“He’s already tried it three times,” said Great-uncle. “Sir John told me. He thinks it must be the same thieves because each time they apparently passed through locked doors quite easily.”
“Well, I’ll believe somebody can go through locked doors when I see them,” said Mr. Lynton dryly.
“Great-uncle—do you think the thief will steal papers again somewhere?” asked Diana. “I’d like to read about it, if he does. Would it be in the papers?”
“Oh yes,” said Great-uncle. “It’s always in the paper. I think I’ve got a report of the last theft in my bag. You can go and get it, if you like.”
Roger sped upstairs with Loony at his heels. Loony always went upstairs with everybody if he could, and then tried to get in their way going down again, either by getting between their legs, or hurling himself on top of them as they went down. There was a thunderous noise after a minute or two, and then a crash and a yelp.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Lynton. “Are you hurt, Roger?”
Roger came limping in, followed by a saddened Loony. “I’ve smacked him,” he explained to Snubby. “He did his cannon-ball act at me and sent me flying down the stairs. He’s loonier than ever. I’ve got the paper. Where’s the burglary reported, Great-uncle?”
Great-uncle found the report. It wasn’t much more than a few lines. The children read them eagerly.
Then Diana noticed an advertisement nearby and pointed to it.
“Look,” she said. “There’s a notice about a fair held in the same town. I wonder if Barney and Miranda were there.”
“Is this the Barney you told me about—the boy with the monkey that had the adventure with you last summer holidays?” asked his mother. Roger nodded.
“Yes. He’s awfully nice, Mother. He leads a peculiar sort of life, you know—going from fair to circus and circus to fair, earning his living with Miranda, his monkey. She’s a darling.”
Mrs. Lynton looked doubtful. “Well, I don’t like monkeys,” she said. “But from all you have told me, Barney seems a nice boy, though a queer, roving kind of character.”
“I wonder if he’s at the fair advertised here,” said Diana, looking at the notice again. “Look, Roger—it gives all the performers—the main ones, anyway—Vosta and his two chimpanzees, Hurly and Burly—what lovely names; Tonnerre and his elephants. Shooting gallery in charge of the famous cracksman, Billy Tell... ”
“Short for William Tell, I suppose,” grinned Snubby. “Go on.”
“Hoopla stalls, roundabouts, swing-boats—no, it doesn’t say anything about a boy with a monkey,” said Diana, disappointed. “Though perhaps they wouldn’t mention him, really—he wouldn’t be one of the chief performers.”
“Anyone got his address?” asked Snubby. Nobody had. Barney was a very bad letter-writer, and the children had not heard from him since Christmas.
“Come on let’s finish our game,” said Roger, losing interest in the paper. “No, you can’t get on my knee, Loony. Go and play with Sardine—a nice little game of Spit-and-Hiss, or Growl-and-Snap. You’ll like that!”
CHAPTER 5
DIANA HAS AN IDEA
A day or two went by. Great-uncle tried to settle down and go on writing what he called his “Memoirs,” which Roger said were another name for “Nodding over a Pipe.” Snubby had settled in at once, as usual. He was perfectly at home, and Roger’s usually neat bedroom now always looked exactly as if a whirlwind had just passed by.
“If Snubby doesn’t mess it about, Loony does,” Roger complained. “I’m tired of keeping my shoes and the bedroom slippers and hair-brushes in a drawer so that Loony can’t get them.”
“So am I,” said Diana. “And I do wish he wouldn’t drag all the mats in a heap and leave them on the landing or in the hall for people to fall over. I nearly broke my ankle twice yesterday. As for poor Great-uncle, he’s so scared of falling over mats or brushes left about that he walks like a cat on hot bricks—lifting up his feet very gingerly indeed.”
Roger laughed. “Oh dear—that lunatic dog put half a dozen brushes into the pond this morning, and two of them were Great-uncle’s. Snubby told him he supposed Mother was washing the brushes in pond-water because it was good for them—and he believed him!”
“There’s Loony now—barking at Sardine, I suppose,” said Diana. She leaned out of the window. “Loony, Loony! Shut up! Haven’t you learnt by now that once Sardine is up on the wall you can’t get her off. SHUT UP!”
Her mother’s voice came floating up from the garden. “Diana! Stop yelling out of the window like that. Your Great-uncle is trying to work.”
“That means Loony’s woken him up from a doze,” said Diana, pulling her head in. She put it out again. “Mother! Mother! Shall I do the flowers this morning?”
“Will you stop shouting out of the window?” called back her mother, whilst Great-uncle Robert flung down his pipe in exasperation and stood up. He would go for a walk! What with dogs barking, and children yelling, and now his niece yelling too, the house was unbearable. Yes, he would go for a walk!
But at the sight of him appearing in coat and hat with a stick in his hand. Loony flung himself on him in delight. A walk! People with hats and coats on meant only one thing—a WALK! Loony snuffled round Great-uncle’s ankles, thrilled, and then rolled over on his back, doing what Snubby called his “bicycling act,” riding an imaginary bicycle upside down!
“You are not coming with me,” said Great-uncle firmly. “I don’t like you. You can only do two things well, and I don’t like either of them. You can bark louder than any dog I know, and you can scratch yourself more vigorously.”
But Loony meant to come with him. He kept so close to Great-uncle’s ankles all the way to the gate that he almost tripped him up. “Home!” said Great-uncle sternly. “HOME.”
“Woof,” said Loony, and sat down expectantly, exactly as if Great-uncle had said “Bone,” not “Home.” The old man tried to open the gate quickly and slip out without Loony—but Loony was up to that game. He was out in the road with Great-uncle at once, dancing round him maddeningly.
The old man lost his temper. “Snubby!” he yelled. “Call this dog of yours. CALL HIM, I say. Do you hear me, boy?”
A woman opposite came over to Great-uncle. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “but may I ask you not to shout and not to let your dog bark so much? Your shouting and his barking have kept my baby awake half the morning.”
Great-uncle was really exasperated. He walked off down the road, thumping the pavement with his stick.
“I kept her baby awake. What rubbish! And calling Loony my dog! I wouldn’t own him for a hundred pounds.”
But it certainly looked as if he did, because Loony kept faithfully with him during the whole of the walk, occasionally half-disappearing down a rabbit-hole, but always coming back. Poor
