Mystery of Banshee Towers (7 page)

“My dogs! I should think not. I can’t bear them!” said the man, and made as if he were going to kick Buster. Buster growled and showed his teeth and the man backed hurriedly away. “Go on, now - you clear out,” he said. “Thursday’s my afternoon off, and I want a bit of peace!”

And, very thankfully, the children did clear out, and went to fetch their bicycles, the dogs gambolling round.

“What a bit of luck a shilling had been dropped in that hearth sometime, by somebody,” said Ern, as they all mounted.

“Dear Ern - I dropped it there
myself
,” grinned Fatty. “I knew if that fellow found it, as I meant him to, he wouldn’t worry about the trap-door any more! Come on now, home, everyone. Home, Buster! Bingo! HOME!”

9 - HOME AGAIN - AND A GOOD LONG TALK

“Well - that was a rather surprising expedition!” said Fatty, when they were well away from Banshee Towers. “I feel we have quite a lot to think about. The wailing of the banshee - I don’t mean
my
wailing, of course, that wasn’t a patch on the old banshee’s - my word,
she
could wail all right!”

“Don’t remind me of it,” said Bets, with a shudder. “I just want to put Banshee Towers behind me and ride away home down this hill, as quickly as I can!”

“And then there was that queer trap-door in the hearth,” said Larry. “And the puzzle of how on earth the dogs arrived underneath it.”

“And
I
didn’t like the look of that turnstile man at all,” announced Daisy. “I thought he looked a villain.”

“Oh, not as bad as
that
,” said Pip. “He just looked bored and bad-tempered - and I must say I would too, if I had a turnstile job on the top of a cold hill in a place where banshees wailed!”

“I’d like to get home and talk about it,” said Larry. “I don’t know what
you
think, Fatty, but it all seems pretty queer to me.”

“A bit of a mystery, you mean?” said Fatty. “Well - it’s about time that the Five Find-Outers had a good juicy mystery to solve, isn’t it?”

“Oh
yes
!” said Pip, in delight. “We’ve never had one with banshees in before.”

“Well, I could do without banshees, really,” said Bets. “What about telling the Chief Inspector - you know, Inspector Jenks - he might…”

“Bets, we really
can’t
tell him silly stories of banshees,” said Fatty. “They don’t
really
exist, you know. They…”

“All right - well, what
was
it that we heard this afternoon?” said Bets. “I don’t care what its name is, it was as bad and weird and horrible as any banshee, so there!”

“You’re right, Bets. It was pretty awful,” said Pip. “I didn’t like it myself. Real or unreal, that banshee is MOST mysterious. Look out, now, we’re coming to a very steep bit. Go as slowly as you can all the way, in case your brakes are weak.”

Away down the hill they sailed in a long line, the the two dogs galloping manfully - or “dogfully” as Bets said - after them. What a day they had had - and how they all longed to be down in Fatty’s workroom and talk about it - and make plans to solve yet another Mystery! Bets shivered with excitement. There always seemed to be a mystery of some sort when Fatty was around!

Everyone was glad to be in Fatty’s cosy workroom, especially the two dogs, who were quite tired out with their long run. Buster flopped down in his basket, panting, and Bingo fell on top of him, too tired to play. In half a second they were sound asleep.

“One great basketful of dogs,” said Bets, smiling. “I’m glad they’re such friends.”

“It’s nice for Bingo to have a friend like Buster - you know, well-brought-up, like,” said Ern. “I want Bingo to have good manners. He’ll learn from old Buster - real copy-cat Bingo is!”

“No, no,” said Fatty, gravely. “There you make a mistake, Ern. Not a copy-cat, surely - a copy-_dog_!”

“Ha ha - funny joke,” said Pip, who was tired, and not in the mood for Fatty’s quips.

“I’m thirsty,” said Larry. “Any orange squash, Fatty?”

“Plenty in my cupboard,” said Fatty. “And glasses too. And there’s some chocolate somewhere. Buck up and get what you want. I’m longing to discuss the strange happenings of this morning. You know - I think Something’s Going On Up There.”

“Up where?” asked Ern.

“Banshee Hill, ass,” said Fatty. “Two things puzzle me - that banshee wail - and the hole under the hearth, where that cauldron stands.”

“Well, what’s puzzling about the banshee wail?” asked Bets. “You
said
that’s what banshees did - wail and howl and cry.”

“Yes - but you heard what that artist in the black overall said,” went on Fatty. “He said that the banshee only wailed one day a week! Well - why only
one
day?”

“Perhaps banshees only
do
wail one day a week.” suggested Daisy. “I mean - all that awful wailing must be a terrible strain on the throat. I bet
your
throat felt sore after you’d wailed at the top of your voice - you sound a bit husky to me.”

“Well, I’m
not
, said Fatty. “I could wail like that for half an hour or more and not feel husky.”

“For goodness sake don’t do anything of the sort,” said Larry. “You’d have the fire-brigade here and the police, and every doctor in the place.”

“Do come back to the point, Larry.” said Fatty. “WHY does the banshee only wail once a week? There can’t be a real banshee there - there aren’t such things. It must be somebody faking one - but why? “

“For fun,” said Bets.

“Yes, but why on a certain
day
?” persisted Fatty.

“What on earth does it matter?” said Pip, getting tired of the subject. “It can wail
every
day of the week, for all I care.”

“Pip, you should have a more alert, enquiring mind,” said Fatty, solemnly. “You know - that’s a fake banshee - and I’d jolly well like to find out who’s working it and how - and why.”

“I don’t want to go up that hill again,” said Bets. “I loved the pictures - but I hated the wailing.”

“Don’t worry, Bets. You needn’t go. But
I’m
going,” said Fatty. “I’m going tomorrow. I tell you, I Smell a Mystery!”

“Well, you must have the most powerful nose anybody ever had,” said Larry. “All I can smell is that oil-stove smoking. I suppose your nose is too high and mighty to smell ordinary things like that. Turn down the wick, Ern - you’re nearest.”

Ern turned down the wick carefully. “Fatty,” he said, “could I come with you if you go to Banshee Hill tomorrow - not to mess about in a mystery, though - just to see those sea-pictures again. Especially the one with the high cliffs and the blue sea swirling round it.”

“Oh - the one the French artist was copying,” said Fatty. “Yes, that was a beauty. All right, Ern, you can come with me - you’ll be company - and while you stand and gloat over the pictures, I can do a little snooping. It’s just as well I should have someone with me who is obviously there to see the pictures!”

“Oooh, thanks, Fatty,” said Ern, “I hope that banshee doesn’t come wailing round me, though.”

“It only wails
once
a week, Ern,” said Fatty. “I’ll eat my cap if it wails tomorrow! I’m pretty certain it has its pet day, for
some
reason or other.”

“Look - we’d better go, Daisy and I,” said Larry, getting up in a hurry. “Gosh - I’d quite forgotten our Granny was coming to tea. Buck up, Daisy, for goodness sake. We’re going out for the day tomorrow, Fatty, so we won’t be seeing you. So long!”

They shot out of the shed door and the others heard them racing up the garden. Pip stood up then, and yanked Bets to her feet. “Come along, Bets,” he said. “You look half asleep. Telephone us, Fatty, when there’s a Meeting again.”

“I should think Bets is tired out with the long bicycle ride,” said Fatty, giving Bets a hug. “Goodbye, Bets - and don’t dream of banshees tonight!”

“I hope I’m not being a nuisance to you. Fatty,” said Ern, when the others had gone. “Staying here in your shed.”

“No - no, of
course
you’re not a nuisance, Ern,” said Fatty. “Hallo - who’s this coming - I seem to know those heavy footsteps.”

“It’s Uncle!” said Ern, in alarm. “He must have heard that I’ve not gone home. Fatty, hide me!”

“There’s nowhere to hide you,” said Fatty, looking round. “He’d look in that cupboard at once! Listen now, Ern, I’ll lock the door - and when your uncle comes knocking on it, you slip quietly out of the window, see? I’ll hand Bingo to you. Hide somewhere and come back when Goon is gone.”

Bang-bang-bang! That was Goon at the shed door. Fatty had quickly turned the key in the lock, so the policeman could not open it. A roar came from the other side.

“Frederick Trotteville, you open this door. I know you’ve got Ern in there. I saw him through the window. You open this door or I’ll go to your father.”

“
Ern?
Ern in
here
, Mr Goon! You must be seeing things!” shouted Fatty, going to the door. “Wait a minute - it’s locked. Shut up, Buster, making that row!”

Buster and Bingo were certainly making a terrific noise. Neither of them liked Mr Goon, and they had recognized his voice at once. Ern was now getting out of the window at the side of the shed. He patted the sill and Bingo came running to him, and leapt into his arms. “Sh!” said Ern. “No barking, now.” He crept off to where a thick clump of bushes grew, and squeezed into the middle of them.

Fatty quietly shut the window after him and ran back to the door, on which Goon was still angrily hammering. “Be patient, Mr Goon,” said Fatty. “The key seems to have stuck - ah - it’s all right now - there we are!”

He turned the key smartly, and flung open the door. The angry policeman stormed into the shed at once, shouting at the top of his voice “Ern! ERN! You come alonga me. You never went home! You disobeyed me! You just wait and see what…”

But Goon didn’t finish what he had to say because Buster flung himself on him with enormous delight, trying to nip his ankles through the thick trousers.

“GAH!” said Mr Goon, kicking out. “That dog again! Where’s Ern? I saw him, I know I did!”

“Well, have a good look round, Mr Goon,” said Fatty, politely. “He may be under that stool - or behind the books in the bookcase - or in the dog’s basket. Buster, stop that row.”

Goon was quite at a loss as he stood staring round the room. He
had
seen Ern there, he knew he had. It didn’t occur to him that Ern had had time to slip out of the window. He glared at Fatty, and glared at Buster, and turned to go. Buster gave a blood-curdling growl, and Goon shot out of the door at top speed.

“You wait!” he shouted, as Fatty shut the door. “I’ll get Ern all right - ho yes, I’ll get him!” And away he went, muttering to himself. “That toad of a boy - too clever by half, he is. Where
is
Ern? Just wait till I get hold of him. He won’t sit down properly for a week, that he won’t!”

When the policeman had gone, Ern crept out of the middle of the bush, and went back to Fatty’s shed, grinning. “Thanks, Fatty,” he said. “You’re a pal! I say - you’re sure you don’t mind if I go up to Banshee Towers with you tomorrow?”

“Be nice to have your company, Ern,” said Fatty, and meant it! “Also, you may be useful. You see - I do want to snoop around a bit, and if there are people there, you might be able to take up their attention somehow… so that no one will be watching
me
.”

“But how do I take up anyone’s attention?” said Ern. alarmed. “I’m no good at play-acting, Fatty, you know that.”

“Oh, Ern, you can do a sudden bit of tap dancing - or sing a little song - or pretend to faint,” said Fatty. “I’ll signal to you like this, if I want you to turn people’s attention to you, and away from me!”

And Fatty smoothed back his hair three times. “See? Don’t look so alarmed. Nobody will lock you up, or box your ears. They’ll just stay still in astonishment, and forget all about me and what I’m doing.”

“All right. Fatty,” said Ern, in a mournful voice, and settled down to read one of Fatty’s books. “Coo, the books you’ve got, Fatty - you must have over a thousand. This one’s smashing.”

He was soon lost in the sea-story he had found in Fatty’s big bookcase. Bingo lay happily on Ern’s feet, and Buster sat as close to Fatty as he could. Ern came to the end of a chapter, and looked up in great content. He was perfectly happy. He had a friend, a dog, a good book, and somewhere quiet to read. Ern gave an enormous sigh and went back to his book, thinking how lucky he was to have a clever friend like Fatty.

Next morning Ern woke up feeling excited. He sat up on the camp-bed in the shed trying to remember the reason for his excitement. “Of course - Fatty and I are going up to that Banshee place again - and I shall see those grand pictures,” he thought, in delight. “Bingo - do you hear that? Sh, don’t bark too loudly. Nobody must know we’re here. I’ve told you that before.”

Bingo had snuggled down on Ern’s feet all night long. He sat up, yawning, wondering when his friend Buster would come. Bingo thought the world of Buster, and copied him in every way he could, even to rubbing his nose with his left paw, instead of his right one. He crawled over Ern’s knees and gave him a smacking lick on the nose. Then he rolled over to be tickled.

“Do you know something, Bingo?” said Ern, solemnly. “Right now I am feeling very very sorry for all those boys and girls who haven’t a dog of their own. They just don’t know what they’re missing. Now then - that’s enough licking. Go and fetch me that towel, so that I can wipe my face. Good dog, then - clever dog! You understand everything I say, don’t you? Now, please take the towel back. Jolly good, Bingo!”

Fatty brought Ern some breakfast, and then disappeared to do a few jobs for his mother. “I’ll be back at ten and we’ll set off,” he said. “We’ll take lunch with us - I’ll buy it on the way, because Cook is getting a bit suspicious of the enormous appetite I seem suddenly to have developed. She said this morning that I seem to want enough for
two
people - and she was right!”

They set off just after ten, and Fatty stopped to buy some sandwiches, new currant buns, and oranges. He had akeady put some lemonade and a cup into his bicycle basket. Ern gave a sudden cry of alarm, as they rode up the village street.