He looked so unhappy that Rosemary leaned forward, and stroked the top of his drooping head with one shy finger.
‘Poor Carbonel!’ she said softly. ‘But what did you do?’
‘Do? What could I do? If any ordinary cat had disappeared, I could have alerted every animal in the kingdom: but not for Calidor, Prince of the royal blood. How could I tell the world that he is no longer worthy to be their King? Before the news becomes public property I hope to find him, and perhaps persuade him to a change of heart. So far only Blandamour, his poor mother, and my faithful Councillor Marbeck know what has happened.’
‘Did you never find any trace of him?’ asked John.
Carbonel raised his head wearily.
‘After searching high and low I tracked him down at last to Fairfax Market. He seems to have taken up with two old women I’ve crossed claws with before, though how I don’t remember. I felt a tingling in my paws the minute I set eyes on them.’
‘Do they live in a funny little house squashed in between two new blocks of offices?’ asked John suddenly. At the same time he looked at Rosemary with lifted eyebrows. She nodded in return.
‘They do,’ said Carbonel. ‘For some reason my son Calidor has joined them, but for no good purpose I am afraid. Once, I got my head round the door and heard them talking for a little, before it was slammed on my whiskers; but I could smell it, the smell of wickedness! Ever since, I have forgotten my pride, and called to him from time to time, pleading. I, Carbonel, pleading! But he gave no answer. I was in despair ... and then I thought I recognized you at the bus stop.’
‘Your son, Calidor,’ asked John. ‘Is he a black cat with white paws?’
‘He is,’ said Carbonel.
‘Then I shouldn’t think there’s much doubt,’ went on John, turning to Rosemary. ‘Calidor must be Crumpet!’
‘Cr-r-r-umpet!’ spat Carbonel, with ears flattened once more, and bristling back. ‘They dare to call a cat of the royal blood by such a name! Cr-r-r-umpet indeed!’
‘I don’t suppose they know he’s royal,’ said Rosemary. ‘And he does toast himself in front of the fire. We saw him.’
‘You saw him?’ exclaimed Carbonel.
Rosemary nodded. ‘This afternoon. We were having tea there, with Mrs Cantrip and Miss Dibdin. I think we heard you calling,’ she went on. She remembered how Crumpet had dived for cover under the armchair when he heard the strange, bubbling cat cry.
‘You mean you can come and go in the little house that smells of wickedness?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Rosemary doubtfully. ‘There was rather a funny smell. I thought it was just the flower water needed changing.’
‘Then you and John are the only ones who can help,’ said Carbonel. ‘But there,’ he went on reproachfully. ‘Now you are going away and leaving me in the lurch. I heard you talking about it on the way from the bus.’
‘We aren’t leaving anyone in the lurch!’ said John indignantly. ‘Rosie and I are going to stay with my uncle at Highdown. It was arranged ages ago. Miss Dibdin, that’s the short fat one, is going there as well, and she’s taking Crump ... I mean Calidor with her.’
‘She is? And you will be there too?’ said Carbonel, leaping to his feet. ‘Then everything’s settled!’ His splendid white whiskers, which had been drooping unhappily, suddenly rose, as the spokes rise when you put up your umbrella.
‘Wait a minute!’ said John. ‘What’s settled?’
Carbonel went on as though he had not heard.
‘You realize that I have important affairs of state to attend to, and that I can’t go on gallivanting off for days on end. I’ve already been away too long. Besides, I’m getting old and stiff in the joints. But now that you are taking over ...’
‘Taking over?’ said Rosemary. ‘I don’t think ...’
But Carbonel swept on. ‘I shall allow you twenty-four hours to make contact with Calidor and persuade him to return. Then I shall visit you at Highdown, so that you can report progress.’ He held up a restraining paw as John tried to interrupt again. ‘Keep the Golden Gew-Gaw, as you call it, within sight or feel. In the wrong hands, someone who does not know its powers, it might be a deadly danger, and besides ...’
‘Oh do listen!’ said John in an exasperated voice. ‘What on earth do you expect us to do? And this magic ring, is it ...?’
He broke off as the kitchen door opened behind them. Both John and Rosemary turned round. It was Mrs Featherstone.
‘Hallo, dears!’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you come back. Oh, Rosie, your coat just thrown on the floor! How many times have I told you to hang up your things when you come in. And one of the saucers from the best tea-set on the floor too. What on earth are you both doing waving your hands in the air?’ She laughed, and John and Rosemary hurriedly disengaged their fingers. It was John who slipped the ring in his pocket this time.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ said Rosemary. ‘About the coat and the saucer, but you see ...’ She turned. Carbonel was nowhere to be seen. She picked up her coat from the floor. There were only a few black hairs clinging to its surface to show where he had been sitting, and the gentle swinging of the casement window to show how he had gone.
‘All right, never mind. But do try to remember, dear,’ said her mother. ‘You might lay the table for supper, will you? Fish fingers and jam tart to follow. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She closed the door behind her.
Rosemary looked at John. His face was red, and he began slapping knives and forks on the table in a cross sort of way.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘Matter?’ exploded John. ‘I’m blowed if I’m going to be bossed about by a mere cat!’
‘He isn’t “mere”,’ said Rosemary indignantly. ‘He’s Carbonel.’
‘I don’t care who he is!’ said John. ‘If he thinks we’re going to spend all our time at Highdown looking for his wretched Calidor, he’s got another think coming!’
‘But if he wants us to help him it would be beastly not to try!’ said Rosemary hotly.
‘My good girl,’ snapped John. ‘What on earth can we possibly do, even if we find his wretched Calidor? Nothing, except tell him to be a good pussy and go home to mummy and daddy. Not me!’
‘If only Carbonel had explained a bit more before we were interrupted,’ went on Rosemary unhappily. ‘And what about the Golden Gew-Gaw? He said if it got into the wrong hands it might be a “deadly danger”, and we’ve no idea how it works.’
John took the ring from his pocket, and held it gingerly in the hollow of his palm, where the red stone glowed like a living coal.
‘By the barmy way you went on when you put it on at the bus stop, I can believe him!’ he said. ‘And how do you know that we aren’t “the wrong hands”? We haven’t the faintest idea what it does.’
‘Except it lets us hear Carbonel when he talks,’ said Rosemary obstinately. She frowned, and then said urgently, ‘John, I’ve just thought of something! Miss Dibdin’s parcel — do you think that was it?’
‘Which was what?’ asked John impatiently.
‘The purple cracker! Do you think that could possibly have been the mysterious parcel? I told you it was lying loose on top of the pink crackers as though it didn’t belong. Well, whoever put it there must have thought that she would open the box and find it!’
‘You mean the queer old man? Good grief! I wonder if you’re right?’