The click of the receiver was followed by a thunderous knocking at the door. Archie opened it. Leaning over the banister, William and Ginger saw the set angry face of Mr Furnace.
“I’ve come for the fifty pounds,” he said, thrusting his burly form through the door that Archie was ineffectually trying to shut against him.
“I’ve not got fifty pounds,” said Archie desperately.
“Give me back my pig, then.”
“I can’t find your pig. I keep telling you I can’t find your pig.”
At that moment the door burst open again and Mr Birtley entered.
“My wife says she wants yellow curtains at that bay window,” he said breathlessly.
The farmer ignored the interruption.
“I’ve got three independent witnesses ready to swear on oath in a court of law that they saw you deliberately drive that pig away from my farm and out of the village.”
“I didn’t drive it. It went. It kept on going and going and—”
“A deep gold yellow, she says,” said Mr Birtley, thrusting his Yorkshire terrier face between them.
“A Landrace pedigree, that pig is,” said the farmer, still ignoring the newcomer. “Fifty pounds compensation, you’ll have to pay, and costs as well if I bring it to court.”
“I tell you I haven’t—”
“And climbing roses,” said Mr Birtley.
“I bought that pig to build up a strain.”
“Pink roses, she says she wants.”
“Daylight robbery.”
“Climbing up the piers and meeting at the top, as it were.”
“Ran over it as like as not and buried the body.”
Archie turned his anguished face from one to the other.
“I didn’t—I hadn’t—I never—I couldn’t—” he said incoherently.
The argument was still going on when a third man arrived—a tall thin man with luxuriant moustaches, a beaked nose and a high domed forehead.
“Oh, doctor!” said Archie. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
“Gosh!” breathed William, drawing back from the banisters.
“How are you feeling now, Mannister?” said the doctor solicitously.
“Worse,” said Archie wildly. “Much worse.”
Fragments of the conversation continued to float up to the listening couple.
“A pedigree Landrace stole off my farm in broad daylight. I suppose you’ll tell me it vanished into thin air.”
“Well, it did,” said Archie, his voice sounding like the rising note of an air raid warning.
“Take it easy, Mannister,” came in the deep voice of the doctor.
“And she says the front door looks too ordinary. She wants a porch to it.”
As William had already learnt, Mr Birtley was a man with a one-track mind.
“Relax the tension, Mannister,” counselled the doctor. “Take a deep breath.”
“You were seen by three independent witnesses who’ll swear in a court of law—”
Archie turned on his tormentor with the courage of despair: “Perhaps you think I’ve got the creature hidden in the garden in a shed or something.”
“Ease up, Mannister. Loosen your muscles.”
“A porch with pillars.”
“I certainly thought you might have, but I had a good look at your sheds and things as I came in.”
“Then perhaps you think I’ve got it hidden in the house,” said Archie with a high-pitched sarcastic laugh.
At that moment the unmistakable sound of a grunt came from the room above. A sudden silence fell on the group. The farmer’s face turned red, Archie’s green.
“Gosh!” whispered William. “Let’s go back to it an’ try’n’ keep it quiet.”
They crept back into the room. Ernest greeted them with squeals of delight. There came the sound of Mr Furnace’s voice saying, “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” then the sound of four pairs of feet ascending the staircase.
William and Ginger looked round. The only article of furniture in the room was a sort of hanging wardrobe consisting of a comer cut off by a curtain. They plunged behind it just as the four men entered. Ernest greeted the newcomers with squeals of welcome. Mr Furnace turned a beetroot-coloured face to Archie.
“And now what have you got to say for yourself?” he said.
Archie was past saying anything. He could only gibber soundlessly. Mr Furnace made a plunge at Ernest. Ernest neatly evaded capture, squealing loudly, running nimbly round the room, diving at last behind the curtained recess and throwing William and Ginger off their balance. They rolled into the room, picked themselves up and then stood gazing sheepishly at the amazed spectators.
But it was William on whom the interest centred.
“You’re the boy who—” began Mr Birtley, bristling suddenly with rage.
“You’re the boy who—” roared the farmer.
“You’re the boy who—” said the doctor.
William looked at the three angry faces thrust close to his. Retribution was inevitable. Best get it over as soon as possible.
“You’re the boy who—” they bellowed again simultaneously.
“Yes,” said William, surrendering himself to fate. “Yes, I’m them.”
Credits and Information
Once again, my thanks goes out to golux, who, even though I was busy, and only managed to provide a very bad OCR output, managed to beautifully proofread this book.
With the release of this book, five books in the Just William series have been produced. Even though this took me an extra month to produce, due to issues with italics, I believe the effort has been worth it. Unfortunately, due to work and life on both our parts, we'll only be able to release a book around every two months, so you can hope to expect one in October.
Last but not least, thank you to all the people who help me with this project, including those who go to the lengths of buying these books and scanning them. Your help is very appreciated!
-rstring
3rd August, 2018
William's Television Show Page 20