The Rilloby Fair Mystery. Enid blyton
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id="ulink_18f0fe76-2321-57b4-84b3-db6bc7783756">CHAPTER 7
SNUBBY IN DIFFICULTIES
Three or four days went by. Each morning the three children took the paper after the grown-ups had finished with it, and pored over it.
But Ricklesham was never in the news. It was most disappointing. And then suddenly it was!
Mr. Lynton was glancing down the paper one morning, when something caught his eye. He read it quickly and then spoke to Great-uncle Robert.
“Uncle,” he said, “here’s a bit of news for you. Didn’t you have something to do with the arranging of some old seventeenth-century letters or documents—I’ve forgotten what they were—for the Forbes-King Collection?”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” said Great-uncle. “A very fine collection that was—most interesting old letters. Why, what does it say about them?”
“They’ve been stolen!” said Mr. Lynton, and the three children sat up at once in excitement.
“Stolen!” echoed Great-uncle. “No—have they really? Where from?”
“They were on loan to a Mr. Curtice-Knowles at Ricklesham House,” said Mr. Lynton. Diana gave an exclamation. Roger kicked her under the table. Snubby looked anxiously at Great-uncle.
“Ricklesham House! Ricklesham, did you say?” said Great-uncle in a faint voice. “Good heavens! Ricklesham!”
He looked at Snubby. Snubby had said that the Green Hands Gang might operate at Ricklesham next—and lo and behold, what it had done but steal valuable old documents there? Great-uncle did some rapid thinking. Then that meant—yes, it must mean—that the Green Hands Gang that Snubby was afraid of was the same one that was mixed up with the continual theft of precious documents!
“It must have been that very gang that came into Chelie Manor House when I was there, and stole all those papers,” thought Great-uncle Robert. “Fancy that boy being mixed up with them. Most extraordinary. I’ll have to have a long talk with him about all this. Really, the police should be told.”
Snubby wouldn’t look at Great-uncle. He was terrified that he would suddenly ask him awkward questions. Fortunately Mrs. Lynton plunged into the matter, and asked several questions.
“But, Richard! Do you think that it’s the same thieves who went to Chelie Manor House when Uncle Robert was there? Does it say anything about locked doors? Did the thieves go through fastened windows and locked doors again?”
“Yes. Apparently it is just as mysterious a theft as the others,” said her husband. “There is a small room set apart at Ricklesham House for these old and rare papers, and they are displayed under glass cases. The door to this room was locked, of course. The windows are not only safely fastened, but also barred, so the paper says.”
“And yet the things were stolen!” said Mrs. Lynton. “Well, it certainly sounds very mysterious. The police must be very puzzled.”
Great-uncle took the paper and read the report very carefully. There was no mention of a Green Hands Gang. How on earth did Snubby know that there was going to be a crime committed at Ricklesham? He lifted his head to have another look at Snubby. But Snubby had gone.
He had mentioned to his aunt in a low voice that he didn’t want any more breakfast. Could he go, please?
“Don’t you feel well, dear?” began Mrs. Lynton, but seeing that Snubby’s cheeks were the same fiery red as usual, she felt there was nothing serious wrong. So she nodded, and Snubby slipped away, thankful that Great-uncle was buried in the paper.
There was an excited meeting in the summer-house that morning. Snubby, Diana and Roger rushed there as soon as their jobs were done. Loony rushed too, sensing the excitement.
“Roger—Great-uncle kept on and on looking at me at breakfast-time,” said Snubby, as soon as they were safely in the wooden house. “I know he’s going to ask me awkward questions. I don’t want to meet him at all. Say you don’t know where I am, if he asks you.”
“Well, we can’t tell a lie, if we do know where you are,” said Diana. “But we’ll do our best not to give you away. It serves you right for talking too much. Now, of course, Great-uncle will believe in your silly Green Hands Gang all over again, because of this upset at Ricklesham.”
“I know,” groaned Snubby. “Loony, go and sit outside on guard. On guard, do you hear? And you jolly well know what that means. Bark if you see anyone coming!”
Loony thumped his little tail on the ground, as he sat himself down in the sunshine. He knew what “On guard” meant all right. Of course he did. He barked loudly at once, and Snubby, in a great flurry, squeezed himself under the seat in the summer-house, while Diana and Roger sat just above, their legs hiding him.
But it was only Sardine arriving. She had seen Loony and wanted to have a game. So she came walking up the path, waving her tail in the air as usual, black and sleek and purring.
Loony knew now that her purr meant “Pax! Don’t chase me!” just as she knew that when he wagged his tail, it meant the same.
Still, he had to bark, as he was on guard, and Sardine paused in surprise. She sat down a good way from Loony and began to wash herself. Loony could never imagine why cats washed themselves so much. They were always doing it.
“It’s all right, Snubby—it’s only Sardine,” said Diana, peering out of the summer-house. “Shut up. Loony. You’re on guard for people, not cats! Shush!”
Loony stopped barking. Sardine strolled right up to him, purring very loudly. He wagged his stump of a tail. Sardine lay down, stretched herself out on the path and patted his nose with her paw. Loony gave the tiniest bark. It meant “Sorry, I can’t play now, but I’m on guard.”
So Sardine went to sleep, leaving a crack of one eye open, just in case. Loony also settled down, shutting both his eyes, but listening with his long, droopy ears.
Snubby came out from under the seat, draped with cobwebs and powdered with dust. “That idiot of a Loony,” he grumbled. “Look at me—I’m in a frightful mess!”
“I can’t see that you look much worse than usual,” said Diana, looking at him. “Come on, sit down again. We really have got something to discuss.”
They talked and talked about the affair. They had all read the bit in the paper now. They knew that once again valuable letters had been stolen, and that once again the thief had apparently passed through locked doors or barred windows.
And, more important still, they knew that once again the Fair had been in the same district as the burglary. That couldn’t be sheer coincidence—it couldn’t be chance. The Fair—or somebody in the Fair—must be connected with these strange thefts. And that somebody must be clever enough to know about rare documents, where they were, and how to get them.
“The two things don’t seem to go together, somehow,” said Roger thoughtfully. “I mean—you don’t associate show people with a knowledge of that kind of thing. You have to be a person like—well, like Uncle Robert—to know about historical documents. You have to have a lot of specialised learning.”
“You mean, you have to be an antiquarian,” said Diana, showing off a little. “That’s what people of that kind are called. Uncle Robert told me.”
“Gosh—I always thought an anti—anti-whatever-you-said, was somebody who was against keeping aquariums,” said Snubby, surprised.
Roger laughed. “You would! Anyway, it’s not antiaquarium, idiot, it’s antiquarian.”
“Sounds just the same to me,” said Snubby. “I say—are we going to Ricklesham? Do say we are!”
Roger looked at Diana, and they both nodded solemnly.
“Yes,” said Roger. “We’ll go to the Fair,