[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

As Hetty served the young policeman tea, he took the telegram from his tunic pocket. “Ah was on mah way tae check on Judmann at the railway station, when auld Mr. Talbot called me intae the post office an’ gave me this telegraph, from the postmistress at Church Haven, over fifty miles from here. It says that early this mornin’, four o’ Queen Victoria’s couriers passed through there. Seems the poor laddies were lost. Anyway, they drove off in a motorcar, without waitin’ tae hear proper directions. Sounds odd tae me.”

“D’you think it’ll have anything to do with the village bein’ turned into a quarry an’ cement factory, Sergeant?”

Patterson folded the telegraph form, pondering the dairyman’s question.

“Och, ah dinna think the Queen’s even heard of our village. Tae mah knowledge, we’ve never had royal couriers visitin’ Chapelvale. If any such thing were planned, London would contact the police station, not the local post office, an’ ah’ve had no word at all from London, ye ken?” He tucked the telegram back in his pocket. “There’s somethin’ strange goin’ on. Ah’m goin’ back tae the village, tae look further intae this matter!”

“Could I come with you, Sergeant Patterson?” The blue-eyed boy had become alert at the mention of London.

Amy tapped the paper upon the table. “But what about solving this riddle?”

Ben made his excuses. “I won’t be too long, Amy, Jon. There’s something I’ve got to talk with the sergeant about. I’ll bet with all the brains here you’ll have the riddle beaten before I get back. Keep them at it, Mr. Braithwaite!”

The old scholar blinked, ruffling his arms in his sleeves, as Ben and his big, black dog accompanied the policeman out.

“Eh, er, keep them at it? Oh, er, yes, very good young, er!”

As the front door closed, Will’s mother, more curious than ever, indicated the paper. “Where did you find this, Will?”

“Inside one of the candlesticks, Ma, why?”

“Which one?”

Eileen picked up a candlestick. “This one, I think.”

Alex shook his head. “No, it was the other one. Ned’s teeth made a slight scratch on that one. I noticed it when I put the two halves back together. See?” He pointed to the faint scratch on the other candlestick.

Mrs. Winn poured herself more tea. ‘That’s the one you found the paper in, eh, Jon?”

“Aye, that’s the one, marm.”

She took a sip of her tea. “Then why haven’t you looked inside the other one? Doesn’t it come apart?”

The good-natured farmer’s wife laughed heartily. “Hahahaha! Good thinkin’, Winnie, what a bunch o’ puddin’ ’eads we are!”

The ex-seaman and the dairyman took an end each, and they pulled, like two children with a Christmas cracker. The candlestick popped apart so easily that Will fell backward and Jon bumped into Mr. Mackay.

Apologies were forgotten as they stared at the slim scroll of paper lying on the floor.

40

SERGEANT PATTERSON WAS AN EASY man to get on with. Ben explained to him how he had come by the information that Smithers’s guest, Maud Bowe, was having four of her father’s company thugs sent up from London to frighten Mrs. Winn into leaving her home.

The sergeant spoke without looking at Ben as they walked toward the village square. “Why didn’t ye inform me of this before, lad?”

The boy thought hard before replying. “Well, I’d never met you before this morning. But when you got that telegraph message, and it mentioned four men coming up from London, I thought you’d better know about what I’d found out, so I’m telling you now.”

The Scots sergeant nodded. “Aye, fair enough. I hope ye don’t mind me askin’, but how did ye plan on dealing with them? Always providing that what Hetty told Miz Winn was fact, and not just kitchenmaid’s tittle-tattle.”

Ben’s blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’d think of something, one way or another.”

The sergeant questioned him further. “Did ye tell any o’ the others—Jon or Will, for instance?”

“No, you’re the first one I’ve spoken to about it.”

The policeman could not help admiring the boy’s courage. “And ye were goin’ tae handle it all on your own, eh?”

Ben stopped and stared at the bobby. “Me and Ned could do it!”

There was something about the pair, the manner in which the big, black dog stood by the boy and the determined light in the boy’s blue eyes. Sergeant Patterson smiled. “Ah’d bet money that ye could. But there’s three of us now, and ah’m the law. Ah was a constable for four years in the east end o’ London. Ah think ye’d better let me give ye some assistance, son.” He held out his hand. “All right with ye?”

The boy shook Patterson’s hand. “Fine with me, Sarge. Righto, Ned?”

The black Labrador held out his paw to the astonished sergeant, who shook it firmly and laughed. “Hahahah! Yon’s a pretty intelligent dog!”

The dog flashed a passing thought to his master. “This young sergeant’s fairly bright, too, eh, lad!”