But still Mr Justice Owl did not speak. Then, suddenly, he opened his eyes. And from his beak there came a long, low moan, ‘Too-wit, too-woe … too-wit, too-woe!’ How often had he sent out that cry to the world, how often had the fateful slogan echoed through the sleeping glades! Too little wit, too much woe – that had been his constant call, and well we know that he had good reason for calling it. But never had he called it more fervently than tonight, never had the phrase a deeper meaning. For Mr Justice Owl realized that he was face to face with Evil – real Evil … human Evil, which is so much more terrible than animal Evil. For human Evil is of the brain and the spirit, whereas animal Evil is of the flesh and of the blood. You will have to be grown up before you can understand what that means; and even then you may not understand it fully for grown-ups are strange creatures, who are confused by words, and think that things are good or evil by reason of their names rather than by reason of their nature.
However, our story is too urgent for these reflections.
After Mr Justice Owl had emitted his melancholy cry, he blew a shrill whistle, and PC Monkey appeared in the doorway.
‘You called, Your Worship?’
Mr Justice Owl fixed him with his sternest glare. ‘PC Monkey!’ he proclaimed. ‘You have a grave duty before you!’
PC Monkey was very impressed by these words, and actually forgot to scratch himself.
‘Have you your handcuffs on you?’
‘Yes, Your Worship.’
‘And your truncheon, and your note-book?’
‘Yes, Your Worship.’
‘In that case you will proceed at once to The Shop in the Ford. You will caution Young Sam. And you will arrest him for the attempted murder of Miss Judy.’
‘Murder?’ gasped PC Monkey. ‘Miss Judy?’
‘Attempted murder,’ corrected Mr Justice Owl.
PC Monkey was so astonished that he automatically saluted and turned, as though he were about to rush off without further instructions.
‘One moment,’ cried Mr Justice Owl. ‘I have not finished yet. There is also the case of Miss Smith.’
He turned to address his remarks to Mr Tortoise. ‘In my opinion, it would be unwise to attempt to arrest this person. I gather that she might cause a great deal of trouble. She might, for instance, decide to become invisible, and the law about arresting invisible witches is, unfortunately, somewhat confused. I think that Mr Tortoise will agree with me?’
‘Undoubtedly, Your Worship.’
‘In these circumstances,’ continued Mr Justice Owl, ‘it seems wiser that we should caution her, and order her to attend as a witness, assuring her that if she does so, no further proceedings will be taken against her, providing she leaves the wood the moment the trial is over. It is not an ideal solution – far from it. If I had my way I would put her in irons. However, as she could probably slip through any chains that we could put on her, we must use other methods. After all, the source of the whole trouble, the prime mover in this outrage, is Sam himself. Once we are rid of him, we shall have no more witches. It therefore seems wiser to me to attempt to enlist the co-operation of Miss Smith, however repulsive it may be to our real feelings. It should not be too difficult; I imagine that there is not much love lost between her and her employer. You agree, Mr Tortoise?’
‘A most wise and learned decision, Your Worship.’
‘There is one last thing.’ Mr Justice Owl turned towards Bruno. ‘Mr Bruno!’ he said gravely, but not unkindly, ‘from what I can understand of your conduct in the past few months as outlined by Mr Tortoise, you have been foolish and weak.’
Poor Bruno hung his head and shuffled his feet.
‘You were foolish, in the first place, to embark on a career of deception; you were weak to submit to the blackmail of a worthless Human.’
‘I was afraid …’ muttered Bruno.
‘Quite. You were afraid. And you had no reason to be afraid. You should have trusted the Law of the Wood to protect you.’
Bruno hung his head even lower.
‘However –’ and here a warm note crept into Mr Justice Owl’s voice – ‘whatever follies you have committed in the past have been amply paid for. And for your behaviour today I have nothing but the highest praise.’
‘Oh. Your Worship!’ gasped Bruno, holding up his head for the first time, and gazing at Mr Justice Owl with wide-open eyes.
‘The highest praise!’ he repeated. ‘At the risk of your own life, you refused to do the bidding of those who had ensnared you, and you stood alone against all their powers of black magic.’
Mr Bruno held his head still higher and his breast actually began to swell with pride.
‘The wood shall hear of it, in due course. And the wood will be proud of you. In the meantime, I am going to give you a chance to prove your mettle, once again. Will you obey my instructions?’
‘Indeed, Your Worship … anything, anything!’
‘Good! Then you will go with PC Monkey this very moment and offer him every assistance in the dangerous task of arresting this criminal.’
‘Arrest Sam?’ Bruno gave a whoop of delight.
‘But Your Worship …’ began PC Monkey, who did not like the idea of Bruno sharing his honours.
‘There are no “buts” about it,’ corrected Mr Justice Owl. ‘You are agile, PC Monkey, and you are willing. But Sam is strong, and cunning, and desperate. I do not propose to take any risks. You should be thankful for Mr Bruno’s help.’ And since PC Monkey still looked doubtful, Mr Justice Owl ordered, ‘I should be obliged if you would both shake hands and wish each other good luck.’
Bruno grasped PC Monkey’s hand in his big paw, and his grin was so infectious that PC Monkey grinned too.
‘And now, the two of you, be off! You have just an hour left before the dark!’
*
Had you been strolling near The Shop in the Ford that evening, in the gathering dusk, you would have heard cries of rage and fury. Sam was cursing and swearing, Old Sam was screaming murder, Miss Smith was having hysterics, and the toads were leaping here, there and everywhere, croaking as though they were demented, and calling on each other to spit in everybody’s eye.
Why this uproar? The explanation was very simple. Sam had discovered that his plot had failed.
All day long they had been sitting around, waiting for the return of Bruno. As the hours passed, without any sign of him, Sam began to grow more and more restless; it was only the complete confidence of Miss Smith that prevented him from growing desperate.
‘If anything goes wrong this time, we’re sunk,’ he muttered.
‘But, my dear sir, how could it go wrong?’ demanded Miss Smith, with the brightest of smiles. ‘I gave you my personal guarantee.’
Sam merely scowled at her. She smiled more brightly than ever. ‘That poison,’ she continued, ‘was deadly … but deadly. If you were to pour it on the ground it would sink right through the earth and come out on the other side and destroy large quantities of Australians.’
‘Judy ain’t in Australia, worse luck,’ he snarled.
‘I have no doubt she’s in heaven by now,’ sniffed Miss Smith.
‘Well, wherever she is, where’s Bruno?’
‘Oh, he’ll come all right!’ she tinkled. ‘You just wait and see.’
So they waited.
And they waited.
And still they waited.
But they did not see.
Suddenly, clear-cut against the setting sun, the two figures of Bruno and PC Monkey confronted them. For a moment, all was still – you would have said they were a set of wax-works, waiting for somebody to come and throw a dust-sheet over them.
And then PC Monkey stepped forward. He stood in front of Sam.
‘I have a warrant for your arrest.’
Sam’s voice was dry and harsh.
‘What for?’
‘For the attempted murder of Miss Judy.’
*
There was dead silence. PC Monkey stood the
re holding out the handcuffs, with Bruno behind him blocking the way.
It was at Bruno that Sam was glaring. ‘You – you beastly hulk of a bear!’ he spluttered. ‘You dirty, double-crossing crook!’ He took a quick step forward, and then stopped abruptly: there was a look in Bruno’s eyes that he had never seen before; it was a look in which there was no fear but only a fierce contempt. And instead of cringing away from him, Bruno stood his ground, with his great arms folded over his chest.
‘I am waiting,’ said PC Monkey.
Sam ignored him and turned to Miss Smith. ‘Do something!’ he cried. ‘Why don’t you do something?’
She did not answer.
‘What’s up?’ he screamed. ‘Are you deaf? Why don’t you get busy – bewitch ’em, poison ’em, anything? Miss Smith … do something!’
His voice whimpered away into silence. He stood there breathing heavily, staring around him like a trapped animal.
And then the silence was broken by a ghastly sound – the sound of Miss Smith laughing. It was the real Miss Smith who was laughing now, laughing the Witch’s Laugh, not the false Miss Smith, with her pretty tinkle, which she produced when she wanted to deceive her victims. Loud and long laughed Miss Smith, and her laughter seemed to echo far away over the topmost branches of the trees like a bitter wind, so that the birds who heard it paused in their singing, and were silent.
‘Stop that darned noise!’ yelled Sam.
‘Ho-ho-ho! – He-he-he! – Ha-ha-ha!’ she shrieked.
‘Stop it, I tell you. You’re driving me crazy!’
She stopped as suddenly as she had begun.
‘You little whippersnapper!’ she hissed. ‘You little snivelling rat! You and your old man! Telling me to do something! Ho-ho! He-he! What’ve you ever done for me, I’d like to know?’ She stepped towards him as though she were about to spring at his throat, and he shrank back in terror.
‘I … I … paid you …’ he began.
‘That’s a lie! Not a cent have I had since I came. Nothing but kicks and curses! And now I’m told to do something. Ha-ha! He-he! That’s rich. I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you! Give evidence against you! I’ll see you hanged on the highest tree in the wood!’
Bruno and PC Monkey exchanged glances. That was exactly what Mr Justice Owl wanted.
‘You’ll be hanged yourself,’ gasped Sam.
‘Oh no, I won’t! It’d take a good deal more than a rope to hang me! I know a trick or two, Master Sam. But you … you’re as good as dead already!’ And she put her fingers round her neck, and made a hideous face, as though she were being hanged, with the whites of her eyes staring up to the sky and her tongue hanging out of her mouth.
‘So that’s the way it is!’ snarled Sam – and his face was so twisted that it was terrible to look upon. ‘All against me, eh? Just too bad!’ He shook his head and a cunning look came into his eyes. ‘Seems as though there’s nothing to do but to give myself up, eh?’
‘You ain’t got a chance, Sam,’ groaned his old grandfather, who had been skulking in the background.
Sam nodded. ‘So be it,’ he said, heaving a deep sigh.
He held out his arms for the handcuffs. PC Monkey stepped forward. As he did so, Sam brought down his hands on PC Monkey’s shoulders, vaulted into the air, leapt clean over his head, dodging Bruno by the fraction of an inch, and shot into the forest shadows. It all happened like a flash of lightning, and for a second they both groped vaguely in the air, not knowing which way to turn.
Then, with a yell, PC Monkey darted after him. Bruno followed last – running as he had never run before. But his heart was filled with dismay. ‘Please – please,’ he breathed to the god of the Bears, ‘please, please help me this time … please do not let me fail again!’
*
Faster! Faster! Would they never get him!
At one moment, it seemed as though he were their captive, for he caught his ankle in a root, and PC Monkey, swarming over the branch of an elm, dropped straight on to his shoulders. But before Bruno could come up to them Sam had shaken himself free, and was off again.
Faster! Faster! Night was nearly on them, only a few faint gleams lit the tree trunks, and Bruno could hardly see where he was going. He was torn and bleeding, and his heart was thumping as though it would burst. If only he were a little younger, if only his legs were not so heavy, his coat not so thick! A ditch loomed before him – he tried to take it in a flying leap, but he stumbled and fell in head first. When he scrambled out he was half blinded with mud and ran straight into the trunk of a tree. But, still swaying and tottering, he sped on.
The sounds of the chase were growing fainter – now and then he could hear the crack of a branch as PC Monkey swung overhead and a distant curse from Sam as he stumbled over a bramble – but he could no longer see them, he could only guess where they were. And suddenly, even the noises ceased.
Bruno stopped, panting desperately, and stared wildly ahead. Where could they be? What had happened? Then he noticed that the ground on which he was standing sloped sharply upwards, and he remembered that ahead of him, behind a thick clump of pinewood, lay a little quarry, bounded by a sharp cliff. His heart sank. Had they fallen over it? Had Sam escaped? Was PC Monkey injured? Quick – quick – there was not a second to lose. He plunged ahead, scaling giant rocks as though they were the steps of a staircase, brushing aside thick branches as though they were matchwood.
At last! Here was the top of the hill, and the pinewood, and the wide open space of the quarry. He staggered to the edge of the cliff, and there, far below, was a sight that made his blood run cold.
Sam had got PC Monkey on the ground, and was kneeling on his chest with his hands round his throat, slowly throttling him to death! Bruno could just make out the whites of PC Monkey’s eyes, rolling in agony. Sam’s fingers were twisting tighter and tighter, and with each twist he was screaming out his rage and his hatred.
‘This’ll teach you!’ he yelled. ‘This’ll learn you!’ Twist, twist! ‘Say your prayers, Mr Monkey, say your prayers … say ’em for the last time …!’ Twist, twist! ‘One more twist, Mr Monkey, and you’ll be …’
He never finished the sentence. For at that instant, Bruno made a supreme effort, summoned up his last remaining ounce of strength, and leapt like a gigantic rocket into the air.
There was a scream and then silence, broken only by the panting of Bruno and the low moans of PC Monkey. For a moment Bruno thought that Sam was dead, for he had landed straight on his back, and might well have broken his spine. But no the wicked heart was still beating. And by and by he came to, and glared around him with murder in his eyes.
But now it was too late. For Bruno had taken the handcuffs from PC Monkey’s pocket and locked them firmly round Sam’s wrists.
An hour later, bruised and battered but triumphant, they delivered their prisoner to Mr Justice Owl.
Chapter Sixteen
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE TRIAL
TO SAY THAT Sam’s arrest caused a sensation would be to put it very mildly indeed. From the moment that it was known, the whole wood resounded to such a twittering and grunting and squeaking as had never been heard before.
The first official announcement was made on the Notice Board which PC Monkey nailed up every Monday morning outside Mr Justice Owl’s barn. As a rule there was nothing on this Notice Board at all, so that it read something like this:
COURT OF THE WOOD
PERSONS FOR TRIAL TOMORROW MORNING Nil
Offences Nil
By Order
Mr Justice Owl
Swelpmegod
Usually Mr Justice Owl added a few words of praise for the animals’ good behaviour, chalking them in under his signature, such as ‘Very Good’ or ‘Quite Satisfactory – Keep it Up’, as though he were writing a school report. When he was not in a good temper he wrote words of warning, such as ‘The Eyes of The Law are Watching You’, or ‘Crime Never Pays’, which was felt by the animals to be somewhat harsh, for as they
had committed no crime why should they be reminded that it did not pay?
Never in the whole history of the wood, however, had there been anything like a murder case, and when Miss Fox first saw the announcement she was so flabbergasted that for several moments she sat staring at the Notice Board with her eyes as round as saucers. This is what she read:
COURT OF THE WOOD
PERSONS FOR TRIAL TOMORROW MORNING
Master Sam. Offence: ATTEMPTED MURDER OF MISS JUDY
Witnesses for the trial, including Miss Judy, Mr Bruno and Miss Smith (W.I.T.C.H), must be in their seats by 9 a.m. The prosecution will be conducted by Mr Tortoise. The jury will consist of the following persons:
Mr Peacock (Foreman)
Mrs Hare
Mrs Fox
Mr Manx
Mr Pouter Pigeon
Mrs Dove
Mr Squirrel
Mr Chameleon
Mrs Zebra
Miss Crow
Mr Beaver
Mrs Rabbit
By Order
Mr Justice Owl
Swelpmegod
*
The only persons who were fairly calm and collected on the eve of the great trial were Judy and her grannie. They spent most of the day resting under the Willow Tree, listening to Mr Tortoise as he outlined the probable course of the trial.
‘It should not take long,’ he said. ‘The evidence is overwhelming, particularly as Miss Smith has decided to come in on our side.’
‘Shall I have to be a witness?’ asked Judy.
‘Of course, my dear. But you need not be afraid. All you have to do is to tell the truth.’
‘I don’t like it,’ she sighed. ‘I wish – at least I almost wish that we could let Sam go.’
Mrs Judy snorted. ‘What? And all be murdered in our beds the day after? No thank you!’
‘Justice must be done,’ Mr Tortoise reminded her. ‘And it will soon be over.’
‘Sam will be a slippery customer,’ was Mrs Judy’s comment.
The Tree that Sat Down Page 14
