Read Online Mystery of Banshee Towers by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Enid Blyton
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there - there aren’t such things. It must be somebody faking one - but why? “
“For fun,” said Bets.
“Yes, but why on a certain day ?” persisted Fatty.
“What on earth does it matter?” said Pip, getting tired of the subject. “It can wail every day of the week, for all I care.”
“Pip, you should have a more alert, enquiring mind,” said Fatty, solemnly. “You know - that’s a fake banshee - and I’d jolly well like to find out who’s working it and how - and why.”
“I don’t want to go up that hill again,” said Bets. “I loved the pictures - but I hated the wailing.”
“Don’t worry, Bets. You needn’t go. But I’m going,” said Fatty. “I’m going tomorrow. I tell you, I Smell a Mystery!”
“Well, you must have the most powerful nose anybody ever had,” said Larry. “All I can smell is that oil-stove smoking. I suppose your nose is too high and mighty to smell ordinary things like that. Turn down the wick, Ern - you’re nearest.”
Ern turned down the wick carefully. “Fatty,” he said, “could I come with you if you go to Banshee Hill tomorrow - not to mess about in a mystery, though - just to see those sea-pictures again. Especially the one with the high cliffs and the blue sea swirling round it.”
“Oh - the one the French artist was copying,” said Fatty. “Yes, that was a beauty. All right, Ern, you can come with me - you’ll be company - and while you stand and gloat over the pictures, I can do a little snooping. It’s just as well I should have someone with me who is obviously there to see the pictures!”
“Oooh, thanks, Fatty,” said Ern, “I hope that banshee doesn’t come wailing round me, though.”
“It only wails once a week, Ern,” said Fatty. “I’ll eat my cap if it wails tomorrow! I’m pretty certain it has its pet day, for some reason or other.”
“Look - we’d better go, Daisy and I,” said Larry, getting up in a hurry. “Gosh - I’d quite forgotten our Granny was coming to tea. Buck up, Daisy, for goodness sake. We’re going out for the day tomorrow, Fatty, so we won’t be seeing you. So long!”
They shot out of the shed door and the others heard them racing up the garden. Pip stood up then, and yanked Bets to her feet. “Come along, Bets,” he said. “You look half asleep. Telephone us, Fatty, when there’s a Meeting again.”
“I should think Bets is tired out with the long bicycle ride,” said Fatty, giving Bets a hug. “Goodbye, Bets - and don’t dream of banshees tonight!”
“I hope I’m not being a nuisance to you. Fatty,” said Ern, when the others had gone. “Staying here in your shed.”
“No - no, of course you’re not a nuisance, Ern,” said Fatty. “Hallo - who’s this coming - I seem to know those heavy footsteps.”
“It’s Uncle!” said Ern, in alarm. “He must have heard that I’ve not gone home. Fatty, hide me!”
“There’s nowhere to hide you,” said Fatty, looking round. “He’d look in that cupboard at once! Listen now, Ern, I’ll lock the door - and when your uncle comes knocking on it, you slip quietly out of the window, see? I’ll hand Bingo to you. Hide somewhere and come back when Goon is gone.”
Bang-bang-bang! That was Goon at the shed door. Fatty had quickly turned the key in the lock, so the policeman could not open it. A roar came from the other side.
“Frederick Trotteville, you open this door. I know you’ve got Ern in there. I saw him through the window. You open this door or I’ll go to your father.”
“ Ern? Ern in here , Mr Goon! You must be seeing things!” shouted Fatty, going to the door. “Wait a minute - it’s locked. Shut up, Buster, making that row!”
Buster and Bingo were certainly making a terrific noise. Neither of them liked Mr Goon, and they had recognized his voice at once. Ern was now getting out of the window at the side of the shed. He patted the sill and Bingo came running to him, and leapt into his arms. “Sh!” said
“For fun,” said Bets.
“Yes, but why on a certain day ?” persisted Fatty.
“What on earth does it matter?” said Pip, getting tired of the subject. “It can wail every day of the week, for all I care.”
“Pip, you should have a more alert, enquiring mind,” said Fatty, solemnly. “You know - that’s a fake banshee - and I’d jolly well like to find out who’s working it and how - and why.”
“I don’t want to go up that hill again,” said Bets. “I loved the pictures - but I hated the wailing.”
“Don’t worry, Bets. You needn’t go. But I’m going,” said Fatty. “I’m going tomorrow. I tell you, I Smell a Mystery!”
“Well, you must have the most powerful nose anybody ever had,” said Larry. “All I can smell is that oil-stove smoking. I suppose your nose is too high and mighty to smell ordinary things like that. Turn down the wick, Ern - you’re nearest.”
Ern turned down the wick carefully. “Fatty,” he said, “could I come with you if you go to Banshee Hill tomorrow - not to mess about in a mystery, though - just to see those sea-pictures again. Especially the one with the high cliffs and the blue sea swirling round it.”
“Oh - the one the French artist was copying,” said Fatty. “Yes, that was a beauty. All right, Ern, you can come with me - you’ll be company - and while you stand and gloat over the pictures, I can do a little snooping. It’s just as well I should have someone with me who is obviously there to see the pictures!”
“Oooh, thanks, Fatty,” said Ern, “I hope that banshee doesn’t come wailing round me, though.”
“It only wails once a week, Ern,” said Fatty. “I’ll eat my cap if it wails tomorrow! I’m pretty certain it has its pet day, for some reason or other.”
“Look - we’d better go, Daisy and I,” said Larry, getting up in a hurry. “Gosh - I’d quite forgotten our Granny was coming to tea. Buck up, Daisy, for goodness sake. We’re going out for the day tomorrow, Fatty, so we won’t be seeing you. So long!”
They shot out of the shed door and the others heard them racing up the garden. Pip stood up then, and yanked Bets to her feet. “Come along, Bets,” he said. “You look half asleep. Telephone us, Fatty, when there’s a Meeting again.”
“I should think Bets is tired out with the long bicycle ride,” said Fatty, giving Bets a hug. “Goodbye, Bets - and don’t dream of banshees tonight!”
“I hope I’m not being a nuisance to you. Fatty,” said Ern, when the others had gone. “Staying here in your shed.”
“No - no, of course you’re not a nuisance, Ern,” said Fatty. “Hallo - who’s this coming - I seem to know those heavy footsteps.”
“It’s Uncle!” said Ern, in alarm. “He must have heard that I’ve not gone home. Fatty, hide me!”
“There’s nowhere to hide you,” said Fatty, looking round. “He’d look in that cupboard at once! Listen now, Ern, I’ll lock the door - and when your uncle comes knocking on it, you slip quietly out of the window, see? I’ll hand Bingo to you. Hide somewhere and come back when Goon is gone.”
Bang-bang-bang! That was Goon at the shed door. Fatty had quickly turned the key in the lock, so the policeman could not open it. A roar came from the other side.
“Frederick Trotteville, you open this door. I know you’ve got Ern in there. I saw him through the window. You open this door or I’ll go to your father.”
“ Ern? Ern in here , Mr Goon! You must be seeing things!” shouted Fatty, going to the door. “Wait a minute - it’s locked. Shut up, Buster, making that row!”
Buster and Bingo were certainly making a terrific noise. Neither of them liked Mr Goon, and they had recognized his voice at once. Ern was now getting out of the window at the side of the shed. He patted the sill and Bingo came running to him, and leapt into his arms. “Sh!” said
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