Читать книгу The Mystery That Never Was - Enid blyton - Страница 5

Table of Contents

The two boys left a very angry Punch locked up in Nicky’s shed. “Hope Penny won’t hear him howling and let him out,” said Ken. “I say, I’d better come in with you while you put on something clean, and give myself a brush. I’m pretty filthy too—but if I go into my own house and Mum sees me I might be sent on all kinds of errands.”

“Well, come on in, then,” said Nicky. “Back way, then we’ll only see Mrs. Hawes, our daily woman.”

Mrs. Hawes stared at them in surprise, as they tiptoed through the kitchen. “Well, there now—I never knew the Missis had ordered two sweeps for the chimneys this morning!” she said, as they went by her, grinning cheekily.

Nicky put on a clean sweater and washed his face, while Ken brushed himself vigorously, sending black clouds of dust all over the bedroom. Through the open window came woeful howls from the garden shed. Poor Punch!

“Now to slip out without Mother seeing me,” said Nicky. “I don’t want to have to stop and do odd jobs just as we’re off to meet the train.”

They crept down the stairs and made for the kitchen again. An astonished voice called after them. “Oh! There you are, Nicky! Where have you been all morning? I wanted you to ...”

“Sorry, Mother—we’re off to meet the London train!” shouted Nicky. “Uncle Bob, you know!”

“Yes, but wait, Nicky, you silly boy, you won’t be ...” began his mother, coming out of the sitting-room after them. But the boys had disappeared, and the kitchen door banged.

“Narrow escape!” panted Nicky, racing round to the front gate. “Come on! We’ll just get to the station in time.”

The train was signalled as they ran on to the platform. “Now you keep a watch on the people coming from the back of the train, and I’ll watch the front,” said Nicky. “And remember to look for BIG FEET!”

Ken remembered quite well what Nicky’s Uncle Bob looked like—an upstanding fellow with keen eyes, determined mouth, and clean-shaven.

“Still, he might wear a false moustache or a beard this morning,” thought Ken. “And stand bent over like an old man.” He stood waiting as the train came in by him and pulled to a stop.

Six people stepped down from the carriages. Two were women, both small. They could be ruled out at once. One was a boy, who went whistling down the platform. That left three. Nicky and Ken looked at them closely.

An oldish man with a beard—shuffling along, head bent forward—glasses on his nose—and large feet! Nicky brightened at once. “Might quite well be Uncle Bob!” he thought, and fell in behind him at once.

Of the other two, one was a postman with a large bag. He too had large feet, and was bent under the weight of his heavy bag. He had a small moustache, and mopped his face with a handkerchief as he went, giving a large sneeze as he passed the boys. They nudged one another.

“Bet that’s him!” whispered Ken. “You follow him and I’ll follow the old chap—just in case! I don’t think that other person’s any good. Small feet!”

Nicky nodded. He followed close behind the postman, wishing he could get a better look at his face. Gosh—he certainly had large feet! Nicky tried to peer into his face as he walked past him, but the man was still mopping his nose. He slung his bag from one shoulder to the other, and it knocked against Nicky.

“Hey!” said Nicky, almost bowled over by the weight of the bag. “Got a cold, Uncle Bob?”

“What you following me about for?” growled the postman. “Think you’re being funny calling me your uncle? Clear off!”

His voice was not deep, but rather hoarse as if he had a bad cold. Nicky decided that it was decidedly a false voice. He gave the postman a nudge with his arm. “Come on, Uncle Bob! Own up! I’d know your voice anywhere, even though you’re making it as croaky as an old crow’s. But it’s a jolly good disguise!”

The postman put his bag down with a thump and glared at Nicky. “Now if I have any more funny business from you, me lad, I’ll talk to that policeman over there, see?”

The postman was now staring straight at Nicky, and he could see the man’s whole face very clearly—good gracious, it was nothing like his Uncle Bob’s face—and the little moustache was certainly real! Nicky began to feel most uncomfortable.

“Sorry!” he said, awkwardly. “I just thought you were—er—in disguise, you know. I was looking for someone else!”

“Now you clear off, see? And if my voice sounds like an old crow’s, so would yours with a cold like mine,” said the angry postman, and sneezed again so violently that his postman’s cap almost flew off.

“It was a mistake,” said poor Nicky, red in the face. “I apologise!” And he raced off after Ken, who was still following the old man. Ken was lucky, thought Nicky—that must be Uncle Bob, shuffling along, pulling at his beard and mumbling to himself.

He caught up with Ken and raised his eyebrows, muttering, “Any luck?”

Ken nodded. “I think so. Haven’t said anything, yet, though. Look at his feet!”

Nicky looked. Yes—they were just about the same size as Uncle Bob’s—and so were his hands. That beard was clever—hid half the face! The old man suddenly stopped, pulled out a cigarette case and lit a cigarette, holding the match with trembling fingers. He flipped the match away with finger and thumb. “Just like Uncle Bob always does!” thought Nicky. “Aha, Uncle Bob! I’ll have a little fun with you!”

So he fell into step beside the old man and began to talk. “Do you know the way to Mr. Fraser’s house?” he asked, and Ken gave a grin, for that, of course was Nicky’s home. “I’ll take you there myself, if you like.”

“Don’t play the fool,” grunted the old man in a husky voice. “What are you two boys following me for?”

“What big feet you’ve got, Uncle Bob!” said Nicky. “And do let me feel your nice thick beard!”

The old man looked angry and a little frightened. He walked on, saying nothing, then suddenly crossed the road to where the town policeman stood, stolid and burly.

“Constable, will you take these boys’ names, and tell their fathers they have been molesting me?” said the old man. The policeman stared in astonishment at Nicky and Ken, whom he knew well.

“Now what have you two been doing to old Mr. Holdsworth?” he demanded. Then he turned back to the old man. “All right, sir,” he said. “I’ll deal with this for you. Young rascals!”

“I say, Constable—is he really an old man?” said Nicky, taken aback, as he watched the old fellow go off, mumbling. “I thought he was my Uncle Bob in disguise. Is he really a Mr. Holdsworth?”

“Now look here, Nicky Fraser, you know he’s an old man all right, and no more your Uncle Bob than I am!” said the policeman. “Don’t you start getting into trouble like some of the youngsters in this town! Playing the fool and making fun of old people isn’t the sort of thing your parents would like to hear about.”

“It was a mistake, really it was,” stammered poor Nicky, and Ken nodded his head too, scared. “You see ...”

“Go home,” said the policeman, impatiently. “I’ve no time to waste on silly kids that don’t act their age. Next time I’ll deal with you properly.”

He marched out into the road, and began sorting out a small traffic jam. The two boys, red in the face, hurried home. They felt very foolish indeed.

Nicky saw his mother in the front garden and yelled to her. “Mother! We went to meet Uncle Bob, and he wasn’t on the train.”

“Well, no wonder!” said his mother. “Didn’t you hear what I called out to you, when you left in such a hurry? I said he was coming by car!”

“BLOW!” said both boys at once. Nicky groaned. “Gosh—what asses we’ve been! What time is Uncle Bob arriving, then?”

At that very moment a sports car drew up in front of the house, and the horn was blown loudly. The boys swung round.

“It’s Uncle Bob! Goodness, Uncle Bob, we’ve been meeting several of you at the station! What a smashing car! Come on in, you’re just in time for dinner!”