Mystery of the Strange Messages (12 page)

"Well, shoved, if you want a better word," grinned Goon.
"And there was Smith, in bed—
pretending
to be ill, of course. Well,
I made him get out—couldn't let him get away with a lot of humbug like that—and
I said to him, 'Now then! What are you masquerading round under a false name
for? You tell me
that I
' "

There was a pause, presumably for Ern and Fatty to exclaim in
admiration of Goon's behaviour with the Smiths. As neither of them said a word,
he went on, not at all taken aback.

"Well, the old woman got hold of my arm, and began to sob—all
put on, of course. She said their name wasn't Smith, it was Canley—and that
rang a bell with me, that did!
Canley!
He was a bad lot, he was—he sold
the secrets of a new war-plane of ours to the enemy, and he went to jail for
years. Ha—and when he came out, he had to report to the police every so often,
but he didn't—he just took a false name and disappeared! Helped by that wife of
his, of course. She waited for him all the time he was in jail."

"So that was what the word
'secrets"
meant, in that note," said Fatty, quite disgusted with Goon's
hardhearted narrative. "Smith—or Canley—would react to that word at once,
be afraid—and pack up and go."

"That's right," said Goon. "And that's just what I
told him to do—pack up and go! Can't have a man like that in a responsible
position as caretaker."

"But he was ill." said Fatty, "and his wife is old.
Poor things."

"I’ll! No, he was putting that on," snorted Goon.
"He might deceive you, but he couldn't deceive
me.
I told him he's
got to report to me here tomorrow morning.

then we'll go into all this Then I left. Now we know what all
those notes meant'"

"We don't," said Fatty, shaking his head "All we
know is that someone had a spite against old Smith and wanted him out of Fairlin
Hall. We don't know what the real reason was There must be
some
reason!"

"You'll wear your brains out, you will," said Goon
"There's no mystery left, so don't pretend there is Think yourself lucky
that I've told you the end of it—fiddling about with Ivies and Smiths and
Secrets. It's all plain as the nose on your face I've settled it'"

He turned to Ern. "You can go home, Ern. There's no more
watching to do. I don't know who sent those notes and I don't care. He put me
on to a man the police want to keep their eyes on—and the Super will be pleased
about
that!
I'll get another Letter of Commendation, you see if I don't!"

"Well, you wouldn't get one from me," said Fatty,
standing up "You'd no right to treat a poor old woman and an ill man so
roughly And let me tell you this—you think you've washed out this mystery—but
you haven't' You'll never wear
your
brains out, Mr. Goon—you don't use
them enough!"

Fatty is a great help.

Fatty stalked out of Goon's office, paying no attention to his
snorts of anger. "Go and get your things, Ern," he said. "You
needn't go home just yet. You can come with me Whatever Goon says, this mystery
isn't settled. There's a lot more to it than hounding old Smith out of Fairlin
Hall!"

"Coo, Fatty! Can I really come with you?" said Ern,
overjoyed. He shot upstairs, and was soon down again

with his small bag He didn't even say good-bye to his uncle.

"We'll call a meeting at once," said Fatty "I'll telephone
to ... no ... I don't think I will I here's something else more urgent. Ern,
the Smiths may still be at Fairlin Hall, packing up to go—arranging for their
bits and pieces of furniture to be moved Let's go down there and see."

"Right. Anything you say," said Ern, giving Fatty a
worshipping look. Loveaduck! Fatty was worth ten Mr. Goons any day, the way he
always knew what to do!

In a few minutes they had cycled to Fairlin Hall, and went round
the back to the kitchen quarters. As Fatty had thought, the Smiths were still there.
But they were not packing!

Mr. Smith was lying on the floor, and the old lady was kneeling
beside him, weeping, and wiping his forehead with a damp cloth "John!"
she was saying "John, I'm here I'm going to get the doctor, dearie. Open your
eyes! I'm going to get the doctor."

She didn't even hear the two boys open the door and come in Fatty
had looked through the window, and had seen what was happening. She jumped
violently when he touched her gently on the arm.

"Mrs. Smith," he said "I'll get the doctor for you.
Let Ern and I lift your husband back into bed. He seems very ill."

"Oh, he is, he is," wept the old lady, recognizing Fatty
as the boy who had gone to the chemist for her. "He's just had a terrible
shock too—I can't tell you what it was—and we've been told to go. But where
can
we go, young sir—and him as ill as that?"

"Now listen," said Fatty, gently. "Let us get your
husband back into bed. We'll get the doctor—and probably an ambulance, because
I'm sure your husband ought to be in hospital. That's the first thing to do."

He and Ern managed to get the old man back into bed. He murmured
something and half-opened his eyes, then

began to cough in a terrible manner. His old wife wiped his face
with the damp cloth, and comforted him. Ern's eyes filled with tears, and he
looked desperately at Fatty.

"Don't worry, Ern," said Fatty. "We'll soon put
this right. Stay here and do what you can to help Mrs. Smith. I'm going to
telephone the doctor. Who is your doctor, Mrs. Smith?"

She told him, and Fatty nodded. "He's mine too—so that's
fine. I'll be back soon."

Fatty ran to the nearest kiosk to telephone, and Dr. Rainy
listened in surprise to what he had to say.

"Well, well—the poor old fellow! I saw him yesterday and told
Mrs. Smith I'd send an ambulance to take him to hospital, but she wouldn't hear
of it. I'll get one along at once and arrange for a bed for him in the Cottage
Hospital here. See you later!"

Fatty raced back to Fairlin Hall. The old fellow looked a little
better, now that he was in bed again. "But where shall we go?" he
kept saying to his wife, who was fondling his hands. "Mary, where shall we
go? Oh. what a lot of trouble I've brought on you. I've always been a trouble
to you, always."

"No, no, you haven't," said the old woman. "It's I
that's been the trouble—having that dreadful illness all those years ago, and
being such an expense. You'd never have sold those secrets to pay the doctors,
never have gone to prison if it hadn't been for me!" She turned to Fatty,
and touched his sleeve.

"You're kind," she said. "Don't judge my old man
hardly, whatever he says to you. He's paid for what he did, paid over and over
again. But I was so ill, you see, , and we needed money to get me better—and it
was because he loved me that he did wrong."

"Don't worry about anything," said Fatty, touched by the
old woman's confidence in him. "He'll soon get better in hospital. The
ambulance will be here in a few minutes."

"When he came out of prison we changed our name,

you see," said Mrs. Smith, weeping again. "People point
their fingers so when you've done something wrong. We tried to hide ourselves
away, but always somebody found out who we were. And then kind old Mrs. Hasterley
let us come here to caretake the house."

"Mrs. Hasterley!" said Fatty, surprised. "Is she
still alive? She owned this place when it was The Ivies, didn't she?"

"Yes. She's an old old woman now," said Mrs. Smith.
"Older than I am. You've heard of Wilfrid Hasterley, her son, haven't
you—he planned the biggest diamond robbery ever heard of—and got away with it
too—though nobody ever knew where he hid the diamonds. He went to prison for
it, and died there—and broke his father's heart. His mother never got over it
either, and she sold this house at once. My, my—every newspaper in the kingdom
had a picture of this house in it then—The Ivies, it was called ..."

"It was changed to Fairlin Hall after that, wasn't it,"
said Fatty, listening with great interest.

"Yes. But somehow it never got sold," said Mrs. Smith.
"It had a bad name, you see. Poor Mr. Wilfrid. He had some wicked friends.
He wasn't really the bad one, he was just weak and easy-going. The other two
were the clever ones. One went to prison with Mr. Wilfrid—and the other was
never caught. He fled away abroad somewhere—to Burma, I did hear say. Prison's
a dreadful place, young sir—see what it's done to my poor old husband."

"I think I can hear the ambulance, Ern," said Fatty,
raising his head. "Go and see, will you? Ask them to come as far down the
drive as they can."

The old fellow opened his eyes. "Mary," he said,
hoarsely. "Mary. What will you do? Where will you go?"

"I don't know, John, I don't know," said his old wife.
"I'll be all right. I'll come and see you in hospital."

Ern came in at the door. "There's two men and a

stretcher," he said, importantly. "And an awfully nice
nurse. The doctor couldn't come after all, but the nurse knows all about
it."

A rosy-cheeked nurse looked in at the door and took everything in
at a glance. "Is that my patient?" she said in a cheery voice to Mrs.
Smith. "Don't you worry, dear—we'll look after him for you. Here,
Potts—bring the stretcher right inside."

Everything was done very swiftly indeed. It took less than a
minute to get Mr. Smith into the ambulance. He couldn't say good-bye, because
he had another fit of coughing, but his old wife held his hand to the very last
moment. Then the ambulance door was shut and the big van trundled up the drive
and out of the gate.

"I can't pack and go tonight," said Mrs. Smith, looking
dazed. "I feel queer. And I've got nowhere to go."

"Stay here tonight then," said Fatty, "I'll arrange
something for you tomorrow. My mother will know what to do. But you're too
upset and tired to bother about anything. The only thing is, I don't like to
think of you staying here all alone at night, Mrs. Smith."

"I'll stay here with her," said Ern, suddenly. The whole
affair had touched him as nothing else in his life had done. Ern longed to do
something to help, he didn't care what it was—but he had Got To Do Something,
as he put it to himself. And to stay and look after the sad old woman was the
only thing he could think of.

"You're a good-hearted fellow. Ern," said Fatty,
touched. "Thanks awfully. I was going to offer you a bed up at my house,
as your uncle had sent you off—but if you'll shake down here, I'm sure Mrs.
Smith would be glad."

"Oh, I would," said Mrs. Smith, and actually gave Ern, a
little smile. "There's a sofa in the next room he can have. What's your
name, now—Ern? That's a kind thought of yours, my boy. I'll cook you a nice
little supper, you see if I don't."

"Well, I'll go home now, and see my mother, and get

her to fix up something for you, Mrs. Smith," said Fatty.

"I can work, you know," said the old lady, eagerly.
"I kept this little place spotless. I can sew, too. I'll earn my keep,
young sir, don't you be afraid of that."

"I'm not," said Fatty, marvelling at the brave old lady.
"Now I know Ern will look after you well. Ern. what about making a pot of
tea for Mrs. Smith?"

"I'll do that," said Ern. He went beaming to the door
with Fatty. Then he pulled at his arm. and spoke in a low voice.
"Fatty—what shall I talk to her about? To keep her from worrying, you
know?"

"Well, Ern—have you got your notebook with you?" said
Fatty. "What about reading her some of your poetry? I'm sure she'd like
that. She'd be very surprised to think you could write poetry."

"Loveaduck! I never thought of that," said Ern,
delighted. "It might keep her amused, mightn't it? So long. Fatty. See you
tomorrow."

"So long, Ern—and thanks for all your help," said Fatty,
making Ern beam all over his red-cheeked face. He gazed proudly after Fatty as
he disappeared into the darkness of the January afternoon. Ern was absolutely
certain there was no one in the whole world to equal Fatty!

Fatty surprised his mother very much when he got home, just in
time for tea. He looked so serious that she was quite concerned.

"Mother, can you spare a few minutes for me to tell you
something?" said Fatty. "I simply must have your help."

"Oh, Frederick dear—you haven't got into any trouble, have
you?" said his mother at once.

"Not more than usual," said Fatty, with a grin that
reassured his mother at once. "Listen, Mother—it's rather a long
story." And he plunged into the tale of the anonymous notes, the search
for ivy-covered houses. Mr. Grimble's tale, the Smiths, and Goon's treatment of
them. His mother listened in amazed silence. What in

the world would Frederick get mixed up in next?

Finally Fatty came to his main point. "Mother, as old Mr.
Smith has gone to hospital, and Mrs. Smith's alone, and has nowhere to go,
could one of your Good Causes help her?" he said. "She can do
housework, and she can sew."

"Why, she can come
here\"
said his mother at
once. "She can help me to make the new curtains. I'd love to have the poor
old thing—and Cook's so kind she will make her really welcome in the kitchen.
We're not far from the hospital too, so she can visit her husband easily, every
day. She can come here, Fatty."