William the Good (25 page)

They stared at him forlornly from the bushes.

‘
Well
!’ moaned William, ‘of all the
rotten
luck!’

Then they discussed the crisis in hoarse whispers. It would be impossible, of course, to wait till he came home and by tomorrow he would have seen and reported matters to the headmaster. Anyone
less determined than the Outlaws would have abandoned the project and gone home. But not the Outlaws.

‘Let’s go round to the other side of the house,’ said William, ‘an’ have a look at the dining-room. We might get a chance to whisper to him through the window or
somethin’.’

This was felt to be unduly optimistic, but the suggestion appealed to the Outlaws’ spirit of adventure and they followed William round to the side of the house.

The dining-room window was open but the curtains were drawn. The curtains, however, did not quite meet at the top and William said that by climbing on to the roof of the summer-house he thought
he could see into the room.

Using Ginger and Douglas as a stepladder, he hoisted himself up on to the roof of the summer-house. It was now so dark that he could not see the Outlaws down among the bushes.

‘I can’t see into the room yet,’ he whispered, ‘but,’ he added optimistically, ‘I bet if I stand on tiptoe—’

At this point the Outlaws became conscious of some sort of a commotion, of the sound of many excited voices. Then a man with a lighted lantern began to make what was obviously a tour of
inspection of the garden.

William crouched down upon his summer-house and the others crouched down among the bushes.

The man with the lighted lantern passed, muttering to himself.

The Great Man stood in the drawing-room talking to Mr and Mrs Carroway and to Mrs Carroway’s companion, Miss Seed.

It was, of course, unfortunate that Mrs Carroway’s companion was called Miss Seed, and had there been any other suitable applicant for the post Mrs Carroway would certainly not have chosen
Miss Seed. However, there hadn’t been, so both of them made the best of the situation and had brought to a fine art the capacity of looking quite unconscious when their names were pronounced
together.

The Great Man was talking. The Great Man was, as a matter of fact, never completely happy unless he was talking, and he had been pleased to find that he was the only guest
because he so often found that other guests liked to talk as well, and that completely spoilt the evening for him. He was, however, rather annoyed when Mrs Carroway was called out to someone at the
front door in the middle of his very brilliant summary of the political situation. He cleared his throat in an annoyed fashion, frowned, and stood in silence watching the door for her return. He
didn’t consider Mr Carroway alone worth addressing, and Miss Seed had gone out to see to the dinner, because Mrs Carroway was, as usual, without maids and one of the reasons why Mrs Carroway
had chosen Miss Seed as a companion, despite her name, was that she did not mind seeing to dinners in the intervals of companioning Mrs Carroway. After a few minutes Mrs Carroway returned.

‘When I say that this Government has missed some of its finest opportunities,’ he began at once, ‘I refer of course—’

But Mrs Carroway didn’t wait to hear to what he referred. She didn’t care at all what opportunities the Government had missed.

‘What
shall
we do?’ she burst out hysterically. ‘Here’s a man to say that a lion has escaped from the circus and they think it may be in our back garden, because
there’s only a fence between our back garden and the field where the circus is. Oh, what
shall
we do? We shall all be eaten alive.’

The Great Man cleared his throat and took command of the situation.

‘Send the man round the garden to search,’ he said, ‘and we will meantime remain perfectly calm and lock up all the doors and windows. Be brave, Mrs Carroway, and trust
yourself to my protection. I will see that all the doors and windows are securely fastened. Courage! Remember we are English men and, ahem, English women, and must show no fear. Lock and bolt the
front door at once and shout through the letter-box to the man to make a thorough search of the garden.’

This was done. The man seemed slightly peeved and went off alone muttering.

The Great Man then made a tour of the house, closing every door and window firmly. Finally, he collected Mr and Mrs Carroway and Miss Seed into the drawing-room where he locked the shutters and
moved the grand piano across the door.

‘Let courage and fortitude be our motto,’ he said. ‘Let us now meet danger calmly.’

No one listened to him. Miss Seed was tending Mrs Carroway who was in hysterics and was hoping that she’d soon be sufficiently recovered to allow her to have them in her turn, and Mr
Carroway was trying to get under the sofa.

The Great Man, therefore, had no one to address but his own reflection in the full-length mirror. So he addressed it spiritedly.

‘England expects—’ he began. At this moment there came a loud rat-tat-tat at the knocker. Mrs Carroway, who was just coming out of hysterics, went into them again, and Mr
Carroway put his head out of the sofa to say reassuringly: ‘Don’t be alarmed, dearest. It can’t be the lion. The lion couldn’t reach up to the knocker.’

Then someone pushed open the letter-box and the voice of the man with the lantern called: ‘He ain’t in your garden, mister. I’ve been all over your garden,’ and added
sarcastically: ‘You can come out from hunder the sofa. ’E won’t ’urt you.’

‘What a very impertinent man,’ said Mr Carroway. ‘I shall report him to the manager of his firm.’

The Great Man began to unbarricade the door.

‘We may all justly pride ourselves,’ he said, ‘upon the dauntless courage we have displayed in the face of this crisis.’

‘I’m so hungry,’ said Miss Seed pathetically.

‘Hungry?’ said Mrs Carroway. ‘I’m
past
hunger. I shall never, never,
never
be able to describe to you what I’ve suffered during these last few
minutes.’

Mr Carroway looked rather relieved at the information.

They went into the dining-room and took their seats. Miss Seed brought in the dinner, and the Great Man returned to the opportunities the Government had missed.

MR CARROWAY CRAWLED OUT FROM UNDER THE SOFA. ‘A NICE THING!’ HE SAID. ‘A NICE THING, THIS!’

‘I still feel faint,’ said Mrs Carroway, unwilling to share the limelight with the Government or anyone else. ‘I still feel most faint. I always do after any nervous
shock.’

THE GREAT MAN BEGAN TO UNBARRICADE THE DOOR. ‘WE MAY ALL JUST PRIDE OUTSELVES,’ HE SAID, ‘UPON OUR DAUNTLESS COURAGE!’

Her husband went to the window and drew back the curtains and opened the window.

‘I – I don’t know that I’d do that,’ said Mrs Carroway, gazing fearfully out into the dark garden. ‘One can’t be
quite
sure – I
mean—’

At that moment came the sound of a heavy body crashing through the undergrowth. With a wild scream Mrs Carroway rose and fled from the room.

‘Quick,’ she panted, ‘out of the front door and across to the Vicarage for refuge. The creature is gathering for a spring. This house is unsafe—’

She was halfway down the front drive by this time, followed closely by the others. The Great Man, being far from nimble on his feet, panted along at the end, gasping, ‘Courage, friends . .
. let courage be our motto.’

The house was left empty and silent.

The sound of the heavy crashing through the undergrowth had of course been William leaping down from the roof of the summer-house to join his companions below, losing his
balance just as he leapt, and falling among the laurel bushes.

He sat up, rubbing his head and ejecting laurel leaves from his mouth. Then: ‘I say, what’s all the fuss about?’ he whispered. ‘I thought I heard someone
scream.’

‘So’d I,’ said the Outlaws mystified.

‘What was that man goin’ round with a lantern for?’ whispered William.

‘I d’no,’ said the Outlaws, still more mystified.

‘Well,’ said William, abandoning the mystery for the moment, ‘let’s go an’ see if we can see what they’re doing’ now. Someone’s drawn the
curtains.’

They crept up through the bushes to the open dining-room window. To their amazement they saw a brightly lit room, a table laid for four, steaming dishes upon it, and chairs drawn up in position
– all completely empty.

‘Crumbs,’ said William in amazement, ‘that’s queer.’

The Outlaws gazed in silence at the astounding sight till Ginger said weakly:

‘Where’ve they all
gone
to?’

‘P’raps they’re in the other room,’ suggested Douglas.

They crept round to the drawing-room window. The drawing-room was empty.

‘P’raps – p’raps,’ said Henry without conviction, ‘they’re all in the kitchen.’

They crept round to the kitchen. The kitchen was empty. They looked at the upstairs windows. They were all in darkness.

William scratched his head and frowned.

‘’S very mysterious,’ he commented.

Then they returned to the dining-room. It was still empty. The steaming dishes were still upon the table. An odour was wafted out to the waiting Outlaws – an odour so succulent that it was
impossible to resist it. It was William who first swung himself over the low window sill of the open window into the room. The others followed. They stood in silence and gazed at the steaming
dishes on the table, the four places, the four chairs.

‘Seems,’ said Ginger dreamily, ‘seems sort of like a fairy-tale – like a sort of Arabian Nights story.’

‘Well,’ said William slowly, ‘it cert’nly seems sort of
meant.
’

‘I read a tale once like this,’ said Douglas, ‘and they sat down at the table and invisible hands waited on them.’

‘Let’s try,’ said William suddenly, taking his seat at the head of the table, ‘let’s try if invisible hands’ll wait on us.’

They needed no encouragement. They all took their seats with alacrity. In fairness to whatever invisible hands might have waited upon the Outlaws, it must be admitted that they did not get much
chance. The Outlaws began immediately to wait upon themselves with visible and very grimy hands. Each had a suspicion that at any minute the feast might be interrupted. None of them really had much
faith in the Arabian Nights idea. Under the cover in front of William was a roast chicken. The dishes contained bread sauce, gravy, potatoes and cauliflower. William dismembered the chicken
ruthlessly and with a fine disregard for anatomy, and they helped themselves from the various dishes. It was a glorious meal. There was in the room complete silence, broken only by the sounds of
the Outlaws endeavouring to put away as much of this gorgeous repast as they could before the dream should fade into reality, and some grown-up confront them, demanding explanation. They did not
draw breath till every dish was bare and then, flushed and panting, they sat back and William said meditatively: ‘Wonder what they were goin’ to have after this?’

Douglas suggested giving the invisible hands a chance, but the suggestion was not popular and Henry, catching sight of a hatch in the wall, went to investigate. The hatch slid up and on the
ledge just inside was waiting a magnificent cream edifice and a little pile of four plates. Four gasps of ecstasy went up. Again there was silence, broken only by the sounds of the Outlaws working
hard against time. At last that dish, too, was empty. There was a barrel of biscuits and a pile of fruit on the sideboard, but the capacity even of the Outlaws was exhausted.

‘I feel I wouldn’t want to eat another thing for hundreds and hundreds of years,’ said Henry blissfully.

‘Seems about time we woke up now,’ said Douglas.

But to William, who lived ever in the present, the feast, though the most gorgeous of its kind he had ever known, was already a thing of the past, and he was concentrating his whole attention on
the problem of the present.

‘I wonder what’s
happened
to ’em?’ he said. ‘I wonder where they
are.
’

‘Looks like the thing old Markie was tellin’ us about in school yesterday,’ said Henry, ‘a place where a volcano went off suddenly, an’ killed all the people and
left their houses an’ furniture an’ things an’ you can see it today. It’s called Pomples or somethin’ like that.’