Mystery of the Burnt Cottage tffabtd-1

by Энид Блайтон

  "I'm not, I'm not!" said Fatty, pretending to weep. "I'm covered with bruises. Look — here — and here — and there — and there! Oh, fetch a doctor, fetch a doctor!"

  To Miss Miggle's extreme astonishment and to Mr. Smellie's horror, the boy in the hall was really and truly covered with the most terrifying purple, green and yellow bruises. They stared at Fatty as he showed them his curious markings. It did not occur to either of them that the boy had had them for one or two days already.

  "Mr. Smellie!" said Miss Miggle, in a most reproachful tone. "Just look at the poor child! How could you knock a little boy about like that? What His parents will say I really do not dare to think."

  Mr. Smellie was simply horrified when he thought that he had been the cause of Fatty's awful bruises. He swallowed hard once or twice, and stared at Fatty. "Better put something on the bruises," he suggested at last.

  "I'll do that whilst you phone for the police," said Miss Miggle, remembering the other robbers whom she still supposed were locked up in the box-room above.

  But Mr. Smellie didn't seem to want to phone for the police now. He looked a bit sheepish, and said, "Well, Miss Miggle, perhaps it would be better to ask the boys for an explanation of their curious behaviour in my house before I call in the police."

  "Will you let my friend out, please?" said Fatty. "We didn't come here to rob you. It was only a joke, really. Let's call it quits, shall we? If you don't say anything to the police, we won't tell our mothers — and I won't show my bruises."

  Mr. Smellie cleared his throat. Miss Miggle looked at him. "So the robbers and thieves were only two small boys!" she said. "Dear, dear! Why didn't you call me! I could have settled the matter without all this noise and commotion and throwing down the stairs!"

  "I didn't throw him down the stairs," said Mr. Smellie, going up to let Larry out of the box-room. Very soon Larry was down in the hall with Fatty, and Mr. Smellie took them both into his study. Miss Miggle came in with some stuff to put on Fatty's bruises. Larry looked most astonished but didn't say a word.

  "Dear, dear, I never in my life saw such dreadful braises on any child!" said Miss Miggle, dabbing each, bruise with the stuff from her bottle.

  "I'm a wonderful bruiser," began Fatty. "I once had a bruise shaped exactly like a church-bell."

  "What were you two boys doing in my house tonight?" said Mr. Smellie sharply. He didn't want to hear any history of bruises. Larry and Fatty were silent. They really didn't know what to say.

  "You'll have to tell him that," said Miss Miggle. "You didn't come in here for any good purpose, I'll be bound. Now be good boys and own up."

  Still the boys were silent. Mr. Smellie suddenly lost his temper. "Unless you tell me what you came here for I will hand you over to the police!" he said.

  "Well, I don't know what they'll say when they see all my bruises," said Fatty.

  "I've an idea those bruises were made before tonight!" said Mr. Smellie, getting sharper and sharper. "I know what yellow means in a braise, if Miss Miggle doesn't!"

  The boys said nothing. "Name and addresses?" barked Mr. Smellie, getting out a pen. "I'll see your parents as well as the police."

  The idea of their fathers and mothers knowing that they had been caught wandering about some one else's house at night was much more alarming than having in the police. Larry suddenly surrendered.

  "We came to bring back a shoe we took this morning," he said in a low voice. Both Miss Miggle and Mr. Smellie stared as if they thought Larry had gone mad.

  "A shoe," said Mr. Smellie at last. "Why a shoe? And why only one! What are you talking about?"

  "We were looking for a shoe that fitted a footprint," said Larry desperately.

  This was even more puzzling to the two listeners. Mr. Smellie tapped his pen impatiently on his desk. "Explain properly," he said. "I give you one minute. At the end of that time I telephone the police and also your parents, if you haven't given me a full and proper explanation of your most extraordinary conduct."

  "It's no use," said Fatty to Larry. "We'll have to tell him the real reason, even if it does warn him and put him on his guard."

  "What are you talking about?" said Miss Miggle, who was getting more and more astonished.

  "Put me on my guard!" said Mr. Smellie. "What do you mean? Really, I began to think that you two boys are completely mad."

  "We're not," said Larry sulkily. "But we happen to know something about you, Mr. Smellie. We know that you were in Mr. Hick's house on the evening of the fire."

  The effect of these words was most astonishing. Mr. Smellie dropped his pen on the floor and sprang to his feet His glasses fell off His nose, and His beard shook and quivered. Miss Miggle looked immensely surprised.

  "You "mere there, weren't you?" said Larry. "Somebody saw you. They told us."

  "Who told you?" spluttered Mr. Smellie.

  "Horace Peeks saw you.," said Larry. "He was in the house himself that evening., getting some of His things before Mr. Hick came back — and he saw you. How will you explain that to the police?"

  "Oh, Mr. Smellie, sir., what were you doing down there that evening?" cried poor Miss Miggle, at once thinking that her employer might possibly have fired the cottage.

  Mr. Smellie sat down and put His glasses on his nose again. "Miggle," he said, "I see that you suspect me of firing Mr. Hick's workroom. How you can think such a thing after serving me all these years, and knowing that I cannot even kill a fly, I don't know!"

  "Well, why did you go there, then?" asked Miss Miggle. "You'd better tell me, sir. I'll look after you, whatever you've done!"

  "I don't need any looking after," said Mr. Smellie, with some sharpness. "All I went down to Mr. Hick's for was to get the papers I had forgotten to bring away with me after my quarrel with the fellow that morning. I certainly went into His house — but I did not go near the workroom. I got my papers — and here they are on the table. I showed them to this boy and His sister this very morning!"

  Surprises and Shocks

  All three stared at Mr. Smellie, who was quite clearly speaking the truth.

  "Golly!" said Larry. "So that's why you went there. Didn't you hide in the ditch, then?"

  "No, of course not," said Mr. Smellie, "I walked down the drive quite openly, found the garden door open and went in and collected my papers. Then I walked out. I bid nowhere — unless you think that standing by the gate for a little while, to make sure no one was about, was hiding."

  "Oh," said Larry. This was terribly puzzling. If what Mr. Smellie said was true, then there were no Suspects left at all. But somebody must have done the deed!

  "And now will you kindly tell me what you took my shoe for?" asked Mr. Smellie.

  Larry told him, and then Fatty told him who had now got the shoe. Mr. Smellie was annoyed.

  "That interfering policeman!" he said. "He has been up and down past my house goodness knows how many times today. I suppose he has been suspecting me too. Now he's got my shoe. I do think you boys deserve a good whipping."

  "Well, sir, we are only trying to find out who started the fire," said Fatty. He told Mr. Smellie all they had done so far. Miss Miggle listened in admiration and amazement. She was divided between indignation that the boys should have suspected Mr. Smellie so strongly, and astonishment that they should have found so many clues and suspects.

  "Well," said Mr. Smellie at last. "I think it's about time you went home, you two. I can assure you that I had nothing whatever to do with the fire, and have no idea who had. I shouldn't think it would be Horace Peeks. More likely the old tramp. Anyway, my advice to you is to leave it to the police. You children will never find out things like that."

  The boys stood up. "Sorry about your shoe, sir," said Fatty.

  "So am I," said Mr. Smellie dryly. "It's got my name inside. So I've no doubt Mr. Goon will be along here in the morning. Good night. And try not to suspect me of any more fires, thefts, killings, or anything of that sort, will you? I am really only a harmless elde
rly fellow interested in nothing but my old papers!"

  The boys left, distinctly subdued. They couldn't help thinking that Mr. Smellie hadn't had anything to do with the firing of the cottage. But, then, who had?

  "I'm tired," said Lany. "Meet tomorrow at Pip's place. Your bruises came in useful. Fatty. Without them I don't believe we'd have got free!"

  "They looked fine, didn't they?" said Fatty cheerfully. "Well, good night. We've had an adventurous evening, haven't we?"

  The other three were amazed and admiring when they heard all that had happened to Lany and Fatty. But they were even more puzzled than amazed.

  "It's a most extraordinary thing," said Pip thoughtfully. "We keep finding that all kinds of people were hiding in the garden that night — and all of them were there for some definite reason. Even the tramp — he was after eggs. And yet we can't put our fingers on the real wrongdoer. Could the tramp have done it? Could Horace have set fire to the cottage, although he was only gone three minutes? Could Mr. Smellie have done it? Horace says he saw him in the house, getting his papers — but it's possible he might have fired the cottage after that."

  "Yes. But somehow I feel certain he didn't now," said Larry. "Let's go down to Hiccup's garden and have a Big Think. We may have missed something."

  They all went down. They saw Lily hanging out the clothes, and whistled to her. With a quick look round to see that Mrs. Minns was not about, she ran to them.

  "Lily! Where exactly did you and Horace hide in the bushes?" asked Larry. "Were you in the ditch by the workroom?"

  "Oh no," said Lily, and she pointed to some bushes by the drive. "We were there. We never went near the ditch."

  "And old Smellie says he only hid for a moment by the gate. But someone hid in the ditch!" said Fatty thoughtfully. "Let's go there, every one."

  They went to the ditch. The nettles were rising up again by this tame, but it was still easy to see where they had been flattened by some one. The children squeezed through the gap and went to look at the footprint on the space where the turf had been taken away. It was still there, but fainter now.

  "You know," said Daisy suddenly, "You know, these footprints — the one here and the ones round about the stile — all point one way. They are coming towards the house, but not going away. Whoever hid in the ditch came across the fields to the house — but there are no footprints at all to show that he went back that way."

  "He might have gone out of the front gate, silly," said Fatty. "Well, I must say I feel defeated today. Our clues don't tell us anything now — and all our Suspects seem to be innocent. I feel a bit tired of finding out things that lead us nowhere. Let's do something else today. Let's go for an all-day picnic."

  "Oooh yes" said every one. "We'll go back for our bikes. We'll go to Buraham Beeches and have a lovely time."

  Bets's mother would not allow her to go, because it was too far for an eight-year-old to ride. The little girl was very disappointed.

  "I'd rather Bets didn't go for a picnic today anyway," said her mother. "She looks a bit pale. Leave Buster behind and let her go for a walk with him. She'll like that."

  Bets did love taking Buster for walks, that it hardly made up for missing a picnic. Fatty was very sorry for her when she stood at the gate waving to them as they went off on their bikes.

  "I'll bring you back heaps of primroses!" he called. "Look after Buster, won't you?"

  Buster wagged his tail. He meant to look after Bets, not have Bets look after him. He too felt sad when he saw the children going off without him. But he knew that he could never run fast enough to keep up with bicycles.

  It had been raining in the night and everywhere was muddy. Bets thought she had better put on her rubber boots. She went to get them. Buster pattered after her on muddy paws.

  "It's a pity you can't wear goloshes or something, Buster," she said. "You get awfully muddy."

  The two of them set off for a walk. Bets went down the lane to the river. She chose a little path that ran alongside the river for some way, and then turned back again across a field that led to the stile where the children had seen the exciting footprints a few days before.

  Bets danced along, throwing sticks for Buster, and remembering not to throw stones for him to fetch because Fatty said they broke his teeth. She stooped down to pick up a stick — and then stood still in the greatest astonishment.

  There, plainly to be seen on the muddy path in front of her, was a line of footprints exactly like the ones the children had found by the stile! Bets by now knew the prints by heart, for she had gazed at Fatty's drawings so often. She felt absolutely certain that they were the same. There was the rubber sole with its criss-cross markings, and the little squares with the blobs at each corner!

  "Ooh, look, Buster," said Bets at last. She could feel her heart thumping with excitement. Buster came to look. He sniffed at the footprints and then looked up at Bets, wagging his tail.

  "They're the same prints, aren't they, Buster, dear?" said Bets. "And listen, Buster — it only rained last night — so some one must have walked along here since then — and that some one is the person we're after — though we don't know who! Oh, Buster — what's the best thing to do? I do feel so excited, don't you?"

  Buster capered round the little girl as if he understood every single word she said. She stood for a moment or two looking down at the line of footprints.

  "We'll follow them, Buster," she said. "That's what we'll do! We'll follow them. See? I don't know how long it is since the person walked along here, but it's not very long, anyway. Come on — we may even catch up with the person who made the prints. Oh, this is exciting!"

  The hide girl followed the footprints with Buster. He put his nose down to them and Mowed them too, though it was really the smell he was following, not the marks themselves. Along the muddy path theft went, and then crossed a road to the other side. Then up another footpath, where they showed quite plainly, and then into alley. Here they were not so easy to follow, but Buster's nose was most useful, for he could follow the smell, even where there was no footprint to be seen.

  "You really are very clever, Buster," said Bets, in great admiration. "I wish my nose was like yours. Yes — that's right — that's another of the prints — and here's another — and another. Look — they're going to the stile."

  So they were. It was plain that the owner of the prints had crossed the stile and jumped down on to the field beyond. Bets grew more and more excited.

  "The prints are going the same way as the other prints did!" she said to Buster. "Look! Now, Buster, dear, use your nose well across this field because I can't see anything on the grass, of course."

  Buster went across the field in a straight line, his black nose held close to the ground. He could smell exactly where the person had walked. Soon Bets came to a bare muddy bit and there she saw a footprint clearly outlined. "You are going the right way. Buster," she said. "Keep your nose down! Hurry! Maybe we shall find the person if we're quick! I believe these footprints have only just been made."

  The footprints did not lead to the gap in the hedge. Instead they led over another stile and up the lane that led to Bets' own house. But at Mr. Hick's gate the prints turned and went up Mr. Hick's own drive!

  Bets was amazed. So the man who fired the cottage had actually gone back to it today! She wondered if he had gone to the front door or the back door. She went up the muddy drive, her face down, watching the prints. They went right to the front door. Just as she got there the door opened and Mr. Hick appeared. He seemed astonished to see Bets.

  "Well, what are you doing here?" he asked.

  "Oh, Mr. Hick," gasped Bets, too excited to think that she might be giving away any of the Find-Outers' secrets. "I'm following these footprints., and they go right to your door. Oh, Mr. Hick, it's most awfully important to know who made them. Has any one been to see you today?"

  Mr. Hick looked surprised, and he frowned at Bets and Buster. "I don't understand," he said. "Why is it so awful
ly important?"

  "Well, if only I knew who made these footprints! Should be able to tell the others who fired your cottage the other evening," said Bets importantly.

  Mr. Hick looked completely bewildered, and he stared very hard indeed at Bets. "You'd better come in," he said at last "This is very extraordinary. What is a child like you doing, following footprints — and how do you know anything about it? Come in. No — leave the dog outside."

  "Let him come too," said Bets. "He'll be very, very good. He'll scratch your door down if you leave him outside."

  So Buster went in too, and soon the three of them were sitting in Mr. Hick's study, which, like Mr. Smellie's, was littered with papers and books.

  "Now," said Mr. Hick, trying to speak in a pleasant voice, which was very difficult for him. "Now, little girl, you tell me why you followed those footprints and what you know about them. It may be a help to me."

  Bets, proud to have a grown-up listening to her so closely, poured out the whole story of the Find-Outers and what they had done. She told Mr. Hick about the clues and the Suspects, and he listened without saying a single word.

  Buster made himself a perfect nuisance all the time. He would keep going over to Mr. Hick, sniffing at him, and trying to nibble his feet. Mr. Hick got most annoyed, but Buster wouldn't leave him alone. In the end Bets had to take him on her knee and keep him there.

  When she had finished her story, right up to that very morning, she looked eagerly at Mr. Hick. "Now will you tell me who came here today? " she asked.

  "Well.," said Mr. Hick slowly, "as it happens, two of your Suspects came here. Mr. Smellie came to borrow a book — and Horace Peeks came to ask me for a reference."

  "Oh! So it might be either of them," said Bets. "I do wonder which of them wore the rubber-soled shoes with those markings. Well, anyway, now we know for certain it was one of those two. Mr. Hick, you won't tell a single soul what I've told you this morning, will you?"

  "Certainly not," said Mr. Hick. "A lot of people seem to have been in my garden that day I went up to town, didn't they? Wait till I get my fingers on the one who played that dirty trick on me, and burnt all my valuable papers!"