Читать книгу The Mystery of the Hidden House - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Pip and Bets went round to the kitchen door and let themselves in. The cook was out and Lorna was upstairs. They fled past the big black cat on the hearthrug and went up to their play-room.

“I should have stayed,” said Pip. “I haven’t done anything wrong. It was silly to run away. It will make Mother think we really are in the wrong.”

“Hark! Isn’t that Daddy coming in?” said Bets. “Yes, it is. He’ll walk straight in on top of them, and hear everything too!”

Mr. Goon seemed to stay a long time, but at last he went. Mrs. Hilton called to Pip.

“Pip! Bring Bets down here, please. We have something to say to you.”

The two children went downstairs. Bets quite plainly scared, and Pip putting on a very brave face. To their surprise their parents did not seem angry at all.

“Pip,” said his mother, “Mr. Goon came to tell us that he has his nephew staying with him. He says he is a very nice lad indeed, very straightforward and honest—and he says he would be glad if none of you five led him into any trouble. You know that every holiday you seem to have been mixed up in mysteries of some kind or other—there was that burnt cottage—and the disappearing cat—and ...”

“And the spiteful letters, and the secret room, and the missing necklace,” said Pip, relieved to find that apparently Mr. Goon hadn’t done much complaining.

“Yes. Quite,” said his father. “Well, Mr. Goon doesn’t want his nephew mixed up in anything like that. He says he has promised the boy’s mother to look after him well these holidays, and he doesn’t want you dragging him into any mystery or danger ...”

“As if we’d want to do that!” said Pip, in disgust. “His nephew is just a great clod. We don’t want to drag him into anything—we’d like to leave him severely alone.”

“Well, see you do,” said his mother. “Be friendly and polite to him, please. Apparently you were very rude and puzzling to him today—but as Pip had already explained to me the mistake you made, I quite saw that you didn’t really mean to be rude. Mr. Goon was very nice about that.”

“We won’t drag his nephew into anything,” said Pip. “If we find a mystery we’ll keep it to ourselves.”

“That’s another thing I want to say to you,” said his father. “I don’t like you being mixed up in these things. It is the job of the police to solve these mysteries and to clear up any crimes that are committed. It’s time you five children kept out of them. I forbid you to try and solve any mysteries these holidays.”

Pip and Bets stared at him in the greatest dismay. “But I say—we belong to the Five Find-Outers,” stammered Pip. “We must do our bit if a mystery comes along. I mean, really ... why, we couldn’t possibly promise to ...”

“Mr. Goon has already been to Larry and Daisy’s parents,” said Mrs. Hilton. “They have said that they too will forbid their children to get mixed up in any mysteries these holidays. Neither you nor they are to look for any, you understand?”

“But—but suppose one comes—and we’re mixed up in it without knowing?” asked Bets. “Like the missing necklace mystery.”

“Oh, one won’t come if you don’t look for it,” said Mr. Hilton. “Naturally if you got plunged into the middle of one without your knowledge nobody could blame you—but these things don’t happen like that. I just simply forbid you above all to allow Mr. Goon’s nephew to get mixed up in anything of the kind.”

“You can go now,” said Mrs. Hilton. “Don’t look so miserable! Any one would think you couldn’t be happy without some kind of mystery round the corner!”

“Well,” began Pip, and then decided to say no more. How could he explain the delight of smelling out a mystery, of making a list of Clues and Suspects, of trying to fit everything together like a jigsaw puzzle till the answer came, and the picture was complete?

He and Bets went out of the room and climbed up the stairs to their play-room. “Fancy Larry and Daisy being forbidden too,” said Pip. “I wonder if Mr. Goon went to Fatty’s people too?”

“Well, I shouldn’t think it would be any good forbidding Fatty to get mixed up in anything,” said Bets.

Bets was right. It wasn’t any good. Fatty talked his mother and father over to his point of view under the very nose of Mr. Goon.

“I’ve been very useful indeed to Inspector Jenks,” he told his parents. “You know I have. And you know I’m going to be the finest detective in the world when I’m grown up. I’m sure if you ring up the Inspector, Mother, he will tell you not to forbid me to do anything I want to. He trusts me.”

Inspector Jenks was a great friend of the children’s. He was chief of the police in the next town, head of the whole district. Mr. Goon was in great awe of him. The children had certainly helped the Inspector many times in the way they had tackled various mysterious happenings.

“You ring up the Inspector, Mother,” said Fatty, seeing that the policeman didn’t want Mrs. Trotteville to do this at all. “I’m sure he’ll say Mr. Goon is wrong.”

“Don’t you bother the Inspector, Mrs. Trotteville; please,” said Mr. Goon. “He’s a busy man. I wouldn’t have come to you if it hadn’t have been for this young nephew of mine—nice fellow he is, simple and innocent—and I don’t want him led into all sorts of dangers, see?”

“Well, I’m sure Frederick will promise not to lead him into danger,” said Mrs. Trotteville. “It’s the last thing he would want.”

Fatty said nothing. He was making no promises. He had a kind of feeling that it would be good for Mr. Goon’s nephew to be led into something if he was as simple and innocent as the policeman made out. Anyway, all this was just to make sure that the Five Find-Outers didn’t solve another mystery before Mr. Goon did! Fatty could see through that all right!

Mr. Goon, not feeling very satisfied, departed ponderously down the garden-path, annoyed to find that his bicycle had suddenly developed a puncture in the front tyre. It couldn’t possibly have been anything to do with That Boy, who had been in the room all the time—but Mr. Goon thought it was a very queer thing the way unpleasant things happened to him when he was up against Frederick Algernon Trotteville!

The Five Find-Outers met at Fatty’s the next day. Buster gave every one a hilarious welcome. “Now!” he barked. “We are all together again. That’s what I like best.”

But four of them, at least, looked gloomy. “That spoil-sport of a Goon,” said Larry. “We were just waiting for you to come home and find another mystery to solve, Fatty. Now we’re forbidden even to look for one.”

“All because of that goofy nephew of Mr. Goon’s,” said Daisy.

“Well—I’m going to do exactly as I’ve always done,” said Fatty. “Look out for a mystery, find my clues and suspects, fit the pieces together—and solve the whole thing before Mr. Goon even knows there’s anything going on. And I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing the whole time!”

“Yes—but we want to share it,” said Pip. “Share it properly, I mean—not just look on whilst you do it all. That’s no fun.”

“Well, I don’t suppose anything will turn up these hols at all,” grinned Fatty. “Can’t expect something every time, you know. But it would be rather fun to pretend we’re on to something and get Goon’s nephew all hot and bothered about it, wouldn’t it? He’d say something to Goon, who wouldn’t know whether to believe it or not—and he’d get into a mighty stew, too.”

“That’s a wizard idea,” said Larry, pleased. “Really wizard. If we can’t find a mystery ourselves, we’ll make up one for that boy. That’ll serve Goon right for trying to spoil our fun!”

“Let’s come and see if we can find the boy,” said Fatty. “I’d be interested to see what sort of a fellow you mistook for me in disguise! Must be jolly good-looking, that’s all I can say!”

They all went to the village. They were lucky, because just as they came in sight of Mr. Goon’s house his nephew came out, wheeling his uncle’s bicycle, having been ordered by Goon to take it to the garage and get the puncture mended.

“There he is!” said Bets, excitedly. Fatty looked and an expression of deep disgust came over his face. He gazed at the Find-Outers in disappointment.

“Well! How could you think that boy was me—even in disguise, I really don’t know! He’s an oaf! A clod! A lump! Not a brain in his head. Good gracious, surely I don’t look in the least like him?”

Fatty looked so hurt that Bets put her arm in his and squeezed it. “Fatty! Don’t be upset. We thought it was one of your clever disguises.”

The boy wheeled his bicycle towards them. He stopped when he saw them, and to their surprise he grinned.

“Hallo! I know all about your mistake yesterday. You got me properly hot and bothered. I told my uncle and he spotted it was you. Said you called yourself the Find-Outers, or some such thing. He said you were a set of cheeky toads.”

“What’s your name?” asked Pip.

“Ern,” said the boy.

“Urn?” said Bets in surprise, thinking of the great tea-urns her mother had at mothers’ meetings.

“SwatIsaid,” said Ern.

Nobody understood the last sentence at all. “I beg your pardon? What did you say?” asked Larry, politely.

“I said ‘SwatIsaid,’ ” said Ern, impatiently.

“Oh—he means ‘It’s what I said,’ ” explained Daisy to the others.

“Well—swatIsaid, isn’t it?” said Ern, puzzled.

“Is his name really Urn?” said Bets to the others.

“ ‘Course it is—short for Ernest, see?” said Ern. “I got two brothers. One Sid, short for Sidney, the other’s Perce, short for Percy. Ern, Sid and Perce—that’s us.”

“Very nice,” murmured Fatty. “Ern suits you marvellously.”

Ern looked pleased. “And Fatty suits you,” he said, handsomely. “Right down to the ground it does. And Pip suits him too—bit of a pipsqueak, isn’t he? Wants to grow a bit, I’d say.”

The Find-Outers thought these remarks were out of place from Ern. He was getting a bit too big for his boots.

“I hope you’ll have a nice holiday with your uncle,” said Bets, suddenly very polite.

Ern made a curious chortling noise. “Oooh! My uncle! His high-and-mighty-nibs! Says I mustn’t get led into danger by you! Well, you see here—if you get hold of any mysteries you just tell me, Ern Goon. I’d like to show my uncle I’ve got better brains than his.”

“If you get hold of any mysteries you just tell me, Ern Goon. I’d like to show my uncle I’ve got better brains than his.”

“That wouldn’t be very difficult,” said Fatty. “Well, Ern—we’ll certainly lead you to any mysteries we find. I expect you know that your uncle has forbidden us to solve any ourselves these hols—so perhaps you could take our place and solve a mystery right under his nose?”

Ern’s rather protruding eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Jumping snakes! Do you mean that? Lovaduck!”

“Yes. We’ll provide you with all sorts of clues,” said Fatty, solemnly. “But don’t you go and tell your uncle in case he gets angry with us.”

“You bet I won’t,” said Ern.

“Oh, Ern—can I have back that note-book I gave you by mistake yesterday?” said Bets, suddenly. “It wasn’t meant for you, of course. It was meant for Fatty.”

“I was going to use it for my portry,” said Ern, looking disappointed. He took it out and held it for Bets to take. “I love portry.”

“What’s portry?” asked Bets, puzzled.

“Portry! Lovaduck, don’t you know what’s portry. It’s when things rhyme, like.”

“Oh—you mean poetry,” said Bets.

“SwatIsaid,” said Ern. “Well, I write portry.”

This was so astonishing that nobody said anything for a moment.

“What sort of poetry—er, I mean portry?” asked Fatty.

“I’ll recite you some,” said Ern, looking very pleased with himself. “This here one’s called ‘The Pore Dead Pig.’ ” He cleared his throat and began:

“How sad to see thee, pore dead pig,

When all ...”

“Look out—here’s your uncle!” suddenly said Larry, as a large dark-blue figure appeared in Mr. Goon’s little front garden. A roar came from him.

“What about my BIKE! Didn’t I tell you I wanted it right back?”

“So long!” said Ern, hurriedly, and shot off down the street at top speed. “See you later!”