"Mrrrowr! Sardine, milk, waaiow! 'Ratio hungry!"
Ned stared down his nose at the cat. "Don't think too hard—you'll damage that amazing brain of yours!"
The librarian-schoolteacher flopped down in an armchair, shaking his head. "Thin paper over thick paper and
join up the marks. Well, I, er, never. Hmmm, must be getting, er, er, old if I can't see that, er, ah yes ... old."
42.
WITH THEIR WINDOW BLINDS PULLED down, the village square shops looked as if they were sleeping.
Dust had settled on the leaves of the hawthorn trees, without even the faintest breeze to stir it.
In the window of Mr. Mackay's office, the clock showed ten minutes after midnight. Dark clouds obscured a
pale, crescent moon; the air was still and warm from the long summer's day. A villainous-looking man, his matted
beard showing beneath a battered slouch hat, sat holding the reins of a horse and gig in the shadows. He turned this
way and that, watching every possible entrance to the village square.
Concealed in some bushes at the side of the Hadford Road, Ben and Alex were first to hear the distant chug of a
motorcar. Without a word, side by side, they ran back to Chapel-vale.
The villainous man looked up as the boys came panting up to him. "Did you see them?"
"No, but we heard the motorcar!" "It's coming in on the Hadford Road, be here soon!" The man nodded. "Good,
boy, collect Mr. Mackay from Station Road. Alex, get Will from School Lane. Make your way up to the police station,
see you there. Now go, an' remember, lads, keep out of sight!"
Gripper stopped the motor just short of the square. Flinging off his gauntlets and goggles, he rested his forehead
against the steering wheel and sighed thankfully. "Chapelvale at last!"
Chunk sounded slightly doubtful. "You mean we're 'ere, Gripp? 'Ow d'yer know that?"
Flash shook his head in amazement at Chunk's ignorance.
" 'Cos we passed a sign on the road that said Chapelvale. But I suppose you was kippin' again."
Chunk straightened his bowler and stretched. "Nuffin" wrong wid sleepin', is there? It is nighttime, y'know. I
got pains in me guts wiv 'unger. Where d'we get sumthin' to eat? You promised us, Gripp."
Gripper massaged his temples with both hands. "Chunk, give it a rest, willyer. Forget yer stummick for a minute.
Chaz, you ain't asleep, are yer?"
"Huh, 'ow cad I sleeb wid be dose bleedin' like a tap? You shuddena told hib to hid be, Gripp, id hurds!"
Gripper raised a single finger in warning. "One more word outta you, Chaz, just one more!"
Flash began tugging at Gripper's sleeve. "Gripp, Gripp!"
Gripper shook him off. "I'm 'ere. Y'don't 'ave to tear the coat off me. Wot is it?"
Flash pointed. "Some ole geezer sittin' watchin' us, wiv an 'orse an' cart. Over there, look!"
Gripper got out of the vehicle and nodded to his crew. "There's four of us an' one of 'im, let's see wot 'e wants."
The villainous-looking man, who was in reality the old ship's carpenter wearing a disguise, stared down from
his perch on the gig at the four toughs. His voice held a sneer. "So, yew got 'ere finally. Wot time d'yer call this t'be
rollin' up fer the job, eh?"
"We got los ... Oof!"
Flash had the wind knocked from him by Gripper's elbow. Gripper did his best tough stare and spat in the dust.
"None of yer business, Granddad, we 'ad a few problems, that's all. Now, where's this old biddy's place? We'll do the
job. Don't get yer whiskers in an uproar about that. Show us the way."
Jon shook his head pityingly, looking them up and down. "Company toughs, eh, huh! It's too late t'do anythin'
tonight, Mr. Smithers an' Maud wants to see yer up at the 'ouse."
"Do they 'ave food up there, you know, eats?"
The old seaman winked at Chunk. "All yer likes, tons of it!"
"Ad hab dey got bandages an' thiggs, too?"
Jon chuckled wickedly. "Probl'y, but they mightn't 'ave enough to go 'round yore big 'ooter. Fell on it, didyer?"
Gripper fished a leather-bound cosh out of his pocket and began smacking it ominously in his palm. "Lissen, ole
man. Yore too nosy fer yer own good, but I can soon fix that. Now, are y'takin' us up to the 'ouse, eh?"
Jon indicated the cart. "Cummon, 'op in. I'll take ye."
Gripper grabbed the back of Flash's coat as he began to mount the gig. "We got a motorcar, you get goin'. We'll
foller yer."
Secreted with Ben and Alex in the rosebushes to one side of the police station door, Mr. Mackay, armed with
Sergeant
Patterson's long pacing stick, whispered hoarsely through the open charge office window. "They're coming!"
Gripper stared suspiciously at the greystone building. "This don't look like no toff's big 'ouse!"
The shipman climbed down from the gig. " 'Cos it ain't, it's my 'ouse. Mr. Smithers don't want you lot t'be seen
'round 'is mansion. Well, are you big, brave 'ooligans goin' to sit out 'ere in yer motorcar all night?"
Gripper silenced the engine and got out, pointing a finger. "Watch who yer callin' 'ooligans, Granpop. Cummon,
youse lot!" They swaggered up the path nonchalantly, letting Jon see that they were not the least bit afraid, while he
followed them.
Gripper was about to raise the lion's-head knocker on the door when it was flung open and Sergeant Patterson
pulled him inside. As he did, he roared, "Now!"
Will sprang forward and grabbed Chunk, charging from the rear, as Jon and Mr. Mackay bulled Chaz and Flash
into the station with their two companions. The boys watched through the window as the sergeant locked the door.
Gripper was pale with shock and indignation. He immediately recognized the interior, having been in many
police stations. "Wot's all this, then? We ain't done nothin' wrong. I'll see our lawyers about this!"
The sergeant towered over Gripper and folded his arms, smiling. "Colonel Busby Hythe Simmonds, ah
presume."
Gripper sensed the policeman had made a mistaken identity. "You've got the wrong man, Sergeant. I ain't
Colonel Bubsy Wots'isname, neither are me friends. Never 'eard of 'im afore!"
Patterson nodded understandingly. "Well, ah'm glad we've got that cleared up, sir. Perhaps you'd like tae tell me
what ye are doing in possession of the colonel's motorcar, number BLH 98, which was stolen from outside his house
at South Hampstead Crescent in London last evening?"
Flash groaned. "Told yer we should've took the train, Gripp."
Gripper shot him a murderous glance, silencing him. He turned back to the sergeant. "You can't 'old us 'ere. We
ain't committed no crimes, we found the motorcar, see."
The sergeant's voice still retained its pleasant tone. "Found it, sir, where, in Church Haven outside the post of-
fice?"
Chunk smiled in remembrance of the visit. "That's right, Sarge, where the ole lady nearly give me a drink o'
water. I liked 'er!"
The two boys listened in through the open window, chuckling as the sergeant replied. "Och aye, ye'd be one of
the four royal couriers, or is it one of the racehorse buyers who asked directions at Drakehampton post office. Which
were you? Think!"
Chunk took off his bowler and scratched his shaven head. "Er, I fink the game's up, Gripp. 'E's nabbed us
fair'n'square!"
Gripper stamped his boot down on Chunk's foot. "Shar-rup, thick'ead. Don't say another word, none of youse!"
The sergeant sat at the charge office desk, his pleasant mood evaporating suddenly as he rapped out, "Enough o'
all this nonsense. George Pearson, Frederick Lloyd, Charles Hy-land, and Eric Wardle. Ye are under arrest for the