Читать книгу The Mystery of the Burnt Cottage - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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The five children and Buster made their way down the drive and into the lane. They passed Mr. Hick’s house, and went on down the winding lane until they came to where the cottage had been burnt down. There was a tiny wooden gate that opened on to an over-grown path leading to the cottage. The children planned to go down that, because then, they hoped, nobody would see them.

There was a horrid smell of smoke and burning still on the air. It was a still April day, very sunny and warm. Celandines lay in golden sheets everywhere.

The children opened the wooden gate and went up the overgrown path. There stood what was left of the workroom, a ruined, blackened heap. It had been a very small cottage, once two-roomed, but the dividing wall had been taken down by Mr. Hick, and then there had been one big room suitable for him to work in.

“Now,” said Larry, half-whispering. “We’ve got to look about and see if we can find anything to help us.”

It was plainly no use to look about where all the watchers had been the night before. The garden was completely trampled down just there, and the criss-cross of footprints was everywhere. The children separated, and very solemnly began to hunt about alongside the overgrown path to the cottage, and in the tall hedges that overhung the ditches at the bottom of the garden.

Buster looked too, but as he had a firm idea that every one was hunting for rabbits, he put his nose down each rabbit hole, and scraped violently and hopefully. It always seemed to him a great pity that rabbits didn’t make their holes big enough for dogs. How easy, then, to chase a scampering bunny!

“Look at Buster hunting for clues,” said Pip, with a giggle.

The children looked for footprints. There were none on the path, which was made of cinders, and showed no footmarks at all, of course. They looked about in the celandines that grew in their hundreds beside the path. But there was nothing to be seen there either.

Pip wandered off to a ditch over which hung a drooping hedge of bramble and wild rose. And there he found something! He gave a low and excited call to the others.

“Here! I say, come here! I’ve found something!”

At once every one crowded over to him

At once everyone crowded over to him, Buster too, his nose quivering. “What is it?” said Larry.

Pip pointed into the muddy ditch beside him. Nettles grew there, and they were trampled down. It was plain that someone had stood there in the ditch—and the only reason for standing in nettles in a muddy ditch was to hide!

“But that’s not all!” said Pip, excited. “Look—here’s where the person came in and went out!”

He pointed to the hedge behind, and the children saw a gap there, with broken and bent sprays and twigs, showing where some one had forced his way in and out.

“Oooh,” said Daisy, her eyes very wide. “Is this a clue, Larry?”

“A very big one,” said Larry, pleased. “Pip, have you seen any footprints?”

Pip shook his head. “The man who hid here seemed to tread on the nettles all the time,” he said. “Look, you can see where he went—keeping in the ditch. See where the nettles are broken down.”

The children cautiously followed the broken-down patches of nettles. The ditch curved round to the back of the cottage—but there, unfortunately, so many people had trampled the night before, that it was impossible to pick out any footsteps and say, “Those are the man’s!”

“Well, look here, although we can’t find any footsteps in the garden that belong to the hiding man, we might be able to find some on the other side of the hedge,” said Fatty. “What about us all squeezing through that gap where the man got in and out, and seeing if we can spy anything the other side.”

They all scrambled through the hole in the hedge. Fatty was the last. His eye caught sight of something as he squeezed through. It was a bit of grey flannel, caught on a thorn.

He gave a low whistle and clutched at Larry, who was just in front of him. He pointed to the scrap of flannel.

“The man tore his coat as he got through this gap,” he said. “See that? My word, we are getting on! We know that the man wore a grey flannel suit now!”

Larry carefully took off the scrap of grey rag from the thorn. He put it into a match-box, wishing that he, and not Fatty, had noticed it.

“Good for you!” he said. “Yes—that may be a very valuable clue.”

“Has Fatty found a glue?” asked Bets, in excitement. Every one crowded round to hear what Fatty had discovered. Larry opened the match-box and showed the bit of grey flannel.

“Now we’ve only got to find some one who wears a suit of grey flannel, a bit torn somewhere, and we’ve got the man!” said Daisy, pleased.

“I think we’re much cleverer than Clear-Orf,” said Pip.

“I’ve got awfully sharp eyes, you know,” said Fatty, feeling tremendously pleased with himself. “Fancy, no one but me saw that! I really have got brains.”

“Shut up!” said Larry. “It was just chance, that’s all, that you saw it.” He put the scrap back into his match-box.

Every one felt a bit excited. “I like being a Find-Outer,” said Bets happily.

“Well, I don’t know why,” said Pip. “You haven’t found out anything yet. I found the place where the man hid, and Fatty found a bit of his coat! You haven’t found a thing!”

It was Larry who found the footprint. He found it quite by accident. The gap in the hedge led to a grassy field, where it was impossible to see any prints at all. But the farmer had been along and taken a few squares of turf from a certain part, and at one side near the edge, was a distinct footprint!

“It’s the farmer’s, I expect,” said Pip, when Larry showed it to him.

“No—there’s the farmer’s print,” said Larry, pointing to a big hob-nailed print, which appeared up and down the bare patch. “This is a smaller print altogether. I shouldn’t think it’s more than size eight, and the farmer’s footprint looks like size twelve! It’s enormous. I think this must be the print of the man we are looking for. Let’s see if we can find another.”

The children hunted about. Nothing could be seen on the grass, of course, so they went to the edges of the field. And there Daisy found three or four more footprints, some on each side of the stile that led out of the field into a lane beyond.

“Are these the same prints?” she called. The others came running. They looked hard. Larry nodded his head. “I believe they are,” he said. “Look—these shoes have rubber soles with criss-cross marking on them. Pip, run back to that other print, and see if the marking is the same, will you?”

Pip tore over to the patch from which the farmer had removed the turf. Yes—the criss-cross marking showed up quite clearly in the print. It was the same shoe, no doubt about that!

“Yes!” he yelled. “It’s the same!” The others were thrilled. They really were getting on!

“Well,” said Larry, looking down the lane. “I’m afraid it’s not much good going any farther, because the surface of the lane is hard, and won’t show anything. But we’ve found out what we wanted to know. We’ve found out that a man hid in the hedge for some reason, and we know that he wore shoes of a certain shape and size, with rubber soles that had criss-cross markings! Not bad for a day’s work!”

“I’ll make a drawing of the prints,” said Fatty. “I’ll measure the exact size, and make an exact copy of the marks. Then we’ve only got to find the shoes, and we’ve got the man!”

“We know what sort of shoes he wore and what kind of suit,” said Larry, thinking of the scrap of grey cloth in his match-box. “I bet old Clear-Orf won’t have noticed anything at all.”

“I’d better go back to the hotel and get some paper to copy the footprints,” said Fatty importantly. “It’s a good thing I can draw so well. I won first prize last term for Art.”

“What art?” said Larry. “The art of boasting? Or the art of eating too much?”

“Aren’t you clever?” said Fatty crossly, who did not at all like this sort of teasing.

“Yes, he is clever!” said Daisy, “but he doesn’t boast about his brains as you do, Frederick Algernon Trotteville!”

“Let’s go back to the burnt cottage and see if there’s any other clue to be found there,” said Pip, seeing that a quarrel was about to flare up.

“Yes,” said Bets. “I’m the only one that hasn’t found a glue, and I do want to.”

She looked so sad about this that Fatty hastened to comfort her.

“Well Buster hasn’t found anything either,” he said. “He’s looked hard, but he hasn’t discovered a single thing. Don’t worry, Bets. I expect you will soon find something marvellous.”

They all went back to the gap in the hedge and squeezed through. Fatty went off to the little hotel opposite the garden to get a piece of paper and a pencil. The others stood and stared at the ruined cottage.

“What are you doing here?” suddenly said a rough voice. “Clear orf!”

“Golly! It’s old Clear-Orf!” whispered Larry. “Look for my shilling, all of you!”

The four children began to hunt around, pretending to be looking for something.

“Did you hear what I said?” growled the policeman. “What are you looking for?”

“My shilling,” said Larry.

“Oh! I suppose you dropped it when you came round interfering last night,” said Mr. Goon. “I don’t know what children are coming to nowadays—always turning up and messing about and hindering others and being a general nuisance! You clear orf!”

“Ah! My shilling!” said Larry, suddenly pouncing on his shilling, which, when he had arrived, he had carefully dropped beside a patch of celandines. “All right, Mr. Goon. We’ll go. I’ve got my shilling now.”

“Well, clear orf, then,” growled the policeman. “I’ve got work to do here—serious work, and I don’t want children messing about, either.”

“Are you looking for glues?” asked Bets, and immediately got such a nudge from Pip that she almost fell over.

Luckily Clear-Orf took no notice of this remark. He hustled the children out of the gate and up the lane. “And don’t you come messing about here again,” he said.

“Messing about!” said Larry indignantly, as they all went off up the lane. “That’s all he thinks children do—mess about. If he knew what we’d discovered this morning, he’d go green in the face!”

“Would he really?” said Bets, interested. “I’d like to see him.”

“You nearly made me go green in the face when you asked old Clear-Orf if he was looking for clues!” said Pip crossly. “I thought the very next minute you’d say we had been looking for some and found them, too! That’s the worst of having a baby like you in the Find-Outers!”

“I would not have said we’d found anything,” said Bets, almost in tears. “Oh, look—there’s Fatty. We’d better warn him that Clear-Orf is down there.”

They stopped Fatty and warned him. He decided to go down and do his measuring and copying later on. He didn’t at all like Clear-Orf. Neither did Buster.

“It’s tea-time, anyway,” said Larry, looking at his watch. “Meet tomorrow morning at ten o’clock in Pip’s summer-house. We’ve done awfully well today. I’ll write up notes about all our clues. This is really getting very exciting!”