10

Dido was still gazing over her shoulder at the tiger, and the tiger was still sniffing thoughtfully at the back of her neck, when a huge gray shadow obscured the door and four windows of the octagon room, as if a battleship had berthed outside.

Dido heard a kind of scuffling slither, a gentle voice said, "Stand, if you please, Rachel," and a gentleman entered the room.

"Dear me," he said. "Sunflower, come here."

The tiger—Sunflower was its name, apparently—padded around, rubbed its head against the gentleman very lovingly, and sat down beside him. Dido studied him with interest. He really was a gentleman, she decided—as opposed to a Gentleman. He wore black small-clothes, white silk stockings, black shoes with silver buckles, a black velvet jacket, and a snowy white stock, beautifully tied. His hair, what little there was of it, was also snowy, like very clean thistledown. His face looked as if he sat indoors a good deal, reading, but the eyes behind goldrimmed pince-nez were a very clear bright blue. On one hand he wore a silver ring with a large pink stone in it.

"Dear me," he said again. "That waygoing fellow gave me to understand that there were picnickers, and he was quite right, evidently. When will the public learn that this is private property? Not that I mind in principle, you understand—they do little real damage beyond leaving orange peel and bits of marrowbone pie on the ground—but it is frightening for the animals to have strangers about. But people will do it—they come up the river in boats—"

Shaking his head he crossed to Dido, absently surveyed the rope that tied her to the pillar, drew from his pocket first an inkhorn, then a snuffbox, finally a small silver penknife with which he cut the cord—

"Eat their lunch in my gazebo, play ring-o'-roses in my park, and then go on without saying so much as good afternoon or thank you," he continued sadly.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dido. "I didn't come here a-purpose. I was fetched."

She rubbed her wrists to get the stiffness out of them; then her face. There were no cobwebs on it. "My name's Dido Twite," she added.

"Lord Sope," said the gentleman.

"Soop?"

"You spell it s-o-p-e and pronounce it soup—confusing, I agree. What can I do for you, Miss Twite?"

"I suppose there ain't a dapple-gray horse outside?" she said hopefully.

He looked out, and drew his head in again to say, "Not a horse, not at present. You have lost a horse?"

"I was supposed to be taking an urgent message, you see, to some chaps a-going up to London. But I was stopped and tied up in here, and I spose that mardy lot have gone off with my Dapple. D'you reckon I could hire a nag at the White Hart, sir? Mister? Lord?"

"You need a horse? I could accommodate you with one I imagine—I am almost certain I have a horse."

Dido stood up, and nearly fell down again from weakness. It suddenly seemed a terribly long time since her last bowl of soup at The Fighting Cocks. Yesterday? The day before?

"You are a little enfeebled," said Lord Sope. "Allow me." He took her arm and piloted her from the gazebo, the tiger padding behind them. Just outside stood an elephant, with a kind of opera box on its back, from which dangled a rope ladder made of red silk cord.

"After you, Miss Twite."

Rather shakily, Dido climbed the rope ladder and sat on one of the red velvet chairs. Lord Sope followed and took his place beside her.

"Home, if you please, Rachel," he said. The elephant started, at a deceptively smooth stroll which carried them rapidly across an open grassy park to a handsome gray stone mansion. On the way Dido observed a couple of giraffes, a small group of zebra, and a lynx rolling about on its back and playing with some dead leaves, watched in a vaguely puzzled manner by a flock of sheep.

"Doesn't some of 'em chase the others?" asked Dido.

"I teach them not to, of course," Lord Sope replied.

The elephant reached the house by climbing on to a terrace.

"Just wait outside here a short time if you please, Rachel," Lord Sope instructed it, and politely assisted Dido down the ladder.

Passing through a pair of french windows into a library, he took down a speaking tube from a hook on the wall, said into it, "Lunch, if you please, Diggens," and replaced it.

"Pray sit down," he said to Dido, "and excuse me one moment."

Left alone in the library, Dido gazed rather blankly at the leather and gilt volumes, and the numerous paintings of wild animals that covered the walls. She felt tired, and hungry, and sad. Too much had been happening; she was suddenly shaken by a small, dry sob.

"I wisht Pa hadn't gone off like that and left me," she thought.

Lord Sope returned, followed almost immediately by a footman in a beautifully powdered wig, who arranged dishes on two small tables beside Dido and his master, and then withdrew.

"Frumenty," said Lord Sope. "And I think this note must be for you: the waygoing character who told me about the picnickers left it."

The note, simply addressed to DIDO, said, "Dear Daughter, maybe you were right. Things is somewhat Sticky, so I am going to Cut and Run. If I was you, I would do Similar. But I reckon you will be Alright; you always was a Clever Chick. See you some Turpentine Sunday. Your loving Pa."

Frumenty seemed to be a kind of porridge made with wine and spice; after two spoonfuls Dido felt wonderfully better. It was followed by apple pie, with cheese, and a jam-lined omelet, which was very good but difficult to eat politely.

"Now—you say you require to go to London quite fast?" said Lord Sope, removing his jammy stock, throwing it into the fire, and receiving a clean one from the footman who had come back to clear away the dishes.

"Yes. It's to do with the coronation. An urgent message may have gone astray," Dido explained, licking a blob of jam off her elbow.

"In that case, without a doubt, the best thing I can do is to put Rachel at your disposal. She is quicker than any horse, and very reliable. Also, she is well acquainted with the route, for I nearly always take her when I go up to my club."

"Croopus; I mean—that's ever so kind of you, mister—lord. Will she go for me, d'you reckon?"

"She is particularly partial to being ridden by a young female."

"I need to call at three pubs on the way—the Rose, the Ring o' Bells, and the Rising Sun."

"There will be no difficulty about that. Rachel is quite accustomed to wait for me outside places of refreshment. In fact she will stop automatically at such places."

"Well, I am obliged to you, sir—lord," said Dido. "If you really means it, I'd best be on my way directly. Oh—please can you tell me what day it is?"

"It is Monday, Miss Twite. You do not wish to wait for the two old ladies whom I observed making off at some speed as I approached the gazebo?"

"No, thank you, lord. They wasn't really friends." She put Mr. Twite's note in her pocket and went out on to the terrace, where the wigged footman was just descending the red cord ladder after placing a hamper in the box seat on top.

"I thought you might be glad of a few provisions on the way," Lord Sope explained. "I usually reckon that it takes nine or ten hours to reach London—with the usual pauses for refreshment, of course. Now, Rachel, you are to stop at the Rose, the Ring of Bells, and the Rising Sun—and anywhere else the young lady requires, naturally. Is that perfectly clear? Capital. Allow me, Miss Twite."

He helped her up the ladder.

"I'm ever so obliged," Dido said again. "I'll bring her back directly after the coronation."

"Such a lot of extravagant fuss and display," sighed Lord Sope. "Still, kings have to be crowned, I understand. On your way, Rachel."

He raised his hand in farewell, Dido settled herself in the red velvet seat, and Rachel rolled off smoothly across the park.

It was plain that when Lord Sope and Rachel went to London, they followed a direct, cross-country route; Rachel ambled through fields and woods, over streams and rivers, by copses and commons, but seldom went near a road. Presently it began to rain; Dido discovered that various capes and covers were provided against this contingency, waterproof on the outside, lined with camel fur. She wrapped herself up snugly and, lulled by Rachel's smooth-flowing motion, went to sleep.

An hour or so later she woke because Rachel had stopped. Night, she found, had fallen; they were halted outside a small, cheerful-looking public house situated by a canal lock; its sign, illuminated by a lantern, showed a red rose.

"Crumble me—thanks, Rachel," muttered Dido, yawning and scrambling to her feet. "I'd never awoken if you hadn't stopped. Just hang on a minute, will you, while I pop in and inquire."

The landlady of the Rose was black-eyed, pink-cheeked, and smiling.

"Well I never!" she exclaimed, looking past Dido. "If that isn't Lord Sope's elephant. Aren't you a lucky young lady! Going up for the coronation, then, are you? Is Lord Sope going too? I am surprised!"

"No, ma'am. He says he can't abide fuss," said Dido, drinking the glass of milk she had ordered.

"I daresay his elephant'll be glad of her usual bite," said the landlady and went to fetch this, which turned out to be a bagful of buttered buns.

"Ma'am," said Dido as Rachel munched, "could you tell me, please, if a barge called the Gentlemen's Relish has been past yet?"

"Why yes, dearie, they went by early this morning, afore sunup. They'll be a long way up the cut by now."

Dido thanked her, and tried to pay for the buns, but the landlady refused, saying that Lord Sope was an old friend. The refreshment appeared to have been very welcome to Rachel; the minute her passenger was aboard again she started off as if competing in the Calcutta Derby.

Since there was nothing to be seen in the dark wet night, Dido went back to sleep.

Next morning, at gray of dawn, they came to the Ring of Bells, and again Rachel stopped of her own accord. Dido had hoped that, swinging along at Rachel's more rapid pace, they might have caught up with the barge by now but the landlord, whom she found dousing his head under a pump in the yard at the back, reported that the Gentlemen's Relish had passed by early the previous evening.

By now Rachel was beginning to grumble and mutter as she rolled along, and to look back at her rider in a reproachful and significant way, which Dido took to be an intimation that it was time for rest and breakfast; so they halted in a hazel copse near Esher. Rachel, after more buns, provided by the Ring of Bells, had a standing nap, with her huge ears folded tidily over her eyes, while Dido sampled Lord Sope's hamper. It proved to contain egg salad in a silver bucket, currant wine, cheese straws, and a marmalade pie. There was also a pot of frumenty, and instructions for heating it up in a chafing dish to be found under the red velvet seat, but Dido was impatient to press on, ate it cold, and gave the marmalade pie to Rachel as compensation for having to start again after an hour's nap.

By now they were no great distance from London and houses were more frequent: large, handsome mansions, most of them; many were gaily decorated with flags and wreaths and colored bunting in honor of the next day's event.

Dido had expected to cause some surprise by riding through the suburbs on an elephant, the more so as Rachel, cheered by her nap and breakfast, was now trumpeting cheerfully to herself as she proceeded; but in fact no one seemed to find their appearance at all remarkable, either because this was Lord Sope's regular route, or because people took it for granted that Rachel was to form part of the coronation procession.

"Gee up, Jumbo, you'll be late for the crowning!" shouted a cheerful group of boys coming out from morning school in Merton village; they showered Rachel and her passenger with peppermint drops and Michaelmas daisies, which Rachel rapidly sorted, swallowing the former and tossing back the latter with a dexterity that filled the boys with admiration.

"How far to the Rising Sun in Wandsworth?" Dido called, leaning over the side of her box.

"Matter o' five mile, duck; she'll do it before you can make these into a daisy chain," they called back, bombarding her with the rejected daisies.

Wandsworth was a small, ancient village, not unlike Dido's native Battersea, situated about a mile south of the river Thames, and perhaps eight or nine miles up that winding river from London Bridge. The Rising Sun was evidently not one of the inns where Lord Sope was accustomed to stop for refreshment. There had been a good many of these along the way and Rachel was beginning to grumble again at being expected to pass them by without her usual fifteen-minute pause outside each. So both companions were pleased to arrive at their third point of inquiry, which proved to be a tiny, gabled public house in Allfarthing Lane, on the banks of the river Wandle.

"Has the Gentlemen's Relish been by yet?" Dido asked the landlord.

He was a thin, sandy-haired, sharp-faced character; he gave her a very searching scrutiny before replying:

"No, missie. She ain't. And what's more she's powerful late—I've been expecting her these three-four hours."

Dido's heart sank. What could have happened to delay the barge? Had she better start back along the banks of the Wandle? She was not quite sure where this river was joined by the Gentlemen's secret canal, but if she followed the towpath she must be sure to find the junction somewhere. But then she would be farther away from London when they met, and would have to bring the Dispatch all the way back again—it was difficult to know what to do for the best. In the end she decided to remain by the Ring of Bells for two hours and then, if the Gentlemen's Relish had not yet arrived, start back.

On the west bank of the Wandle just at this point there was a pleasant little park, so they crossed the river—Rachel preferred to swim, ignoring a perfectly good bridge—Dido, dismounting, sat under a tree and Rachel sank down alongside like a neat and silent avalanche.

They waited. There was no difficulty in telling the hour hereabouts. Three churches, just across the Wandle, struck all the quarters, and if they did not agree absolutely to the minute, at least there was a general certainty that time was passing. One o'clock, half past, quarter to two, quarter past. And still the Gentlemen's Relish did not appear.

"Rachel," said Dido at three o'clock, "I reckon we'd better go back along the towpath."

Rachel, who had been asleep, lifted her ears away from her eyes with a movement like a shrug, and began gloomily clambering to her feet.

But just at that moment, far away along the winding Wandle, something came into view that might have been a traveling hedge, or a sliding grove, or a piece of moving moorland.

"Hang on a minute, Rachel. What's that?"

The landlord of the Rising Sun had come out of his bar parlor and was standing on the opposite river bank gazing upstream. He nodded to Dido.

"That's the old Relish," he called. "Dear knows why she's so late."

Dido ran across the bridge and Rachel waded through the river.

"Don't they worry about Preventives?" Dido asked. "Coming along in daylight, so bold?"

"Not in these parts, bless you—we're all good King's men round here. Nary a Bush officer'd dare show his face."

At last the garlanded barge slid alongside. Yan and Tan, who had been riding the tow mules, tied them to a lamppost.

"Well, Yan?" called the landlord. "Brought my drop of licorice water, have ye? What makes ee so late?"

"Hollo there, Bob. We had a bit o' trouble in the night wi' our paddlequacks." Then Yan saw Dido and the elephant. "Hey!" he said. "What's amiss? I didn't think to see you here, dearie."

"Oh, Yan! Am I pleased to see you!" Dido was about to jump on board, but she thought better of it, and beckoned him to come around the corner into Allfarthing Street.

"Listen!" she whispered urgently, "You've got a spy on board! Where's the Dispatch?"

"A spy? Nay, dearie, that just can't be! All us chaps has worked together since we was lads at school."

"Just the same, there is one." Dido repeated what Mr. Twite had said. "Is the Dispatch safe?"

"Surelye! I've got it packed in among the orris root."

"What was that about trouble in the night?"

"Our paddlequacks all swam away. We had the devil's own job a-pacifying and a-fetching them back—running up and down the banks, they was, roosting in trees, quacking and clacking and carrying-on—took us hours to catch 'em all, and when we'd caught 'em there was nothing for it but to shut the lot of 'em in young Cris's cabin—they takes kindly to her."

"What upset them?"

"'Twas a black mystery—we never did find out. There was no stranger around. And the cargo was trig enough—not a corkscrew out o' place. In the end we reckoned as it might a bin an outsize rat as scared the ducklings."

"A rat?" Dido stared at Yan, her eyes big as saucers. "Here—come back on board, quick! Show us where you've got the Dispatch."

She grabbed his hand and fairly raced him back to the barge. They picked their way hastily across the bushy deck while Tethera, Methera, and Pip, who were unloading kegs of licorice spirit for the Rising Sun, gazed at them in astonishment.

"Where's Cris and Tobit?" Dido panted, as they dropped down the hatch into the galley.

"Playing cat's cradle, I reckon. They spends most o' the day doing that, and hashing over old times," Yan said tolerantly. He led Dido through the spacious galley with its central stove, kitchen table, and benches. Here, before continuing, he took a lantern from a hook, lit it, and gave it to Dido to carry. They crossed a series of communicating cabins filled with bales and crates which smelt strongly of lavender and licorice, then came to a passageway leading between closed doors. Yan tapped on one of these and threw it open.

Inside, an extremely cozy scene was revealed. Cris and Tobit were sitting on the floor playing cat's cradle. Dido noticed at once that they had made great strides in this game since she had given them their basic instruction—when? Two days ago? Tobit held between his outspread fingers an immensely complicated network of string like the mesh of colored ribbons around a maypole. Cris was carefully studying it from all angles.

Perched all around the cabin, and on Cris's head and shoulders, were thirty or forty ducks and ducklings, also, it seemed, attentively watching the game.

However, when the door opened everybody looked around.

"Why, it's Dido!" said Cris with mild surprise.

"All right, everyone in here, are you?" Yan asked.

"Yes, why?" Tobit said. "Look, Cris, take those two with your hands and those two with your teeth—" he pointed with his nose.

"Ducks all right? No more upsets? We're a-going down below to make sure the Dispatch is safe."

"We'll come too," said Tobit jumping up, but carefully so as not to disturb any ducks, or his network, which he carried along with him.

Yan led the way down two more ladders and into a dark, narrow region, even more strongly scented, where they had to scramble over and between large prickly sacks of corkscrews and tacky bales of licorice.

"Now—" Yan paused in front of a shut door and pulled out a bunch of keys—"I keeps the Dispatch in the lock-up—no one goes in here but me." He carefully inserted the largest key, turned it, and flung open the door.

Dido, just behind him, held the lantern high.

There was a sudden scuffle and scurry. Something jumped off the wide shelf which ran around three sides of this hold, and dashed across the shadowy floor. But Tobit, acting with most unexpected dispatch and address, bounded forward past Yan, his hands held low and wide with the net stretched tight between them, and caught the thing on the floor, instantly twisting and gripping his net to prevent its escape.

"Dang it, what's that?" exclaimed Yan. "Here, Dido, bring the light closer!"

The creature in Tobit's net screamed. It was a horrible sound—a scream of rage and defiance, not fear at all. It was like a human scream but higher and shriller. The creature struggled, causing the net to swing furiously.

"Halloo, what's amiss—what the devil's going on below there?" cried startled voices from the deck. Tan and Methera came clattering down.

"Mercy sakes, what have you got hold of?" Tan gasped. Dido held the lantern close and Tobit's prisoner was revealed as an immense brindled rat, its eyes flashing, its whiskers bristling, its long yellow fangs bare in fury.

"Don't you let it bite you, boy," Yan warned. "I'll lay every one o' those grinders is as full o' poison as a deadly adder's tooth."

As they stared at the beast Cris said rather shakily, "That's Auntie Daisy's rat."

"Are ye certain, gal?"

"Yes, I reckon she's right," Dido said. "It's brindled just the same."

Yan began to curse.

"What a gurt muttonheaded fool I am. Why didn't I think? Where the dickens did the brute get in?"

"Never mind that, where's the Dispatch?"

"'Twas on the coaming yonder," said Yan with a groan. "In an oilskin packet—"

"Here's a bit of it on the floor," Cris said, springing forward. "The rat must have knocked it off—"

She picked it up gingerly. The red string and seal fell to the floor with a shower of leaf-sized bits of paper. Half the document had been gnawed away.

"Let's go up where it's light and have a look at what's left," Dido said. "Maybe we can make out what it's about. Mind how you hold that monster, Tobit—don't let him get away."

"Wait till I fetch my qualiver, I'll blow him to forty bits," vowed Yan. The rat squealed angrily.

They went on deck. "All that cat's cradle come in handy, anyhows," muttered Tan to Tethera. "Which was more than I'd a prognotified yesterday."

Tobit was having great difficulty in keeping a grip on the struggling rat which darted its head this way and that, trying to squeeze through the meshes of the net. Nobody could take it from him because it snapped so savagely.

Just as Yan came back with his hand gun the rat finally succeeded in thrusting its body through a gap and bounded on to the deck, screeching with triumph. Yan fired but missed. The rat scurried over the side and could be seen swimming across the river, a dark V of water spreading away behind its pointed head.

"Plague on it—" Yan hurriedly reloaded. But as he did so, Tobit sprang over the side and went after the rat.

"Tobit! Come back, boy! You'll never catch it!"

"Oh, Tobit!" wailed Cris. "Do be careful."

But he did not answer. Hunter and quarry both disappeared into the dusk on the far side of the Wandle.

"Well, here's a right hugger-mugger!" said Yan furiously.

Dido had spread the rest of the chewed Dispatch on the cabin roof and was poring over it, by the light of the lantern and the last rays of the setting sun.

"To my Lord Forecastle Master of the
lace horse and Westminster Foxhou
First Lord of the Admiralty.
Sir: Whilst interrogating prisoner
captured French frigate Madame de Ma
I was lucky enough to discover detail
laid and diabolical plot to assassina
well-beloved Prince of Wales on the oc
his Coronation. The details are as
Cathedral of St. Paul's has already be
mined & its foundations rest merely
at a given signal or impetus these rol
set in motion and the whole Sacred Edif
slide with uncontrollable speed in
River Thames. Proof of this can
visiting the Crypt. I there
it right to communicate the fright
tidings without delay. I remain
Your lordship's
Charles Tran

Rear-Admi

Dido read through this very carefully three times.

"Holy Peggotty!" she said then. "What time's the coronation tomorrow?"

"Ten in the morning."

"Us has got to hustle," Dido said.

"Why, what's it about?" Yan peered over her shoulder at the damaged Dispatch. But he said, "You've got more book-learning than I have, reckon, ducky; blest if I can make trotter nor tail of it. What's it say?"

"Why," said Dido, "near as I can reckon, some admiral is writing to this here Lord Forecastle about a plot to push St. Paul's Cathedral into the Thames, with the whole coronation a-going on inside it. That's what they means when they keeps talking about the Wren's Nest! Oh, the villains! Here, I'm off—where does Lord Forecastle live, Yan?"

"House in the Strand. How'll you get there?"

"Lord Sope lent me his elephant."

"I was wondering where that came from," Tethera said.

"Shall I come with ee, duck?" said Yan. "Old Lord Forecastle is a tiddy bit slow and given to argufication. But he knows me, reckon I could help get the notion into his noodle as there's need to hurry."

"That'd be prime, Yan. How about the ship?"

"The others can bring her on the reg'lar way, and we'll all meet at Aunt Grissie's in Wardrobe Court."

"But Tobit!" said Cris, half crying.

"Look, gal, us simply can't wait to hunt for him now," Dido said. "But he's got sense. He can ask his way to Wardrobe Court—you told him where that is?" Yan nodded. "He'll be all right, I reckon. Besides, wouldn't Aswell give you a warning if he was in any kind o' trouble?"

"Aswell?" Cris looked vaguely puzzled.

Dido stared at her, equally astonished. Had she already forgotten about Aswell? But there was really not an instant to waste. Yan slipped what was left of the Dispatch into another oilskin case, he and Dido jumped ashore, and ran to where the elephant was patiently waiting.