Inspector Rumblepants and the Case of the Golden Haggis (12 page)

Finally the soldiers and police located the banquet room. Through the doors' windowpanes, they could see a group of rough gypsies standing with Bonnie Prince Currie and Count Tomat Le Ketchoop. Agent Amber was being held captive by several large gypsies. Inspector Thistle McDonald was standing with the Prince and Count, smiling. He was the traitor.

The soldiers and police stormed open the door to the banquet room.

“Ho, eh, ho,” chuckled the evil Count, as Inspector Rumblepants skidded to a halt with Sergeant Widebottom at his side. “We knew ye were coming,” the Count sneered, “and ambushed yer girly secret agent and lured ye into our trap.”

Numpty and Nailard came up behind Rumblepants and Widebottom. More soldiers and policemen followed. The doors to the banquet hall slammed suddenly shut, trapping them inside. Dozens of gypsies with strange brass guns surrounded them and smiled menacingly. Bottles of orange liquid sloshed around in the guns as the gypsies closed in. In the corner, a huge vat of boiling orange liquid bubbled away in the fireplace.

In the hallway outside the banquet room, the rest of the policemen and soldiers realized what was happening and started to hammer on the doors. However, the old oak doors were like iron and they could not get in.

“With the Golden Haggis and the Count's secret weapons, nothing can stand in my way!” shouted Bonnie Prince Currie.

“So what are your plans now that you have us all prisoners?” asked Agent Amber sweetly.

The Count laughed. “My army is waiting for me in the forests of Dundee and will march upon England in the morning,” he shouted with glee, a mad gleam in his eyes. “I have a secret dungeon full of these weapons. Armed with those, I will be able to take over England in merely days.”

“Just what is that weapon?” asked Widebottom the inventor, looking at the strange gun.

“It is the Fart-urator,” said the Count with pride. “Anyone you shoot must fart uncontrollably and has to go to the toilet quickly.” He pointed the weapon at Widebottom.

Inspector Rumblepants looked around and then noticed Agent Amber winking at him, nodding toward the vat of boiling orange liquid. He smiled back and leaned close to Sergeant Widebottom.

“Can your special truncheon reach that vat over there?” he whispered, nodding to the liquid.

“No, that's too far,” Widebottom answered quietly.

Inspector Rumblepants thought for a minute. “Throw your truncheon to Agent Amber when I tell you to.”

Inspector Rumblepants looked back at the Prince and Count confidently. “You are all under arrest,” he stated officially. “In the name of Queen Victoria, Her Royal Majesty, drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.”

The gypsies looked at each other and started to laugh. Prince Currie shook his head in amazement.

Inspector Rumblepants shouted, “Now!” and Sergeant Widebottom threw his special truncheon to Agent Amber.

The truncheon spun as it flew through the air. The ever-nimble Agent Amber jabbed one gypsy in the ribs with her elbow, stood on another gypsy's foot, and then poked her hairbrush into the belly of a third. Leaping high in the air by stepping on the back and then the head of the gypsy who was slowly falling over, she caught the truncheon daintily with one small hand.

Spinning like a ballerina, she pointed the truncheon at the vat, pressing the button. The truncheon extended out and hit the vat, causing it to wobble. She pushed hard, and the vat slowly tipped over, spilling orange liquid all over the floor. A cloud of orange smoke rose into the air and quickly filled the room.

“No!” cried the panicked Count. He looked at Amber in a fury. “Run!” he shouted, sprinting quickly for a small door with some of his gypsies.

Already, most of the gypsies were clutching their stomachs. Inspector Nailard expertly threw a police duffle bag toward the banquet doors. The bag, of course, exploded, making a hole large enough for the soldiers and policemen to escape.

Agent Amber ran through the cloud of orange vapors, a scented and embroidered handkerchief held daintily over her nose. Sergeant Widebottom used his special extending handcuffs to drag Bonnie Prince Currie from the room. The Prince had already fainted from the fumes.

Outside, policemen and soldiers were rounding up the gypsies and Bonnie Prince Currie's men as they fled the halls. No one could find the evil Count; but, after much searching, they found a hidden pier with a missing boat. So it was thought that the Count probably escaped into the night.

The occasional thump of another door being exploded could be heard through the castle. Inspector Thistle McDonald, the traitor, scowled at Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber as they loaded him and the last of the criminals on the boats.

“I never suspected McDonald was the mole,” Sergeant Widebottom said to Agent Amber.

She smiled. “I decided to allow myself to be taken prisoner to see whether I could uncover the traitor and learn more of the Count's plans. It seems that McDonald is Bonnie Prince Currie's distant cousin.”

Inspector Nailard walked up to Agent Amber and Inspector Rumblepants, his clothes sooty and torn. “The lads wanted me to thank you ever so much for tonight.”

“You were just what we needed to help save the day,” Rumblepants replied.

Sergeant Widebottom wandered up with a tray of sandwiches. “I found the kitchen and thought we could all use a late-night snack,” he said, happily handing out sandwiches.

Inspector Rumblepants looked at the group. “We will have to head back to London tomorrow and inform Chief Inspector Grumpibugger of the situation. I have asked Lieutenant Numpty to notify the Scottish authorities of Count Tomat Le Ketchoop's escape.”

Rumblepants vowed, “We will catch him. If not tonight— then soon!”

It was a long but satisfying trip to Stirling Castle to return the Golden Haggis to its rightful resting place under the protection of Colonel Smithering Blyyd and his men. Inspector Rumblepants, Sergeant Widebottom, Agent Amber, and Inspector Nailard then headed back to London and Old Scotland Yard to report on the events that had taken place to Chief Inspector Grumpibugger.

Luckily, the train porter recognized Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom and made their beds for them, so they got a good night's sleep as the train headed overnight back to London. Nailard preferred to bunk with his men in the military transport car. They had sweet dreams. Agent Amber had her own cabin and settled down for some well-deserved rest underneath a big, comfy blanket.

The train puffed into Waterloo station the following morning. Nailard rushed with his men back to the FART headquarters to debrief. Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom collected their luggage and assisted Agent Amber with several boxes of shoes that she had bought while in Scotland. They made their way through the crowded train station and hailed a horse-drawn cab to take them to Old Scotland Yard. Once there, they immediately spilled the whole story to Chief Inspector Grumpibugger, explaining everything that happened. Grumpibugger sent out an alert to have all the policemen in England start looking for the evil Count.

Grumpibugger clapped the three heroes on the back in delight. He immediately sent a messenger to the Queen to pass on the good news of how they had recovered the Golden Haggis and averted a war between England and Scotland. After many congratulations and several cups of tea, Agent Amber hugged the two policemen goodbye and headed to her secret agency to debrief with her superiors. She was very pleased her first mission had gone well and was looking forward to working with the Inspector and Sergeant again.

Three weeks later, Inspector Rumblepants, Sergeant Widebottom, and Agent Amber were called into Buckingham Palace to meet with the Queen, who awarded them, in secret, medals for stopping the evil Count Tomat Le Ketchoop from starting a war between England and Scotland. Nailard was speaking at a spy convention, but the Queen sent him a commendation for bravery under fire. They were all sworn to secrecy about the events.

After the ceremony, Chief Inspector Grumpibugger and N (from MI six-and-a-half) took the three for a posh lunch at the London Hotel as a treat for doing such a good job. As they dug into their apple and raspberry puddings with ice cream desserts, N looked up and smiled.

“You know,” N revealed, “we believe that the Count has traveled to one of our former colonies. This news is from some reports were received just this very morning.”

Everyone looked up in surprise. “Which colony?” asked Inspector Rumblepants, sipping his tea.

“The United States of America, we believe,” said N, wiping his mouth with a white napkin.

“We believe he has landed in Texas and is planning something evil.” N looked around to other nearby tables, to see whether anyone was eavesdropping.

Agent Amber cheerily chirped, “I hear they have some excellent shoes and handbags. Some are even made from crocodiles. When do we leave?”

Hidden Anachronism Answers

I hope that this book will inspire readers to perfect their own powers of observation and deduction. As such, as you read this book, can you spot the hidden anachronisms? A list of some can be found below.

Did you think rubber might be an anachronism? It's not. Pre-Columbian people of Central and South America used it, and vulcanized rubber was patented in 1844 by Charles Goodyear.

The idea of using fingerprinting in police work was made public in 1863 by Parisian Professor Paul-Jean Coulier. However, during the period of the book, fingerprinting was not yet used by the London police. The Fingerprint Branch at New Scotland Yard (London Metropolitan Police) was created in 1901.

If you thought a tobacco pipe is an anachronism, it's not. There is evidence that pipes were used as early as 500 BC. Briarwood tobacco pipes were available in 1840, and that type of wood is still used today for pipes.

If you thought crayons are an anachronism, they're not. A fairly modern form of the crayon was being used by people as early as 1828.

Although typewriters were invented in 1860, there were no commercially made typewriters yet by the time of this story.