Читать книгу The Mystery of Tally-ho Cottage - Enid blyton - Страница 9

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The chief topic of conversation that day was the five children’s interview with Goon. Larry, Pip, Daisy and Bets could hardly wait till they got to Fatty’s shed to ask him what he meant about the Lorenzos.

‘Who are they? How did you know about them?’ demanded Larry.

‘I didn’t. But my mother happened to mention this morning that the people who owned Poppet were called the Lorenzos,’ said Fatty. ‘So when I heard the name spoken by that other policeman—or perhaps he was a sergeant by his manner to Goon—well, it just rang a bell, and I knew they were all talking about the people who made a complaint about Buster!’

‘But what have they done—the Lorenzos, I mean?’ asked Bets.

‘I don’t know any more than you do,’ said Fatty. ‘Except that they seem to have gone away just when the police wanted them for something. And there’s something about a picture too. My mother told me that they didn’t pay their bills, so perhaps the trouble is about that!’

‘Is it going to be a mystery?’ asked Pip.

‘I hope so,’ said Fatty cheerfully. ‘And if it is, old Buster here led us to it—didn’t you, Buster? You’ve got a nose for mysteries now, haven’t you?’

‘Wuff,’ said Buster, thumping his tail on the floor of the shed. Fatty gave him a biscuit.

‘Well, there you are—a small reward for leading us to a probable mystery,’ he said. ‘The trouble is, we don’t know enough about it to set about solving it. I mean—we don’t really know what the mystery is!’

‘Ring up Superintendent Jenks and ask him,’ suggested Larry.

Fatty shook his head. ‘No. I don’t somehow think he’d like it—and I’d have to tell him I overheard talk about it in Goon’s house—and Goon would get into trouble for discussing things like that without first finding out if anyone was about. After all, for all he knew, that woman in the kitchen might have overheard every word!’

‘Well—I don’t see how we’re to find out anything,’ said Larry. ‘Goon certainly won’t let us in on it.’

They discussed the matter over and over again. Should they go and interview the old fellow called Bob Larkin and see if they could get anything out of him? No, because he was already annoyed with them, and anyway Goon had got to interview him—and anyway again they didn’t know what to ask the old fellow!

‘We’re being silly,’ said Fatty, at the end of the long discussion. ‘We’re trying to run before we can walk. Let’s forget it now—and sleep on it tonight. Things may be clearer tomorrow morning.’

Fatty spoke the truth! Things were indeed much clearer the next morning! The Five Find-Outers knew as much about the Mystery as Goon did!

It was in all the papers, splashed across the headlines.

‘Priceless old picture stolen from famous gallery. Thieves just escape the net of the police, leaving their dog behind. Police looking everywhere for the Lorenzos.’

Mrs. Trotteville was down to breakfast first, and saw the paper. She gave an exclamation. ‘Why—the thieves are those Lorenzos! The ones that live next door to the Daniels. No wonder all Peterswood disliked them!’

Fatty came in at that moment, and his mother told him the news. ‘The thieves were the people you told me about yesterday, Fatty—the Lorenzos. I told you how badly they behaved, and what wild parties they gave. They upset their neighbours the Daniels very much. See—they’re in the news this morning—the police are after them. My goodness me—our Mr. Goon will be puffed up with importance over this. It’s right under his nose!’

Fatty slid into his seat and took the paper, his eyes gleaming. Aha! If it was all in the papers it didn’t matter about Goon not telling him anything. The Five Find-Outers could make their own plans, and get going themselves. What a thrill!

Fatty read and read! He forgot all about his breakfast, and never even saw his father come into the room.

‘Good morning, Frederick,’ said his father, and neatly took the paper from Fatty’s hands. ‘What about eating your bacon and egg? By the look of it, it’s almost congealed on the plate!’

‘So it is!’ said Fatty, surprised. ‘Well, it isn’t often I don’t get on with a meal. My word, Mother, this is a bit of excitement for dull old Peterswood, isn’t it?’

‘I hope it doesn’t mean you’re going to get mixed up with that aggravating policeman again,’ said his father, pouring milk over his porridge. ‘Actually, I should imagine that your friend, Superintendent Jenks, will send a good man down here to deal with anything that arises. I can’t imagine that Moon—Coon—what’s his name now—Goon—could tackle a big thing like this. That picture was priceless—worth at least fifty thousand pounds!’

‘I shan’t get mixed up with Goon,’ said Fatty. ‘It’s much more likely he’ll get mixed up with me! Anyway, I think I’ll ring up Superintendent Jenks and ask if I can do anything to help.’

‘Well, he seems to think a lot of you, goodness knows why,’ said Mr. Trotteville, ‘and it does seem as if you have a few brains sometimes, Frederick. Now, for pity’s sake eat up that horrible-looking mess on your plate.’

Fatty swallowed his breakfast, thinking hard. The telephone went just as he had finished it, and he rushed to answer it, quite sure it must be the Superintendent ringing up to ask his help!

But it wasn’t. It was Larry, very excited.

‘I say! Did you see the news in the paper? It is a mystery after all! Right under our noses. When are we going to get on to it?’

‘I’m going to ring the Super,’ said Fatty. ‘We’ll get on to it all right. I’ll telephone you later. Ring Pip and Bets for me, will you?’

‘Right, Chief!’ said Larry, with a chuckle, and hung up. Peterswood was in the news! And he and the rest of the Find-Outers would soon be Right in the Middle of Something!

Fatty sat down and thought for a while. What should he tell the Superintendent? That he had seen the two Lorenzos on the station yesterday—but then, many people had. Should he ask if he could go and see the Larkins? He might be able to get something out of them that Goon couldn’t. Anyway he was certain that he could do something.

He went to the telephone and asked for the number. It was engaged. He tried again in ten minutes. It was still engaged. The police wires were humming today in that district!

At last he got the number and asked for the Superintendent. ‘It’s Frederick Trotteville here,’ said Fatty. ‘He knows me.’

His name was passed through to the Chief’s office—and Fatty heard the Superintendent’s voice, sharp and impatient.

‘Yes, Frederick? What is it?’

‘Sir, it’s about the Lorenzos,’ said Fatty. ‘As it’s right where I live, can I do anything?’

‘I fear not,’ said the Chief. ‘The Lorenzos are not there—and I doubt if the missing picture is, either. If they could be found, they would be found together!’

‘Oh,’ said Fatty, in disappointment. ‘Then—isn’t there anything I can do, sir?’

‘Nothing—except keep your eyes and ears open as usual,’ said the Chief. ‘I’m sending a man down to go over the house with a tooth-comb, just in case the picture’s there—but I’ve no real hope of it.’

‘Will Mr. Goon be working on the case, sir?’ asked Fatty, rather forlornly.

‘Yes—but there isn’t much case at Peterswood to work on,’ said the Superintendent. ‘I wish Goon had kept his eye on the Lorenzos more—they’ve a shocking reputation, as everyone now knows!’

‘I suppose I couldn’t go and talk to the Larkins, sir, could I?’ asked Fatty, feeling that this mystery was slipping out of his hands altogether!

‘No. Certainly not,’ said the Chief at once. ‘My man is doing that, with Goon. No sense in your butting in there—you’ll do more harm than good. I don’t mean that you mustn’t pass the time of day with them if you meet them—but you must remember that this case has really left Peterswood now—and gone goodness knows where! I don’t for one moment think that the Larkins can possibly know anything that will be of the slightest help to us.’

‘I expect you’re right, sir,’ said Fatty, feeling very down in the dumps indeed. ‘Well, I won’t keep you, sir. Good luck!’

He put down the receiver and looked gloomily at Buster, who was sitting nearby, with cocked ears.

‘No go, Buster,’ he said dolefully. ‘It’s all come to nothing. The mystery has fled from Peterswood and disappeared. Now I must telephone to the others.’

The other four were most disappointed. ‘Oh, Fatty!’ said Daisy, ‘there must be something we can do! There really must. Come along up here to us, and we’ll get Pip and Bets too, and talk about it. You do sound miserable!’

So they all met at Larry’s at half-past eleven and sat down to a mid-morning snack of hot buns from the oven and cups of cocoa. They felt more cheerful after a couple of buns each.

‘The Chief really did seem to think we can’t do a thing this time,’ said Fatty. ‘Apparently the two main things are—one, to find the Lorenzos, who are probably out of the country by now—and two, to find the picture. And the Chief thinks that where one is, the other will be there also.

‘Well, we can’t possibly go gallivanting all over the country looking for them ourselves,’ said Daisy. ‘So we must just be content to do nothing.’

‘I think we might keep a watch on the house, perhaps?’ said Larry. ‘Just in case the Lorenzos come back to it.’

‘They won’t,’ said Fatty.

‘But what about their little dog?’ said Bets. ‘Mrs. Lorenzo really did seem attached to it—she might send for that, mightn’t she? If it suddenly disappears we’d know that the Lorenzos had sent a messenger of some sort for it.’

‘That certainly is a point,’ said Fatty. ‘Yes—perhaps on the whole, we won’t give this up straightaway. But the thing is—how on earth are we to keep a watch on the Larkins to see if any messenger is ever sent? I mean—the house is some way from where we live, and we can’t spend all our days—or nights—there!’

‘Hopeless,’ said Pip, who didn’t particularly want to spend any part of a cold day or night watching people like the Larkins. ‘We can’t do it. If we knew somebody who lived next door, it would be easy—but we don’t, so ...’

‘Hallo!’ said a voice, suddenly interrupting, and a tousled head peeped round the door. ‘I’ve been to your house, Fatty, and your mother sent me here. I’ve brought the Christmas present I made you!’

‘Ern!’ cried everyone. And sure enough it was Ern, plump as ever and red in the face. Good old Ern!