Mystery #04 — The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters - - (бесплатная библиотека электронных книг .TXT) 📗

MR. GOON’S GLOVE

The children had a lovely day. It was warm and sunny, there were primroses everywhere, and the little bright mauve dog-violets made a carpet with the wind-flowers.

‘This is glorious,’ said Daisy. ‘Thank goodness the weather’s changed at last. Let’s lay out our macks and sit on them.’

Buster went off happily. The children watched him go. ‘Off to solve the great Rabbit Mystery!’ said Fatty. ‘Where is the rabbit-hole that is big enough to take a dog like Buster? That is the great problem Buster’s always hoping to solve.’

Everyone laughed. ‘I wish we had a great problem to solve,’ said Daisy. ‘I’ve sort of got used to having something for my brains to chew on each hols. It seems odd not to have anything really to think about.’

The day passed quickly. It was soon time to go home again, and the five mounted their bicycles. Buster had with difficulty been removed from halfway down a rather big rabbit-hole. He had been very angry at being hauled out, and now sat sulkily in Fatty’s basket, his ears down. Just as he had almost reached that rabbit! Another minute and he’d have got him!

‘Buster’s sulking,’ said Pip, and laughed. ‘Oy, Buster! Cheer up!’

‘I wonder if Mother’s done all the important things she said she had to do,’ said Bets to Pip. ‘Anyway she can’t say she’s been much bothered with us today!’

They all parted at the church corner to go their different ways. ‘We’ll meet at Larry’s tomorrow!’ said Fatty. ‘In the garden if it’s fine. Cheerio!’

Pip and Bets biked down their lane and into their drive. ‘I’m jolly thirsty,’ said Pip. ‘I wonder if Gladys would give us some ice out of the frig to put into a jug of water. I feel like a drink of iced water, I’m so hot.’

‘Well, don’t ask Mrs. Moon,’ said Bets. ‘She’s sure to say no!’

They went to find Gladys. She wasn’t in the kitchen, for they peeped in at the window to see. She wasn’t upstairs either, for they went up and called her. Their mother heard them and came out of the study to greet them as they ran downstairs again.

‘Did you have a lovely day?’ she said. ‘I was pleased it was so fine for you.’

‘Yes, a super day,’ said Pip. ‘Mother, can we have a drink of iced water? We’re melting!’

‘Yes, if you like,’ Mrs. Hilton said. They shot off to the kitchen. They peeped in. Mrs. Moon was there, knitting.

‘What do you want?’ she said, looking unexpectedly amiable.

‘Just some iced water, please,’ said Pip. ‘But we weren’t going to ask you for it, Mrs. Moon. We were going to ask Gladys. We didn’t want to bother you.’

‘No bother,’ said Mrs. Moon, getting up. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘Is Gladys out?’ asked Bets.

‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Moon shortly. ‘Now, take these ice-cubes quick, and slip them into a jug. That’s right.’

‘But it isn’t Gladys’s day out, is it?’ said Pip, surprised. ‘She went the day before yesterday.’

‘There now - you’ve dropped an ice-cube!’ said Mrs. Moon. ‘Well, I’m no good at chasing ice-cubes round the kitchen floor, so you must get it yourselves.’

Bets giggled as Pip tried to get the cold slippery ice-cube off the floor. He rinsed it under the tap and popped it into the jug.

‘Thanks, Mrs. Moon,’ he said and carried the jug and two glasses up to the playroom.

‘Mrs. Moon didn’t seem to want to talk about Gladys, did she?’ said Pip. ‘Funny.’

‘Pip - you don’t think Gladys has left, do you?’ suddenly said Bets. ‘I do hope she hasn’t. I did like her.’

‘Well - we can easily find out,’ said Pip. ‘Let’s go and peep in her bedroom. If her things are there we’ll know she’s just out for a while and is coming back.’

They went along the landing to the little room that Gladys had. They opened the door and peeped in. They stared in dismay.

Every single thing that had belonged to Gladys had gone! Her brush and comb, her tooth-brush, and the little blue night-dress case she had embroidered at school for herself. There was nothing at all to show that the girl had been there for a month or two.

‘Yes - she has gone!’ said Bets. ‘Well, why didn’t Mother tell us? Or Mrs. Moon? What’s all the mystery?’

‘It’s jolly funny,’ said Pip. ‘Do you think she stole anything? She seemed so nice. I liked her.’

‘Let’s go and ask Mother,’ said Bets. So they went down to the study. But their mother was not there. They were just turning to go out when Pip’s sharp eyes caught sight of something lying under a chair. He picked it up.

It was a large black woollen glove. He stared at it, trying to remember who wore black woollen gloves.

‘Whose is it?’ asked Bets. ‘Look - isn’t that a name inside?’

Pip looked - and the name he saw there made him stare hard. On a little tab was printed in marking ink, five letters: ‘T. GOON.’

‘T. Goon! Theophilus Goon!’ said Pip, in surprise. ‘Golly! What was old Clear-Orf here for today? He came here and sat in this study, and left a glove behind. No wonder Mother said she had important things to do if she had old Clear-Orf coming for a meeting! But why did he come?’

Bets burst into a loud wail. ‘He’s taken Gladys to prison! I know he has! Gladys has gone to prison, and I did like her so much.’

‘Shut up, idiot!’ said Pip. ‘Mother will hear you.’

Mrs. Hilton came quickly into the study, thinking that Bets must surely have hurt herself. ‘What’s the matter dear?’ she asked.

‘Mother! Mr. Goon’s taken Gladys to prison, hasn’t he?’ wept Bets. ‘But I’m sure she didn’t steal or anything. I’m sure she didn’t. She was n-n-n-nice!’

‘Bets, don’t be silly,’ said her mother. ‘Of course Mr. Goon hasn’t done anything of the sort.’

‘Well, why was he here then?’ demanded Pip.

‘How do you know he was?’ said his mother.

‘Because of this,’ said Pip, and he held out the large woollen glove. ‘That’s Mr. Goon’s glove. So we know he has been here in the study - and as Gladys is gone we feel pretty certain Mr. Goon’s had something to do with her going.’

‘Well, he hasn’t,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘She was very upset about something today and I let her go home to her aunt.’

‘Oh,’ said Pip. ‘Then why did Mr. Goon come to see you, Mother?’

‘Really, Pip, it’s no business of yours,’ said his mother, quite crossly. ‘I don’t want you prying into it either. I know you all fancy yourselves as detectives, but this is nothing whatever to do with you, and I’m not going to have you mixed up in any of your so-called mysteries again.’

‘Oh - is there a mystery then?’ said Bets. ‘And is old Clear-Orf trying to solve it? Oh Mother, you might tell us, you might!’

‘It’s nothing whatever to do with you,’ said Mrs. Hilton firmly. ‘Your father and I have discussed something with Mr. Goon, that’s all.’

‘Has he been complaining about us? ’ asked Pip.

‘No, for a wonder he hasn’t,’ said his mother. ‘Stop howling, Bets. There’s nothing to wail about.’

Bets dried her eyes. ‘Why did Gladys go?’ she said. ‘I want her to come back.’

‘Well, maybe she will,’ said her mother. ‘I can’t tell you why she went, except that she was upset about something, that’s all. It’s her own private business.’

Mrs. Hilton went out of the room. Pip looked at Bets, and slipped his hand into the enormous black glove. ‘Golly, what a giant of a hand old Clear-Orf must have,’ he said. ‘I do wonder why he was here, Bets. It was something to do with Gladys, I’m certain.’

‘Let’s go up and tell Fatty,’ said Bets. ‘He’ll know what to do. Why is everything being kept such a secret? And oh, I do hate to think of Clear-Orf sitting here talking with Mother, and grinning to think we were not to know anything about it!’

They couldn’t go up to Fatty’s that evening, because Mrs. Hilton suddenly decided she wanted to wash their hair. ‘But mine’s quite clean,’ protested Pip.

‘It looks absolutely black,’ said his mother. ‘What have you been doing to it to-day, Pip? Standing on your head in a heap of soot, or something?’