William's Television Show (Just William, Book 31) Read online

  Then, with a grinding of gears, scattering vegetation on all sides, the little car set off again down the road.

  Ethel was known to be quick of speech and temper but quick also to forget what she had said in the heat of the moment, and the little incident might have been expected to end there. But it did not end there. Two days later the village was electrified by the news that Archie had applied for and obtained a job with a house agent in Fellminster, a small town just beyond Marleigh. It was not a very exalted job. It was, rumour had it, little more than an office boy’s job, but Archie was evidently determined to do the thing in style. He discarded the corduroy slacks and colourful shirts that he had worn ever since he came to the village. He bought a city suit, a bowler hat, a rolled umbrella and an attache case. He had been tempted to shave off his straggling reddish beard but his heart had failed him at the last moment and he had spared it.

  Morning after morning the village would flock to its windows to watch Archie—in striped trousers, black coat and bowler hat, carrying the rolled umbrella in one hand and the attache case in the other, an expression of dignified aloofness on his face—making his way to the station to catch the 8.15. Evening after evening the village returned to its windows to watch Archie—in striped trousers, black coat and bowler hat, carrying the rolled umbrella in one hand and the attache case in the other—walking back to his cottage from the 5.25. The little car languished in the garage. The half-finished picture “Sunset over the Mediterranean” languished on its easel. A week went by . . . two weeks went by . . . and Archie still made his daily journey to and from the station in stately dignity and city attire. The situation exasperated Ethel. It seemed to put her in the wrong and Ethel disliked being put in the wrong.

  “Well, he’s certainly holding the job,” said Mr Brown, impressed despite himself.

  “The idiot!” snapped Ethel.

  Meanwhile William and Ginger extracted what excitement they could from the passing hours. They made a space ship that took off from the roof of the tool shed in William’s garden and landed on a bed of Mr Brown’s treasured pelargonium cuttings. They got up a “Zoo” in which William’s dog Jumble (disguised as a lion) broke out of his cage and chased Ginger’s cat Rameses (disguised as a mongoose) into the house, overturning a standard lamp and scattering a “flower arrangement” that Ginger’s mother had laboriously produced for a Women’s Institute competition. They organised a floodlit racing track, fixing the floodlighting on the top of a rustic arbour by an ingenious paraffin device and provided an even more startling illumination than they had intended when the rustic arbour caught fire and the whole thing went up in flames. Then, having exhausted these pursuits, they turned their minds again to tadpoles.

  “Let’s make a tadpole pond in one of our gardens,” said William. “Same as they make goldfish ponds. Tadpoles are a jolly sight more int’restin’ than goldfish, ’cause they turn into frogs an’ goldfish jus’ stay goldfish.”

  “My fam’ly’s sick of tadpoles,” said Ginger. “They say I’ve not got to bring another one near the place. My mother found one in the milk an’ it made her mad.”

  “Yes, mine’s like that, too,” said William. “I spilt some on the carpet with a bit of that green stuff I got off the pond for them to eat an’ she made an awful fuss.” He thought for a moment or two then said: “Tell you what! Let’s make a tadpole pond in Archie’s garden.”

  “He’d stop us.”

  “He can’t. He’s not there. He goes to that job in Fellminster every day now, you know, an’ he doesn’t get home till nearly six. He might stop us if he saw us doin’ it but he won’t. We’ll have it finished by the time he comes home an’ I bet he’ll be jolly pleased when he sees what it looks like, an’ it’ll be jolly int’restin’ for him to watch ’em turnin’ into frogs. I bet he’ll be grateful to us.”

  They set to work at once, finding a battered tin bath on a refuse heap outside the village and mending the holes somewhat inadequately with chewing-gum.

  “I bet it’ll be all right,” said William hopefully. “Chewing-gum lasts a jolly long time. I always swallow mine by mistake but if you don’t it goes on lastin’ on an’ on an’ on—for ever, prob’ly. We’ll take it to Archie’s garden an’ dig a hole for it an’ put it in an’ fill it with water an’ tadpoles an’ it’ll be a jolly nice surprise for him when he comes home.”

  They took it to Archie’s garden and set it down on the little lawn. William gazed at it critically.

  “That chewin’ gum doesn’t look nat’ral,” he said at last. “It’d look more nat’ral with stones at the bottom on top of the chewing-gum. I’ll get some from that bed under the window.”

  He went to the bed under the window, stood there for a few moments, then returned to Ginger, an awestruck look on his face.

  “I say, Ginger!” he whispered. “There’s someone in the house.”

  “There can’t be,” said Ginger. “Archie’s not come home yet.”

  “Well, there is. Come an’ listen.”

  The two tiptoed across the lawn and stood by the window. There was no mistaking the stealthy furtive sounds that reached them from inside the cottage.

  “Gosh, yes!” said Ginger.

  “Let’s go an’ knock at the door,” suggested William, “an’ see if anyone comes.”

  They went round to the front door. William beat a loud tattoo on the knocker. The sounds within the cottage ceased abruptly. A long silence followed. William beat another yet louder tattoo. They waited. No one came. There was no further sound or movement to be heard.

  “Let’s look through the windows,” said William.

  But the windows only revealed the cottage in its usual state of confusion—the studio with its usual medley of canvases, palettes and paint brushes; the kitchen, knee-deep as usual in crockery, saucepans and household utensils; the sitting-room, chock-a-block with Archie’s possessions, piled on table, chairs and writing-desk and overflowing on to the floor. They wandered round the cottage. The back door was locked, the windows fastened.

  “It’s jolly mysterious,” said William. “It’s like those stories in those books of Robert’s.”

  For William had recently whiled away a couple of wet days by browsing among Robert’s collection of detective novels.

  “Shall we go to the p’lice?” said Ginger.

  “No,” said Wiliam. “The p’lice aren’t any good. They didn’t solve a single crime in all those books of Robert’s. Not a single one. An’ it mightn’t be an ordin’ry crime, too. Hardly any of those crimes in Robert’s books were ordin’ry crimes. They seemed ordin’ry crimes to start with and then they got mixed up with international gangs an’ secret treaties an’ things and before you knew where you were they ended up with murder.”

  “Gosh!” said Ginger.

  “Yes, we’ve got to be jolly careful,” said William earnestly. “You don’t know what you’re goin’ to get mixed up in once you start. One of those books of Robert’s seemed jus’ an ordin’ry burglary in the first chapter—jus’ an ordin’ry em’rald necklace—an’ it ended up with half of them bein’ blown up by dynamite an’ the other half trapped in a burnin’ ship.”

  Ginger considered the situation in silence for a few moments.

  “I think p’raps we’d better leave it to the p’lice, William,” he said at last.

  “No, we jolly well won’t,” said William. “I bet I’m as good as any of those people that solved the crimes in Robert’s books. They were all jus’ ordin’ry people same as you an’ me. In every single story I read I thought I could’ve done it as well as what they did. It’s jolly lucky we’ve come across somethin’ like this.”

  “But what can we do about it?” said Ginger.

  William looked at the cottage.

  “Well, we’ve got to put the crim’nal off his guard to start with. We don’t want him to think we suspect anythin’. We’ll go away now jus’ as if we didn’t suspect anythin’ an’ we’ll meet Archie’s train an’ come
back with him an’ find out what sort of burglary it was an’ that’ll be a sort of clue. It’ll give us somethin’ to work on.”

  “All right,” agreed Ginger doubtfully.

  Archie, emerging from the station in his faultless city attire, threw a frowning glance at the two boys who stood waiting for him.

  “Well, what do you want?” he said testily.

  It was plain that life as one of the world’s workers had not improved Archie’s temper.

  “We jus’ want to walk home with you, Archie,” said William, assuming a bland and innocent air.

  Archie set off towards his cottage without replying. The two boys walked one on each side of him. William cleared his throat.

  “I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of bad news for you, Archie,” he said.

  Archie blenched.

  “Ethel’s not ill, is she?” he said.

  “Oh, no,” William reassured him. “She’s jolly well. She was out with Ranald Bell in his car all yesterday so you needn’t worry about her.”

  Archie ground his teeth and gave a hollow groan.

  “No,” continued William, “the bit of bad news is that there’s been a burglary at your cottage.”

  “Nonsense!” said Archie. “There isn’t anything to burgle.”

  “Well, you’d better go an’ see,” said William. “It mayn’t seem a big burglary to you. It might be jus’ an ordin’ry little thing like em’rald necklace but it’s what it’s goin’ to lead to that’s serious.”

  “Nonsense!” said Archie again. He opened the gate of his cottage and glared resentfully at the tin bath that lay in the middle of his lawn. “Who’s been throwing their rubbish into my garden?”

  “It’s your tadpole pond,” said William a little coldly. “You’ll be jolly pleased with it when we’ve finished it. I say, be careful goin’ into the cottage, Archie. The crim’nal might still be there.”

  Archie unlocked the door, flung it open and entered. A glance showed that the cottage was empty.

  “Now will you boys please go,” he said.

  “Jus’ have a look at your valu’bles, Archie,” persisted William, “jus’ to see if anythin’s missing.”

  “I haven’t got any valuables,” snapped Archie. “At least, not to speak of.” He went into the kitchen, laid his bowler hat on the draining-board and glanced round the confused assortment of odds and ends that filled the room. “There’s the silver tea-pot my aunt gave me still on the shelf and”—he took down a jar marked “sugar” and looked inside—“my gold cuff-links are still here. I keep them here,” he explained with dignity, “so that I’ll know where they are. Those are my only valuables so there can’t possibly have been a burglary and now”—with a sudden access of irritation - “will you boys please go away!”

  “Yes, we will,” said William. His face wore an expression of deep solemnity. “Come on Ginger.”

  The two departed and began to walk slowly down the road. “Well, nothin’ was stolen so it’s all right,” said Ginger.

  “It’s jolly well not all right,” said William. “It’s jus’ the opp’site. That man we heard—well, I bet it was more than one. I bet it was a gang—wasn’t out after valu’bles.”

  “What was he out after, then?” said Ginger.

  “He was out after”—William looked slightly self-conscious as he repeated the phrase he had come across in one of Robert’s books—“he was out after bigger game.”

  “What bigger game?”

  “P’litical,” said William. “International secrets an’ such like.”

  “But Archie hasn’t got any international secrets,” said Ginger.

  “You never know,” said William. “It’s those that look as if they hadn’t that have. Archie prob’ly isn’t workin’ at that house agent’s place at all. He’s prob’ly workin’ at a secret place where they make secret atom bombs an secret treaties an’ things like that. I bet that’s what this gang’s after—not his aunt’s tea-pot or his cuff-links . . . Anyway, we can find out.”

  “How?” said Ginger.

  “Easy,” said William. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon an’ see if they’ve come back. If they’ve come back it means that they’re out after bigger game. They’re still lookin’ for somethin’ an’ what they’re lookin’ for’s some secret papers that Archie’s got. P’raps he doesn’t know they’re important. P’raps he doesn’t even know he’s got them. I bet he doesn’t even know he’s got them. He’s the sort of person who wouldn’t. One of the people in Robert’s book didn’t know he’d got them till the crim’nals kidnapped him . . . We’d better go armed, ’cause they’ll prob’ly be desperate. I’ll take my water-pistol. You can practic’ly stun a person with a water-pistol.”

  “An’ I’ll take my air gun,” said Ginger, his interest in the situation growing, “then I can shoot ’em when you’ve got ’em stunned.”

  They visited Archie’s cottage the next afternoon with the same results as before. Approaching it cautiously, they heard the same stealthy furtive movements, which stopped abruptly when they sounded the knocker. No one answered the door and a prolonged inspection of the rooms through the windows revealed no signs of the intruders.

  “Well, that proves it,” said William as they walked away. “They’ve come back an’ they’re lookin’ for the papers. It’s gettin’ jolly serious, Ginger. We’ve got to put Archie on his guard. We’ll meet him at the station same as we did yesterday an’ we’ll make him see that his doom’s goin’ to be sealed if we don’t do something about it.”

  “I bet he won’t listen,” said Ginger. “I bet he’ll turn snappy the minute he sees us.”

  Ginger was right. Archie turned snappy the minute he saw them.

  Emerging from the station barrier with a straggle of other city workers, dejected-looking and sombre in his dark suit and bowler hat, he frowned irritably as his eyes lit on the two boys who stood waiting for him.

  “What do you want now?” he said. “I wish you wouldn’t hang about like this.”

  “They’ve been again, Archie,” said William mysteriously. “Who have?” said Archie, striding down the road so quickly that it was all they could do to keep up with him.

  “The gang,” said William. “The one you’re in the coils of. The one that didn’t steal your aunt’s tea-pot ’cause they were out after bigger game.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Archie, “and will you please go home and leave me alone.”

  “No, we’ll stay with you, Archie,” said William reassuringly, “an’ I bet you’ll be jolly glad we helped you before it’s finished. Your head’s in the jaws of death an’ you’re goin’ to find it jolly difficult gettin’ it out.”

  Archie strode on without answering. The two followed him up the little path to the front door and, ignoring Archie’s gesture of dismissal, pressed forward into the cottage.

  “Have any of your important papers been stolen, Archie?” said William, looking anxiously round the little sitting-room.

  “Papers about death rays or atom bombs or secret treaties,” said Ginger.

  “I do wish you’d stop talking nonsense,” said Archie querulously, hanging his rolled umbrella from the chimney-piece.

  “But, Archie, do look an’ see if any of your important papers have gone,” said William.

  An expression of anxiety flashed over Archie’s face. He went to the drawer where he kept the few letters that Ethel had written to him—an answer to an invitation to a cocktail party, a letter of thanks for some flowers he had sent her on her birthday, a reminder that his subscription to the tennis club was overdue—then drew a breath of relief and closed the drawer.

  “Now, once again, will you two boys go,” he said. His eyes went to the window and he added acidly, “and take your tin can with you.”

  “I’ve told you that’s your tadpole pond,” said William. “We started it but it didn’t seem much use goin’ on with it till we know what’s goin’ to happen to you. We—” />
  But at that point Archie propelled them with an ungentle hand on to the doorstep and closed the door behind them.

  “Well!” said William indignantly. “That’s a nice way to treat a visitor.”

  “P’raps he doesn’t think of us as visitors,” said Ginger.

  “Well, we’re detectives, anyway,” said William, “tryin’ to solve his crime for him. Gosh! The people in those books of Robert’s never shoved their detectives out of the house like that an’ shut the door on them. He doesn’t know how to act with detectives. I’ve a good mind to”—again a phrase from one of Robert’s books occurred to him and he ended self-consciously—“I’ve a good mind to throw up the case.”

  “Yes, let’s,” said Ginger. “There’s a new tractor at Jenks’ farm. Let’s go an’ watch it working.”

  “No,” said William. “We can’t leave Archie to his doom like that. He’s up to his neck in this sea of crime an’ we’ve got to help him. We’ve got to find out what this gang’s after. It’s not his aunt’s tea-pot or his secret papers. ’Least, it may be his secret papers that they’ve not found yet. Anyway, we’ll come back tomorrow an’ find out some more about it. We’ll be goin’ into deadly danger but those detectives in those books of Robert’s jus’ didn’t think anythin’ of goin’ into deadly danger. They walked into dens of crim’nals same as you or me’d walk into a sweet shop.”

  “I think I’ll make my will again,” said Ginger thoughtfully. “I’ll leave everything to my mother this time. There’s not much use us leavin’ things to each other if we’re both goin’ into this deadly danger together.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that, too, said William. I'll leave my c’lection of insects to the British Museum same as I did before, but I’ll leave all the other things to my mother.”

  The next afternoon they approached the cottage with redoubled caution.

  “We’ll look in the windows first this time,” said William, “an’ see if we can catch ’em in the act.”

  They crept on all fours up to the studio window and peeped into it from the shelter of a bush. William gave a gasp. For there in the room stood a man dressed in corduroy slacks and a vivid check shirt, a man with a thin harassed face and a straggling beard—Archie’s very self, as it seemed. William grabbed Ginger’s arm and drew him away. Swiftly two made their way back to the road.