Dot and Mr Holmes and Mr Mouse, with the three dogs, have returned to Dendringham hall after their visit to Fernbank Cottage, home of the strange inventor Giles Langton. But as they arrive, the first person they meet is Dot’s governess Miss Walsingham – and something has clearly frightened her…
“Hmmm!” said Mr Holmes. He knelt down on the grass – ignoring the dampness – and took out his big old fashioned magnifying glass. Then he crawled forward, muttering something under his breath.
He was taking a close look - just like every detective should – and he certainly had plenty to look at.
SOMEONE had burnt three huge words into the lawn in front of the house. They were two metres tall (what we used to call six feet, or a bit more), a kind of reddish brown - and they had a menacing message.
It said:
“YOU - WILL - PAY”
“What can it mean? What can it MEAN?” said Miss Walsingham, twisting and turning her hands together. “I saw it on the lawn just after you left… everyone’s away at the hunt at Locking Manor, only Old Josiah and I are here until they all come back! I’m SO glad you’re here!”
“VERY interesting!” said Mr Holmes. “Now don’t you fret, Miss Walsingham! This is a clue – and a very good one too! We’re closer than ever to catching the villain who’s been putting on these ridiculous exhibitions, believe me!” He smiled up at the frightened governess. “I’ll make him regret his ghostly rides and silly yelpings, you’ll see!”
He leant forward and sniffed the letters. The three dogs, watching him closely, did the same. Angharad let out a little whine. “It’s that smell!” she whispered to her two friends – and to Dot and Mr Mouse, of course, through the magic of the Net. “I know it! I KNOW it! What can it BE!! Oh – ” and she started talking to herself in a musical, quick-fire language which, Dot guessed, had to be Welsh.
“She’s off!” said Victor the St Bernard gloomily. “Seeing things in her little Welsh Terrier head again.” He flopped down on the grass with a big sigh.
“How do you mean?” asked Wiz, lying down beside him. Mr Homes and Miss Walsingham had now moved to the far end of the burn marks on the grass and were peering down at them – the whole message was about five metres long.
Angharad was pacing up and down next to them, nose to the ground, little beard sweeping the grass, tail tucked between her legs, muttering away faster than ever in Welsh.
“Oh, she’s a funny one and no mistake” said Victor. “She can tell things are going to happen before they do, if you know what I mean. That time the stable block nearly burned down because Thomas Pinches, the duty groom who was meant to be looking after the horses left an oil lamp on the ground and Thunderer kicked it over and the straw all went on fire… well she knew all about it the day before!”
“What?” said Mr Mouse hopping down and striding up to Victor with his hands on his hips. He did look sweet in his little Victorian school suit thought Dot, smiling to herself. “Ya mean she can see things like the boy in that movie ‘Caspar the Friendly Ghost’?”
“Eh?” said Victor, looking puzzled. “What on earth is a… a movie, old thing?”
“Never mind!” laughed Mr Mouse. “You ain’t seen nothing yet! I guess you mean she’s got… whaddya call it… second sight!”
“Well the day before the fire she kept on and on” said Victor solemnly. “She kept going “Hot – it’s going to be hot – it’s going to be very hot! Burning hot!” And it was the middle of February, snow on the ground!” He shook his big jowly head. “See what I mean? And when it happened it was as if she was ready for it. She jumped right up, out through a window and got Old Josiah to come, so the fire was put out in time! Only just, though!”
Suddenly there was a clattering and a clopping of horses’ hooves. Everyone looked up. It was the party back from the hunt at Locking Manor – Sir Charles d’Auberley and Herbert in their red coats, Lady Sarah d’Auberley in a little black top hat and long black dresses riding side-saddle.
Just behind them, lumbering along the gravelled drive behind two huge shire horses, was a big cart with all the servants who’d gone to help at the hunt.
“Hmm!” said Mr Holmes. “I think we’re about to experience the famous d’Auberley Choleric!”
