Mystery of Holly Lane (16 page)

“Good work, wasn’t it?” he said, with much satisfaction.

“My word, yes!” said Larry. “Gosh, I was so scared when I heard Marian screaming in the van that I let go of you, Fatty; you came down an awful bump.”

“That’s all right,” said Fatty, in great good humour. “My word, what an evening! Who would have thought that Wilfrid would shut Marian up like that! He must be in great need of money to do such a thing. I have an idea that that smartly dressed young man is going to get into considerable trouble.”

“Serve him right,” said Pip. “He deserves it. I think Marian is a jolly nice girl. I thought she couldn’t have stolen that money!”

They were now cycling quickly home. Pip began to feel uncomfortable. “I say!” he said. “I’m going to get into trouble too — being out late like this.”

“I would, as well, if my people didn’t happen to be out,” said Larry. “You’re lucky, Fatty, your people never seem to mind.”

“I’m older than you are,” said Fatty, “and wiser! If you get into trouble tonight, Pip, just say that something unexpected happened that you can’t tell about, but that everything will be explained tomorrow morning.”

“Right,” said Pip. “What are you going to do now, Fatty? I bet I know! You’re going to ring up Superintendent Jenks!”

“Quite right. Go to the top of the class!” said Fatty. “Well, we part here. See you tomorrow morning, half-past ten, at Hollies. Bring the girls too.”

Fatty put away his bicycle when he got home and let himself in at the side-door. His parents were playing bridge in the lounge. Good, he wouldn’t disturb them. He would telephone Superintendent Jenks from his mother’s bedroom — where there was an extension — not from the hall. He could say what he liked there.

He tiptoed to his mother’s room and shut the door. He went to the telephone and gave Police Headquarters number. A voice answered almost immediately.

“Police station here.”

“Is Superintendent Jenks in?” asked Fatty. “If not, I’ll ring his private number. It’s important.”

“He’s not here. I’ll give you his private number,” said the voice. “Banks, 00165.”

“Thank you,” said Fatty and rang off. He telephoned again and got the private number. He heard the Superintendent’s voice almost at once.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Frederick Trotteville here,” said Fatty. “First of all, my hearty congratulations, sir, on your promotion!”

“Thanks, Frederick,” said the Superintendent, “but I don’t imagine that you’re ringing me up at almost midnight just to tell me that.”

“No, sir,” said Fatty. “The fact is, we’ve done a bit of work on that Hollies affair.”

“Hollies affair? Oh, yes, the old man whose money was stolen, whose furniture disappeared, and then the granddaughter vanished — am I right?” said the Super.

“Quite right, sir.” said Fatty. “Er…”

“Wait now,” came the Super’s voice, “let me hazard a guess, Frederick. You’ve found the money, you’ve located the furniture, and you’ve got the girl! Am I right?”

“Well, yes, sir,” said Fatty, with a laugh. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I had a report in two days ago from Goon, in the course of which he complained that Master Frederick Trotteville was greatly hampering the course of justice,” chuckled the Superintendent. “I imagined that meant you were getting on with the case a lot better than he was. Actually he said that it was pretty certain the girl had gone off with the money, and should be arrested as soon as found.”

“Did he? Well, he’s not quite right,” said Fatty. “Would you care to come along to Hollies, the bungalow where all this happened, at half-past ten tomorrow morning, sir, and I’ll have the whole affair neatly tied up for you.”

“Right, I’ll be there,” said the Super. “I was coming over anyhow to see what was happening. I didn’t like the disappearance of the girl — from all accounts she’s a good girl. I hope you will produce her, Frederick.”

“I hope to, sir,” said Fatty, trying to sound modest. “And — er — will Mr. Goon be there?”

“Of course! I’ll have a message sent to him,” said the Super. “Well, well, I don’t know why we don’t leave all our local affairs to you, Frederick. How’s little Bets? Is she in on this too?”

“Oh, yes. We all are,” said Fatty. “Right, sir. We’ll all be up at the Hollies at half-past ten. Good night!”

Fatty put down the telephone, and rubbed his hands gleefully. Good, good, good! He was about to do a delighted jig round the room when he stopped. No — his mother’s bedroom was just over the lounge — ft would cause quite a lot of trouble for Fatty if some one came up to hunt for the elephant stamping round the room above!

“I’ll go and find old Buster,” he thought. “I can hear him scraping at my bedroom door now. I’m coming, Buster. Good news, old thing! Get ready to bark your head off, Buster. Hurrah!”

Quite a Pantomime.

Quite a lot of people walked up Holly Lane the next morning. Fatty, Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets went first, talking excitedly. Bets and Daisy had been tremendously thrilled the night before when Pip and Larry had crept in to tell them the news of the Marlow adventure.

Fatty went up the front path, took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Mr. Henri, at the window next door, saw them, and left his couch. In a minute or two be was walking up the path.

“Good morning!” he said. “You did not leave me the key. Frederick, and that young man — what is his name? — ah, yes, Wilfrid — he was annoyed to find I did not have it. He said he had forgotten his own key, and wished to enter Hollies to see that all was right.”

“Oh. he did, did he?” said Fatty. “Thought he’d have one more hunt round, I suppose. Good thing he didn’t.”

“He is coming back again soon,” said Mr. Henri.

“Good! Couldn’t be better,” said Fatty. “The more the merrier. Would you like to stay, Mr. Henri? There is going to be a bit of a do here soon — you might enjoy it After all, you’ve been in this affair almost from the beginning.”

“I stay with pleasure,” said Mr. Henri, beaming. “Ah, who comes now?”

“It’s Marian!” said Fatty. He darted to the door to meet her. She looked much better now. She smiled round at the others. Then she saw the empty room.

“Oh, how queer it looks without the furniture!” she said. Her eyes went to the curtains. She put out a hand and felt one of the hems. Fatty smiled at her.

“Jolly good hems, aren’t they?” he said. “Marian, I wonder if you’d be sweet enough to go and sit in the back bedroom till we call you. I want to produce you as a sort of — well, sort of surprise.”

“Yes. I’ll go,” said Marian. “But let me leave the door open. I want to hear everything.”

“You’re setting the scene as if a play was going to be acted!” said Bets, giggling.

“Well, a play is about to be acted,” said Fatty. “Now, who’s this?”

It was Mr. Goon. He looked a bit puzzled as he rode up to the gate. He got off his bicycle, wheeled it up to the front door and put it against the wall.

Fatty opened the door for him. “Welcome!” he said. Mr. Goon scowled.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “You’d better clear orf. The Superintendent’s coming. He wants particularly to talk to me about this here case. I’ve got all my notes with me, so just you clear orf. And keep that dog away from my ankles, or I’ll report him to the Super.”

“Sit, Buster,” said Fatty. “My word, Mr. Goon, what a sheaf of notes you’ve got! Wonderful work! Have you solved the mystery?”

“No mystery about it,” said Goon, scornfully. “That girl went off with the money — and the furniture. I’ll soon have my hands on her. I’ve had information where she is.”

“Really?” said Fatty. “Anywhere in this district?”

Goon snorted. “No! Miles away! Anyway, I’m not saying any more. You’re not going to pick my brains. Me and the Superintendent are going to have a good talk, and you’d better clear out before he comes. Get along, now!”

“Here he is,” said Fatty, as a sleek, black police-car drew up at the gate, and the Superintendent got out with a plain-clothes man behind him. Bets tore out to meet him. He swung her up into the air.

“If it isn’t young Bets! Well, well, how nice to see you again! Well, Daisy, how are you? Larry, Pip, Frederick, you all look very merry and bright.”

“I told them you were coming, sir, but they wouldn’t buzz off,” said Goon, hoping that the Superintendent would take the hint and send the five away. But he didn’t. He asked who Mr. Henri was, and Fatty explained.

Goon rustled his sheaf of notes and coughed. The Superintendent turned and looked at him sharply.

“Got something to say, Goon?” he inquired.

“Well, sir, yes, of course, sir,” said Goon, looking hurt “I supposed you wanted to see me about this Hollies case, sir. If you could just send these kids away…”

“Oh, no. They may have something to say that would help us, Goon,” said his chief. “They may even know a few things that we don’t know!”

Goon looked most disbelieving. “There’s really not much to this case, sir,” he said. “Just a bad girl who robs her old grandfather of his money, gets away with his furniture, too, and does a disappearing act.”

“But I thought she was a girl of very good character, Goon,” said the Super. “Girls like that don’t suddenly do wicked things. How do we know she stole the money, anyway?”

“She didn’t,” said Fatty, to Goon’s surprise. “Nobody stole it.”

“You’re potty,” said Goon, quite forgetting himself. “Where’s this money then, if nobody stole it?”

“The girl hid it,” said Fatty. “She was afraid her cousin Wilfrid would get it if she didn’t put it somewhere safe.”

“Pah!” said Goon. “What a tale! I’ll believe that if you show me where she hid the money!”

“Right,” said Fatty, and stepped to the curtains. He put his finger and thumb into the hem whose stitches he had snipped the day before, and pulled out a pound note. He displayed it to Goon, Mr. Henri and Superintendent Jenks. They all stared in surprise, and Goon gaped, his mouth open in amazement.

“See — a pound note!” said Fatty, and took another from the hem, rather as if he were doing a conjuring trick. “The hems of the curtains are full of these notes — a first-class hiding-place. You remember that Marian, the girl, was washing and ironing curtains, don’t you, on the morning of the supposed robbery, Mr. Goon? Well, Wilfrid came and threatened to look for the money when she had gone, if she didn’t give it to him then and there…”

“And she was scared he’d find it, so she took it from its hiding-place — wherever that was — and undid the curtain-hems to make a new hiding-place!” said the Superintendent. “Sewed them all up again too. A most ingenious girl, this Marian.”

Mr. Goon swallowed two or three times. He could find nothing at all to say. Mr. Henri laughed in delight.

“Very neat,” he said. “And now will you tell us where the lost furniture is, yes?”

“Pah!” said Goon, unable to stop himself.

“What did you say, Goon?” asked his chief. “Can you tell us where the furniture is?”

“No. And nobody can!” said Goon. “Nobody saw it go, nobody knows who took it, nobody knows where it is. I’ve had it searched for everywhere!”

“Frederick, can you throw any light on this subject?” asked the Superintendent

“Yes,” said Fatty. “Wilfrid and another man came at midnight and carried it out piece by piece.”

“Gah!” said Goon. “Anybody would think you were there!”

“Well, as it happened, I was,” said Fatty. “It was taken away in a horse-box — got the number, Larry? Yes, OKX 143 — and it is now in that same horse-box, rather the worse for wear, in a copse near the stables belonging to King’s, in Marlow. I can take you there any time you like. Mr. Goon.”

“You’ve got the money, you’ve got the furniture, but you haven’t got the girl!” said Goon. “And I’ve had information where she is!”

“That’s clever of you, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty. “You tell me where you think she is — and I’ll tell you where I think she is!”

“I have information here that she’s gone across to Ireland,” said Mr. Goon.

“And I have information that she’s in the next room,” said Fatty, with a grin. “Marian! Are you there?”

And to Mr. Goon’s undying amazement Marian walked shyly into the room! Mr. Henri gave an exclamation. He had wondered who Marian was. The Superintendent glanced at his amazed plain-clothes officer and winked.

“Quite a pantomime!” he said, and the plain-clothes man grinned and nodded. He moved forward and asked Marian a few questions. Where had she been since she disappeared? Why had she gone away? He wrote down her answers rapidly, while Goon listened in the utmost astonishment.

“I understand, then, that these three boys found you locked up in the horse-box last night?” he said. “And that your cousin Wilfrid was responsible for detaining you there?”

“Here, wait a minute!” said Goon, unable to believe his ears. “You say these kids found her in that horse-box. How did they know about it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“Frederick telephoned me last night,” said his chief. “Quite rightly, too. It is possible that you might not have believed him, Goon.”

Goon collapsed. His face went slowly purple and he turned and looked out of the window. That boy! That Toad of a boy!

“And now all we want to complete the merry little company is our friend Wilfrid,” said the Superintendent. “I imagine that even you can’t supply him, Frederick?”

Fatty was about to say sorrowfully that no, he was afraid he couldn’t, when he heard the front-gate click. He looked out of the window and saw — Wilfrid!

Yes, Wilfrid had chosen that moment to come back and hunt round once again for the money. He saw that the door was now open and hurried to go inside. He stepped over the threshold — and stopped abruptly. The plain-clothes man moved casually beside him.

“Oh!” said Wilfrid, “What’s all this? Something happened?” Then he saw his cousin, and went very white.

“Marian! What are you doing here?”

“You thought I was still in the horse-box, didn’t you?” said Marian. “Well, I’m not. I’m here. I’ve come to get the money of Grandad’s I hid away — see, in the hem of the curtains! You won’t get it, Wilfrid! You won’t have it to pay your bills!”

Wilfrid stared at the notes that Marian was pulling out of the curtain-hem. He ran his hand over his forehead. Then he made a sudden backward dart for the door.