Chapter Nine

Julian opened the front door. Jo silently gave him a plain envelope. Julian tore it open, not knowing what in the least to expect. Jo turned to go—but Julian put out his hand and caught hold of her firmly, whilst he read the note in complete amazement.

‘Dick!’ he called. ‘Hold on to Jo. Don’t let her go. Better take her indoors. This is serious.’

Jo wasn’t going to be taken indoors. She squealed, and wriggled like an eel. Then she began to kick Dick viciously with her bare feet.

‘Let me go! I’m not doing any harm. I only brought you that note!’

‘Stop squealing and being silly,’ said Dick. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, you know that. But you must come indoors.’

But Jo wouldn’t stop wriggling and pulling and kicking. She looked scared out of her life. It was as much as Dick and Julian could do to get the little wriggler into the dining–room and shut the door. Anne followed, looking very frightened. Whatever was happening?

‘Listen to this,’ said Julian, when the door was shut. ‘It’s unbelievable!’ He held out the typewritten note for the others to see as he read it out loud.

This amazing and terrifying note made Anne burst into tears and cling to Julian’s arm.

‘Julian! Julian! George can’t have come back from her walk with Timmy last night! She must have been caught then—and Timmy, too. Oh, why didn’t we start hunting for her then?’

Julian looked very grim and white. He was thinking hard. ‘Yes—someone was lying in wait, I’ve no doubt—and she and Timmy were kidnapped. Then the kidnapper—or one of them—came back to the house and shut the front door to make it seem as if George was back. And someone has probably been hanging round all day to find out whether we’re worried about George, or just think she’s gone off for the day!’

‘Who gave you the note?’ said Dick, sharply, to the scared Jo.

She trembled.

‘A man,’ she said.

‘What sort of a man?’ asked Julian.

‘I don’t know,’ said Jo.

‘Yes, you do,’ said Dick. ‘You must tell, Jo.’

Jo looked sullen. Dick shook her, and she tried to get away. But he held her far too tightly. ‘Go on—tell us what the fellow was like,’ he said.

‘He was tall and had a long beard and a long nose and brown eyes,’ rattled off Jo suddenly. ‘And he was dressed in fisherman’s clothes, and—he spoke foreign.’

The two boys looked sternly at her. ‘I believe you’re making all that up, Jo,’ said Julian.

‘I’m not,’ said Jo sulkily. ‘I’d never seen him before, so there.’

‘Jo,’ said Anne, taking Jo’s brown little paw in hers, ‘tell us truly anything you know. We’re so very worried about George.’ Tears sprang out of her eyes as she spoke, and she gave a little wail.

‘Serve that George–girl right if she’s got taken away,’ said Jo fiercely. ‘She was rude to me—she’s crool and unkind. Serve her right, I say. I wouldn’t tell you anything—not even if I knew something to tell.’

‘You do know something,’ said Dick. ‘You’re a bad little girl, Jo. I shan’t have anything more to do with you. I felt sorry and unhappy about you, but now I don’t.’

Jo looked sullen again, but her eyes were bright with tears. She turned away. ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I tell you, that fellow gave me fifteen pence to bring this note to you, and that’s all I know. And I’m glad George is in trouble. People like her deserve it, see!’

‘Let her go,’ said Julian wearily. ‘She’s like a savage little cat—all claws and spite. I thought there might be some good in her, but there isn’t.’

‘I thought so, too,’ said Dick, letting go Jo’s arm. ‘I quite liked her. Well, go, Jo. We don’t want you any more.’

Jo rushed to the door, wrenched it open, and fled down the hall and out of the house. There was a silence after she had gone.

‘Julian,’ whispered Anne. ‘What are we going to do?’

Julian said nothing. He got up and went into the hall. He picked up the telephone receiver and put his ear to it, listening for the faint crackling that would tell him he was connected to the exchange. After a moment he put it back again.

‘No connection,’ he said. ‘The wires have been cut, as the note said. And no doubt there’s somebody on watch to see we don’t slip out to give warning. This is all crazy. It can’t be true.’

‘But it is,’ said Dick. ‘Horribly true. Julian, do you know what notebook they want? I’ve no idea!’

‘Nor have I,’ said Julian. ‘And it’s impossible to go and hunt for it, because the safe has been mended and locked—and the police have the key.’

‘Well, that’s that, then,’ said Dick. ‘What are we going to do? Shall I slip out and warn the police?’

Julian considered. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I think these people mean business. It would be terrible if anything happened to George. Also, you might be caught and spirited away yourself. There are people watching the house, don’t forget.’

‘But Julian—we can’t just sit here and do nothing!’ said Dick.

‘I know. This will have to be thought about carefully,’ said Julian. ‘If only we knew where George had been taken to! We could rescue her then. But I can’t see how we can find out.’

‘If one of us went and hid down the bottom of the garden and waited to see whoever came to take up the notebook—we could follow the fellow and maybe he’d lead us to where George is hidden,’ suggested Dick.

‘You forget that we’ve all got to sit in the lighted front room, so it would easily be spotted if one of us were missing,’ said Julian. ‘Even Joan has to sit there. This is all very stupid and melodramatic.’

‘Does anyone come to the house this evening? Any of the tradesmen, for instance?’ asked Anne, again in a whisper. She felt as if people must be all round the house, listening and watching!

‘No. Else we could give them a note,’ said Julian. Then he gave the table a rap that made the others jump. ‘Wait a bit! Yes, of course—the paper–boy comes! Ours is almost the last house he delivers at. But perhaps it would be risky to give him a note. Can’t we think of something better?’

‘Listen,’ said Dick, his eyes shining. ‘I’ve got it! I know the paper–boy. He’s all right. We’ll have the front door open and yank him in as soon as he appears. And I’ll go out immediately, with his cap on, and his satchel of papers, whistling—jump on his bike and ride away. And none of the watchers will know I’m not the boy! I’ll come back when it’s dark, sneak round the garden at the bottom and hide to watch who comes for the hidden notebook—and I’ll follow him!’

‘Good idea, Dick!’ said Julian, turning it quickly over in his mind. ‘Yes—it’s possible. It would be better to watch and see who comes rather than tell the police—because if these kidnappers mean business, George would certainly be in trouble once they knew we’d been able to get in touch with the police.’

‘Won’t the newspaper boy think it’s queer?’ asked Anne.

‘Not very. He’s a bit simple,’ said Dick. ‘He believes anything he’s told. We’ll make up something to satisfy him and give him such a good time that he’ll want to keep visiting us!’

‘About this notebook,’ said Julian. ‘We’d better get some kind of book out of one of the drawers and wrap it up with a note inside to say we hope it’s the one. The fellow who comes to collect it will have to have some kind of parcel to take off with him to give to the kidnappers. It isn’t likely he’d undo it and look at it—or even know if it was the right one or not.’

‘Go and hunt out a book, Anne,’ said Dick. ‘I’ll be looking out for the newspaper boy. He’s not due till half–past seven, but I don’t dare to risk missing him—and he may be early, you never know.’

Anne shot off to the study, thankful to have something to do. Her hands were trembling as she pulled out drawer after drawer to look for a big notebook that would do to wrap up in a parcel.

Julian went with Dick to the front door, to help him to deal with the unsuspecting newspaper boy. They stood there, patiently waiting, hearing the clock strike six o’clock, then half–past, then seven.

‘Here he comes!’ said Dick, suddenly. ‘Now—get ready to yank him in! Hallo, Sid!’