William the Good
Page 20
William crept cautiously up to the window.
‘I can see him,’ he whispered, ‘he’s sittin’ on the piano.’
‘Is there anyone in the room?’ whispered Ginger from behind the laurel bush where he had taken cover.
‘No. No one. Just a lot of chairs. I’ll go in an’ fetch him. I’ll jus’ get in at this window an’ fetch him. I’ll—’
He was cautiously pushing up the window.
‘I’ll come too,’ volunteered Ginger somewhat dispiritedly. Mental visions of his aunt when she discovered that her pet was missing were beginning to haunt him.
‘No. Best let only one go alone,’ said William, ‘then if anything happens to me you’ll be safe to go on lookin’ for it.’
William’s spirits were rising at the prospects of an adventure.
He swung himself over the sill and found himself in a small drawing-room. It was full of chairs arranged in rows as if for a meeting and there was a table at one end.
‘Oh, shut up,’ said the parrot excitedly from the piano.
William began to stalk his prey in his best Red Indian fashion. It waited till his hand was nearly on him then, chuckling, flew to the mantelpiece.
‘Polly, Polly,’ whispered William in fierce, hoarse coaxing as he approached the mantelpiece.
‘Get out, you old fool,’ said the parrot who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He let William think that he was really going to get him this time, then with another chuckle spread his wings and flew off again. This time he circled round and round the room and finally disappeared behind a cabinet that stood across a corner of the room, having a fair-sized recess between it and the wall.
William was just pursuing it to this retreat when the door opened and a tall, stern-looking woman wearing pince-nez and a high collar entered the room. She looked at William in surprise and disapproval.
‘You mustn’t come into a house like this without knocking at the door,’ she said. ‘If you’ve come to the meeting you should have knocked at the door properly and, anyway, the meeting doesn’t begin till half-past. Have you come to the meeting?’
William hesitated. If he told her that he had come to catch Ginger’s aunt’s escaped parrot then there was no doubt at all that Ginger’s aunt would hear of the escapade from her neighbour and it was of vital importance to Ginger’s peace of mind and body that the parrot should be caught and returned to its cage without Ginger’s aunt having known of its escape. It seemed better therefore on the whole to have come to the meeting.
‘Yes,’ he said, assuming his blankest expression.
Then another lady very like the first one came in and stared at William.
‘Who is this boy and what’s he doing here?’ she said to the first lady.
‘He says he’s come to the meeting,’ said the first lady helplessly.
‘But, my dear!’ said the second lady, ‘we don’t want people like that at the meeting. A rough-looking boy like that!’
The first lady grew yet more helpless.
‘But we’ve advertised it as a public meeting,’ she said. ‘We can’t turn people away, I mean – well we can’t. I don’t think it would be legal,’ she ended vaguely.
‘But what does he want to come to the meeting for?’ said the second lady. ‘And a quarter of an hour too early, too.’
‘I suppose he’s interested in Total Abstinence,’ said the first lady doubtfully. ‘I suppose there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be.’ She turned to William. ‘Are you interested in Total Abstinence?’
‘Yes,’ said William without a second’s hesitation and looking blanker than ever.
Both ladies stared at him and looked very much perplexed.
Then a man with crossed eyes behind huge hornrimmed spectacles and carrying a sheaf of papers entered and said briskly:
‘Is everything ready?’
The first lady pointed to William.
‘This boy says he’s interested in Total Abstinence and wants to come to the meeting,’ she said.
William turned a sphinx-like face to the man.
The man subjected William to a lengthy inspection. William met it unblinkingly. The lengthy inspection did not seem to reassure the young man at all. He said reluctantly:
‘Well, I suppose we can’t turn him out if he wants to come. I mean we’ve advertised it as a public meeting—’
‘Just what I said,’ said the first lady.
‘But any monkey tricks from you, my boy—’ said the man threateningly.
‘Me!’ said William, his sphinx-like look changing to one of righteous indignation. ‘Me!’ He seemed hardly able to believe his ears.
‘All right,’ said the man irritably. ‘Go and sit down somewhere at the back. People will be coming in in a minute.’
William chose a seat just in front of the cabinet behind which the parrot had taken refuge. The parrot was preserving a strange silence. William made violent efforts to see it from his chair till the second lady said:
‘Do sit still there, boy! You make me feel quite giddy fidgeting about like that.’
So William sat (comparatively) still, wondering how he could entice the parrot from behind the cabinet and make his departure with it unobserved. The parrot’s silence puzzled him. Was it merely resting after the excitement of its flight or was it planning some outrageous piece of devilry? People were beginning to arrive now. They all threw glances at William, curious and in most cases disapproving. William’s whole energy was now taken up in meeting their glances with his blankest stare.
Evidently one lady (who presumably knew him) was objecting to his presence because he heard the first lady saying helplessly:
‘Well, I don’t see how we can turn him out. He said that he wanted to come to the meeting because he was interested in Total Abstinence . . . and he isn’t doing anything we can turn him out for.’
Fortunately the chair William occupied stood by itself next to the cabinet. Just in front of him was the last row of chairs. The chairs were all full now and the meeting was beginning. He was craning his neck round to see what had happened to the parrot. There was still no sound from behind the cabinet. . . . He began to think that if must have gone to sleep. . . .
The cross-eyed man was speaking. ‘It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our speaker, Miss Rubina Thomasina Fawshaw. Her name is well known, of course, to all of us—’
It was at this point that the parrot behind the cabinet suddenly ejaculated.
‘Oh, shut up!’
The meeting wheeled round to gaze at William open-mouthed with horror and indignation. William with a great effort maintained his sphinx-like expression and stared fixedly in front of him, trying to look as if he were in a brown study and had not heard the interruption.
The man was fortunately rather deaf. After looking about him vaguely for some minutes he continued. With a last stern and threatening glance at William the audience turned round again to listen.
‘She is a splendid and well-known worker in this noble cause. She has for the last six weeks been travelling in America, and she has there studied the question of Prohibition in all its aspects—’
‘Get out, you old fool!’
They all swung round again. It couldn’t have come from anyone but William. William was making a supreme and quite unconvincing attempt to look innocent. He was staring in front of him with a set, fixed stare and a purple face. The man with the squint had heard now. Fixing one furious eye on William and the other out of the window he said:
‘One more such interruption from you, my boy, and out you go.’
The unhappy William made a vague sound in his throat suggestive of innocence and surprise and apology and continued to stare fixedly in front of him. After another short silence the cross-eyed man continued his speech. The audience, pausing only to throw final vitriolic glances at William, turned round again to listen.
‘I personally,’ went on the cross-eyed man, ‘have known Miss Fawshaw for a good many years�
�’
‘GET OUT, YOU OLD FOOL!’ SAID A VOICE. WILLIAM WAS STARING IN FRONT OF HIM WITH A SET, FIXED STARE.
There was no mistaking it. It was a vulgar snigger coming from the back of the room where William sat.
Without a word the cross-eyed man arose and came down the room, one baleful eye fixed on William. He seized his victim by the neck and propelled him before him out of the room down the hall to the front door, where he ignominiously ejected him.
‘ONE MORE INTERRUPTION FROM YOU, MY BOY,’ SAID THE MAN WITH THE SPECTACLES, ‘AND OUT YOU GO!’
Ginger was anxiously awaiting his return.
‘Hello,’ he greeted him, ‘you’ve not got it after all! Whatever’s been happenin’ in there?’
‘All sorts of things,’ groaned William, rubbing his neck where the cross-eyed man had held it. ‘Crumbs! It was awful. They’re havin’ a meetin’ an’ it kept sayin’ things an’ they thought it was me. It was awful! An’ he’s nearly broke my neck.’
‘Where is it?’ asked Ginger anxiously. He meant the parrot, not William’s neck. He wasn’t interested in William’s neck.
‘It went behind a sort of cupboard place,’ said William, still tenderly caressing his neck, ‘an’ it was quite quiet till they started havin’ a meetin’ an’ then it started sayin’ its things an’ they thought it was me. Crumbs! It was awful! . . . It’s right behind the cupboard thing now. I kept tryin’ to see it but I couldn’t.’
‘Let’s see if we can see it from the window,’ suggested Ginger.
They crept very, very cautiously up to the window. They could see the parrot quite plainly. It was on the floor behind the cupboard gazing about it with a sort of cynical enjoyment. It evidently had not spoken since it had secured William’s ignominious ejection. It suddenly saw the Outlaws watching it through the window and began to walk towards them across the floor. So intent was the audience upon Miss Rubina Thomasina Fawshaw’s discourse (she was giving a lucid account of the effect of alcohol upon the liver) that no one noticed the parrot walking sedately across the floor from the cabinet to the window. Having reached the window it stood for a few minutes gazing wickedly up at the Outlaws’ faces. Then silently, suddenly it hopped up on to the open window sill. William put out his hand.
‘Got it!’ he breathed.
But he spoke too soon. He hadn’t got it. With a chuckle it flew off over the fence into the next garden, leaving William and Ginger gazing after it despairingly.
‘Well!’ said William after an eloquent silence. ‘We seem sort of doomed with that bird!’
‘Yes, an’ if we’ve not got it put back by the time my aunt comes back we’ll be still more doomed,’ said Ginger dejectedly.
‘Come on then,’ said William, ‘let’s catch it. It’s only just sitting on a tree.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ called the parrot, challengingly, from a small almond tree on which he was perching.
The two Outlaws scaled the fence and very, very cautiously approached the truant.
‘Got him this time,’ said William again joyfully as his outstretched hand descended.
But again he spoke too soon. The parrot squawked ‘Get out, you fool,’ and slipping nimbly away from William’s grimy hand flew on to the window sill where it hopped up and down excitedly as if executing a war dance.
‘Go on, Ginger,’ said William. ‘Get him! You can get him there all right!’
Ginger pounced desperately, but the parrot merely hopped through the open window into the front room of the house.
‘There!’ said William, hoarse with horror and despair. ‘It’s gone into another house. Well, I’ve jolly well done enough goin’ into houses after it an’ getting pushed out with someone’s fingers nearly meetin’ through my neck. You can jolly well go after it, this time.’
‘A’ right,’ said Ginger meekly, surveying the room with some anxiety.
‘Go on – it’s all right. It’s empty ’cept for it,’ said William.
The parrot had perched upon an electric light that hung down from the centre of the ceiling and was swinging briskly to and fro. Ginger slowly pushed up the window and slung one leg over the ledge.
Then he looked back at William.
‘’S goin’ to be an awful job catchin’ him alone,’ he said pleadingly.
William had been regretting his decision not to join the expedition. William hated not being in the thick of an adventure.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I bet it will take both of us to catch him.’
And despite his recent ignominious ejection he slung his leg over the sill after Ginger with quite pleasurable feelings of zest and excitement.
The parrot had stopped swinging on the electric light bulb now and was hopping to and fro upon a polished table. He suggested someone slightly inebriated trying to perform a very complicated dance. He probably was slightly inebriated with freedom and excitement. . . . The two Outlaws approached him. With one beady eye fixed on them, but still merrily performing his dance, he waited again till Ginger’s outstretched hand was a fraction of an inch from his back, and then with a diabolical chuckle he flew straight out of the window again.
‘Crumbs!’ said William. ‘Quick! Let’s go after him or we shan’t know which way he’s gone.’
But just at that minute there came the sound of the opening of a door and voices approached the room. Someone was coming. . . . There wasn’t time to get out of the window. Already someone was holding the handle and the voices were just outside the door. Quick as lightning William and Ginger plunged beneath the nearest piece of furniture which happened to be a sofa with – mercifully – a frilled loose cover that hid them from view. There wasn’t room to move or breathe but they felt grateful for the temporary shelter it afforded.
They were in fact so much exercised with the problem of existence in a space that did not allow for movement or breathing that at first they did not listen to what the voice were saying. But haying partially solved the problem of existence in the cramped space and becoming gradually accustomed to the taste of the carpet their attention fixed itself upon the conversation that was going on in the room. Neither Ginger nor William could see the speakers, but the voices were those of a girl and a man. The girl was saying:
‘Then we’ll do Latham House on Wednesday?’
‘I think so,’ said the man’s voice.
‘What time?’
‘I suggest three o’clock. Will that do for you?’
‘Yes. Quite well. You’re sure they’re away?’
‘Oh, yes. . . . We can get the things ready in the coach-house. All the servants are away too.’
‘Good! I hope it will be a success. Frenshams’ was a great success, wasn’t it?’
They may have said more, but the Outlaws heard no more. They were dazed and astounded by the one stupendous fact. They had found the burglars. They swallowed several mouthfuls of carpet dust in sheer ecstasy. . . . They had found the burglars. Soon the closing of the door and the silence that followed it told them that the room was empty, and they crept out of their hiding-place, tiptoed across the room and clambered out of the still open window.
‘Gosh!’ said William as soon as they were outside. ‘The burglars!’
Ginger was no less thrilled than William, but the parrot still lay upon his conscience.
‘The parrot!’ he murmured, looking around at the parrotless expanse of sky and road and garden that met his gaze.
William looked about too. There was certainly no sign of the parrot.
‘Oh, never mind the parrot!’ he said contemptuously. ‘What’s a parrot?’
Ginger murmured, truly enough, that a parrot is a parrot, but William stoutly denied it and even Ginger felt that a parrot paled into complete insignificance besides a burglar.
‘She won’t know it was us,’ said William (though without conviction), ‘and, anyway, it’s lunch time. I’m sick of tryin’ to catch parrots. Burglars are more fun and I bet they’re a jolly sight easier to catch.’
But even William’s glorious optimism could not quite visualise this capture. He frowned for a minute perplexedly. Then he said:
‘Tell you what! We’ll get Robert to come an’ help. He’s mad keen on catchin’ ’em.’
‘And Hector,’ said Ginger.
‘All right,’ agreed William. ‘Robert an’ Hector. We’ll tell ’em after dinner – on condition that they let us help with the catchin’.’
‘Of course,’ said Ginger.
William found that there was no need to lead up to the question of the burglaries. Robert at lunch could talk of nothing else. He had decided quite definitely to capture the burglar. William knew that this decision was inspired solely by a desire to attain a heroic standard in the eyes of Miss Julia Bellairs. Robert wanted to catch the burglar not for the sake of the adventure but so that Miss Julia Bellairs might hear that he had caught the burglar. While despising the motive William appreciated the decision.
‘My theory is,’ said Robert importantly, ‘that they’ll do our house this afternoon. You see, they’ve probably discovered that we’ll all going to be out this afternoon. They know that the maids are going to the fair at Balton and that I’m going out to the tennis club, and that you and Ethel are going to the Barlows’ and William’s going to tea to Ginger’s. They always find out exactly which house is going to be empty during the afternoon. Now I’ve decided to pretend to go out to tennis, but I’m going to come back by the back way and wait in the house for them. They won’t be expecting me, you see, and I’ll overpower them before they’ve time to resist and—’
‘How will you overpower them?’ said Ethel, quite unimpressed.
‘Well,’ said Robert still more importantly, ‘I know a very good way to do that. I was reading in the paper about a man who did it. He knew that a burglar was coming, so he arranged a pail of water over the back door, where he knew he’d come in because it was the only door not fastened and it fell down on him and drenched him and took away his breath, so that the man got him tied up before he recovered his breath.’