The Mystery of the Stolen Secrets

©2017 Richard Humphreys

It's going to be a white Christmas and Fatty's Uncle Harold comes to stay. However, before long Fatty begins to notice that his uncle is acting suspiciously. Why did he go out secretly in the middle of the night? Did he steal some keys from a local house agents' office? Who is the man with a limp? The Find Outers get on the case and are soon embroiled in a mystery that involves spies, stolen secrets and a dangerous chase along the river in the dead of night...

Chapter 13: An Unexpected Guest

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'Frederick, could you do me a favour?' Mrs. Trotteville said as Fatty was just finishing his supper.

'Yes, Mother, your wish is my command. What can I do for you?' he asked.

'The choir boys have been playing around with the church crib and have broken one of the donkeys' legs,' Mrs Trotteville said.

'Oh dear,' Fatty said with a look of exaggerated concern on his face, 'and you'd like me to call the vet?'

'No, Frederick,' Mrs Trotteville said, 'I'd like you to go up into the loft and find that donkey your father bought in Spain last year.'

'What that awful thing made of straw that you said you wouldn't have in the house?' Fatty asked, remembering the souvenir his father had brought back from a business trip to Madrid.

'Yes, that's the one. It's a shade on the big side, but it should do as a replacement,' Mrs. Trotteville replied.

'Very well, Mother,' Fatty said. 'I'll get the ladder.'

'No, you don't need a ladder,' Mrs. Trotteville said. 'We had a special loft ladder installed a couple of months ago whilst you were at school. There's a pole in the lumber room and you just open the loft hatch and then poke around a bit and a fixed ladder comes sliding down.'

'Poke around a bit?' Fatty said as they went up the stairs.

'Yes, there's a catch or something on the ladder and you hook it with the pole to release it,' Mrs Trotteville explained. 'It's all very simple, apparently. Or at least, that's what your father said. And it saves us from having to bring a ladder in from outside.'

Suddenly, Fatty turned to his mother. 'Bring a ladder in from outside, of course,' he yelled and gave her a kiss. 'Mother, you're marvellous.'

'Really, Frederick, it's only a loft ladder, nothing to get so excited about,' she said with a laugh.

Fatty managed to open the loft hatch and lower the ladder without too much trouble. In the loft, he located the donkey and presented it to his mother.

'Whatever possessed your father to buy such a thing?' she said looking at it disdainfully. 'It looks more like a lama than a donkey.'

'Then it should feel right at home in the Vicar's crib,' Fatty said with a laugh. 'Last time I looked at it there was a giraffe and a hippopotamus in with the sheep and cows. It was beginning to look more like a Noah's Ark than a Nativity.

'That's probably his sister's influence,' Mrs. Trotteville said. 'She been out in Africa, you know.'

Fatty knew only too well. 'Yes, Mother, I believe she has,' he said innocently.

'Right, well I'm off to play bridge now and I'll drop this off at the vicarage on my way,' Mrs. Trotteville said.

Having closed the loft hatch and put the pole back in the lumber-room, Fatty disappeared into his bedroom. He placed his two 'clues' on the bedside table and looked at them. A torn and slightly charred letter from Borovia addressed to Mr. Digby, and a Borovian ten lep piece.

He thought for a moment and then took out his magnifying glass and examined the envelope, but learnt nothing new.

'Hmm, not much to go on, I'll have to go back to that cottage and take a gander in the loft,' he thought. 'After all, that must be why the ladder was brought in. Clever Mother to put me on to that.'

He looked at his watch. 'Seven-fifteen,' he said. 'It should only take me an hour or so. Dad won't be back till late and Mother's out playing bridge, so I won't need to make excuses to anyone for going out.'

He waited until he heard his mother leave the house and then went down to the hall and wrapped up. Buster looked disappointed when he learnt that he was not included in the walk, but Fatty asked Jane to have him in the kitchen till he got back.

'Of course I will,' she said. 'He'll be company. And I'm sure there's some scraps he can have as well.'

'There you are, Buster old chap,' Fatty said patting the little Scottie. 'An hour in the warm listening to the wireless and enjoying some scraps, the perfect evening.'

He thanked Jane and went out into the night.

It was not snowing, but there was a sharp, biting frost that made the snow crunchy under foot. Fatty had to pass Pip and Bets' house on the way and saw the light on in their playroom. He would have liked to ask them to join him, but knew that would be impossible. Mrs Hilton would never allow them out on a night like this and anyway, their Great Aunt would still be there. Larry and Daisy were up in London looking at the Christmas lights. So, Fatty was all alone, but he was prepared this time, having brought with him, a powerful torch.

In ten minutes he was at the row of cottages and went round the back to the kitchen window of number two. He removed the planks, raised the window and climbed through. Having switched on his torch, he went straight upstairs and looked around for the loft hatch, which he found in the ceiling above the landing. He took the ladder from the front bedroom and extended it so that it reached the lip of the hatch, then climbed up and pushed the hatch cover aside. Shining his torch around the loft, Fatty was disappointed to find it empty, but undeterred, climbed up into it. The first thing he noticed was that it looked considerably bigger than he had anticipated. This puzzled him, until he realised that the loft actually went across the width of not just the end cottage in the terrace, but the next one also. He then remembered that in old cottages built like these, the roof space often extended the whole length of the terrace.

Being careful to keep to the wooden beams that criss-crossed the loft floor, Fatty made his way across the space, shining his torch all around, looking for anything that may have been dropped by someone. It was dusty in the loft and cobwebs draped the wooden trusses above, though Fatty noticed that the dust on the beams on he was walking had been disturbed quite recently. Finding nothing more, he went to the far wall and shone his torch across it. Suddenly, he thought he heard a noise behind him and switched off the torch. There it was again, a succession of faint bumps as though someone was climbing up the ladder. Fatty crouched down in a corner and listened. He daren't switch on the torch in case someone was looking through the loft hatch. In the pitch black, Fatty could make out nothing. But was that the sound of someone breathing? He held his breath. Yes, he could definitely hear something, it could be breathing. He then heard the light bumping sound again and then silence. He switched on his torch, covering its bulb with his handkerchief to dim it, and very quietly walked back to the open loft hatch. He stood above it looking down and then removed the handkerchief and shone the torch down onto the landing, it was empty. He listened for any more sounds, but there were none.

Fatty frowned. 'Perhaps I imagined it,' he thought.

He turned and walked back to the far wall shining his torch across its whole length. He was about to leave, when he noticed something different about the wall at one side just where the roof sloped down. Looking closely, he could see that the bricks had been removed and had simply been pushed back into position.

'Now I wonder who did this and why?' Fatty thought. 'It must have been done recently, as all the cobwebs have been disturbed. I'll take the bricks out and have a look through.'

Carefully, and as quietly as possible, he began removing the bricks one at a time, stacking them along one of the wooden beams. They came out easily and before long, Fatty had made a hole large enough to get through. He first shone his torch through into the next loft space and saw that it was piled with boxes and trunks and various other odd and ends.

'I'll have to be careful,' he thought. 'One false move and I'll end up crashing through the ceiling of the cottage below.'

Just then, his torch began to flicker. He shook it and the bulb dimmed. 'Bother,' Fatty said. 'The batteries are going.' He shook the torch again and this time its light went out completely, plunging him into pitch darkness. 'It's no good,' he thought. 'I'll have to go home and change the batteries. I daren't risk going any further in the dark, I'll be sure to miss my footing.'

He put the torch into his coat pocket and carefully felt his way back along the beams. It was not easy in the dark, but eventually he found the open loft hatch and climbed down the ladder.

'As I'm coming back immediately I've changed the batteries,' Fatty thought, 'I'll leave the ladder where it is.'

He left the cottage and hurried back to his house, entering by the garden door. As he was taking off his coat in the hall, Jane emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with a mug of cocoa and some sandwiches on it.

'Oh Master Frederick,' she said, 'we've got an unexpected visitor.'

'Really?' Fatty said hanging his coat on the hallstand. 'Who?'

'It's Miss Eunice,' Jane said. 'She's in the drawing room.'

'Eunice!' Fatty exclaimed. 'Good gracious, is her father with her?'

'No, she's on her own,' Jane said. 'I've made her something to warm her up, she's frozen, poor girl.'

Eunice was the daughter of Professor Tolling, an expert on all types of beetles and other insects and a good friend of Fatty's father. She had stayed with Fatty in the past and had been involved in two previous mysteries. Eunice was a force to be reckoned with, being rather bossy, but she was also very loyal and brave.

'I'll take it in,' Fatty said taking the tray.

He pushed open the door to the drawing room and saw Eunice sitting by the fire. She turned when she heard Fatty come into the room.

'Frederick,' she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. 'Golly, I'm so pleased to see you.'

Fatty put the tray down on the table. 'What are you doing here?' he asked. 'Where's your father?'

Eunice picked up the mug of cocoa and took a sip. 'Well, he's in Maidenhead at some boring conference and I decided to pop over and see you as we were so close. I got the train and walked from the station.' She sat down again by the fire.

'Well, it's lovely to see you, Eunice, old thing,' Fatty said. 'But how are you getting back?'

'Really Frederick,' Eunice said enjoying her cocoa, 'I've only just arrived and you're already talking about my leaving. Anyone would think you weren't pleased to see me.'

'It's not that, Eunice, of course I'm pleased to see you,' Fatty said. 'But there are no more trains tonight. The one you arrived on goes on to Marlow and then turns round and goes back to Maidenhead. There are no more trains to Maidenhead after that.'

'Then you'll just have to put me up for the night, that's all,' Eunice said. 'Now sit down and tell me about all the mysteries you've solved since I was last in Peterswood.'

Fatty pulled the other armchair up to the fire. 'There haven't been any,' he said with a sigh.

'What, not one?' Eunice said. 'You're losing your touch. You see, Frederick, you need someone like me to motivate you. Now I remember when we were investigating that robbery at Fitzjames Manor...'

Fatty looked at his watch, it was a quarter past eight. He thought about the cottage and how he had intended to return, but now that Eunice was here, that was no longer possible. He listened to her chattering on and decided he had no choice but to go back the next day.

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