Read Online Mystery of Banshee Towers by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online
Authors: Enid Blyton
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like the look of that turnstile man at all,” announced Daisy. “I thought he looked a villain.”
“Oh, not as bad as that ,” said Pip. “He just looked bored and bad-tempered - and I must say I would too, if I had a turnstile job on the top of a cold hill in a place where banshees wailed!”
“I’d like to get home and talk about it,” said Larry. “I don’t know what you think, Fatty, but it all seems pretty queer to me.”
“A bit of a mystery, you mean?” said Fatty. “Well - it’s about time that the Five Find-Outers had a good juicy mystery to solve, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes !” said Pip, in delight. “We’ve never had one with banshees in before.”
“Well, I could do without banshees, really,” said Bets. “What about telling the Chief Inspector - you know, Inspector Jenks - he might…”
“Bets, we really can’t tell him silly stories of banshees,” said Fatty. “They don’t really exist, you know. They…”
“All right - well, what was it that we heard this afternoon?” said Bets. “I don’t care what its name is, it was as bad and weird and horrible as any banshee, so there!”
“You’re right, Bets. It was pretty awful,” said Pip. “I didn’t like it myself. Real or unreal, that banshee is MOST mysterious. Look out, now, we’re coming to a very steep bit. Go as slowly as you can all the way, in case your brakes are weak.”
Away down the hill they sailed in a long line, the the two dogs galloping manfully - or “dogfully” as Bets said - after them. What a day they had had - and how they all longed to be down in Fatty’s workroom and talk about it - and make plans to solve yet another Mystery! Bets shivered with excitement. There always seemed to be a mystery of some sort when Fatty was around!
Everyone was glad to be in Fatty’s cosy workroom, especially the two dogs, who were quite tired out with their long run. Buster flopped down in his basket, panting, and Bingo fell on top of him, too tired to play. In half a second they were sound asleep.
“One great basketful of dogs,” said Bets, smiling. “I’m glad they’re such friends.”
“It’s nice for Bingo to have a friend like Buster - you know, well-brought-up, like,” said Ern. “I want Bingo to have good manners. He’ll learn from old Buster - real copy-cat Bingo is!”
“No, no,” said Fatty, gravely. “There you make a mistake, Ern. Not a copy-cat, surely - a copy-_dog_!”
“Ha ha - funny joke,” said Pip, who was tired, and not in the mood for Fatty’s quips.
“I’m thirsty,” said Larry. “Any orange squash, Fatty?”
“Plenty in my cupboard,” said Fatty. “And glasses too. And there’s some chocolate somewhere. Buck up and get what you want. I’m longing to discuss the strange happenings of this morning. You know - I think Something’s Going On Up There.”
“Up where?” asked Ern.
“Banshee Hill, ass,” said Fatty. “Two things puzzle me - that banshee wail - and the hole under the hearth, where that cauldron stands.”
“Well, what’s puzzling about the banshee wail?” asked Bets. “You said that’s what banshees did - wail and howl and cry.”
“Yes - but you heard what that artist in the black overall said,” went on Fatty. “He said that the banshee only wailed one day a week! Well - why only one day?”
“Perhaps banshees only do wail one day a week.” suggested Daisy. “I mean - all that awful wailing must be a terrible strain on the throat. I bet your throat felt sore after you’d wailed at the top of your voice - you sound a bit husky to me.”
“Well, I’m not , said Fatty. “I could wail like that for half an hour or more and not feel husky.”
“For goodness sake don’t do anything of the sort,” said Larry. “You’d have the fire-brigade here and the police, and every doctor in the place.”
“Do come back to the point, Larry.” said Fatty. “WHY does the banshee only wail once a week? There can’t be a real banshee
“Oh, not as bad as that ,” said Pip. “He just looked bored and bad-tempered - and I must say I would too, if I had a turnstile job on the top of a cold hill in a place where banshees wailed!”
“I’d like to get home and talk about it,” said Larry. “I don’t know what you think, Fatty, but it all seems pretty queer to me.”
“A bit of a mystery, you mean?” said Fatty. “Well - it’s about time that the Five Find-Outers had a good juicy mystery to solve, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes !” said Pip, in delight. “We’ve never had one with banshees in before.”
“Well, I could do without banshees, really,” said Bets. “What about telling the Chief Inspector - you know, Inspector Jenks - he might…”
“Bets, we really can’t tell him silly stories of banshees,” said Fatty. “They don’t really exist, you know. They…”
“All right - well, what was it that we heard this afternoon?” said Bets. “I don’t care what its name is, it was as bad and weird and horrible as any banshee, so there!”
“You’re right, Bets. It was pretty awful,” said Pip. “I didn’t like it myself. Real or unreal, that banshee is MOST mysterious. Look out, now, we’re coming to a very steep bit. Go as slowly as you can all the way, in case your brakes are weak.”
Away down the hill they sailed in a long line, the the two dogs galloping manfully - or “dogfully” as Bets said - after them. What a day they had had - and how they all longed to be down in Fatty’s workroom and talk about it - and make plans to solve yet another Mystery! Bets shivered with excitement. There always seemed to be a mystery of some sort when Fatty was around!
Everyone was glad to be in Fatty’s cosy workroom, especially the two dogs, who were quite tired out with their long run. Buster flopped down in his basket, panting, and Bingo fell on top of him, too tired to play. In half a second they were sound asleep.
“One great basketful of dogs,” said Bets, smiling. “I’m glad they’re such friends.”
“It’s nice for Bingo to have a friend like Buster - you know, well-brought-up, like,” said Ern. “I want Bingo to have good manners. He’ll learn from old Buster - real copy-cat Bingo is!”
“No, no,” said Fatty, gravely. “There you make a mistake, Ern. Not a copy-cat, surely - a copy-_dog_!”
“Ha ha - funny joke,” said Pip, who was tired, and not in the mood for Fatty’s quips.
“I’m thirsty,” said Larry. “Any orange squash, Fatty?”
“Plenty in my cupboard,” said Fatty. “And glasses too. And there’s some chocolate somewhere. Buck up and get what you want. I’m longing to discuss the strange happenings of this morning. You know - I think Something’s Going On Up There.”
“Up where?” asked Ern.
“Banshee Hill, ass,” said Fatty. “Two things puzzle me - that banshee wail - and the hole under the hearth, where that cauldron stands.”
“Well, what’s puzzling about the banshee wail?” asked Bets. “You said that’s what banshees did - wail and howl and cry.”
“Yes - but you heard what that artist in the black overall said,” went on Fatty. “He said that the banshee only wailed one day a week! Well - why only one day?”
“Perhaps banshees only do wail one day a week.” suggested Daisy. “I mean - all that awful wailing must be a terrible strain on the throat. I bet your throat felt sore after you’d wailed at the top of your voice - you sound a bit husky to me.”
“Well, I’m not , said Fatty. “I could wail like that for half an hour or more and not feel husky.”
“For goodness sake don’t do anything of the sort,” said Larry. “You’d have the fire-brigade here and the police, and every doctor in the place.”
“Do come back to the point, Larry.” said Fatty. “WHY does the banshee only wail once a week? There can’t be a real banshee
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