Mystery of Holly Lane (15 page)

“Well, either it must wait, or you must get Larry or Pip to do it for you,” said Mrs. Trotteville, in an icy voice. She went back to her meeting and shut the door.

Fatty stared at Buster, who had put his tail down at Mrs. Trotteville’s annoyed voice. “That’s done it!” said Fatty. “JUST when I’m really on to something. Edward King, the King Stables, Marlow — another bit of the jigsaw that was missing, and now I can’t fit it into the picture because Grandad’s coming. Why, oh why, did he have to come today?”

Fatty was very fond of his grandfather, but it really was most unfortunate that he should have to meet him and entertain him on this day of all days.

“The old man’s furniture will be in a horse-box,” he told Buster. “It might be discovered at any moment — but I want to find it, Buster. What a shock for old Goon if I produce both the money and the furniture!”

He debated whether to telephone Larry or Pip and tell them his ideas. “No,” he decided. “If I get them to go over to Marlow and snoop about for a horse-box with furniture inside, they may make some kind of silly move and spoil everything. I’ll have to put it off till tonight.”

So Fatty went to meet his grandfather, and entertained him well the whole day.

“Any more mysteries?” asked the twinkling-eyed old man. “In the middle of one, I suppose? Well, mind you don’t let that fat policeman — what’s his name? — Goop — Goon — get the better of you!”

“I won’t,” grinned Fatty. “I’ll tell you all about it next time you come, Grandad.”

He saw his grandfather off at six o’clock that evening, and then dashed round to Pip’s. Fortunately Larry and Daisy were there too. Bets was delighted to see Fatty.

“Oh, Fatty! You do look excited. Has anything happened?” she asked.

“Plenty,” said Fatty and poured out everything — the finding of the notes in the hem of the curtains — his idea about Removal Vans which now might be Horse-Boxes, or so he hoped — and his determination to go to Marlow that night and hunt for a horse-box full of furniture!

“I’ll come with you,” said Larry at once.

“You and Pip can both come,” said Fatty. “We’ll go and see the film called Ivanhoe at the cinema first — and then, when it’s quite dark, we’ll go hunting for horse-boxes!”

“Can’t Daisy and I come?” asked Bets.

“No. This isn’t a job for girls,” said Fatty. “Sorry, Bets, old thing. You can’t come to the cinema with us, either, because Ivanhoe won’t be over till late — and you two girls can’t wait about afterwards for us. We may be ages.”

“All right,” said Bets. “Oh, my goodness! — isn’t it exciting? Fatty, you really are very, very clever. Fancy thinking of the curtain hems!”

“I didn’t really,” said Fatty, honestly. “I just happened to be holding a hem, and it felt — well, rather stiff. But it does clear Marian, doesn’t it? She didn’t take the money — she merely hid it from Wilfrid! Jolly good show!”

“Why did she disappear then, I wonder?” said Daisy.

“I don’t know. That’s a bit of the jigsaw I just simply can’t fit in anywhere,” said Fatty. “Still, we’re getting on!”

The three boys cycled off to Marlow, after an early supper. Buster unfortunately was not allowed to go with them, as cinemas do not welcome dogs. He howled dismally when Fatty left.

Ivanhoe was exciting and the three boys enjoyed it Along with the excitement of the film was an added feeling of delicious suspense — the thought of the “snooping” they meant to do afterwards! They didn’t even wait to see the short second film, but came out into the clear night at the end of Ivanhoe.

“I’ve found out where the stables are,” said Fatty. “I rang up and inquired. King’s thought I wanted to hire a horse — but I don’t! The stables aren’t by the river: they are away up on the hill.”

They lighted their lamps and cycled quietly along a country road. Soon Fatty turned to the right, up a steep hill. “This is the way,” he said. “Good — here comes the moon! We shan’t be in the pitch-dark tonight.”

They had to get off their cycles because the hill was so steep. A private road branched off to the left and the boys walked up it. They left their cycles in the shelter of a hedge.

Buildings loomed up near by. A horse coughed. “These must be the stables,” said Fatty, in a low voice. “Keep quiet and walk in the shadows.”

Nobody appeared to be about. The stable-doors were all shut. A horse stamped occasionally, and one whinnied a little.

“Where do they keep the horse-boxes?” whispered Fatty. “I can’t see any here.”

“Look — there’s another path up there, quite a wide one,” said Pip. “Perhaps they’re along there.”

They went up the broad path. The moon suddenly shone out brilliantly and lighted every rut in front of them. Fatty stopped suddenly.

“Look — see those tyre-marks? Aren’t they the same pattern as the one in my notebook, the one you copied, Larry? You ought to know — you made four copies!”

“Yes, they are the same pattern,” said Larry and got out his copy. He shone a torch on it, though the moonlight was almost brilliant enough for him to read by. “Yes, it’s the same. Goody! We’re on the right track. Wilfrid must have taken a horse-box to remove all the furniture, and brought it away up here.”

The path went on for quite a way and at last came out into a field. No horses were there just then, but the boys could see half a dozen in a field a good way down.

“Look — horse-boxes, and lorries, and carts!” said Pip, pointing. Sure enough, neatly arranged in a big comer of the field was a fine collection of horse-boxes. The boys went over to them.

“Look inside each one,” said Fatty. There were four, and none of them was locked. The boys shone their torches inside; but to their great disappointment each horse-box was empty, save for a few bits of straw. Fatty was puzzled.

“Let’s look at the tyres,” he said. “Find a horse-box with newish tyres, the pattern clearly marked.”

But none of the horse-boxes had four new tyres, and the patterns on them were not a bit the same as the one Fatty had seen outside Hollies.

The boys looked at one another. “Now, what?” said Pip. “Dead end, again!”

“Better look round a bit,” said Fatty. “It is possible that Wilfrid hid away the horse-box with the furniture.”

So they hunted round. They walked across the big field — and at the other side was a copse. Fatty saw a bridle-path leading into the bushes. He followed it, and suddenly came to a muddy piece where, plainly to be seen, were tyre-marks, and each of the three saw at once that they were the ones they were seeking!

Out came Fatty’s notebook. “Yes! These are the ones! Come on, we’re on the trail now!”

They followed the bridle-path, and then, neatly pushed into a clearing, they saw a small horse-box!

“Brown!” said Fatty. “And look — here’s a scratch on the back wing where it scraped that lamppost. Now we’re on the track!”

The boys tried the door. It was locked. “I thought it would be,” said Fatty. “Here, give me a shove-up, and I’ll look in at the window. Half a mo — I’ve dropped my torch!”

He picked it up and flashed it on. Then Pip and Larry hoisted him up to look into the window of the horse-box. He saw that it was badly broken. He flashed his torch inside.

“Yes, the furniture is here!” he called, softly. “All of it! Hallo — wait — what’s this!”

Before he could say any more to the others, a loud scream came from inside the horse-box. It so startled Pip and Larry that they let go of Fatty. He fell to the ground with a bump.

The scream rang out again. Then came an anguished voice. “Help! Oh help! Help me!”

“Who is it?” whispered Pip, scared. “We’ve frightened somebody. Let’s go.”

“No,” said Fatty. “I know who it is. It’s Marian! Gosh, she has been locked up with the furniture!”

Marian.

Fatty rapped on the locked door. “I say! Don’t be scared. Can we help you?”

There was a silence, and then a trembling voice came from the horse-box. “Who are you?”

“Just three boys,” said Fatty. “Are you Marian?”

“Yes. Oh, yes — but how do you know?” said the voice. “I’ve been locked up here for ages. Wilfrid locked me in — the beast!”

“Whew!” said Fatty. “How long have you been there?”

“It seems as if I’ve been here for days,” said Marian. “I don’t know. Can you let me out?”

“I think I can force the door,” said Fatty. “What a pity the window’s so tiny, Marian — you could have got out of it.”

“I smashed it, hoping some one would hear the noise,” said poor Marian. “And I yelled till I couldn’t yell any more. That beast of a Wilfrid got a horse and dragged the box into some safe place, where nobody could hear me.”

“I’ll soon have you out,” said Fatty, and took out a leather case of finely made tools, small but very strong. He chose one and began to work at the door with it.

Something snapped. Fatty tried the handle and the door opened! A white-faced girl stood there, smiling through her tears.

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “I’ve been so miserable. What made you come here tonight?”

“It’s a long tale,” said Fatty. “Would you like us to take you back to your mother? She’s frantic about you. And what about food? I hope you’ve had something to eat and drink while you’ve been kept prisoner.”

“Yes. Wilfrid put plenty of stuff in the box,” said Marian. “Not that I could eat much. He’s a beast.”

“I agree,” said Fatty. “I suppose he kept on worrying you to tell him where your grandfather kept his money?”

“How do you know about all this?” said the girl, in wonder. “Yes, Wilfrid got into debt, and he asked my Grandad — his great-uncle — to give him some money and Grandad wouldn’t. Wilfrid was very angry. He knew Grandad kept his money hidden somewhere, and he asked me where it was.”

“And did you know?” said Fatty.

“Yes, I did,” said Marian. “Grandad told me a little while ago; but often enough I’ve seen the old man grope about under this chair and that, when he thought I wasn’t there, to feel if his money was safe. But I never told a soul.”

“You remember that morning you washed the curtains?” said Fatty. “Did Wilfrid ask you again for the money then — to tell him where it was?”

“Yes, and I told him I knew, but that I wouldn’t ever tell a mean thing like him!” said Marian. “He said he only wanted to borrow some and he’d put it back later; but I knew him better! He would never repay it!”

“Go on,” said Fatty.

“Well, that morning he said, ‘All right, Marian. When you’ve gone I shall come back and hunt everywhere — and I’ll find it, you see if I don’t!” And I was dreadfully afraid that he would.”

“So you were very, very clever and sewed the pound notes into the hem of the curtains!” said Fatty.

Marian gave a little scream. “Oh! How do you know all this? Surely Wilfrid hasn’t found them? Oh, I’ve worried and worried since I’ve been shut up here. I wanted to tell Grandpa not to be upset if he couldn’t find his money — I’d got it safe for him — but I didn’t have a chance.”

“It’s all right. The notes are still inside the hems,” said Fatty. “It was a brilliant hiding-place. Tell me what made Wilfrid come and take away the furniture?”

“Well, that afternoon Wilfrid came to see me at my home,” said Marian. “He said he’d been to Hollies and Grandad was moaning and crying because his money had gone — and Wilfrid accused me of taking it. He said he’d get the police if I didn’t share it with him!”

“Well, well, what a pleasant person our Wilfrid is!” said Fatty.

“I swore I hadn’t got the money. I said it was still at Hollies, in the living-room, in a place he’d never find,” said Marian. “And I told him I’d get it myself the next day and take it to a bank, where Wilfrid couldn’t possibly get his hands on it.’

“I see. So he took a horse-box in the middle of the night, and went and quietly collected every bit of furniture from the living-room,” said Fatty. “He meant to go through every stick of it at his leisure and find that money before you took it to the bank.”

“Yes, but he couldn’t find it because it was in the curtains, and he didn’t think of taking those down,” said Marian. “And oh, dear, when he went through the furniture and ripped it to pieces, he still couldn’t find the money, of course, so he got me up here by a trick, pushed me into the van and locked the door.”

“But why?” said Fatty, puzzled.

“Oh, he was quite mad, quite beside himself,” said Marian, trembling as she remembered. “He said I could either find the money myself in the furniture, or, if I was lying, I could tell him where I’d hidden the money in my own home! And here I’ve been ever since, shouting and yelling, but nobody heard me. And each day Wilfrid comes to ask me if I’ve got the money, or will tell him where it is. He’s mad!”

“He must be,” said Fatty. “Cheer up, Marian, everything’s all right. We’ll take you back home, and tomorrow we’ll deal with dear Wilfrid. Will you come up to the Hollies at half-past ten? We’ll be there, and you can take the money out of the curtains yourself.”

“Oh, yes, I must do that,” said Marian. “How do you know all these things? It’s queer to find you three boys here, in the middle of the night, telling me all kinds of things!”

“You walk along with us to where we’ve left our bikes,” said Fatty, taking Marian’s arm. “I’ll tell you how we know — as much as I can, anyhow. Larry, take the number of this horse-box, will you?”

The boys took Marian back to where they had left their bicycles, passing the quiet stables as they went. Fatty told Marian a good deal of his tale, and she listened in amazement.

“Poor Grandad!” she said. “He must have been so upset Never mind, he’ll be all right when he gets his precious money back. How marvellous you three boys are — finding out everything like that. You’re better than the police!”

Fatty took Marian back to her own home. “It’s not so late as you think,” he told her. “It’s not eleven o’clock yet. Look — there’s still a light in that side-window. Shall I ring the bell for you?”

“No. I’ll slip in at the side-door and surprise my mother,” said Marian. She gave Fatty a sudden hug. “I think you’re a marvel! I’ll be up at Hollies at half-past ten tomorrow morning without fail, with some scissors to undo the hems!”

She disappeared. Fatty waited till he heard the side-door open and shut softly. Then he and the others went to get their bicycles from the front hedge.