Читать книгу The Mystery of the Hidden House - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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Ern soon became a terrible bore. He lay in wait for the Find-Outers every day, and pestered them to tell him if they had smelt out any mystery yet. He kept wanting to recite his “portry.” He shocked the five children by his very low opinion of his uncle, Mr. Goon.

“We’ve got a low opinion of Old Clear-Orf ourselves,” said Larry, “but really, to hear Ern speak of his uncle any one would think he was the meanest, slyest, greediest, laziest policeman that ever lived!”

Ern was always bringing out dreadful tales of his uncle. “He ate three eggs and all the bacon for his breakfast, and he didn’t leave me nothing but a plate of porridge,” said Ern. “No wonder he’s bursting his uniform!”

“My uncle isn’t half lazy,” he said another time. “He’s supposed to be on duty each afternoon, but he just puts his head back, shuts his eyes and snores till tea-time! Wouldn’t I like the Inspector to come along and catch him!”

“My uncle says you all want locking up for a few days, you’re just a set of cheeky toads,” said Ern, yet another time. “He likes your mother and Father, Pip—but he says Fatty’s people are just the ...”

“Look here, Ern—you oughtn’t to repeat what your uncle says about us or our people,” said Fatty. “It’s a rotten trick. You know jolly well Mr. Goon wouldn’t tell you all these things if he thought you were going to repeat them.”

Ern gave one of his chortles. “Lovaduck! What do you suppose he says them for? ’Course he wants me to tell you them! Nice easy way for him to be rude to you.”

“Really?” said Fatty. “Well, two can play at that game. You tell your uncle we think he’s a ...”

“Oh don’t, Fatty,” said Bets, in alarm. “He’ll come round and complain again.”

“He can’t complain to your parents about what I say,” said Fatty.

“Oh yes, he can,” said Pip. “You should just see him walking into our house like a flat-footed bull-frog, as pompous as a ...”

Ern gave such a loud chortle that every one jumped. Pip stopped in a hurry.

“That’s a good one, that is!” said Ern. “Lovaduck, I’d like to see Uncle Theophilus when I tell him that!”

“If you repeat that I’ll fight you!” said Pip, furious with himself for saying such a silly thing in front of Ern. “I’ll knock your silly nose off, I’ll ...”

“Shut up, Pip,” said Fatty. “You can’t even box. You ought to learn boxing at school like I do. You should just see me box! Why, last term I fought a chap twice my size, and in five minutes I ...”

“Had him flat on his back!” finished Larry, “with a couple of black eyes and a squashed ear.”

Fatty looked surprised. “How do you know?” he said. “Have I told you before?”

“No, but your stories always end in some way like that,” grinned Larry.

“Found any mystery yet?” inquired Ern, who didn’t like to be left out of the talk for long. Fatty at once looked secretive.

“Well,” he said, and hesitated. “No, I don’t think I’d better tell you, Ern. You’d only split to your uncle. You just can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Ern began to look excited. “Come on! You’ve got something, I know you have. You said you’d tell me if you was on to a mystery. Lovaduck! Wouldn’t it be a sell for Uncle if I got on to a mystery and solved it before he got a sniffofit.”

“What was that last word?” asked Fatty. Ern had a curious habit of running some of his words together. “Sniffofit? What sort of a fit is that? Does your uncle go in for fits?”

“Sniffofit!” repeated Ern. “Can’t you understand plain English? Sniffofit.”

“He means ‘sniff of it.’ ” said Daisy.

“SwatIsaid,” said Ern, looking sulky.

“Swatesaid,” said Fatty at once to the others. They giggled. Ern scowled. He didn’t like it when the others made fun of him. But he soon cheered up.

“Go on—you tell me about this mystery you’ve got,” he begged Fatty.

Fatty, of course, knew of no mystery at all. The holidays, in fact, stretched dull and drear in front of him, with not a hint of any mystery anywhere. Only Ern promised a little fun and excitement. Fatty looked mysterious.

He began to speak in a whisper. “Well,” he said, “it’s like this.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder as if there were people listening. Ern began to feel thrilled.

Then Fatty shook his head firmly. “No, Ern. I can’t tell you yet. I don’t think I’d better. I’m only at the beginning of things. I’ll wait till I know a little more.”

Ern could hardly contain his excitement. He clutched Fatty’s arm. “Look here, you’ve got to tell me!” he hissed “I won’t breathe a word to Uncle. Go on, Fatty, be a sport.”

The others watched Fatty, trying not to laugh. They knew he hadn’t anything to tell. Poor old Ern—he swallowed everything he was told.

“I’ll wait till I’ve a bit more to tell,” said Fatty. “No, it’s no good, Ern. Not even the others know anything yet. The time hasn’t come yet to develop the case.”

“Lovaduck! That sounds good,” said Ern, impressed. “All right, I’ll wait. I say—do you think I ought to get a note-book and write down in it the things young Bets here wrote down in yours—the one she gave you for a present?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Fatty. “You’ve a note-book in your pocket, I see—bring it out and we’ll show you what to write.”

“No. That’s my portry note-book,” said Ern. “Can’t write nothing in that except portry.” He took it out and flicked over the pages. “Look—I wrote a pome last night—proper good pome it was too. It’s called ‘The Pore Old Horse.’ Shall I read it to you?”

“Well, no—not now,” said Fatty, looking at his watch and putting on a very startled expression. “My word—look at the time. Sorry, old horse—pore old horse—but we can’t stop today. Another time perhaps. Get a note-book, Ern, and we’ll set down in it all you ought to have in a proper mystery note-book.”

The five went off with Buster, grinning. Ern went back to his uncle, pondering whether to repeat Pip’s words to his uncle—what were they now? Flat-footed bull-frog. That was good, that was. Good enough to put into a pome!

“Ern and his pomes and portry!” giggled Daisy. “I wish I could get hold of that portry book—I’d write a poem in it that would make Old Clear-Orf sit up!”

“Quite an idea!” said Fatty, and put it away in his mind for future use. “Now, Find-Outers, we’d better plan what sort of wild-goose chase we’re to send Ern on! We can’t possibly disappoint him. We’ve got to give him a bit of excitement.”

They went to Pip’s play-room and began to plan. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to practise a few disguises,” said Fatty thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look as if we’re going to have much fun these hols, so we might as well make our own.”

“Oh, yes—do let’s practise disguises,” said Bets, thrilled.

“We’re going to have a good time with old Ern,” chuckled Fatty. “Now, let’s plan. Anybody got any ideas?”

“Well—what about a mystery kidnapping or something like that?” said Larry. “Men who kidnap rich men’s children and keep them prisoner. We might get Ern to try and rescue them.”

“Or we might have mysterious lights at night flashing somewhere, and send Ern to see what they are?” said Bets.

“Go on. We’re getting some good ideas,” said Fatty.

“Or what about a robbery—with the loot hidden somewhere—and Ern has to find it?” suggested Daisy.

“Or a collection of clues to puzzle Ern. You know how we once put a whole lot of clues down for Clear-Orf,” said Pip. “My word—I’ll never forget that.”

Every one laughed. Fatty tapped his knee thoughtfully with his pencil. “Jolly good idea, all of them,” he said. “Super, in fact. I vote we try and use all of them. Might as well give Ern good measure. And if old Goon gets excited about it too, so much the better. I bet Ern won’t be able to keep it dark. Goon will know there’s something up—but he won’t know how much is pretence and how much isn’t. We’ll have them both on a string!”

“It won’t be as good as a real mystery, but it will be great fun!” said Bets, hugging herself. “It will serve Mr. Goon right for coming to complain to Daddy and Mother! And for trying to do us out of a mystery these hols.”

“Not that there’s even a shadow of one at the moment,” said Daisy.

“Well, now let’s get down to it,” said Fatty. “Ern will come complete with his note-book next time we see him, I’m sure of that. We’ll put down the usual headings—Clues, Suspects, Progress and so on. Then we’ll begin providing a few clues. We’d better let him find them. He’ll get awfully bucked if he thinks he’s better at spotting things than we are. I’ll make up some kind of story, which I won’t tell you now, so that it will seem quite fresh to you. You can listen with large eyes and bated breath!”

“What’s bated breath?” asked Bets. “Do we breathe fast, or something?”

“No—we just hold it, silly,” said Pip. “And don’t you go and give the game away, Bets. It would be just like you to do that!”

“It would not,” said Bets, indignantly. “Would it, Fatty?”

“No. You’re a very good little Find-Outer,” said Fatty, comfortingly. “I bet you’ll bate your breath best of any one. Hallo, what’s that?”

“The dinner-bell,” said Pip, gloomily. “It always goes when we’re in the middle of something.”

“Spitty,” said Fatty, and got up.

“What do you mean—spitty?” said Larry.

“He means ‘It’s a pity!’ ” said Bets with a giggle.

“SwatIsaid,” said Fatty, and got up to go.