Mystery of the Pantomime Cat (4 page)

his brakes suddenly, and came to such a sudden stop that he almost
fell off
.

"What is it, constable?" said the vicar's brother,
astonished. "I nearly ran you down."

"What's your name and address, please?" asked Mr.
Pippin, taking out his note-book.

"My name is Theodore Twit, and my address is the Vicarage,"
said Mr. Twit, with much dignity.

"Ho
yes,"
said Mr. Pippin. "'The Vicarage' I
don't
think! You can't put me off
that
way!"

Mr. Twit wondered if the policeman was mad. He looked at him
anxiously. Mr. Pippin mistook his anxious look for fright. He suddenly clntched
at Mr. Twit's abundant, red hair.

"Ow!" said Mr. Twit, and almost overbalanced from his
tricycle. "Constable! What does this mean?"

Mr. Pippin had been absolutely certain that the red hair would
come off in his hand. When it didn't, he was horrified. He stared at Mr. Twit,
his pink face going a deep red.

"Do you feel all right, constable?" asked Mr. Twit,
rubbing his head where Mr. Pippin had snatched at his hair. "I don't
understand you. Oh—thank goodness, here is my sister. Muriel, do come here and
tell this constable who I am. He doesn't seem to believe me."

Mr. Pippin saw a large and very determined-looking lady coming
towards him. "What is it, Theodore?" said the lady, in a deep,
barking kind of voice. Mr. Pippin took one look at Muriel, muttered a few words
of shamed apology, and fled. He left behind him two very puzzled people.

"Mad," said Muriel, in her barking voice. "Goon was
mad enough, goodness knows—but really when it comes to this man snatching at
your hair, Theodore, the world must be coming to an end!"

It so happened that Miss Twit went to call on Fatty's mother that
evening, and when Fatty heard her relate the story of how that extraordinary
Mr. Pippin had tried to snatch at dear Theodore's red hair, he had such a fit
of the giggles that his mother sent him out of the room in disgust at his
manners. Fatty enjoyed his laugh all to himself, with Buster gazing at him in
wonder.

"So old Pippin is up to that trick, is he?" thought
Fatty. "Right. It must be dropped. Hope he doesn't associate me with the
red-haired ruffian he saw last night, though. He won't turn up at the Little
Theatre and find his precious Clues if he thinks it's a trick."

The five children had had a meeting that day, which was Thursday,
to decide what clues they would spread for Pippin at the back of the Little
Theatre. There was a kind of verandah there, under cover, where all kinds of
clues might he put.

"Cigarette-ends, of course, to make Pippin think other
meetings have taken place there," said Fatty.

"Yes—and matches," said Larry. "And what about a
hanky with an initial on it—always very helpful that, when you want
clues!"

"Oh yes," said Daisy. "I've got an old torn hanky
and I'll work an initial on it. What shall I put?

"Z," said Fatty, promptly. "Might as well give him
something to puzzle his brains over."

"Z," said Bets. "But there aren't any names
beginning with Z, surely."

"Yes there are—Zebediah and Zacharias, to start with!"
grinned Fatty. "We'll have old Pippin hunting round for Zebediahs before he's
very much older!"

"Well, I'll put a Z on then," said Daisy. "I'll get
my needle and thread now. What other clues will you put down?"

"A page out of a book," said Pip. "Out of a
timetable or something."

"Yes. That's good," said Fatty, approvingly. "Any
other ideas?"

"What else do people drop by accident?" wondered Daisy.
"Oh, I know what we could do. If there's a nail or anything there, we
could take along a bit of cloth and jab it on the nail! Then it would look as
if whoever had been there for a meeting had caught his coat on the nail. That
would be a very valuable clue, if it was a real one!"

"Yes, it would," agreed Fatty. "And we'll take a
pencil and sharpen it there—leave bits of pencil-shavings all over the place.
Gosh, what a wonderful lot of clues!"

"We must also leave something to make Pippin go on with the
chase somewhere else," said Larry.

"Yes. What about underlining a train in the timetable page
that we're going to throw down?" said Pip. "We're going to chuck one
down, aren't we? Well, if we underline a certain train—say a Sunday train—old
Pippin will turn up for that too!"

Every one giggled. "And Fatty could dress up in some
disguise, and slip a message into Pippin's hand to suggest the next place to go
to," said Daisy. "We could send him half over the country at this
rate!"

"Wait till Goon gets a report of all this," said Fatty
with a grin. "He'll see through it at once—and won't he be wild!"

Soon all the clues were ready, even to the pencil-shavings, which
were in an envelope.

"When shall we place the clues?" said Bets. "Can I
come too?"

"Yes. We'll all go," said Fatty. "I don't see why
not. There's nothing suspicious about us all going out together. We can go on
our bicycles and put them in

the car-park at the back of the Little Theatre. Then we'll pretend
to be looking at the posters there, and one of us can slip up to the verandah
and park the clues. It won't take a minute."

"When shall we go?" asked Bets again. She always wanted
to do things at once.

"Not today," said Fatty. "There's a bit of a
breeze. We don't want the clues blown right off the verandah. The wind may have
died down by tomorrow. We'll cycle along after tea tomorrow, about six."

So the next day, about ten to six, the five set off, with Buster
as usual in Fatty's bicycle basket. They cycled round to the back of the Little
Theatre and came to the car-park there. A good many children were there
already, getting bicycles from the stand.

"Hallo!" said Fatty, surprised. "Has there been a
show here this afternoon?"

"Yes," said a boy near by. "Just a show for us
children from Farleigh Homes. They let us in for nothing. It was jolly good. I
liked the cat the best."

"The cat? Oh, Dick Whittington's cat, you mean," said
Fatty, remembering that the show that week was supposed to be a skit on the
Dick Whittington pantomime. "It's not a real cat, is it?"

" 'Course not!” said the boy. Daisy, who had already seen the
show, explained to Fatty.

"It's a man in a cat's skin, idiot. Must be rather a small
man—or maybe it's a boy I He was very funny, I thought."

"Look—
there
go the actors," said a little girl, and she pointed to a side door.
"See, that's Dick Whittington, that pretty girl. Why do they always have a
girl for the boy in pantomime? And that's Margot, who is Dick's sweetheart in
the play. And there's Dick's master—and his mother, look—she's a man, really,
as you can see. And there's the captain of Dick's ship—isn't he fine? And
there's the chief of the islands that Dick visits—only in the play he's a black
man, of course."

The five children gazed at the actors as they left the side door
of the Little Theatre. They all looked remarkably ordinary.

"Where's the cat?" asked Bets.

"He doesn't seem to have gone with them," said the
little girl. "Anyway I wouldn't know what he was like, because he wore his
cat-skin all the time. He was awfully good. I loved him."

A teacher called loudly, "Irene! Donald! What are you keeping
us waiting for? Come along at once."

The car-park emptied. Fatty looked round. "Now," he
said, "come on I The coast is clear. We'll all go and look at these
posters here, and talk to one another—and then when we are sure no one is
watching us, I'll slip up to the verandah and drop the clues."

It was most annoying, however, because one or two people kept
coming to the car-park, and for some reason or other walked across it. Fatty
finally discovered that it was a short cut to a cigarette shop in the next
street.

"Blow!" he said. "We'll have to hang about till it
shuts. It's sure to shut soon."

It was boring having to wait so long, and talk endlessly about the
posters. But at last the shop apparently did shut and nobody else took the
short cut across the car-park. It was now getting dark. Fatty slipped up the
three steps to the verandah.

He threw down the clues—cigarette-ends and matches—torn hanky with
Z on—pencil-shavings—page torn from a time-table with one Sunday train
underlined—and a bit of navy-blue cloth which he jabbed hard on a nail.

He turned to go—but before he went he took a look in at the window
near by. And what a shock Fatty got!

P.C. Pippin on the Job.

A
very
large, furry animal was inside the window, looking mournfully up at him—or so
it seemed. The eyes were big and glassy, and gave Fatty the creeps. He recoiled
back from the window, and almost fell down the verandah steps.

"What's up?" asked Larry, surprised.

"There's something queer up there," said Fatty.
"Horrible big animal, looking out of the window at me. I could just see it
in the faint reflection cast by that street-lamp outside the car-park."

Bets gave a little squeal. "Don't! I'm frightened!"

"Idiot, Fatty! It must be the cat-skin of Dick Whittington's
cat," said Larry, after a moment. Every one felt most relieved.

"Well—I suppose it was," said Fatty, feeling very
foolish. "I never thought of that. The thing looked so lifelike, though. I
don't think it was just a
skin. I
think the actor who plays the cat must
have still be in inside it."

"Gracious. Does he
live
in it, then?" said Daisy.
"Let's go and see if it's still there, looking out of the window."

"I don't want to," said Bets at once.

"I don't think I do either, really," said Daisy.

"We'll
go."
said Larry. "Come on. Fatty, come on, Pip."

The three boys stepped quietly up the verandah steps, and looked
in at the window. The cat was no longer there, but as they stood watching, they
saw it come in at the door of the room and run across on all fours to the
fireplace. An electric fire was burning, and the boys could distinctly see the
cat pretending to wash its face, rubbing its ears with its paws, in exactly the
same way as a cat does.

"There it is!" said Fatty, "he's seen us! That's
why it's acting up like this. It thinks we're children who came to see the
show, and it's still pretending to be Dick Whittington's Cat. Gracious—it gave
me a start when I first saw it at the window."

"Meeow," said the cat, loudly, turning towards the
window, and waving a paw.

"I somehow don't like it." said Pip. "I don't know
why. But I just don't. I know it's only somebody inside the skin, but it looks
a jolly sight too real for me. Let's go!"

They went back to the girls. It was not quite dark, and the church
clock struck seven o'clock at they went to fetch their bicycles from the
stands.

"Well—we've planted the clues," said Fatty, feeling more
cheerful as he undid Buster from where he had tied him to the stand. "I
say. Buster, old chap—good thing you didn't spot that cat. You'd have thought
you were seeing things—a cat as big as that!"

"Woof," said Buster, dolefully. He didn't like being
left out of the fun. and he knew something exciting had been happening. He was
lifted into Fatty's basket, and then the five cycled slowly home.

"I wonder when Pippin will go along," said Fatty, as he
dismounted at his gate. "He'll be sure to get there long before ten. so
that he can hide before the meeting takes place—and there won't be a meeting

after all! Only plenty of clues for him to find."

"See you tomorrow. Fatty!" called Pip and Bets.
"Goon-bye, Larry and Daisy. We'll have to hurry or we'll get into a
row."

They all rode away. Fatty went indoors, thinking of the way the
cat had looked at him through the window. That really had given him a jolt!
"If I were Bets I'd dream about that!" he thought. "I wonder if
Pippin's going to hide himself on the verandah somewhere. If he gets a glimpse
of that cat, he'll get the fright of his life."

Pippin did not go to the verandah until about half-past eight, lie
meant to be there in good time for the meeting, whatever it was. He had been
very thrilled indeed to find the message about the meeting at 10 p.m. behind
the Little Theatre, when he had pieced together the torn bits of paper.

Goon would be pleased with him if he could unearth some mystery or
plot, he was sure. Pippin meant to do his best. He had already snooped round
the back of the Little Theatre the day before, to see where he could hide on
the night. He had discovered a hole in the verandah roof through which he could
climb, and then he could sit on the window-sill of the room above, and hear
everything.

Pippin arrived at the verandah as the clock on the church chimed
half-past eight, exactly an hour and a half after the children had left. He had
his torch with him, but did not put it on until he had made sure that there was
nobody about anywhere. There was a glow in the room behind the verandah. Pippin
looked into the room. He saw that the glow came from an electric fire. In front
of it, lying as if asleep, was what looked like a most enormous cat. Pippin
jumped violently when he saw such a big creature.