Free William in Trouble by Richmal Crompton

Franks’ bureau.

    WILLIAM STILL STARED FIXEDLY IN FRONT OF HIM AS MR MARKSON PICKED UP THE LITTLE IMAGE AND EXAMINED IT.
    ‘William darling, don’t blow like that,’ said Mrs Franks reprovingly. ‘I’ll just address the envelope, dear, and then you can take it.’

    MR MARKSON’S PERPLEXITY INCREASED. ‘MOST EXTRAORDINARY!’ HE SAID.
    She sat down again at her bureau, with her back to him, and William, seizing his opportunity, slipped the Chinese image again into his pocket.
    ‘Here it is, dear,’ said Mrs Franks, handing it to him.
    Then she went over to the piano, took up the Dresden china shepherdess and examined it from every angle.
    ‘A Chinese god,’ she said at last. ‘What an extraordinary idea! No, I don’t agree with him at all. Not at all, dear, do you? A Chinese god’ – her amazement
increased – ‘why, nothing about it even remotely suggests the Orient to me. Does it to you, dear? The man must suffer from some defect in his sight.’
    William murmured something inaudible, took a hasty farewell of her, seized the note, and hurried out into the road.
    Old Markie had said that he was going for a walk before dinner. That would give him plenty of time to put the thing back. Crumbs! He’d had an awful few minutes in Mrs Franks’
drawing-room, but it was all over now. He’d just put the thing back where he’d got it, and – and – well, he’d never go into old Markie’s house again for
anything. He was pretty sure of that. Crumbs! he wouldn’t, indeed.
    He stopped at the gate of The Nest and looked up and down the road. The road was empty. With a quickly beating heart he went up the drive. The French windows were shut, but the front door was
open. He slipped into the hall. He took the Chinese image out of his pocket, and stood for one moment irresolute holding it in his hand. Then, the door of the room at the back of the hall opened
and Mr Markson came out into the hall.
    Mr Markson had thought that the clouds were gathering and had decided not to go for a walk before dinner after all.
    ‘Who’s that?’ he bellowed. ‘What do you want, boy? Come in! Come in!’
    William slowly advanced to the back room still holding the Chinese figure in his hand.
    Mr Markson looked him up and down. William silently implored the earth to open and swallow him up, but the earth callously refused.
    A light of recognition dawned in Mr Markson’s eyes.
    ‘Why, you’re Mrs Brown’s boy,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, sir,’ said William tonelessly.
    Then Mr Markson’s eye fell upon the Chinese figure which William was vainly trying to conceal with his hands.
    ‘What!’ he began, ‘you’ve brought her Chinese figure?’
    William moistened his lips.
    ‘Yes, sir. She – she’s – she’s sent it, sir.’
    ‘ Sent it?’ said Mr Markson. His eyes gleamed with the greed of the collector. ‘You mean – sent it?’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ said William with sudden inspiration. ‘She’s sent it to you – to keep, sir.’
    ‘But how extraordinarily kind,’ burst out Mr Markson. ‘I must write to her at once. How very kind! I must – wait a minute. There’s still the third.
I’ll write to Mrs Franks, too. I’ll ask Mrs Franks if she can possibly trace the origin of her piece.’ He was speaking to himself rather than to William. ‘I’ll just
hint that I’d be willing to buy it should she ever wish to sell. Sit down there and wait, boy.’
    William sat down and waited in silence while Mr Markson wrote at his desk. William stared desperately in front of him. Crumbs! Things were getting in more of a mess every minute. He didn’t
see how he could possibly get out of it now. He was in it – right up to the neck. But – Mr Markson fastened up the envelope, addressed it, and turned to William.
    Just then a maid entered with the evening post on a tray. Mr Markson took it. She retired and Mr Markson read his letters.
    ‘Bother!’ he said, ‘here’s a letter that must be answered by tonight’s post. Do