“It’s a lovely lot of evidence anyhow,” said Dorothea, sitting on the cabin roof beside Joe. “But it’s not enough.” She frowned. “And somewhere in the village the villain is thinking of the evidence he’s piled up against us, and trying to plan something else to make sure before tomorrow. If only we could borrow a boat.”
“The fingerprints are good,” said Dick. “And the tyre prints. And the bit of bicycle pump. But a photograph of the villain would be better than anything.”
“We simply must get something more,” said Dorothea.
“Do you think he’ll come and put those shackles aboard after dark?” said Dick. “I could wait with the camera in that bush, and somebody else would have to fire off the flashlight just about there….” He pointed. “You see we’d have to be careful that the flash isn’t in front of the lens. You get nothing but fog if it is. That’s what was wrong when I tried it with the Admiral.”
“No hope,” said Tom. “Not unless the Death and Glories were sleeping somewhere else. The villain would never risk being caught like that, with the shackles.”
“I do wish there was a boat we could borrow,” said Dorothea again.
“Most everybody’s taking their boats off the water by now,” said Joe. “Come October and there won’t be a boat about except fishermen and us … and there won’t be us if Sonning’s take us into court.”
Just then there was a faint drumming somewhere down the river. Presently a smallish white motor cruiser came chugging upstream round the bend by the Ferry. Pete, in the cockpit of the Death and Glory, looked at her through his big telescope.
“It’s the old Cachalot,” he said.
CHAPTER XXVI
A KID FOR THE TIGER
THE fisherman at the wheel of his little cruiser saw the Death and Glory and recognised her crew. He swung the Cachalot towards the bank.
“Hullo you chaps!”
“Hullo … Hullo!”
“That’s the one what bought our fish,” said Pete to Dorothea.
“Got any use for some maggots?”
“RathER,” said Pete.
“You can have what I’ve got left,” said the fisherman. “I’ll be bringing a fresh lot tomorrow.”
“Maggots beat worrams hollow,” Pete explained to Dorothea.
“Bring her in here,” called Joe as he and Bill jumped ashore.
The Cachalot slid up beside the bank and Joe and Bill took her rond anchors and made her fast.
“You fishermen too?” asked her owner, looking at Dorothea, Dick and Tom.
“Just friends,” said Dorothea.
“I don’t know how the cellar is,” said the fisherman. “But I’ll have a look.” He disappeared into his cabin and came out again with half a dozen oranges. “Catch!” Oranges flew through the air. Tom, Joe, Bill, Pete, and Dorothea caught theirs. Dick was not expecting his, but saved it from going in the river.
“Best I can do today,” said the fisherman. “Of course, if I’d known I was meeting you…. Never mind, I’ll be stocking up tomorrow when I come back.” He looked about him. “Nice mooring you’ve got here. How far are we from where the Wroxham bus stops?”
“Not above ten minutes,” said Pete. “And not hurrying neither.”
“Would you keep an eye on her if I left her here?” asked the fisherman. “I’ve got to get back to Norwich for the night and they tell me there’s a gang of young toughs about here casting off boats. I don’t much like the idea of leaving her at the staithe.”
The Death and Glories looked grimly at each other.
“We never cast no boats off,” said Bill.
“Never thought you did,” said the fisherman.
“Everybody think we do,” said Joe.
“What!” exclaimed the fisherman. “Are you the toughs they were telling me about? Well, I’d trust you not to cast off the old Cachalot. Set a thief to catch a thief, eh? And poachers make the best gamekeepers….”
“It’s not us at all,” said Tom. “Only once I did cast off a boat because some people had moored her over a nest we were watching and so now because boats are getting sent adrift everybody thinks it’s us…. The Coot Club….” he explained.
“And you know that money you give us for that great old pike,” said Joe. “They’re saying we stole shackles at Potter that day we was there, and sold ’em and that’s the money.”
“What’s all this?” said the fisherman.
Bit by bit, they told him the whole story. He laughed when he heard about Scotland Yard but, seeing Dorothea’s face, he was serious again in a moment.
“It would do most beautifully if he didn’t mind,” said Dorothea privately to Dick, with her eyes on the fisherman’s cruiser.
They told him about the flying brick that had shown there was someone else about when the first boat had been sent adrift. Pete showed the gap where the tooth had been. They told him of the bicycling visitor to Ranworth, of the shackles in the stove, of the fingerprints on the chimney (which he examined with interest), of the second lot of shackles, of their certainty that someone was doing things on purpose to get the Coot Club blamed for them. They told him that they had only till tomorrow morning to clear themselves, when they had to see a lawyer who believed them guilty and lay their evidence before him. They told him finally of Dorothea’s plan.
“We could lay a mudweight out in the river,” said Joe, “so she wouldn’t go far even if he do push her off.”
“You mean you would be lying hid watching the Cachalot being the bleating kid and so you would see who the ravening tiger was if you could catch him in the act of sending her adrift?”
“That’s just it,” said Dorothea. “It’s just the one thing that’s missing. You see we’ve got all that evidence we told you about but it isn’t enough. If only we could catch him at it people would simply have to believe.”
“And we’ve only got until tomorrow,” said Tom. “And if we can’t prove it isn’t them they’re going to get prosecuted for what they didn’t do, and the Coot Club’ll be smashed up. And it’s all just about as unfair as it possibly could be.”
The fisherman was silent for a moment, looking at his ship.
“She can’t take much harm,” he said. “What do you want me to do? Leave her here?”
“No, no,” said Dorothea. “They’d know we’d be on the look out and the Death and Glory’s too near. She ought to be in a more tempting place … near but not as near as all that.”
“Put her where you like,” said the fisherman.
For some minutes everybody was talking at once, suggesting possible places. The staithe was rejected at once, because it would be difficult for the detectives to be there without being seen by the villain. Dr. Dudgeon’s mooring alongside his front lawn was rejected because the villain might think the risk of being seen was too great. Finally Joe had his way.
“That’s a good place just beyond that ditch what run to the road below the Ferry. Good bushes there for a hide, and soft banks case she do break away. But she won’t take no harm anyways, not if we have a mudweight down.”
“What if your villain never knows she’s there?” asked the fisherman. “No good putting a bait out for pike if you put it in the weeds where the pike can’t see it.”
“Couldn’t you say a word to Mr. Tedder … he’s the policeman … and tell him where you’ve left her?” said Tom. “And if you went into the Swan and just happened to mention it.”
The fisherman laughed again. “I’ll be doing that anyway,” he said. “They may have a message for me from Norwich…. Hullo, what are you doing?” he said to Pete, who was collecting the orange skins.
“We always bury peel,” said Pete.
“Rule of the Coot Club,” said Tom.
“Well,” said the fisherman, “it’s a pretty good rule, and it’ll take a lot to make me believe that you chaps cast off other people’s boats.”
“I tell you we doesn’t,” said Joe.
“So you did,” said the fisherman.
“All aboard, and pilot me down to your mooring. The old Cachalot’s done a bit of fishing, but she’s never been a bait before.”
There was a general move towards the Cachalot. It was stopped by Dick. He was polishing his spectacles, always a sign of thought, and he said, “We’d better not, don’t you think? If someone saw us all sailing with you the villain might get to know….”
“Pike begin looking for a hook, eh?” said the fisherman.
“We’ll meet you down there,” said Tom. “Just give us time to get round by the road.”
*
Below the Ferry and about thirty yards beyond the narrow, deep ditch that keeps cattle from straying off the meadows, the six detectives and William (who was a little out of breath and lay panting, showing his pink tongue) waited for the Cachalot. They had chosen the bushes where the watchers were to lie, and picked a good mooring place for the little cruiser a few yards further downstream.
“Here she come,” said Pete.
“I half thought he’d change his mind,” said Tom.
“He’s all right, that chap,” said Joe.
The Cachalot passed them, swung round and came in towards the bank.
“Don’t stop your engines,” called Joe. “We’ll want to lay that weight out first.”
“Hop aboard,” said the fisherman, “and put it where you want it. Give your orders….”
“Starboard your hellum and slow ahead,” sang out Joe, high on the Cachalot’s foredeck, with the mudweight at the end of its rope all ready to lower.
There was a splash as the weight went down.
“Port your hellum and get her nose to the bank,” called Joe. The fisherman obeyed, but the weight began to pull before she touched and Joe had to make a flying leap with the forward anchor. After that everything was easy with so many helpers, and presently the Cachalot was moored fore and aft with her two rond anchors well dug in. No one looking at her from the shore could have guessed that on the further side of her a rope ran down to a weight on the bottom, so that if she were set adrift she would lie just where she was, only a few yards further from the shore.
“She’ll be right enough there,” said Joe, “even if they do push her off. We’ll see to that.”
“I don’t think she’ll come to any harm,” said Tom.
The fisherman dived into his cabin and came out with a small suitcase. “And what do you want me to do now?” he asked, smiling. “The bleating of the kid excites the tiger. I suppose you want me to bleat all I can to let the tigers of the neighbourhood know the kid is waiting for them.”
“That’s just it,” said Dorothea.
“We ought to make sure the whole place knows where she is,” said Tom.
“I’ve got to get that bus,” said the fisherman. “I don’t see how I can come back here to report the effect of the bleating. One of you had better come with me to make sure it’s up to standard.”
“I’ll go,” said Pete.
“That’s it,” said Joe. “Pete go to carry his bag.”
*
The fisherman wanted to carry his own suitcase, but Pete thought better not. It weighed very little anyway, and Pete got it up on his shoulder where it was not so awkward as when banging round his knees.
“Hadn’t I better tell them all about that money?” said the fisherman.
Pete thought it might help, but then remembered something else.
“Better they don’t know you knows us,” he said. “We don’t want ’em keeping off the Cachalot.”
The fisherman stopped and wrote his address on a card. “Right,” he said. “But you take this and tell them to talk to me if there’s any more trouble about the money.”
“There won’t be none,” said Pete grinning. “Not if that kid bleat proper and Scotland Yard catch the tiger in the act.”
“I rather wish I could stay aboard tonight and help to catch him,” said the fisherman.
“He’d know you was aboard and keep off,” said Pete. “He’d never have sent Sir Garnet adrift if Jim Wooddall and old Simon hadn’t have gone home for the night.”
Pete was feeling more cheerful than he had felt for days. Here at least was someone who was wholly on the side of the Coots, and didn’t think that if it wasn’t Tom it must be the Death and Glories and that if it wasn’t the Death and Glories it must be Tom.
As they walked along together he showed the fisherman Mr. Farland’s house and where Tom Dudgeon lived, and when they came to Mr. Tedder’s, he stopped and pointed silently to the sign over the door. “POLICE”.
“Right,” said the fisherman.
“I better wait out here,” said Pete.
Mr. Tedder was taking his tea and came to the door when the fisherman knocked. Pete could not hear what was said, but he saw the fisherman point towards him, and then he saw that Mr. Tedder was talking very earnestly. Presently the fisherman came back, looking grave. He did not smile till they were out of sight from Mr. Tedder’s door.
Then he chuckled. “Well, well,” he said. “I seem to be taking a frightful risk. But your policeman tells me I may be all right, because some of the boat-owners along the river are keeping a look out at nights….”
“That’s George Owdon,” said Pete.
“And he’ll pass the word to them, but he’d rather I’d brought my boat up to the staithe where he could have kept an eye on her himself.”
“Fat lot of good that do Sir Garnet,” said Pete.
“I told him it was too late now, but that I was much obliged to him. Good bleating, eh? And now for the lads of the village. You slip round the corner and wait for me where the bus stops. At the cross roads, you said?”
The fisherman went into the inn. Pete took the suitcase to the cross roads and sat down on it. He waited five minutes. He waited ten. He began to think the fisherman had forgotten him and his suitcase and the bus. But then old Miss Evans came along with another old lady who had been over for the afternoon from Wroxham.
“We’re in plenty of time,” said the second old lady, and Pete remembered that the fisherman would have asked what time the bus went as soon as he had gone into the inn.
Then he saw that Miss Evans was talking about him. Her friend was a little deaf and he could not help hearing what Miss Evans said.
“You wouldn’t believe it, my dear. There was a time when I would have said there was no honester village in Norfolk. And now these boys…. They tell me it’s a regular gang. They stop at nothing, so they say. And there are those among them who ought to know better. Our own doctor’s son … Boys were better brought up in our young days….”
Pete grew hot about the ears, but then he saw the fisherman coming, and he hopped up and went to meet him.
“I’ve heard enough about you lads to put you all in gaol for twenty years,” the fisherman laughed. “They told me I’d be lucky if I found the Cachalot again this side of Yarmouth. They told me you were actually caught casting off a yacht from the staithe in broad daylight.”
“We wasn’t,” said Pete.
“One of the maids said she thought there was a doubt about that because she’d seen you pulling the boat away from some trees higher up the river….”
“Which of ’em?” said Pete eagerly. “That’s evidence, that is.”
“Red haired one,” said the fisherman, “but they all said that was her kind heart and she had to admit she wasn’t really sure. Anyhow, by the time I left I might have been the bleating kid myself, they were all so sorry for me, and even the red haired maid said she thought it was a pity about my boat. Somebody ought to have warned me. Well, here’s my bus. Good luck to you. Catch your tiger and don’t let him maul the kid more than you can help. See you in the morning.”
He took his suitcase and was gone.
Pete, grinning to himself, went back through the village. Bill was on the look out for him in the road by Dr. Dudgeon’s and they went in to find the others at Scotland Yard.
“Did he manage it all right?” said Dorothea.
&n
bsp; “He tell Mr. Tedder, and he stir ’em up proper at the Swan. Only hope he ain’t stir ’em up too much. Won’t do if we have half the village watching on the bank.”
“Now look here,” said Tom. “This is the plan….”
CHAPTER XXVII
SETTING THE TRAP
THE plan was simple enough. One of the detectives was to lie hid with Dick’s camera in a bush close by the Cachalot. A little further from the Cachalot, so that the flash should not shine into the lens of the camera, a second detective was to lie in the long grass with the flashlight apparatus. When the villain had come and was in the act of casting off the boat, the second detective was to let off the flash and run for his life. The villain would naturally dash in pursuit of him, so that the first detective, sitting tight in the bush, could wait till the coast was clear and then get safely away with the camera.
“Two hour watches,” said Tom. “Dick and I take the first watch, it’s his camera, and I can run faster than any of you. And Dot says he’s likeliest of all to come just after dark.”
“Who come next?” said Pete.
“Dot and Joe. Joe to let fly with the flash and bolt and Dot to look after the camera.”
“You and me after them,” said Bill. “You’ll have the camera.”
“You’ve only got to open the shutter as soon as you hear the villain,” said Dick, “and close it again after the flash…. And I’ll fix the flash all ready so whoever’s got it has only to pull the trigger.”
“You’ll take awful care of the camera, won’t you?” said Dorothea.
“The camera’ll be all right,” said Dick, “if whoever has it keeps quiet.”
“You’d better nip home now and get it,” said Tom.
“I’d better come too,” said Dorothea, “to explain to the Admiral that we’ll have to be late. And we’ve got to take William home. He’d only bark if we had him in the ambush.”
The Big Six: A Novel Page 26
