‘Well-so long as you’re with us,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘But please don’t go away, Bill.’
‘I won’t,’ said Bill. ‘Not unless I take Gussy with me, which would really be the safest thing to do.’
They reached Quarry Cottage, and went in. Gussy and Dinah had gone to bed. Aunt Allie and the boys were still up, reading.
Bill put the milk in the larder and came back. He sat down and told the three of them what Mrs. Ellis had said. Mrs. Cunningham looked grave.
‘How did they know he was down here?’ she wondered. ‘Oh, Bill-what shall we do now? Shall we leave here at once-all of us?’
‘No. That would tell the enemy too much,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t see that two people-a man and a woman-can do very much by themselves-I mean they can’t fall on us and wrest Gussy away from our midst! As long as there are only the two of them we haven’t much to fear-and Mrs. Ellis will soon tell us if any more arrive. One of the boys can go up each day for milk, and get the latest news.’
‘Right. We’ll go on as we are then,’ said his wife, and Lucy-Ann heaved a sigh of relief. ‘You’ll tell Gussy of course, Bill-put him on his guard? He’s got to be very sensible now-keep with us all, not wander away-and I’m afraid the boys must fasten their window at night.’
‘Blow!’ said Jack, who hated a shut window at night. ‘Kiki’s enough of a sentinel, Aunt Allie. She would screech the place down if anyone came.’
‘I’d feel safer with your window shut,’ said his aunt. ‘I think Kiki would screech. Still-I don’t want to run any risks.’
Gussy was told next morning, and so was Dinah. Philip was posted up by the farm to watch the new people arrive. They came in the same black car that Philip had seen through his field-glasses the day before. It was long and low and large-and very expensive-looking.
‘A Daimler,’ said Philip. ‘I bet that can get along! Now-can I spot what the visitors are like?’
There were two. One was a spruce, tall, lean man, wearing a very well-cut suit, an eyeglass in one eye, and hair smoothly brushed back. The other was a woman-pretty, young and with a very foreign voice. The man spoke English well, but he was obviously a foreigner too.
He handed the woman out very carefully indeed. Then she leaned on his arm as they walked up the path to the farmhouse door. They went very slowly.
‘Either she’s been ill or she’s pretending to be,’ thought Philip. ‘I’d better go back and tell Bill-and Gussy too. He may recognize them from my description.’
But Gussy didn’t. He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know them.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they come along here sometime today,’ said Bill. ‘Just to have a snoop round. I feel sure they know I’m at this cottage-and that Gussy may be with you all on holiday!’
Bill was right. That afternoon, while Jack was bird-watching near the house, he heard the sound of voices. He peeped through the bushes. It must be the visitors from the farm! The man had an eyeglass in his eye, as Philip had described-and the woman was walking slowly, leaning on his arm.
Jack sped indoors by the back way. ‘Bill!’ he called. ‘They’re coming. Where’s Gussy? He could peep at them as they go by and see if he knows them!’
Gussy ran to a front window and hid behind the curtain, waiting. But the couple from the farm didn’t go by! They turned in at the front gate and came right up to the cottage door. A sharp sound came on the afternoon air.
‘Rat-a-tatta-TAT!’
Mrs. Cunningham jumped. She was having a rest on her bed. Bill opened her door and went in.
‘Allie! It’s the couple from the farm. What nerve to come right to the house! They obviously don’t think that we suspect anything at all. Will you go down and open the door? I shan’t appear-and Gussy mustn’t either. The others can, of course.’
Bill went to tell Gussy to keep out of the way and Mrs. Cunningham ran down the stairs to the front door, patting her hair tidy. She opened it.
Two people stood on the step, a man and a woman. The man raised his hat politely.
‘Forgive this sudden visit,’ he said, ‘but my wife and I were taking a short walk, and she has begun to feel faint. A cup of water would help her, I think-if you would be so kind?’
‘Oh-do come in,’ said Mrs. Cunningham, hoping that Gussy wouldn’t come running down the stairs. ‘I’ll get some water.’
She took them into the little sitting-room. The woman sank down into a chair and closed her eyes.
‘My wife has been ill,’ said the man. ‘I have brought her down to the farm for a few days-good air, and good food, you know-better than any hotel! But I should not have taken her so far on her first day.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mrs. Cunningham, playing her part as best she could. ‘Dinah! Where are you? Get a jug of water and a glass, will you, dear?’
Dinah sped to the kitchen, and came back with a glass jug of ice-cold water, and a glass on a little tray. She put them down on the table and looked curiously at the couple. They looked back at her.
‘And is this your daughter?’ said the woman. ‘What a nice child! Have you any other children?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘Another of my own and two adopted ones. Fetch them, Dinah.’
Dinah went to fetch the others. They came in politely, Lucy-Ann, Philip and Jack. The woman screamed when she saw Kiki on Jack’s shoulder.
‘A parrot! Don’t let it come near me, I beg of you!’
‘Wipe your feet,’ ordered Kiki. ‘Shut the door. Grrrrrrrrr!’
The woman gave an exclamation in a foreign language, and said something to the man. He laughed.
‘My wife says that people who come to visit you should have good manners, or your parrot will soon teach them,’ he said. ‘So these are your four children. But have you not a fifth?’
‘No,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘Only these four belong to me.’
‘I thought Mrs. Ellis said there was another little boy,’ said the woman, sipping the water.
Mrs. Cunningham reached for a box of cigarettes and handed it to the woman, hoping that she would not pursue the subject of the ‘other little boy’. But the woman persisted.
‘Perhaps you have a little boy staying with you?’ she said, sweetly, smiling at Mrs. Cunningham.
‘Oh, I expect Mrs. Ellis means Gussy,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘Little Gussy is staying for a while-till his family can take him home.’
‘And may we not see the little Gussy?’ said the woman. ‘I love children. Do not leave this little Gussy out.’
‘Anyone know where he is?’ said Mrs. Cunningham, in a voice that made the four children quite certain that she didn’t want them to know. They didn’t know, anyway! Gussy was at that moment in the wardrobe upstairs, where he had put himself straight away at the first sound of the knock on the door. Bill had thought he might as well stay there!
‘I’ve no idea where Gus is,’ said Jack. ‘Doing something on his own, I expect. Do you know where he is, Philip?’
‘No idea,’ said Philip. ‘Messing about somewhere, probably out in the woods.’
‘Ah-he likes to wander about, does he?’ said the man. ‘Well-we may see him when we go back to the farm. Thank you, Madam, for being so kind to my wife. May I please give your four nice children something to buy ice-creams with? And here is something for the little missing Gussy also.’
To the children’s surprise he put down five new ten-shilling notes on the table in front of Mrs. Cunningham. She pushed them back at once, quite horrified.
‘Oh no-please! I couldn’t hear of it. We only got you a glass of water. No, no-take this back. I couldn’t possibly allow the children to have it.’
The man looked surprised and rather uncomfortable. He put the notes back in his pocket. ‘Just as you please,’ he said. ‘In my country it is only a courtesy to return a kindness.’
‘What is your country, sir?’ asked Jack, at once. ‘Aha!’ he thought. ‘Now we’ll bring you out into the open.’
The man hesitated, and the woman gave him a quick glance. ‘My country-oh, I come from Italy,’ he said. ‘A beautiful land. Come, my dear, we must go.’
He took his wife’s arm and led her to the door, his eyes searching everywhere for the missing Gussy. He bowed to Mrs. Cunningham and went down the path.
She called a sentence after him, and he turned. ‘What do you say?’ he said. ‘I didn’t understand.’