Mystery of the Burnt Cottage - Blyton Enid (читать книги онлайн бесплатно полные версии .txt) 📗

The tramp did turn up. He slipped slyly in at the back gate, looking all round and about as if he thought some one was after him. He still had on the terrible old shoes, with toes sticking out of the upper parts. Pip saw him and gave a low call.

"Hallo! Come over here!"

The tramp looked over to where Pip was standing. "You're not setting that bobby after me? " he asked.

"Of course not," said Pip impatiently. "We don't like him any more than you do."

"Got the boots?" asked the tramp. Pip nodded. The old fellow shambled over to Mm and Pip took him to the summer-house. There was a small wooden table there, and the boots were on it. The tramp's eyes gleamed when he saw them.

"Good boots," he said. "They'll fit me proper."

"Wait a minute," said Pip, as the tramp put out his hand to take them. "Wait a minute. We want you to answer a few questions first, please."

The tramp stared at him, and looked sulky. "I'm not going to be mixed up in no trouble," he said.

"Of course not," said Pip. "We shan't split on you. What you tell us we shall keep to ourselves."

"What do you want to know?" asked the tramp.

"Did you see any one hiding in Mr. Hick's garden on the evening of the fire? " asked Fatty.

"Yes," said the tramp. "I saw some one in the bushes."

Bets, Pip and Fatty felt quite breathless. "Did you really see them?" asked Pip.

"Course I see them," said the tramp. "I see plenty of people in the garden that evening, so I did."

"Where were you?" asked Bets curiously.

"That's none of your business," said the tramp roughly. "I wasn't doing no harm."

"Probably watching the hen-house, waiting for a chance of an egg or two, even though old Hiccup had chased him away," thought Pip, quite correctly.

They all stared at the tramp, and he stared back. "Was the person who was hiding in the bushes a young man with a lock of hair falling over his forehead?" asked Pip, describing Horace Peeks. "Did he have sort of bulgy eyes?"

"Don't know about his eyes," said the tramp. "But he had a lock of hair all right. He was whispering to some one, but I couldn't see who."

This was news. Horace Peeks hiding in the bushes with somebody else! Were there two people concerned in the crime then?

It was a puzzle. Could Horace Peeks and Mr. Smellie have planned the fire together? The children didn't know what to think.

"Look here," began Pip. But the tramp had had enough.

"You give me them boots," he said, and he stretched out his hand for them. "I'm not saying no more. Be getting myself into trouble if I don’t look out. I don't want to be naked up in anything, I don't. I'm a very honest fellow."

He took the boots and put them on. He would not say a word more. "He see his to have gone dumb," said Pip. They watched the tramp walk away in his new boots, which were a little too big for him, but otherwise very comfortable.

"Well, the mystery is getting deeper," said Fatty. "Now we seem to have two people hiding in the garden, instead of one. There's no doubt one was dear Horace. But who was the other? Perhaps Larry and Daisy will have some news for us when they come."

Buster had growled nearly all the time the tramp had been in the summer-house. Fatty had had to hold him tight, or he would have flown at the dirty old fellow. Now he suddenly began to bark joyously.

"It's Larry and Daisy," said Bets. "Oh, good. I wonder if they've got any news."

Mr. Smellie-and a Rubber-soled Shoe!

Larry and Daisy had spent an exciting morning. They had decided to interview old Mr. Smellie as soon as possible, and get it over. They talked over the best way of tackling him.

"We can't very well go and ask for a drink of water or anything like that," said Daisy. "I simply can't imagine what excuse we can up for going to see him."

They both thought hard for some minutes. Then Larry looked up. "What about throwing our ball into Mr. Smellie's garden?" he said.

"What good would that do?" asked Daisy.

"Well, silly, we could go after it — climb over the wall, don't you see — and hope that he will see us and ask what we're doing," said Larry.

"I see" said Daisy. "Yes — it see his quite a good idea. We'll do that."

So Larry threw His ball high and it went over the trees, and fell in the middle of the lawn next door. The children ran down to the wall at the bottom. In a moment or two they were over it and in the bushes at the end of Mr. Smellie's garden.

They went boldly out on to the lawn and began hunting for the ball. They could see it quite well, for it was in the edge of a rose-bed on the lawn. They called to one another as they hunted, hoping that some one in the house would hear them and come to a window.

Presently a window opened at the right side of the house, and a man looked out. His head was quite bald on top, and he had a straggling beard that reached almost to the middle of his waistcoat. He wore heavy horn-rimmed glasses that made his eyes look very big.

"What are you doing?" he called.

Larry went and stood under the window and spoke extremely politely.

"I hope you don't mind, sir, but our ball fell in your garden, and we're looking for it."

A gust of wind blew into the garden and flung Daisy's hair over her face. It tugged at Mr. Smellie's beard, and it rustled round the papers on the desk by him. One of them rose into the air and flew straight out of the window. Mr. Smellie made a grab at it, but didn't catch it. It fell to the ground below.

"I'll get it for you, sir," said Larry politely. He picked up the paper and handed it back to the old man.

"What a very queer paper," he said. It was thick and yellow, and covered with curious writing.

"It is parchment," said Mr. Smellie, looking at Larry out of short-sighted eyes. "This is very, very old."

Larry thought it would be a good idea to take a great Interest in old papers. "Oh, sir!" he said. "Is it really very old? How old? How very interesting!"

Mr. Smellie was pleased to have any one taking such a sudden interest. "I have much older ones," he said. "I spend my time deciphering them — reading them, you know. We learn a great deal of old history that way."

"How marvellous!" said Larry. "I suppose you couldn't show me any, sir, could you?"

"Certainly, my boy, certainly," said Mr. Smellie, positively beaming at Larry. "Come along in. I think you will find that the garden door is open."

"Could my sister come too?" asked Larry. "She would be very, very interested, I know."

"Dear me, what unusual children," thought Mr. Smellie, as he watched them going in at the garden door. They were just wiping their feet when a little bird-like woman darted out of a room nearby and gazed at them for surprise.

"Whatever are you doing here?" she said. "This is Mr. Smellie's house. He doesn't allow any one inside."

"He's just asked us in," said Larry politely. "We have wiped our feet very carefully."

"Just asked you in," said Miss Miggle, the housekeeper, filled with astonishment. "But he never asks any one in — except Mr. Hick. And since they quarreled even he hasn't been here."

"But perhaps Mr. Smellie has visited Mr. Hick!" said Larry, still wiping his feet, anxious to go on with the conversation.

"No, indeed he hasn't," said Miss Miggle. "He told me that he wasn't going to visit any one who shouted at him in the disgusting way that Mr. Hick did. Poor old gentleman, he doesn't deserve to be shouted at. He's very absent-minded and a bit queer sometimes, but there's no harm in him."

"Didn't he go down and see the fire when Mr. Hick's workroom got burnt?" asked Daisy. Miss Miggle shook her head.

"He went out for his usual walk that evening," she said. "About six o'clock. But he came back before the fire was discovered."