Inspector Cheddar tottered back into Great-Uncle Archie’s room looking for a weapon. Aha! Upon the dressing table lay just what he was looking for: a packet of Thumpers’ Traditional Cat Repellent. He picked it up and glanced at the instructions.
Got a problem with unwanted cats?
Are they pooing in your garden?
Are they scratching up your sofa?
Are they moulting on your bed?
Then Thumpers’ Traditional Cat
Repellent is for you. Apply liberally to affected areas and see the little beasts run for cover.
Inspector Cheddar took the packet out on to the landing and shook it all over himself. He coughed and spluttered. Goodness, it stank a hundred times worse than his bedsocks! But it might hold off the Cat Sith long enough for him to rescue his family. Stuffing the half-empty packet into his trouser pocket, he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. No one was there, but the mess on the table and the half-drained mugs of hot chocolate suggested they had left in a hurry.
On his way past the cooking range, Inspector Cheddar collected a large spatula and an iron frying pan. Very carefully he opened the back door and stuck his eye to the crack. The jeeps had gone. He felt a surge of relief. They had escaped. But how far would they get before the Cat Sith caught up with them? And where would they go? He wished they had left him a message.
Just then he saw a hastily scribbled note pinned to the pegboard. It was from Callie.
Dear Callie! Inspector Cheddar felt a tear rise to his eye. She was so brave. And so were the others. They had fled to Biggnaherry Castle to warn Lady Jemima about the Cat Sith and very possibly to draw it away from him. Inspector Cheddar came to a decision. He stood up tall. He stuck out his chin in a policeman-like way and took a deep policeman-like breath. He had a duty to his family. He had a duty to the public. And he had a duty to Lady Jemima. They were the last two Dumplings of Biggnaherry and they should stick together to defeat this monster. He would go to the castle now and bash the Cat Sith before it ate anyone else. Clutching the spatula and the iron frying pan he crept out of the cottage in search of a means of transport.
A rusty bicycle was propped up against the wall. Apart from that there was a deflated spacehopper (belonging to Don) and a skateboard (belonging to Debs). Inspector Cheddar decided on the bicycle. He glanced at the sky to see if he needed to switch his bicycle lamp on. Dusk was gathering. And so were a lot of birds. They were hanging out in a big flock in the trees beside the ridge of rock near where the Cat Sith had attacked him. Inspector Cheddar frowned. They were a nasty-looking lot – a bunch of ruffian crows and jays and jackdaws as far as he could make out. He looked harder. They seemed to be attaching hooks to the trees!
All of a sudden a cat broke cover from the rocks. It fled towards the trees, closely followed by a bird of prey and several other birds flying in close formation.
Atticus? Inspector Cheddar was almost sure it was his police cat sergeant the birds were chasing. It wasn’t wearing a red handkerchief, but apart from that the resemblance was striking. What on earth was going on?
The cat had reached the trees. To Inspector Cheddar’s amazement the roosting birds dropped down from the branches on bungee ropes and threw something over the cat. It collapsed to the ground. The birds whizzed back up on the ropes, unhooked them from the tree and flew down to where the cat lay struggling. Inspector Cheddar couldn’t quite see what happened next but it looked very much as if some of the birds were bashing at it with woolly socks whilst others used their bungee ropes to tie it up.
The bird of prey seemed to be the ringleader. It kept circling the others, screeching in a blood-curdling frenzy that Inspector Cheddar dimly recognised. Wait a minute! It was the same beastly bird that had knocked his torch out of his hand before the Cat Sith struck. It also dawned on him for the first time that it could be the same beastly bird that he’d seen in the drawing room at Biggnaherry Castle.
Peregrine!
Inspector Cheddar gasped. There was a traitor in the Dumpling midst. Peregrine was in league with the Cat Sith!
The team of birds rose into the sky. Inspector Cheddar could hardly believe his eyes. The cat was trussed up in the net. The birds were carrying it away with straps tied to their feet in the direction of Biggnaherry Castle.
Inspector Cheddar wasn’t a police detective for nothing. He knew a catnapping when he saw one; and this wasn’t any old catnapping. This was a catnapping of his police cat sergeant. Atticus must have escaped and tried to double back to warn him that the others were in danger. That’s why the birds were rounding Atticus up: to take him to the Cat Sith under the watchful eye of that double-crossing imposter, Peregrine.
Well, he wasn’t having that! No blasted bird was going to catnap his police cat sergeant. And no blasted Cat Sith was going to eat his family and friends. He, Ian Larry Barry Dumpling Cheddar, would make sure of that. Inspector Cheddar leapt on the bicycle and cycled furiously along the road after the vanishing birds.
Atticus felt restless. The jeeps were parked up under cover of woodland out of sight of the back road to the loch. The wait seemed to go on forever. ‘Are you quite sure I shouldn’t go and try to find Peregrine?’ he asked Mimi.
‘I’m sure,’ said Mimi firmly. ‘Think about it, Atticus: if you’re right and Plan B means getting a wildcat to show him the way to the treasure, Peregrine will have to bring it here, to the castle. Your best chance of rescuing it is to be patient.’
Atticus knew she was right but it didn’t make the wait any easier. He wondered how Peregrine would force the wildcat to go with him. The falcon must have help, Atticus decided. The panther, perhaps? But even the panther had seemed wary of the wildcat. There must be more to Peregrine’s knockout Plan B that he had yet to figure out.
‘Okay,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I think we’re ready.’
Atticus jumped out of the jeep. It felt good to be outside, ready for action.
Don led the way through the wood with a torch. The path wound downwards towards the loch. The water shimmered ahead of them through the trees. For once the mist on the moor had lifted; the night was clear and sharp and the moonlight strong. Atticus felt the same sense of belonging as he had when he first arrived on the moor. The landscape held a strange fascination for him. The scale of the place and its sheer emptiness were something he had never experienced before. The idea of being free to roam was enticing. He could see why the wildcats valued their freedom so highly.
The path came to an end in a steep bank. Don scrambled down it and held out his hand to help the others. Atticus made his way sure-footed down the bank. He found himself on a shingle beach. Biggnaherry Castle was ahead and to the right on the hillside beyond the woods. Atticus hadn’t seen the back of the castle before. It loomed above him, granite-faced and forbidding. Steps led from a wide patio into a sloping garden, which was separated from the beach at the bottom by a continuation of the steep bank. An uneven row of tall oak trees threaded its way along the perimeter. It was interspersed with tree stumps and tangled shrubs.
‘According to the map, the entrance to the secret tunnel lies somewhere along there,’ Mrs Tucker said, pointing to the bank beneath the oak trees. ‘Don, can you give us the lie of the land? What’s that room there?’ She gestured at the big bay windows fronting the patio.
‘That’s the library,’ Don explained. ‘Lady Jemima doesn’t use it very often. You can also get to the garden from the cellar beneath the kitchen. The door comes out in the well.’
Atticus looked carefully at the base of the steps. The steps ended in a paved well. He couldn’t see the cellar door – it was concealed by shadows.
‘My guess is that’s where Lady Jemima lets the panther out,’ Mrs Tucker said. She pointed along the beach. A dilapidated wooden hut stood adjacent to the water, a little distance from the bank. ‘Is that the boathouse?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, we’ll pace out the tunnel entrance from there.’
‘Sheeeeeeee
eeee!’ Atticus’s ears pricked up. The noise was coming from inside the boathouse.
‘What was that?’ asked Callie in alarm.
‘Sheeeeeeeeeeee!’ It came again.
Atticus knew what it was. The wildcat! Peregrine had caught it, just as he feared. The bird must be keeping it prisoner in the boathouse until it gave him the information he wanted. Atticus crept forwards on his belly.
‘Atticus!’ Mrs Tucker called sharply.
Atticus paid no attention.
‘I’m going to get him,’ said Michael.
‘No,’ Mrs Tucker said firmly. ‘It’s too dangerous. It might be the panther. Let’s lie low for a minute until we’re sure.’
The treasure hunters hid in the shadow of the bank.
Atticus had reached the boathouse. The decrepit planks were full of cracks. He put his eye to one of them and looked inside. His heart lurched.
A wildcat lay on the floor. Atticus recognised it at once. It was the same wildcat that had saved him from the panther the night before. It had the same beautiful markings, the same beautiful eyes. Its paws were tied together with rope. A net had been thrown into a corner, as had a large number of straps and some woolly socks full of thistles. Atticus didn’t have time to work out what they were doing there; all his attention was focused on the wildcat and its captors. There were nine of them altogether, standing in a circle around the stricken animal. He blinked. One of the birds looked remarkably familiar. He had glossy black-and-white feathers with a hint of blue about his wings, a touch of green on his tail and cruel, glittering eyes …
Jimmy Magpie!
Atticus could scarcely believe it. Peregrine he had expected. And the presence of seven of his creepy crow sidekicks came as no particular surprise. But Jimmy Magpie? Atticus hadn’t seen that coming. He would think twice about leaving Jimmy all alone in Littleton-on-Sea without police surveillance next Christmas time.
But where were Thug and Slasher? Atticus’s eyes scoured the boathouse. There was no sign of the other two magpies. They must be around somewhere, though. Jimmy never went anywhere without his gang.
Peregrine addressed the wildcat in his horrible screech. ‘You know what we want,’ he screamed. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way …’ He thrust his hooked beak towards the wildcat’s face.
‘Sheeeeeeeeee!’ the wildcat spat at him.
Peregrine raised his mighty talons.
Atticus couldn’t contain himself any longer. The wildcat had saved him, now it was his turn to save her. He wriggled through a hole in the bottom of the planks and launched himself at Peregrine.
Atticus had the initial advantage against the powerful falcon but Peregrine fought back fiercely. He lunged at Atticus with his sharp beak. Atticus dodged. He tried to pin the falcon by its tail but the bird twisted round and beat at Atticus with his strong wings.
‘Get him!’ screeched Peregrine.
The other birds surrounded Atticus. He was trapped.
‘Well, well, well,’ gloated Jimmy Magpie. ‘Look who’s here! I wish the boys could see this. Maybe Thug will get his furry nest snuggler after all.’
Atticus snarled. ‘I hope he chokes on it,’ he said.
Suddenly the door to the boathouse flew open. A disgusting smell of socks filled the hut.
‘Not so fast, beak-face!’
It was Inspector Cheddar! Atticus had never before been so pleased to see the Inspector in his life, even if he did smell like he’d been rolling in mouldy Camembert.
The smell was truly disgusting. The birds coughed and spluttered. Peregrine doubled over, gasping for air. The wildcat twisted and bucked.
Atticus’s eyes watered. He pulled his handkerchief over his nose and gave a strangled meow.
‘Oh, you’re there, Atticus!’ Inspector Cheddar said, seeing him for the first time. ‘Sorry about the smell. It’s Thumpers’ Cat Repellent. I borrowed it from Great-Uncle Archie in case I bumped into the Cat Sith.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Wait a minute, if you’re Atticus, who’s this, then?’ He pointed to the wildcat.
Peregrine had partially recovered from the smell. Inspector Cheddar’s moment of confusion over the two cats gave the falcon the chance he wanted. He flew at Inspector Cheddar, his eyes blazing with anger.
‘SCCCCCRRRRREEEECCCCCCHHHHH!’
‘Oh no you don’t, you blasted bird!’ Inspector Cheddar held up the frying pan.
BASH! Peregrine whammed straight into it, knocking himself out.
Mimi appeared at the door. Bones was just behind her.
‘Cover your noses!’ Atticus shouted.
The two cats put paws to their faces.
‘Bones, you free the wildcat. Mimi, help me with this.’ He held up the net in his paws.
Mimi took the other end in her free paw. Together they threw it over Peregrine’s lieutenants who were still doubled over, choking. Atticus counted them up. There were only seven birds. ‘Where’s Jimmy?’ he asked.
‘Jimmy?’ Mimi echoed. ‘You mean Jimmy Magpie?’
Atticus nodded. ‘He was here a minute ago, I swear. He must have escaped.’
‘He can’t cause any more trouble,’ Mimi reassured him. ‘Not with Peregrine out of the way.’
Atticus wished he could be so sure.
Inspector Cheddar shovelled Peregrine into the frying pan with the spatula and placed him under the net with the other birds. ‘You’re under arrest,’ he said to them (although Peregrine didn’t hear because he was still unconscious). ‘It’s a spell in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds for you! Finish off in here, would you, Atticus? I think I need some fresh air.’ Inspector Cheddar stepped outside.
‘Shhhhheeeeeeeee!’ The wildcat was still struggling.
‘I can’t untie you if you won’t stay still,’ Bones said in frustration. Bones was normally brilliant at tying and untying knots but every time she loosened the bungee ropes, the thrashings of the wildcat made them tight again.
‘It’s okay,’ said Atticus soothingly. ‘We won’t hurt you. We want to help.’
The wildcat glanced at Atticus. Her body relaxed a little, although her breath came in rapid pants. Quickly Bones finished untying the knots. The wildcat shook off the ropes. She faced the three cats, her ears flat to her head.
‘Sheeeeeeeee!’ she hissed.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Mimi.
‘She’s scared,’ Atticus said. He took a cautious step towards the wildcat. ‘We want to help,’ he said again. ‘We know about Lady Jemima and the treasure. We know the sightings of the Cat Sith are nothing to do with you. Trust me, all we want is to stop Lady Jemima from spoiling the moor.’
The wildcat looked as if she was about to speak when a shrill voice came from outside the boathouse. ‘Well, hello!’ it said. ‘If it isn’t my long-lost cousin, two hundred times removed, Ian Larry Barry Dumpling Cheddar!’
‘Oh no!’ said Mimi. ‘It’s her!’
‘Lady Jemima!’ shouted Inspector Cheddar joyfully. ‘You’re safe!’
‘Well, you’re not,’ said Lady Jemima. ‘And neither is the rest of your rotten family and their revolting friends.’ She sneezed loudly. ‘And by the way, what is that horrible smell?’
Atticus peeped through the crack in the planks. His ears drooped. Lady Jemima Dumpling stood on the shingle beach in an old fur coat. In one hand she held a rusty pistol, in the other, the plastic folder containing the treasure map.
Lady Jemima gave a whistle. ‘Bring them out, Chomper,’ she said, ‘to show Ian Larry Barry.’
From out of the shadows shuffled Callie, Michael, Mr and Mrs Tucker, Mrs Cheddar and Don and Debs. They were followed by the panther.
Atticus watched in horror. Lady Jemima had captured the treasure hunters.
Lady Jemima gave another whistle. The big black cat came to heel by her feet.
Inspector Cheddar looked stunned. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said, regarding the panther fearfully. ‘Aren’t you scared it’s going to eat you?’
‘The
re’s no such thing as the Cat Sith, Dad!’ Callie cried. ‘The creature on the moor is Lady Jemima’s pet panther. That’s what you and Michael saw, not the Cat Sith.’
Callie had her left hand up, as though she was asking a question at school; her wrist twisted in the direction of Lady Jemima. Atticus wondered what she was doing. Then he caught a glimpse of her watch. Of course! Callie was wearing the spy watch that Mrs Tucker had given her for Christmas. She was recording everything.
‘She sent it to scare you away in case you discovered she was after the treasure,’ Callie told her dad. ‘She wants to use it to turn the moor into a bingo park.’
‘Do you?’ Inspector Cheddar asked Lady Jemima, astonished.
‘Yes,’ replied Lady Jemima, ‘I do, you silly fool. Everything she says is true.’ She waved the treasure map at him. ‘And now I’ve got Daddy’s treasure map, it turns out Peregrine and his gang didn’t need to catnap a wildcat after all.’
‘So that’s what those pesky birds were doing,’ Inspector Cheddar muttered. ‘I knew they were up to no good.’
‘What does he mean?’ Atticus whispered to Mimi.
‘He must have witnessed the catnapping,’ Mimi whispered back. ‘And decided to come to the rescue.’
‘But why would he do that?’ Atticus wondered aloud.
‘Maybe he thought the wildcat was you?’ Bones guessed.
Of course! That’s why Inspector Cheddar had seemed so surprised to see him in the boathouse. He had mistaken the wildcat for him! Atticus felt a glow of affection for Inspector Cheddar. He had come to rescue him.
Atticus Claw On the Misty Moor Page 11
