[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

The postmaster, Seth Talbot, had more news for them when they arrived at his office. “Message just come through from Drakehampton. I don’t think those four men in the motor vehicle know who they are. Asked the postmistress there directions for Chapelvale, said they were racehorse buyers. Drove off and nearly knocked an old gent down who was crossing the road.”

The sergeant turned to Ben. “Would ye like to go around tae the railway station sidings for me? Tell Constable Judmann ah can’t relieve him yet and tae stay there. I’m going tae use the telegraph here. Get a description of our four friends and their motorcar from Drakehampton. Then ah’ll contact headquarters in London and see what they know about them.”

The constable was in his element. He stood holding on to the bicycle, in view of the “Prohibition of Movement” notice he had fixed to the railway trucks. Nothing but his sergeant’s command would cause him to quit his post, he assured Ben, adding, “You tell the sarn’t I’ll stand ’ere all day an’ all night, if needs be, lad!”

Sergeant Patterson was beaming when they returned to the post office. The Labrador passed a thought to Ben. “I must look just like that when I get a big beef marrowbone!”

The boy could not hide a grin. “Aye, you do!”

Further thoughts were cut short by the sergeant, who met the two at the door. “Och, ye were right, lad! George Pearson, alias Gripper, Frederick Lloyd, alias Flash, Charles Hyland, alias Chaz, and Eric Wardle, alias Chunk. Driving a motorized vehicle, registration number BLH 98. Stolen from the front drive of Colonel Busby Hythe Simmonds of South Hampstead Crescent, London, yesterday evening!”

He strode from the post office, patting Ben’s back and stroking the dog’s head, a definite spring in his step. “Och aye, they’ve been guests at headquarters quite a few times. Felons, that’s what they are, Ben. Known criminals!”

Ben had to trot to keep up with the sergeant’s long strides. “What’s the next move, then, Sarge?”

Patterson squared his shoulders. “Reception committee, lad. We’ve got tae give our London friends a warm welcome. Haha, if the constable knew he’d be sharpenin’ his bayonet and cleaning up his auld army rifle. . . . Best leave him guarding the railway trucks, eh? Excitement, Ben, the very spice of life!”

“Ask him where we’re off to now, pal?”

Ben caught the Labrador’s thought and asked the sergeant, “Where are we going now, Sarge?”

“Tae Miz Winn’s house, o’ course, ah want tae see if they’ve solved the candlestick riddle. Keep up there, partner!”

Relief flooded the boy as he marched jauntily alongside his competent friend. He had not really known what he was going to do about the London villains. Of course, he had put on a confident air when Winnie told him about them, but that was mainly for her benefit. Truth was he had acted just like a typical Chapelvale villager, pushing the matter to the back of his mind, hoping that it was all just Hetty’s gossip. He counted himself very lucky that he had confided in Sergeant Patterson.

“Don’t blame yourself too much, pal.” The dog followed in Ben’s tracks. “A boy and a dog are pretty thin odds against four full-grown rogues. Our policeman’ll deal with ’em, look at the sergeant. He’s actually looking forward to it.”

Ben tugged Ned’s tail. “Excuse me, pal, but d’you mind not cutting in on my thoughts?”

The Labrador snapped playfully at Ben’s ankle. “And what about my thoughts, pray? I was as worried as you about the issue. Thank goodness for the law, I say!”

They encountered a fairly pensive group in the Winn sitting room, studying a piece of paper that lay unfurled upon the table.

Ben looked hopefully to the seaman. “So you found something, is that it?”

“Aye, lad. That paper was rolled up inside the other candlestick. What d’you make of it?”

The paper, for the most part, was blank, except for one corner, which had two rows of tiny cramped writing.

Ben read aloud. “ ‘Be of good heart, like a flame pure and true. May the light of St. Mark bring my words unto you. E.D.W.’ ”

The sergeant picked up the paper and inspected it. “Good, thick, quality stuff. Far more substantial than the thin slip in the other candlestick. Have ye tried matching them together in any way?”

Mr. Braithwaite placed the thin paper on the table. “We were just, er, about to do so, er, yes, quite so!”

Between them, Braithwaite and Mr. Mackay tried connecting both papers. Heeding every suggestion put forward by the rest, they placed the papers side by side, one over the other, semi-overlapping, and in every other possible combination that could be guessed at.

The result was absolutely nothing.

Will Drummond clenched both fists. Shutting his eyes tight, he called out in frustration, “St. Mark, are you listenin’? We’re all of good heart! D’you think you could let us in on your secret, eh? Before ’tis too late for Chapelvale!”

Will’s ma pursed her lips severely. “William Drummond! Don’t you be so disrespectful to one o’ the Lord’s disciples, you won’t get anythin’ done like that!”