Mystery of the Strange Messages (17 page)

"Don't you talk to me like that, you—you pest of a boy!"
said Goon, furious at being ticked off by Fatty in front of Ern, whose eyes
were nearly falling out of his

head. "And let me tell you this—Fairlin Hall's bin bought, see—and
anyone going there will be
trespassing,
and
will be PROSECUTED
.
Those are the
new owner's orders. Two gentlemen have bought it—very nice too, they are, and
very friendly. So you be careful, Master Frederick Trotteville."

"Thank you for the news. Goon," said Fatty. "I was
rather expecting it. But why should you think I'd want to go there?"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it past you to go and move out all the
Smith's furniture," said Goon. "Always interfering in everything!
Ern, you come with me."

"I've been asked out to tea. Uncle," said Ern, edging
away. He leapt suddenly on his bicycle and rode away at top speed.

"Gah!" said Goon, in disgust. "You've made Ern as
bad as you are. Just wait till I get my hands on him!"

Goon rode away angrily. That Frederick Trotteville! Was he up to
anything? Goon couldn't help feeling that there was still something going on
that he didn't know about. Gah!

The others laughed and rode off again. They arrived at Pip's to
find Ern waiting for them behind a bush. Soon they were sitting round a loaded
tea-table. Fatty wished he had gone to fetch Buster, because Mrs. Hilton, Pip's
mother, had left a plate of dog-biscuits for him, smeared with potted meat, a
meal that old Buster simply loved!

"Will the Smiths be able to get their furniture out before
those men move in?" asked Ern. "Mrs. Smith was very worried about it
at dinner-time. And she said that lots of things ought to be done before anyone
else uses that kitchen. She said the kitchen-range was right down dangerous.
And she said the sink smelt something awful. I did try to find out if there
were any possible hiding-places, Fatty—but the only things she said were about
the kitchen-range, and the sink, and the coal-cellar, and the cold pipe in the
bathroom, and the mouse-hole in the wall."

"What did she say about the coal-cellar?" asked Fatty.
"We never examined that, now I come to think of it."

"She said the steps down were so rickety she was afraid of
breaking her leg," said Ern. "And she said the cold pipe in the
bathroom ran so slowly that their baths were always too hot. It had a leak too,
she said, and the sink..."

"Smelt something awful," said Fatty. "Hm. Nothing
very helpful there—though I think we
ought
to have looked in the
coal-cellar. I've a good mind to go there tonight, as a matter of fact. It'll
be my only chance if those men are going to move in. Yes, I think I
ought
to
have a squint at that coal-cellar."

"I'll come with you, Fatty," said Ern, eagerly. "Do
say I can."

"No," said Fatty. "I shall go alone, if I do go,
but I'm not certain yet. If only Superintendent Jenks was back I'd go and see
him, and ask for a couple of men to search those kitchen quarters. No, no more
jam tarts, thank you, Pip! Ern, you'll go pop if you have any more. Try
Buster's dog-biscuits smeared with potted meat!"

"Well, they don't look half bad," said Ern. and made
everyone laugh. "I've a good mind to try one!"

There wasn't much left on the table when they had all finished.
"Let's play cards now, Fatty," said Pip. But Fatty shook his head.

"No. I want to go to the flower-shop before it shuts,"
he said.

"Why? To buy another Coleus plant?" said Bets, with a
laugh.

"No—to buy a very expensive bunch of red roses for someone
I've mortally offended," said Fatty, solemnly. "My mother! I simply
cannot bear to go home and be treated like a bad smell—and Mother really is
Very Very Annoyed with me. I feel rather bad about it. actually, she's such a
dear. See you tomorrow! Mind you don't break anything when you wash up!"

Fatty Investigates.

Ern had been told that he could sleep the night in Fatty's shed,
if he didn't want to go home. He decided that he certainly would—and Ern had a
very strong reason for his decision.

If Fatty was going down to Fairlin Hall that night, then he, Ern,
was going too. Not
with
Fatty, because he might be sent back. He was
just going to follow him, and make sure nothing happened to him.

"Just suppose those men have moved in," thought Ern,
anxiously. "Fatty would be no match for them. I won't let him see me—but
I'll keep watch, in case those men are there and hear him."

So, as he cycled back to Fatty's after Pip's tea-party, Ern made
his plans. He would leave his bicycle in a bush down the drive, at Fatty's
house, so that as soon as Fatty went off, he could follow him. And if Fatty
walked, well, Ern would walk too. He felt in his pocket to see if his torch was
there. Yes, it was.

Fatty was down in his shed when Ern arrived, looking through his
notes. "Hallo, Ern!" he said. "Did you break anything when you
all washed up?"

"Not a thing," said Ern. "You ought to have stayed,
Fatty. We played cards, and little Bets won the lot. Did you get some flowers
for your mother?"

"I did," said Fatty. "And Mother was very pleased.
So that's settled. I'm not a nasty smell any more."

"Are you really going down to Fairlin Hall tonight.
Fatty?" asked Ern.

"I am—and you are
not
coming, so don't ask me
again," said Fatty. "I shall creep down the stairs when the household
is in bed. Ern, if you're sleeping down in

this shed, I think you'd better have Buster, if you don't mind He
might bark the place down if I go without him."

"Oooh, I will. I'd like to," said Ern, who was very fond
of the lively little Scottie "He'll be company "

"Well, I must go in and make myself respectable," said
Fatty "They're expecting you to supper in the kitchen, Ern. You'd better
write a bit more poetry to recite to them "

"Oooh, I couldn't write it in such a hurry," said Ern.
"It takes me weeks to write two lines, Fatty "

"Rubbish," said Fatty. "Remember what I told you.
Just let your tongue go loose, and it comes—it comes! Think of a good line to
begin with, Ern—then let your tongue wag away as it likes."

Fatty left him, and Ern opened his notebook He looked at his
"portry" If only he could think of it easily, like Fatty! It would be
so very very nice to stand up in the kitchen tonight and recite a new
"pome".

"Well, I'll have another try," said Ern, valiantly, and
stood up. He worked his tongue about a little to get it "loose" and
then delivered himself of one line.

"There was a pore old mouse.. "

He waggled his tongue desperately, hoping the next line would come
spouting forth, just as it did when Fatty made up verses "There was a pore
old mouse ... mouse There was a pore old mouse..."

"Snogood," said Ern, flopping down again "Fatty's
tongue must be different from mine I wonder what's for supper tonight."

At ten o'clock Fatty said good night to his mother and father and
went up to bed. He waited for half an hour and then he heard his parents come
up, and the lights click off He quickly put on his overcoat and slipped
downstairs again, with a very quiet Buster at his heels Buster's tail was
wagging hard A walk! At this time of night too!

It was snowing a little as Fatty walked down to his shed. He knocked
quietly. Ern opened the door at once.

"Goodness—aren't you going to get undressed, Ern?" said
Fatty, in surprise. "I left you an old pair of pyjamas, didn't I?"

"I'm not sleepy yet," said Ern, truthfully. "Hullo,
Buster. Come on in. Well, good luck, Fatty."

"Thanks. I'll be off," said Fatty, and went down the
path, the snowflakes shining white in the light of his torch. Ern waited a few
seconds and then slipped out himself, pulling on his overcoat. Buster began to
bark frantically as Ern shut the door. He leapt up and down at it, flinging
himself against it. He was furious at being deserted by both Fatty
and
Ern.

"Blow!" thought Em. "I hope he won't wake everyone Still,
the shed's pretty far away from the house!"

He hurried along down the garden-path, into the drive and out of
the front gate. He could just see Fatty passing under a street-lamp some way
off. He followed quickly, his feet making no noise on the snow-covered path.

Fatty had no idea that Ern was following him He went along
quickly, feeling the key of the kitchen door of Fairlin Hall in his pocket. His
mind went over what Ern had related to him Kitchen-range. Smelly sink. Leaking
pipe. Coal-cellar. Yes—he'd certainly better examine that coal-cellar. It might
make a splendid hiding-place.

Behind him plodded Ern. Fatty came to the drive of Fairlin Hall
and turned down it cautiously, looking for lights in the house Ern turned in
after him, keeping Fatty in sight as best he could, a dark shadow in the
distance.

Fatty could see no lights anywhere, but of course the electricity
would not be connected yet. If the two men came, they would have to use
torches. The Smiths had had an oil lamp in their kitchen, because no gas or
electricity was on.

"Those men will have to come pretty soon, certainly within the
next week, I suppose," thought Fatty. "I don't expect they
really
mean
to buy it—all they want is to find the hoard of diamonds they stole so many
years ago,

and take them. Anyway, they've got the keys, so they can get in at
any time."

He let himself in quietly at the kitchen door, and left it open,
in case he had to run out quickly. He slipped through the scullery and kitchen,
and went to the door that led from the kitchen to the hall. He opened it and
stood there listening. He could hear nothing at all.

Slipping off his shoes he padded into the dark hall and went to
the bottom of the stairs. There was no light to be seen anywhere, and the whole
house was heavy with silence. "Almost as if it were listening, too!"
thought Fatty. "Well, as there's absolutely no one about, I'll just
examine that coal-cellar. I suppose it's outside, because I don't remember
seeing a cellar indoors."

He put on his shoes again and slipped through the kitchen and out
into the little yard. He didn't see Ern standing like a statue in the shadow of
some bushes not far off; but Ern saw the light from Fatty's torch, and knew
that he was going to examine the coal-cellar.

The Fairlin Hall coal-cellar was a truly enormous one. A large,
heavy grating covered the entrance hole, and Fatty lifted it off, and peered
down. A steep wooden ladder led downwards to what looked more like an
underground room than a coal-hole. The ladder was rickety, as Mrs. Smith had
related to Ern, and Fatty didn't really fancy going down it.

He flashed his torch down the ladder, and came to the conclusion
that if any diamonds had been hidden in the cellar they would have been
discovered, for there was very very little coal left—only a sprinkling over the
stone floor.

Fatty went back to the house, and flashed his torch over the
kitchen-range. Was there any hiding-place at the back? No, not possibly. He
went round the rooms methodically, trying to think of somewhere he hadn't
examined that afternoon.

He suddenly heard a small sound, and stood still, listening. There
it was again. What was it?

Was it someone opening the front door and shutting it? Fatty's
heart began to thump a little. If it were the two men, they would probably come
into the kitchen quarters to search. He switched off his torch and stood in the
tiny bathroom listening intently.

Suddenly he felt a soft touch on the top of his head, and he
stiffened in fright. It felt like a moth settling on his hair—but no moths were
about in January.

There it was again—just a soft touch on his hair. Fatty put up his
hand and felt the spot—and it was damp! He heaved a sigh of relief. Just a
little drip of water from somewhere—probably from the leaking water-pipe that
Mrs. Smith had told Ern about!

He stood there in the dark, listening for any further sound, but
none came. He must have been mistaken. He took a step forward and switched on
his torch again, looking up at the water-pipe to see where the drip had come
from.

"It's from that loose joint," thought Fatty, seeing a
place where two pipes had been joined together. "Gosh, it made me
jump."

He reached up his hand and touched the joint. It was rather loose,
so no wonder the water leaked out. A sudden idea flashed into Fatty's mind—an
idea that made him catch his breath. Could it be—no, it
couldn't
be what
he was thinking!

His hand shook a little as he held the torch up to the joint of
the pipes. Why should there be a join there, held together by an iron band
round the pipe? Could the pipe have been deliberately cut—could something have
been slid into it—then the cut ends fixed together by the joint, hiding
whatever had been forced into the pipe?

Fatty stood below the narrow little pipe, hearing the small noise
that the tiny drip made every now and again. Mrs. Smith had said that the flow
in the cold water-pipe was very poor—very slow—so slow that they couldn't make
their hot baths cool! Was that because the pipe