Читать книгу The Mystery of the Missing Man - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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Easter Sunday was a glorious day. The Trotteville family and the Tollings went to church, and Fatty reflected that at least Eunice couldn’t talk at church. Unfortunately she could sing, though, and almost deafened Fatty who had to sit next to her.

He was also very much embarrassed because of the surprised looks of the congregation at this unexpected addition to their singing powers. Everyone seemed to be turning and staring. Very bad manners, thought Fatty severely—but Eunice loved it, and sang serenely and powerfully on, basking in the stares of the people around her.

Fatty cast about in his mind to think how to get rid of Eunice that afternoon. He knew that his mother and father—and probably Mr. Tolling—would retire to have a nap. Could he say that he wanted to work? No, his father would certainly not believe that. Could he say he was tired and wanted to go home and rest?

‘No! Mother will feel my head and see if it’s hot, and think I’m sickening for something,’ groaned Fatty. ‘I think I’ll go down to my shed. I won’t tell Eunice. I’ll just slip off down there. I’ll take my book—and I might perhaps practise a bit of disguising. I haven’t done any for ages—not since I went back to school last term.’

Fatty waited until the grown-ups had retired to have a nap. Eunice was busy writing a letter. Fatty sat as quiet as a mouse in a corner, hoping that she wouldn’t notice if he slipped out. But as soon as he stood up quietly she lifted her head and swung back her long plaits.

‘Where are you going, Frederick?’ she asked. ‘I shan’t be long finishing this letter, then we’ll have a walk or a game of something.’

Fatty saw a ray of hope. ‘I’ll take your letter to the post for you,’ he said. ‘Chuck it across when it’s finished. There are two of Mother’s I’m going to take.’

‘Oh, thanks—if it’s not a bother to you,’ said the ever-polite Eunice and went on scribbling. With relief Fatty saw her blot the letter, put it into an envelope, address it and stamp it. He got up at once.

‘Thanks,’ said Eunice. ‘I’ll think out something for us to do, while you’re gone.’

Fatty shot out of the room and out of the garden door. He shut it firmly behind him. He was not going back through that door for quite a long time—he was going down to his shed when he came back from the post—and there he was going to stay!

He ran to the post, and then circled the house and garden till he came to the little gate again at the very bottom. He slid through that, shut it, and made his way cautiously to his shed. ‘Really!’ he thought, ‘it’s disgraceful to think I’ve got to skulk in my own garden like this!’

He unlocked his shed-door and went in. He locked it again, and sat down with a sight of relief. Now he could be alone till teatime at any rate—and if he could be really stern with himself he could miss tea, and not go indoors until the evening meal. ‘I could say I missed tea because I’m slimming,’ thought Fatty.

He began to pull open the drawers of the old chest he had there, looking at his store of disguises—dirty old coats and trousers, torn pull-overs and cardigans—a butcher’s boy outfit—a telegram boy’s suit—and an old skirt and shawl and blouse that he had used when he had last pretended to be a gypsy woman!

He thought about Eunice as he examined everything. He began to have an uneasy feeling that she would not sit down quietly and wait for hours for him to return from posting the letters. She would smell a rat! She might even go and look for him!

‘And if she asks Mother or Jane where I could be, they’ll very likely say I’m down here!’ thought Fatty in sudden horror. ‘Gosh—I never thought of that! I’d better dress myself up in something—some disguise, in case Eunice comes snooping along to my shed. I will not have her in here, pulling open the drawers, and messing about with all my things.’

He decided that it would be easiest to make up as an old man. He had a wig and beard, and it was easy to paint wrinkles. He could slip on the dirty old flannel trousers hanging on the nail, and put on a ragged old mackintosh.

It didn’t take Fatty very long, and he really enjoyed himself. He peered at his face in the mirror when it was complete with beard, moustache and wig. He drew very thick eyebrows, and grinned at himself.

‘You do look like a rogue!’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t like to meet you in the dark!’

He put on the old trousers and the mackintosh, and actually put an old pipe into his mouth to complete the disguise. Fatty never left out any details if he could help it!

Then, chewing on the pipe, he sat down in the old chair there to read a book. He sighed with relief. Now he would have at least two hours’ peace—and more if he could stop himself from going in to tea.

He grinned when he thought of Eunice sitting waiting for him, thinking up all kinds of plans, wondering why he didn’t come back. Well—maybe she would be sensible and lie back in his mother’s comfortable arm-chair and go to sleep—if she ever did go to sleep. Fatty felt it was very doubtful that she ever really slept soundly—she probably slept like Buster, with one ear open.

He suddenly remembered that Buster was still shut up in his bedroom. Blow! Why hadn’t he gone and fetched him before he went to the post? Now Buster might begin to whine and bark, and wake everyone up!

That was exactly what Buster did do. He waited patiently in his basket up in Fatty’s bedroom for some time. He heard Fatty going out to the post, and he waited with ears pricked to hear him come back.

But Fatty didn’t come back. He had gone to his shed. Busted grew anxious and impatient. He whined very softly. Then he barked—not a very loud bark, for Buster was sensible enough to know what Sunday naps were, and the house was full of Sunday—he knew that!

He ran to the door and scraped at it, whining again. Then he gave a sharp bark.

Someone came up the stairs at once. It was Eunice, of course. She, too, had waited and waited for Fatty to come back, and was beginning to feel annoyed. She liked Fatty very much, and felt that she had made a great impression on him. He was not rude and snappy to her as so many other boys had been.

Eunice had heard the whining and barking, and had been afraid that the sleepers upstairs would awake. ‘That’s Buster!’ she thought. ‘I’d better go and quieten him. I do wonder where Fatty is—it’s too bad of him to be so long.’

She stood outside Fatty’s door and knocked gently. Buster answered by an eager little whine. He didn’t like this girl Eunice very much—but he was quite willing for her to let him out of the bedroom. Then he would go and find Fatty!

Eunice opened the door and grabbed Buster as he squeezed out. ‘Sh!’ she said. ‘Don’t bark. Bad dog! You mustn’t make a noise.’

Buster was so surprised to hear himself being called a bad dog that he stopped and looked at Eunice to see if she really meant it. She took hold of his collar, looked into the room, saw his lead and slipped it on.

Buster was very cross. How dare this girl put him on the lead when he wanted to go and find Fatty!

‘Come on,’ whispered Eunice. ‘I’ll take you for a run round the garden till Frederick comes back! Hush now!’

With a protesting whine Buster allowed himself to be taken downstairs and out of the garden door. All right—he would soon find Fatty! He was sure he could smell him somewhere!

To his annoyance he could not get away from Eunice. She had strong hands and no amount of pulling on Buster’s part made any difference. She would not set him free!

Buster felt suddenly sure that Fatty was down in his shed. He dragged at the lead and pulled Eunice down the garden. There was the shed—and Buster flung himself on the door, barking. Wuff, wuff, wuff, wuff! Let me in! Wuff, wuff!

Fatty was pleased, and was just about to get up and let Buster in, when he heard Eunice’s voice!

‘Bad dog! Be quiet! You’ll wake everyone up! The door’s locked, so Frederick is not in there. Come away, I tell you!’

Fatty crouched down in a corner in horror. So that awful girl had tracked him down here—with Buster too! If he knew anything about Buster he would bark the place down now that he knew Fatty was in the shed—as he most certainly did!

Buster proceeded to bark his head off! He yelped and barked and scratched at the door, and even growled at Eunice when she tried to drag him away.

‘There’s nobody in there,’ she kept saying. And then her voice suddenly changed. ‘Or is there? Perhaps someone is hiding in Frederick’s shed—someone who has no business to be there!’

Fatty crouched even further back as he saw Eunice’s face peering through the window. ‘Buster! I can see someone’s foot!’ he heard her say, in an excited voice. ‘I believe there is someone there!’

She went to the door and peered through the keyhole—and immediately opposite her she saw what she took to be a dirty old tramp, smoking a pipe. She gave a loud scream!

‘What are you doing in there? Come out at once, or I’ll set this dog on you!’ she yelled.

Fatty was simply horrified. He couldn’t imagine what to do! And then Eunice spotted someone walking along the lane nearby, and shouted loudly once more.

‘Help! Help! There’s someone hiding in this shed. Help!’

Then, to Fatty’s utter horror he heard Mr. Goon’s voice. Mr. Goon! What bad luck that his beat should have led him there just at that time.

The policeman lost no time in coming in through the gate. ‘What is it, Miss? Who’s in there?’ he asked. ‘Keep that dog off me, please!’

‘Look inside that shed,’ said Eunice. ‘There’s a horrible old tramp there—smoking! He may set the place on fire!’

Goon peered through the keyhole and made out the dirty figure crouching in a corner. Then Buster suddenly went quite mad and attacked the policeman’s ankles viciously.

‘Keep that dog off me, will you!’ shouted Goon, commandingly. ‘And you in there—you come out! This is private property, this is!’

There was nothing for it but to come out. Fatty had no wish for Goon to break down the door, as he quite meant to do. All right—he would unlock the door and make a dash for it—and trust to Buster to keep Goon away!