Mystery of the Vanished Prince (12 page)

And so, to Mr. Goon’s alarm, annoyance and discomfort, six children rode noisily past him with bells ringing, Buster barking madly, and every one shouting loudly.

“GOOD AFTERNOON, HOW ARE YOU!”

Mr. Goon nearly went into the ditch. He scowled after the backs of the six speeding cyclists. He was almost exhausted already. Still, Tiplington wasn’t really very far away now. He pedalled on manfully. If there was anything at Tiplington that he’d got to know about, he must certainly be there. There was no knowing what that pest of a boy was up to.

The Fair was certainly not much of a show. It was in a small field. In one big tent was a flower-show, a fruit-show, a jam-show, and a baby-show. There were the usual sideshows - a small roundabout, swings, and a hoopla stall. A fortuneteller sat in a very small tent, reading people’s hands for them, telling them of great good fortune to come, voyages across the sea, and all the usual fairytales.

Apparently the Fair was to last three days, but the local flower, fruit-and baby-show only this one afternoon. “Lucky we saw the notice yesterday,” said Bets, as they paid an entrance fee of sixpence at the gate. Buster was let in for nothing, but Fatty put him on a lead.

“When does the Baby-show begin?” wondered Daisy. “Look - there’s a notice on that tent. And here are some babies arriving too. Goodness, they look hot, poor things!”

Prams of all types were wheeled in. The four boys wandered off, but Daisy and Bets stood watching the babies being wheeled into the tent.

Daisy clutched Bets’ arm suddenly. “Look - a double-pram - and another, Twins!” she said. “Where’s Ern? We shall never know if the babies are the ones that were up in the caravan.”

Ern had completely disappeared. He had been having a lovely time on the roundabout, riding on an elephant, when he had caught sight of his uncle wheeling his bicycle in at the gate, red in the face, dripping with perspiration, panting loudly. Ern didn’t like the look of him.

So, when the roundabout stopped, he slipped quietly off the elephant and made his way to the tent of the fortuneteller. He hid behind it, watching Mr. Goon’s movements. Ern was not going to have any more to do with his uncle than he could help.

Daisy and Bets disappeared into the big tent, for the Baby-show was about to begin. How annoying of Ern to vanish! Still, perhaps he would come along soon.

“Four sets of twins!” said Bets. “Oh, I say - aren’t these babies fat? I don’t think I like them quite so fat. And they look so hot and miserable. I’m sure this tent is too hot for them.”

“Come and look at the twins,” said Daisy. “I say - we don’t really need Ern, you know - because we know the twin’s names - Marge and Bert!”

“Oh yes,” said Bets, remembering. “We can just ask the mothers their names. That’s easy.”

The first twins, one big and one small, and quite unalike, were called Ron and Mike, their proud mother informed the two girls.

“No good,” whispered Bets. “They’re boys. We want a girl and a boy.”

The next two were both girls - Edie and Glad, so their mother said. The next pair were again boys, exactly alike, down to the same spot on their chins. Alf and Reg.

“Here’s a girl and a boy,” said Bets. “What are their names?”

“The girl’s Margery, and the boy’s Robert,” said the mother, proudly. “Big for their age, aren’t they?”

Bets and Daisy thought they were far too big, far too fat and far too hot. But their names were right - or almost right!

“Margery - and Robert!” said Bets to Daisy in a low voice. “Marge - and Bert. Where’s Ern? We’ll have to ask him to come and look at them.”

They made their way out of the tent in great excitement and at last ran Ern to earth behind the fortuneteller’s tent, where he was still in hiding. They pulled him over to the tent.

“You simply must tell us if we’ve found the right babies!” said Bets - and got a sudden punch in the back from Daisy! She gave a squeal. “Why did you…” she began.

And then she saw why! Mr. Goon was standing just at the entrance to the tent. He was most interested in what Bets had just said to Ern! Oho! So they had got Ern over for Something special, thought Mr. Goon.

Ern went into the tent, followed by Mr. Goon. “Oh blow,” said Bets. “Ern, it’s the babies at the far end of the row. Just walk quietly by them and tell us if they’re the ones we’re looking for. Nod your head if so. Shake it, if not. And look out for Mr. Goon!”

Ern walked down the row of babies. Bets and Daisy watched anxiously. Would he shake or nod his head. But, most annoyingly, Ern did neither!

The Baby-show

Mr. Goon also walked down the row of babies. The little things were terrified of his big, blue-clad figure and his brilliant red face. They began to cry.

“Yow!” they wailed. “Wow-yow-ow!” Mr. Goon scowled at them. He didn’t like babies. Also, he was worried. He was remembering Ern’s extraordinary tale of the prince being smuggled away in a pram with twin-babies. And lo and behold - here was a row of twin-babies! Did Fatty really believe that tale then? Could there be something in it?

Mr. Goon decided to take quite a lot of notice of the twins. He stood gazing at them. He prodded one or two. He watched Ern walk by them all, looking carefully. He watched him go out of the back-flap of the tent, and then he followed him.

The mothers were thankful to see him go. “What’s he want to come in here for, frightening our babies?” said one mother. “He’s set them all off crying with his scowls and his prods!”

Ern had found Bets and Daisy.

“Ern, why didn’t you either nod or shake your head?” asked Bets, crossly. “You said you would. We must know if they are the twins or not. Are they?”

“I don’t know,” said Ern, helplessly. “All those babies in there look alike to me. I couldn’t tell t’other from which. Oh, Bets - I’m sorry. They’re as like as peas.”

“How annoying,” said Daisy. “Especially as those two are called Margery and Robert.”

“Of course, Bert might be short for Albert or Hubert, as well as Robert,” said Bets. “We don’t know that Bert, the twin Sid knew, was short for Robert.”

“I know!” said Daisy, suddenly. “Let’s look for the pram that Margery and Robert came in. Ern could surely recognize that if it was the one.”

“Oh yes,” said Ern, confidently. “It was - let me see - was it dark blue, or dark green?”

The two girls stared at him, exasperated. “You’re perfectly hopeless!” said Daisy. “What good are you to us, I’d like to know! You never notice a thing!”

Ern looked very woe-begone indeed. Mr. Goon emerged from the tent at that moment, and, to the girls’ great annoyance, Ern at once made off at top speed! Now they would lose him all over again!

“Ern! Come back and look at the prams!” shouted Bets. Mr. Goon pricked up his ears again. Prams! Prams! There was something up this afternoon. Those kids were investigating something, drat them!

Bets and Daisy gave Ern up. They wandered over to where the prams were neatly set out in a row, empty of their babies. There were two enormous double-prams, one fairly big one, altered to take two children, and any amount of ordinary single prams.

“Perhaps we’d better wait about here for Ern,” said Bets, bored. “He’ll come back sooner or later, I suppose. I wonder what the three boys are doing. Oh, do look at Mr. Goon. He’s interested in prams too!”

Mr. Goon was now examining the prams. Could he find anything in them that would help him? He didn’t think so. He considered each pram carefully, much to the amazement of a mother coming out to get something for her baby.

“Thinking of buying a pram?” she asked him.

Mr. Goon didn’t deign to reply. He wandered off in search of Ern.

Soon the mothers began to bring out their babies to their prams. They all had been judged, and “Margery and Robert” had a big rosette each, with First Prize, Twins, on it.

“Oh!” said Bets, starting forward. “Did they get first prize! How lovely! Let me carry one for you. I like babies.”

“Well, perhaps you’d just bring me my pram,” panted the mother, loaded down with her two heavy children. “It’s over there.”

“Which one?” asked Bets.

“That one,” said the mother, nodding at a rather shabby small pram. It was a single pram! Bets had been sure she would have had a double one - what a disappointment. Margery and Robert couldn’t be the twins they were looking for, after all! Ern and Sid had been quite certain that the pram belonging to the twins in the caravan was a double one.

She brought the little single pram over. “There now, Madge,” said the mother, settling the little girl at one end, and then putting the boy at the other. “Now now, Robbie - don’t you start yelling. Haven’t you got first prize? Laugh, then, laugh!”

Daisy looked at Bets. Madge and Robbie - not Marge and Bert! That settled it. They were not the twins and this was not the mother. All this way over to the Fair for nothing!

“Come along, Bets - let’s have a bit of fun now,” said Daisy. “We’ve done our investigation - and like all our investigations so far, it’s just come to nothing. I don’t believe we’ll ever find anything out in this mystery!”

They went off to the swing-boats. Then they had a try at the hoopla and Bets got a ring round a little red vase, much to her delight.

Then up came Fatty. “Bets! Daisy! Any good? Were they the twins? What did Ern say?”

“Oh Fatty - such a disappointment! There were twins there whose names were Margery and Robert and we felt sure they were the ones!” said Daisy. “But they weren’t. They were called Madge and Robbie! Ern wasn’t a bit of good. He had a look at all the twins, but he said they were as like as peas, and he wouldn’t know if they were the caravan twins or not!”

“And anyway they have a single pram not a double one,” said Bets. “We’ve come all this way for nothing.”

“Oh no, you haven’t,” said Fatty, pulling her over to the roundabout. “Come on - choose your animal and I’ll pay the roundabout boy twice as much as usual to go on twice as long. You can have the longest ride you’ve ever had in your life!”

Bets chose a lion and the roundabout boy set the roundabout going at top speed, so that Bets and the others yelled in glee! He let them have such a long ride that every one stared in surprise.

“That was fun,” said Bets, getting off her lion and feeling rather wobbly about the legs. “Goodness, I still feel as if I’m going round and round.”

Fatty suddenly saw Mr. Goon in the distance. He grinned. He went over to the roundabout boy, and had a long talk with him. The boy laughed and nodded. Fatty slid some money into his hand and walked away.

“What have you been up to, Fatty?” said Daisy. “You’ve got a wicked look on your face.”

“I’ve just been arranging for Mr. Goon to have a nice long ride,” said Fatty. “Giving him a real treat, I am! Just you watch!”

Mr. Goon had given up searching for the elusive Ern. In any case he would never find him because Ern was lying hidden under a caravan belonging to one of the Fair people at the end of the field. So now Mr. Goon was wandering over to where he saw Fatty, Bets, and Daisy. They were joined by Larry and Pip, who had been unlucky at hoopla, and had no money left.

“Watch,” said Fatty, under his breath. They all watched, though not quite certain what they were supposed to watch. The roundabout boy and another one got up on the roundabout as Mr. Goon drew near. They began to shout at one another.

Every one turned to see what was happening. “You give it to me, I say!” yelled one boy. “Or I’ll box your ears!”

“Shan’t!” shouted the other boy, and lunged out at the first boy. Down he went on the phtform of the roundabout, and rolled about, yelling loudly.

“Don’t worry, Bets. It’s all pretence,” said Fatty, grinning. “Now watch what happens!”

Mr. Goon heard all the rumpus, of course. He pulled down his tunic, put his helmet quite straight, and walked ponderously over to the roundabout.

“Hey, you boys! What’s the matter there! Behave yourselves!”

“Help, help! He’s on top of me!” yelled one of the boys. “Help! Fetch the police!”

Mr. Goon mounted the platform of the roundabout, watched by scores of people, looking very impressive indeed. “Now what’s all this?” he began, and then he suddenly clutched at a nearby tiger.

The roundabout boy had slid off the platform and had started the roundabout! Round it went and round, the music sounding very loud indeed in Mr. Goon’s startled ears. He nearly fell over. He clasped his arms round the neck of the tiger and yelled ferociously.

“Stop this thing! Stop it, I say!”

But nobody heard him through the din of the strident music! The roundabout went faster and faster, it simply WHIZZED round, till Mr. Goon’s figure could no longer be clearly seen. Fatty began to laugh. The others rolled about, squealing with joy. Everyone yelled. Mr. Goon was not popular in Tiplington!

The roundabout slowed down at last. Mr. Goon still clutched the neck of the tiger. He dared not leave go. Poor Mr. Goon - the world still went round for him, and the tiger seemed his only friend!

Pip’s Discovery

“I have a sort of feeling we’d better go,” said Fatty. “Where’s Ern? Oh, there he is. Good thing he saw a bit of the fun!”

Ern came over to them, grinning. “I say - look at Uncle on the roundabout. He’s still got hold of the tiger. Was it an accident, Fatty?”

“Not quite,” said Fatty, with a rich chuckle. “Do come on, everyone. Mr. Goon won’t be fit to follow us on his bike for quite a while. He’ll probably want to go round in circles for ages.”

He winked at the roundabout boy, who winked back. Mr. Goon straightened up, unwrapped one arm cautiously from the tiger, and took a step away from it. But the world immediately seemed to swim around him again, and he embraced the tiger more lovingly than ever.

“If I look any more I shall die of laughing,” said Larry. “I’ve already got a frightful stitch in my side. I have never laughed so much in my life. Dear old Goon - I feel quite fond of him for making me laugh so much. How he will ever get off that roundabout I don’t know!”

Fatty had to shove everyone along. They all so badly wanted to see Mr. Goon get off the roundabout and walk unsteadily over the field. The roundabout boy was now shouting at him. “Sorry, sir! Quite an accident. Shan’t charge you a penny, sir! Free ride for the police force!”