Free The Wind on the Moon by Eric Linklater Page B

They were not very far from Sir Lankester’s house, and from the lawn in front of it they could hear angry voices. There was a woman’s voice, and a curious noise that was half a scream and half a choke. Then they saw Sir Bobadil running towards them, and Lady Lemon chasing him with a croquet mallet. But she was a long way behind, and soon, being short of breath, she gave up the pursuit.
    â€˜Come,’ said Mr. Parker. ‘Come quickly. This may be important. It may be a Clue!’
    So they hurried to meet Sir Bobadil, who appeared to be somewhat ashamed of himself.
    â€˜What have you been doing?’ asked Mr. Parker sternly.
    â€˜Oh, nothing much,’ said Sir Bobadil, and turned aside to cough.
    â€˜There’s something in your throat,’ said Mr. Parker, and bent his head to examine more closely a large round lump in the very middle of Sir Bobadil’s neck.
    â€˜Merely a crumb,’ said Sir Bobadil, and choked as he said it.
    â€˜It looks more like a cake than a crumb,’ said Dinah.
    â€˜It’s a ball,’ said Dorinda.
    â€˜A croquet ball!’ exclaimed Dinah. ‘It’s just about the right size, and it was a croquet mallet that Lady Lemon was chasing him with.’
    â€˜They do play croquet sometimes,’ said Mr. Parker thoughtfully. Then, with a sudden appearance of anger, he bent and whispered to her, ‘I say, that wasn’t fair! I’m the detective, not you. You should have let me guess first.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ said Dinah. ‘I was only trying to help.’
    â€˜Well, you shouldn’t help so quickly,’ said Mr. Parker.
    Sir Bobadil, in the meantime, had been gulping and swallowing, and the lump was gradually moving down his neck. It disappeared completely just as Mr. Parker turned again to question him.
    â€˜Why was Lady Lemon chasing you?’ asked Mr. Parker.
    â€˜It’s her idea of fun,’ said Sir Bobadil.
    â€˜You stole her croquet ball,’ said Mr. Parker.
    â€˜Nonsense,’ said Sir Bobadil. ‘Where’s your evidence?’ And proudly he stretched his long neck to show how smooth and thin it was.
    â€˜Aha!’ said Mr. Parker. ‘You’ve swallowed it.’
    â€˜Swallowed what?’ asked Sir Bobadil.
    â€˜The evidence,’ said Mr. Parker.
    â€˜How do you know it wasn’t a potato?’ asked Sir Bobadil, and with a loud hoarse laugh he walked slowly away.
    â€˜Quickly,’ whispered Mr. Parker to Dinah. ‘Take this down in your note-book. Quickly, quickly. Ready?—Clue Number One: Sir Bobadil has eaten a croquet ball.—Have you written that? Then leave me. I must work alone now. I am going to shadow him!’
    Walking softly and slowly, on the tip of his hooves, Mr. Parker began to follow Sir Bobadil, who was by now some eighty yards away, and Dinah and Dorinda were left alone.
    â€˜Do you think it was Sir Bobadil who stole the eggs?’ asked Dorinda.
    â€˜If he can swallow a croquet ball, I suppose he can swallow an ostrich egg,’ said Dinah.
    â€˜He must be terribly wicked if he ate an egg that his own wife had laid,’ said Dorinda.
    â€˜He looks quite wicked on one side of his face,’ said Dinah.
    â€˜It’s a most exciting case,’ said Dorinda.
    â€˜And it’s very interesting to meet a real detective,’ said Dinah, ‘even though he is a giraffe.’
    They had been walking towards another part of the zoo, and now, in one of two cages set apart from the others, they saw a lovely animal, gleaming like gold, moving swiftly out of shadow into sunlight, out of sunlight into shadow. It was the Golden Puma.
    In a very high cage, a few yards away, there was a pinnacle of rock between two trees, and on top of the rock sat a marvellous bird as white as snow. It was the Greenland Falcon, but in the zoo it was generally called the Silver Falcon.
    They were both so beautiful that Dinah and Dorinda