Well, we can't ask anybody that," said Larry. "We'll just have to do it. We're not doing anything wrong. We're only trying to find out something."

  "I know. But grown-ups are funny," said Pip. "I'm sure most of them wouldn't like children creeping about their houses looking for clues."

  "Well, I don't see what else to do," said Larry. "I really don't. Anyway, silly, we've got to put back the shoe that Daisy took, haven't we?"

  "Yes," agreed Pip. "That certainly must be done. Don't get caught, that's all!"

  "I shan't," said Larry. "Sh — here comes your mother, Pip. Talk about something else."

  Pip's mother asked Fatty how he was after his fall. Fatty was delighted, because the others had quite forgotten to ask about his bruises again.

  "Thank you, I'm all right," he said, "but my bruises are rather extraordinary. I've got one the shape of a dog's head — rather like Buster's head, really."

  "Really?" said Pip's mother, astonished. "Do let me seek!"

  Fatty spent a wonderful five minutes showing all his braises, one after another, especially the one shaped like a dog's head. It was difficult to see how he made out that it was shaped like one, but Pip's mother seemed most interested. The children scowled. How annoying grown-ups were! Here they had been trying to stop Fatty from continually showing off and boasting, and now Pip's mother was making him ten times worse.

  In a few minutes Fatty was telling her all about the braise he had had once that was shaped like a church-bell, and the other that looked like a snake.

  "I'm a really marvellous bruiser," he said. "I shall be a wonderful sight tomorrow when I'm in the yellow stage."

  "Come on," whispered Larry to Pip. "I can't stick this. This is Fatty at His worst."

  Leaving Fatty talking eagerly to Pip's mother, the four children crept off. Buster stayed with Fatty, wagging his tail. He really seemed as much interested in his young master's bruises as the grown-up!

  "Let's go for a bike-ride and leave old Fatty to himself," said Pip, in disgust. "I can't bear him when he gets like this."

  So the four of them went for a bike-ride and Fatty was surprised and hurt to find that he was all alone in the garden, when Pip's mother left him. He couldn't think why the others had gone, and he spent a miserable hour by himself, thinking how unkind they were.

  When they came back, he greeted them with a volley of complaints.

  "You are mean! Why did you go off like that? Is that the way to behave. Pip, when people come to tea with you? You're horrid!"

  "Well, we thought you'd probably be about an hour boasting to Pip's mother," said Larry. "Don't look so fierce, Fatty. You shouldn't be such an idiot!"

  "Going off like that finding clues and things without me," said Fatty angrily. "Aren't I a Find-Outer too? What have you been doing? Seeing Horace Peeks — or Lily again? You are mean!"

  "We didn't see any one," said Bets, feeling sorry for Fatty. She had so often been left out of things because she was younger than the others, and she knew how horrid it was to feel left-out. "We only went for a bike-ride."

  But Fatty was really offended and hurt. "I don't think I want to belong to the Find-Outers any more," he said. "I'll take my drawing of the footprints and go. I can see you don't want me. Come on, Buster."

  Nobody wanted Buster to leave the Find-Outers — and they didn't really want Fatty to, either. He wasn't so bad once you got used to him.

  Daisy went after him. "Come back, silly," she said. "We do want you. We want to discuss what to do tonight about Mr. Smellie's shoes. You come and say what we ought to do, too. I want to go into Mr. Smellie's house and keep guard for Larry, whilst he is hunting for the shoes we think Mr. Smellie has hidden. But he won't let me."

  Fatty went back to the others, still looking rather sulky.

  "Larry, I do wish you'd let me creep into Mr. Smellie's house with you," said Daisy. "Fatty, don't you think I really ought to keep guard for him?"

  "No, I don't," said Fatty. "I think a boy ought to go with Larry. I'll go, Larry. You shall do the hunting and I'll watch out that nobody discovers you."

  "No, I'll go," said Pip, at once.

  "You wouldn't be able to slip out without being seen," said Larry. "Fatty could. His parents don't seem to bother about him much. All right, Fatty — you come and help me then. I thought I'd wait till about half-past nine, and then scout about and see if old Smellie is still in His study. It's no use trying anything till he's gone to bed. He may be one of these people that stays up until about three o'clock in the morning, of course. We'll have to see."

  "Well, I'll be along about half-past nine," said Fatty. "Where's the shoe? In the summer-house? I'll bring it with me, in case your mother wants to know where you got it from. It'll be dark then and no one will see what I'm carrying."

  Fatty cheered up very much when he found that there was something really exciting he could join in. He forgot His sulks, and discussed where to meet Larry.

  "I shall climb over the wall at the bottom of the garden," said Larry, "But you. Fatty, had better go up the road in front of Mr. Smellie's house, and go into the drive there, and round to the back that way. Meet me somewhere at the back of the house. See?"

  "Right," said Fatty. "I'll hoot like an owl to tell you when I'm there."

  "Can you hoot?" said Bets, in surprise.

  "Yes, listen," said Fatty. He put His two thumbs side by side, frontways, and cupped his hands together. He blew carefully between his thumbs, and at once a mournful quavering hoot, just like an owl's, came from His closed hands. It was marvellous.

  "Oh, you are clever, Fatty!" said Bets, in great admiration. Fatty blew again, and an owl's hoot sounded over the garden. He really was very good at it.

  "Simply wonderful!" said Bets. Fatty opened His mouth to say that he could make much better bird and animal noises than that, but caught a look in Larry's eye that warned him in time to say nothing. He shut His mouth again hurriedly.

  "Well," said Larry, that's settled then. You meet me at half-past nine behind Mr. Smellie's house, and hoot like an owl to tell me you're there. I shall probably be finding in the bushes somewhere, waiting for you."

  The children all felt excited as they went to bed that night. At least, Fatty didn't go to bed, though Larry did. But then Larry's mother usually came to tuck Mm up and say good night, and Fatty's didn't. So Fatty felt quite safe as he sat, fully-dressed, in His bedroom, reading a book to make the time pass.

  At ten past nine he switched off His light and put His nose outside His bedroom door. There was no one about.

  He slipped along the passage and down the stairs. Out of the garden door he went, and into the hotel garden. In half a minute he was in the lane, and running up it with the shoe tucked under his coat.

  At
just before half-past nine he came to Mr. Smellie's house, and stopped outside the front gate. The house was quite dark. Fatty walked up and down outside for a moment or two to make quite certain that there was no one about.

  He didn't see some one standing quite still by one of the big trees that lined the road. He walked down in front of the house once more, making up his mind to go into the drive — and then quite suddenly he felt a strong hand on his shoulder!

  Poor Fatty almost jumped out of his skin. "Oooh!" he said, frightened, and the shoe dropped from beneath his coat!

  "Ho!" said a voice that Fatty knew only too well. "Ho!" A torch was flashed into his face, and the voice said "Ho!" again, this time more loudly.

  It was Clear-Orf s voice. He had been standing quietly beside the tree, and had been astonished to see Fatty come up the lane, and walk softly up and down in front of the house. Now he was even more astonished to find that it was "one of them children!" He bent down and picked up the shoe. He stared at it in the greatest astonishment.

  "What's this?" he said.

  "It looks like a shoe," said Fatty. "Let me go! You've no right to clutch me like that."

  "What are you doing with this shoe?" asked Clear-Orf, in an astonished voice. "Where's the other?"

  "I don't exactly know," said Fatty truthfully. The policeman shook him angrily.

  "None of your cheek," he said. He turned the shoe upside down and saw the rubber-sole. At once the same thought flashed across his mind as had flashed across Daisy's when she had first seen it — the markings were like those on the footprint!

  Mr. Goon stared at the shoe in amazement. He flashed his torch at Fatty again. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "Whose is it?"

  Fatty looked obstinate. "Some one found it and gave it to me," he said at last.

  "I shall keep it for the time being," said Mr. Goon. "Now you just come-alonga-me for a minute."

  But Fatty didn't mean to do that. With a sudden quick twist he was out of Clear-Orf s grasp and tearing up the lane as fast as he could go. He went right to the top, and then round and into the lane in which Larry's house stood. He slipped into Larry's drive when he came to it and made his way to the bottom of the garden, his heart beating loudly. He shinned up to the top of the wall and dropped down. He made his way cautiously to the back the house.

  Then he hooted like an owl. "Oooo-oo! Oooo-ooo-ooo-OOOOO!"

  A Fright for Larry and Fatty

  In another moment poor Fatty almost jumped out of his skin again! Some one clutched his arm hard. He had been expecting an answering whistle or hoot from somewhere about, but he had not guessed that Larry was behind the bush that he himself was standing by.

  "Oooh!" said Fatty, startled.

  "Sh!" came Larry's voice in a whisper. "Have you got the shoe?"

  "No," said Fatty, and explained quickly what had happened to it. Larry listened in dismay.

  "You are an idiot!" he said. "Giving one of our best clues away to old Clear-Orf like that! He'll know we are after the same ideas as he is now!"

  "The shoe wasn't a clue," argued Fatty. "It was a mistake. We thought it was a clue, but it wasn't. Anyway, Clear-Orf s got it, and I really couldn't help it He nearly got me too. I only just managed to twist away,".

  "What shall we do?" asked Larry. "Shall we go in and hunt now? There's no light in the study. Old Mr. Smellie must have gone to bed."

  "Yes, come on," said Fatty. "Where's the garden door?"

  They soon found it, and to their great delight it was still unlocked. As there was a light from the kitchen, the two boys thought that Miss Miggle was still up. They decided to be very cautious indeed.

  They slipped in at the door. Larry led the way to the study where he and Daisy had talked to Mr. Smellie that day. "You'd better stay on guard in the hall," he said. "Then if Miss Miggle or Mr. Smellie do happen to come along you can warn me at once. I shall open one of the windows of the study if I can do it without making a lot of noise — then I can slip out of it if any one thinks of walking into the room."

  Larry went into the study. He had a torch with him, and he shone it round the untidy room. There were papers everywhere! Papers and books on the desk, papers and books on the floor and on the chairs. There were books in the bookcases that lined the wall, and books on the mantelpiece. It was quite plain that Mr. Smellie was a very learned man!

  Larry began to hunt for the shoes he hoped to find. He pulled out a few books from each shelf in the bookcase and ran his hand behind. But there was nothing there. He looked under the piles of paper everywhere but he found no shoes.

  Fatty was outside in the hall, keeping guard. He saw the hall-cupboard where Daisy had found the shoe, and he thought it would be a good idea to peep into it. Daisy might possibly have overlooked some shoes that might be the right one. He slipped into the cupboard.

  He was so very busy turning up the shoes and boots in the cupboard that he didn't hear some one slipping a latchkey into the front door. He didn't hear some one coming into the hall and quietly closing the front door. So he had no time at all to warn poor Larry to escape! He only heard Mr. Smellie when the old man walked into the study and switched on the light!

  It was too late to do anything then, of course! Larry was caught with his head inside a cupboard, not knowing that any one was in the room until the light was suddenly switched on!

  He took His head out of the cupboard in horror. He and Mr. Smellie stared at one another, Larry in fright, and Mr. Smellie in anger and amazement.

  "Robber!" said Mr. Smellie angrily. "Thief! Wicked boy! I'll lock you up and telephone to the police!"

  He pounced on Larry and took hold of him with a surprisingly strong hand. He shook the boy hard, and Larry gasped. "Please, sir," he began, "please, sir."

  But Mr. Smellie was not going to listen to anything. His precious papers were all the world to him, and the sight of somebody rummaging through them filled him with such fury that he was unable to listen to a word. Shaking Larry hard, and muttering all sorts of terrible threats, he pushed the boy before him into the hall. Poor Fatty, overcome with shame at having failed to warn Larry, shivered in the hall cupboard outside, not daring to show himself.

  "Bad, wicked boy!" he heard Mr. Smellie say as he pushed poor Larry up the stairs. Larry was protesting all the time, but Mr. Smellie wouldn't listen to a word. "I'll fetch the police in. I'll hand you over!"

  Fatty trembled. It was bad enough to be caught, but it was even worse to think that poor Larry might be handed over to that horrid old Clear-Orf. He heard Mr. Smellie take Larry to a room upstairs and lock him in. Miss Miggle, amazed at the sudden noise, came rushing into the hall to see what the matter was.

  "Thieves and robbers!" cried Mr. Smellie. "That's what the matter is! I came home just now, walked into my study — and there I found thieves and robbers after my papers!"

  Miss Miggle imagined that there must have been two or three men there, and she gaped in astonishment.

  "Where are the robbers?" she asked.

  "Locked in the box-room upstairs," said Mr. Smellie. Miss Miggle stared at Mr. Smellie in even greater surprise. She couldn't believe that he had taken two or three men upstairs by himself and locked them into the box-room.

  She saw that Mr. Smellie was trembling with excitement and shock. "Now you just go and sit down quietly before you telephone the police," she said soothingly. "You're all of a shake! I'll just bring you something to drink. The robbers are safe enough upstairs for a bit."

  Mr. Smellie sank down on a chair in the hall. His heart was thumping, and he was breathing hard. "Be all right in a minute," he gasped. "Ha! I got the best of the robbers!"

  Miss Miggle ran to the kitchen. Fatty listened breathlessly. Somehow he felt certain that old Mr. Smellie bad gone back into the study. He didn't know that he was sitting on a chair just at the foot of the stairs.

  "I'd better take this chance of rescuing poor Larry," thought Fatty, in desperation. He opened the cupboard door and made a dart for th
e stairs. Mr. Smellie was most amazed to see another boy appearing, this time out of the hall cupboard. He could hardly believe his eyes. Was his house alive with boys that night?

  He made a grab at Fatty. Fatty was startled and let out a yell. He tried to run up the stairs, and dragged Mr. Smellie behind him for a few steps. The old man had got his strength back again by now, and, filled with anger at the sight of what he thought was yet another thief, he clung to Fatty like a limpet. The boy went up a few more steps, with Mr., Smellie almost tearing the coat off his back.

  Then Fatty stumbled and sat down heavily on a stair about half-way to the top of the flight. Mr. Smellie fell on top of Mm, almost squashing the boy flat.

  "Ow-wow!" yelled poor Fatty. "Get off! You're hurting me!"

  Miss Miggle dropped the glass she was holding and rushed into the hall. What in the wide world could be going on? Was the whole house full of robbers? She was just in time to see Fatty wriggle out from under Mr. Smellie and roll down the stairs to the bottom, with many bumps and loud groans.

  She saw at once that he was only a boy, and she spoke to him severely.

  "What's the meaning of this? How dare you come into some one else's house? What's your name and where do you live?"

  Fatty decided to be very upset and hurt. Miss Miggle was a very kind soul, and perhaps she would let him off if she thought he was nothing but a bad little boy out on an escapade.

  So Fatty lifted up his voice and howled. Larry heard him, and wondered whatever could be happening. He banged at the locked door, adding to the noise and commotion. Miss Miggle looked quite bewildered.

  "He's locked my friend into a room upstairs," howled Fatty. "I was just going up to rescue him when Mr. Smellie caught me and pummelled me and threw me down the stairs. Oh, I'm covered with bruises! What my mother will say when she sees them I really don't know. She'll have Mr. Smellie up for injuring a child! She'll call in the police!"

  "Now you can't possibly be bruised yet," said Miss Miggle. "I'm sure such a kind old man as Mr. Smellie wouldn't throw you down the stairs. Don't be a naughty little story-teller!"