Mystery of the Hidden House (15 page)

“I’ve been asleep three solid hours!” said Mr. Goon, quite shocked. “Shows how tired I was. Where’s Ern? Why, he’s almost let the fire out, and there’s no kettle boiling for tea!”

He gave a loud yell, “ERN! ERN!”

No Ern came. Mr. Goon frowned. Where was that boy? He hadn’t come in to dinner! Now he hadn’t come in to tea. Gone round to those kids, he supposed, and they’d kept him for meals. Spun a wonderful tale about his crool uncle! Ho, Mr. Goon would have something to say about that.

Mr. Goon made himself a cup of tea very quickly. He didn’t stop for anything to eat. He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to go along to Miss Lacey’s and hear about two of her hens being stolen. How could he have forgotten that? If he’d gone about half-past four he could have had tea in the kitchen with Mrs. Tanner the cook. Fine gingerbread she made every week, as Mr. Goon very well knew.

Mr. Goon went off to Miss Lacey’s. She was out. Mrs. Tanner the cook told Mr. Goon that Miss Lacey was annoyed because Mr. Goon hadn’t come along sooner. So the policeman didn’t have a chance to sit in a warm kitchen and have a piece of new gingerbread. He was most annoyed, and went pompously down the steps into the darkness of the drive.

He wondered again where Ern was. Bad boy to stay away like that. Pretending he had run away, perhaps! Mr. Goon gave a small snort. Ern would never have the spunk to do a thing like that.

But a very small doubt crept into his mind at that moment. Suppose Ern really had run away? No, no, how silly! He must be somewhere with those kids.

Mr. Goon walked up the road that led to the post office. It was dark and he shone his torch on the ground before him. It suddenly picked up something in its beam. A button!

Mr. Goon always collected any button or pin he found. He picked this button up. It had a bit of cloth attached to it. Why - he knew that button and bit of cloth! It was one of Ern’s clues!

“So Ern’s been along this way,” thought Mr. Goon, and put the button into his pocket. He went along the way shining his torch - and soon he saw the cigar-end, rolled in the gutter.

“Another of Ern’s clues!” thought Mr. Goon. He picked it up. “What’s Ern doing, chucking his clues about like this? Ah - here’s a pencil-end! I bet it’s the clue he found with E.H. at the end. Yes, it is!”

He missed the rag, which had blown under the hedge. He walked on some way and saw a ragged handkerchief. He had a feeling it would have “K” on. So it had. Another of Ern’s clues. How extraordinary, thought Mr. Goon. Then an idea came into his head.

“It’s those kids again, playing a trick on me! They’ve spotted me walking down here, and they’ve got Ern to chuck down his clues to lead me on! They’ll jump out at me round the corner or set that pestering dog round my ankles. Well, I’m not going any farther! I’m going straight round to Mr. and Mrs. Hilton to complain!”

Mr. Goon made his way to Pip’s house, filled with indignation. Getting Ern to throw down clues like that to lead him up the way just for a trick! What did they take him for?

Mr. and Mrs. Hilton were out. “But the five children are here,” said Lorna the maid. “If it’s them you’re wanting to see, sir?”

“I’ll see them,” said Mr. Goon. “You go up the stairs first and tell Master Trotteville to keep his dog under control. Nasty snappy little beast that is.”

When Lorna appeared with her news the Find-Outers looked surprised and Bets felt alarmed. Oh dear - what had happened now?

Mr. Goon walked in. He put down the clues on the table. “Another of your silly tricks, I suppose?” he said, glaring round. “Getting Ern to chuck these about where you knew I’d find them. Ho - very childish, I must say!”

The Five Find-Outers gazed at the clues and recognized them. Fatty picked up the button. He was puzzled.

“Where is Ern?” he asked Mr. Goon. “We haven’t seen him all day.”

Mr. Goon snorted. “Think I believe that? Well, I haven’t seen him all day, either! But I bet he’s hidden in this house somewhere! That’s called aiding and abetting somebody, see?”

Fatty thought Mr. Goon was being rather silly. “Mr. Goon. We - have - NOT seen Ern since early this morning when he came along here for a few words with Bets. Where is he?”

Mr. Goon began to feel slightly alarmed. There was the ring of truth in Fatty’s voice. If these kids hadn’t seen Ern all day, where was he then? Surely he couldn’t have run away? No. that wouldn’t be in the least like Ern.

He stared at the silent children. “How do I know where that dratted boy is?” he said, raising his voice a little. “Worries the life out of me, he does - and you do your best to do the same. And let me tell you I know all about this mystery of yours! Yes, I know more about robbers and kidnappers on Christmas Hill than you do!”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” said Fatty, in the very polite voice that made Mr. Goon go purple. “Perhaps you can solve it more quickly than we can. The thing is - where is Ern? He was very upset when he saw Bets this morning. Apparently you attacked him in the night, Mr. Goon.”

Mr. Goon could hardly speak. Then he stuttered with outraged feelings. “Me Attack him! I never heard of such a tale. I gave him the cane, see, for being rude.”

“Well,” said Fatty, and hesitated. Should he tell Mr. Goon now about the poem - that he had written it and not Ern? No, perhaps it would be best to tell Ern first. But where was Ern?

Fatty felt really puzzled. The things Mr. Goon had put on the table were certainly Ern’s “clues” - the things he had picked up on Christmas Hill. They were not all there, though. Fatty inquired about the rest.

Didn’t you find any more clues, Mr. Goon? Are these all you picked up?”

“I don’t know how many more you told Ern to put down for me to follow,” snorted Mr. Goon. “But I wasn’t going to go wandering over half the town to find any more!”

“Where did you find these?” asked Larry.

“As if you didn’t know!” said Mr. Goon sarcastically. “Where you put them, of course - or where you told Ern to put them. Up Candlemas Lane.”

“What could Ern have been doing there?” wondered Bets.

“Don’t you really know where Ern is?” said Mr. Goon, after a pause. Another little doubt was creeping in on him. Wouldn’t it be awkward if Ern had run away because he, Mr. Goon, had caned him? Perhaps he had gone home to his mother. Mr. Goon decided to make inquiries when he got back, and find out. He could ring up a friend of his who knew Ern’s mother, and get him to slip round quietly to Ern’s home and find out if he was there.

“No. We don’t know where he is,” said Fatty, impatiently. “Haven’t we kept telling you that? I shouldn’t be surprised, Mr. Goon, if poor old Ern hasn’t run away to sea, or something, after your cruel attack on him last night!”

Mr. Goon for once had nothing whatever to say. Fatty’s suggestion, coming on top of his own fear that Ern might have run away, made him quite tongue-tied. It was all very very awkward. He began to wish he hadn’t caned Ern the night before.

He went soon after that, much to Pip’s relief. He and Bets were afraid that their parents might arrive home before Mr. Goon left, and they didn’t want that to happen.

“It’s very queer,” said Fatty, letting Buster off the lead, where he had held him tightly for the last quarter of an hour. “We haven’t seen Ern at all today. Only Bets saw him this morning. And now here’s this tale of clues scattered about in Candlemas Lane. Why should Ern do that?”

“Hole in his pocket,” suggested Pip.

“Not very likely,” said Fatty.

“Perhaps he got tired of his clues and just threw them away,” said Bets.

“Silly idea,” said Pip, scornfully.

“I’m going out with my torch to see if there are any more of Ern’s clues scattered about,” said Fatty. “I feel as if there’s something wrong somewhere. I’m worried about our Ern!”

He went off by himself with Buster, his torch shining its beam in front of him. He made his way to Candlemas Lane.

He saw nothing in the way of clues at first - but farther on, at the turning of the lane into the track that ran across the fields for a mile or two to Harry’s Folly, Fatty found three or four more of the clues. He stood thoughtfully in the track, puzzling things out in his mind. Where was Ern? What in the world could have happened to him?

Fatty on the Track

Ern didn’t come home that night. By the time nine o’clock came Mr. Goon had worked himself into a terrible state of mind. He imagined all kinds of things happening to Ern. He had been run over. He had run off to sea and was already in a ship, being very sea-sick. He had gone home to his mother and Sid and Perce and told terrible tales about his uncle. All these things and many others flashed through Mr. Goon’s worried mind.

He tried to find out if Ern had gone home, but no, he wasn’t there. Whatever was Mr. Goon to do! He felt terribly guilty now. He, Ern’s uncle, had driven him away! What would people think?

“I’ll stay up till eleven to see if Ern comes,” thought Mr. Goon. “I’ll put some bacon and eggs ready to cook for him when he comes - and I’ll hot up some cocoa. I’ll go and put a hot-water bottle in his bed.”

Mr. Goon felt quite sentimental about Ern as the night wore on, and no Ern appeared. He remembered all Ern’s good points and forgot his bad ones. He felt ashamed when he remembered how he had boxed Ern’s ears and caned him.

“Oh Ern, you come back and we’ll get on fine,” thought Mr. Goon over and over again. Eleven o’clock struck. Mr. Goon made up the fire again. Then he loosened his clothes and settled down in the armchair. He would wait up for Ern all night.

But suppose he didn’t come? Mr. Goon considered this with a very serious face. He’d have to ring up Inspector Jenks and report his disappearance - and the first question asked would be “Was the boy in any trouble before he disappeared?” And what was Mr. Goon to say to that?

He fell asleep about midnight. He slept soundly through the night, and awoke in the morning, very cold and stiff, with the fire out - and no Ern anywhere! And now Mr. Goon really did begin to feel frightened. Something had happened to Ern!

The telephone bell rang, and Mr. Goon almost jumped out of his skin. He went to answer it. It was Fatty, asking if Ern had come back.

“No,” said Mr. Goon. “He hasn’t. Have you heard anything about him?”

“Not a word,” said Fatty. “It’s pretty serious, this, Mr. Goon. Looks as if your attack on Ern has sent him off.”

Mr. Goon was too upset even to get angry over Fatty’s persistence in calling the caning an attack “What am I to do?” he said, in a dismal voice. “You might not think it, Master Trotteville, but I’m very fond of Ern.”

“You hid your affection very well then,” came Fatty’s smooth voice over the telephone. Mr. Goon shook his fist at the receiver. That dratted cheeky boy! But the policeman soon forgot his anger in his worries about Ern.

“I’d better go to Inspector Jenks, I suppose,” said Mr. Goon, after a pause. “Master Trotteville, do you think this here mystery on Christmas Hill’s got anything to do with Ern’s disappearance? These kidnappers and what-nots?”

“You never know,” said Fatty, in a serious voice. “Er - did you find the loot the other night, Mr. Goon?”

“That’s none of your business,” said Mr. Goon, shortly. “Well - I suppose I’d better go and see the Inspector.”

“Mr. Goon, I don’t know if you’d like to wait till tonight,” said Fatty, suddenly. “I’ve got an idea at the back of my mind which might just be the right one. But I can’t tell you any more than that. It’s possible I should be able to tell you where Ern is if you like to wait another day before reporting that he’s vanished.”

Mr. Goon was only too glad to clutch at any straw. He was dreading having to go to the Inspector. He didn’t want to say how he’d caned Ern the night before he went - nor did he want to say anything about the rude “pome”. Why the Inspector might even want to read it! Mr. Goon’s face burned at the very thought.

“Right,” said Mr. Goon. “I’ll wait another day. I’ll wait up tonight till I hear from you. Poor Ern - I do hope he’s all right.”

“I’ll give you a ring on the phone tonight, as soon as I know anything,” said Fatty.

He rang off. He was at his own house, and the Find-Outers were due down at the shed at any moment. Fatty went with Buster down the garden, just in time to see the others coming

“No Ern yet,” he said. “Goon’s getting all worked up about him. And so he should! He doesn’t like the thought of having to go and tell the Inspector how he whacked him in the middle of the night!”

“What has happened to Ern?” said Pip. “I could hardly get to sleep last night for worrying about him - and thinking about those clues Old Clear-Orf found in Candlemas Lane.”

“I found some more last night,” said Fatty. “And two of them were along the track that leads across the fields to Harry’s Folly! I believe Ern’s there.”

“But why? Do you mean he went off across the fields to explore Harry’s Folly, or something?” demanded Larry. “But he doesn’t know anything about that mystery!”

“I know he doesn’t,” said Fatty. “All the same I think he’s there. I think he must have been taken there, but I can’t imagine why. Even if Holland came along in his car and saw Ern, why should he take him away?”

“I expect he thought Ern was you,” said Bets, suddenly. “After all, you were disguised as Ern when you went over there, weren’t you - and you might have given the game away to him, Fatty, when you mentioned Harry’s Folly. He might have been scared, thinking you knew something, and decided to capture you!”

Fatty stared at Bets, thinking hard. Then he banged the table and made them all jump. “That’s it. Bets has got it! They’ve kidnapped Ern thinking he was me - and they think I know too much about Harry’s Folly, because I spoke about it as I did! Good old Bets. She’s the best Find-Outer of the lot!”

Bets was thrilled at this unexpected praise. She blushed red. “Oh - we’d all have thought of it soon!” she said.

“Yes - Bets is right. They must have mistaken Ern for me - and - and - yes, I wonder if Ern could have thrown away those clues to warn us something was up - even to show us the way to follow?”

“That’s too clever a thing for Ern to do,” said Daisy.