Doctor Dolittle and the Green Canary

1 The Canary Opera

THE Dolittle caravan and circus started immediately for London and set up camp on Greenheath well outside the city. Cheapside was found, and helped the Doctor and Matthew Mugg, the Cat's–Meat–Man, with the gathering together of birds from private aviaries, the zoo, and from the open fields. Theodosia, Matthew's wife, took over the making of all the costumes for the opera while the doctor and the Cat's–Meat–Man attended to the details of production.

When it came time for rehearsals to begin they still had not found a suitable bird to play opposite Pippinella—to sing the tenor role.

'We need a voice that will blend perfectly with hers; said John Dolittle to Matthew. 'It's important that he be of good appearance, too.'

Before Matthew could reply, Pippinella, who was listening from her cage nearby, called out:

Why don't we try to find Twink—the mate I had when I was with Aunt Rosie?'

'Oh, Lor' bless up, Pip!' cried Matthew Mugg. 'It'd be like tryin' to find a needle in an 'aystack.'

'Let's not give up until we've had a look around,' said the Doctor. 'It may be possible to find Twink.'

With Pippinella going along to help, Matthew visited every animal shop in the vicinity of London. Strangely enough, one day in a dirty shop, in the East End, who should turn up but Twink. He was desperately ill with a cold and a sore throat but the Doctor soon cured that with his Canary Cough Mixture and Twink's voice came back stronger and more beautiful than it had been before. Pippinella was delighted to see him again and, for the time being, stopped fretting about her friend, the window–cleaner.

Twink's account of the miserable conditions under which the birds and animals existed in the shop in the East End so disturbed the Doctor that he and Matthew took time out from rehearsals to stage one of the greatest mass rescues in the Doctor's career—the release of Twink's former associates from their imprisonment in the ship.

In spite of the fact that the Doctor often neglected the business of the opera to follow up some clue that seemed to be leading to the window–cleaner, Pippinella's beloved master was still not found. One day, when the Doctor had called a final dress rehearsal, it was discovered that the green canary and Jip were missing. Cheapside, who was assisting the Doctor by drilling the chorus and dance numbers, was all for finding a new prima donna.

'Tempermental hartists!' sniffed the cockney sparrow. 'I bet them two is off 'untin' for 'er window polisher. Say, Doc, what's the matter with me singin' her part? We could dye my feathers green and nobody'd know the difference.'

'Hah!' snorted Dab–Dab. 'If you so much as opened your cockney mouth you would empty the house in two minutes!'

'I like that!' replied Cheapside in a huff. 'I'm considered the most musical bird in these 'ere parts, I am!'

'Now, now,' admonished the Doctor. 'Pippinella must be found. We can hold up opening for a day or two. I'm sure she can't be far away.'

And Pippinella was found. She explained that she had seen a man in the circus enclosure who looked like her window–cleaner friend. Jip had gone with her to follow him across London. But in the smelly quarters of the docks even Jip's sensitive nose could not keep track of the scent.

The Doctor was most understanding.

'I know how much you miss him, Pippinella,' he said. 'But do be patient. As soon as the opera is over we will devote every minute to make a thorough search for him. Please promise me you won't run off again.'

'All right, Doctor,' replied the canary. 'I'll wait.'

The Canary Opera was a smashing success. Pippinella's solos, Maids, come out, the coach is here, The Harness Jingle and I'm a Midget Mascot were tremendous hits. She was so taken up with the excitement of being the toast of London that, for the time being, thoughts of her friend, the window–cleaner, were completely driven from her mind.

Many honours, too, came to the green canary because of the opera. She was dined and wined at the most famous restaurants in London. Admirers sent her baskets and bouquets of flowers; and a famous manufacturer of bird cages paid her a large salary to hop in and out of one of his cages in a store window, showing by her presence and sprightly manner, that she approved of the design.

The successful opera season came to a close. Twink went off to live with Hop, the clown from the circus, who had decided to retire. The pelicans and flamingoes had been returned to the naturalist from whom the Doctor had borrowed them for the chorus, and the thrushes and wrens had left for their native haunts. All that was left to do now, before the family could return to Puddleby while the Doctor and Pippinella went to look for the canary's friends, was for the circus animals and personnel to be placed in proper homes for their comfort and well being.

This the Doctor did with great care. He chartered a special ship to send the lion, the leopard, and the elephant back to Africa. The snakes went, too, and caused great consternation when they got out of the basket on the dock and started diving and wiggling among the passenger's baggage just for the fun of a good stretch. One old lady fainted dead away when she opened her bag and found one of them squirming among her shawls and laces.

However, they were captured and made the trip safely and happily back to their native soil where they became the talk of all snakedom with the fandango dance which they had learned for the circus and now performed for their new–found friends.

The day finally came when all the business of the circus had been completed. The enclosure was cleared of its equipment; nothing remained now except the Doctor's caravan—in which members of his household lived—and the smaller covered wagon which served Theodosia and Matthew Mugg as a home.

A vast throng of children—after presenting the Doctor with a huge bouquet of flowers—were departing tearfully sucking peppermint drops John Dolittle had given them as a farewell gift. The Doctor turned to face the members of his family who were gathered around him.

'I—a—er, have something to tell you,' he said. He paused, at a loss for the proper words.

Dab–Dab, quick to sense what was in the Doctor's mind, pushed forward to stand in front of him.

'No, John Dolittle,' she said crossly. 'Don't tell me we are not going home. I simply cannot stand another minute of this gypsy existence! My nerves are at breaking point!'

'There, there,' said John Dolittle, leaning forward to comfort her. 'I know it's been difficult. But you've done wonderfully. And I wouldn't even consider keeping you here. How soon will you be able to leave?

'Why, within the hour!' said Dab–Dab, brightening. 'I have one or two little things still to do.' She spreads her wings and, calling to the others to come and pick up their rubbish, flew right through the doorway of the wagon. Matthew and Theodosia also hustled off to complete their preparations while the Doctor just stood in the empty lot staring off into space.

Barely a moment elapsed before Dab–Dab thrust her head out of the wagon and looked at the Doctor with a worried expression on her kindly face.

'I just remembered something, Doctor,' said the duck. 'You didn't say what it was you had to tell us.'

'Why, I—er—a—you see, Dab–Dab,' he began.

'Don't tell me—I know,' she said, coming slowly down the wagon steps. 'You're not going to Puddleby with us. I might have guessed it. You have some notion of finding that window–cleaner fellow, haven't you, John Dolittle?'

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'I made a promise and it must be fulfilled before I can return to Puddleby.'

'All right!' declared Dab–Dab. 'If that's the way you feel, then nobody goes to Puddleby until you do.'

'Oh, that isn't necessary, Dab–Dab,' remonstrated the Doctor. 'Perhaps the others want to go home.'

With that there was a chorus of denials; nobody wanted to go home without the Doctor.

'We can all help find Pip's friend!' shouted Gub–Gub. 'I'm a first class rooter!'

'Where do you think he's hiding?' asked the duck, all thoughts of Puddleby driven from her head.—'Under a cauliflower plant?'

'Jip will be better at hunting him out than any of us,' said the white mouse. 'He can track a person by sniffing the grass along the roadside.'

'Whitey would be valuable wherever doors are locked,' offered Jip. 'He can squeeze through a hole the size of a farthing.'

'How about me?' asked Too–Too, the owl. 'We may need to do some night work. And you know how well I see in the dark.'

Pippinella, perched on a discarded orange crate, listened to all this with a lifting heart. During the earlier proceedings she had become terribly downcast for she too had mistaken the Doctor's intentions. But when she heard with what enthusiasm the family accepted the change in plans she flew to the group and lit on the Doctor's high hat.

'I want you to know how much I appreciate this,' she said in a most gracious manner. 'Someday, perhaps, I can do something for you besides upsetting you plans.'

'Tut, tut,' said Dab–Dab, who was secretly a great admirer of the little prima donna. 'We frequently change our plans, don't we, Doctor?'

'Yes, indeed,' said John Dolittle. 'Now let's work out the beginning of our campaign. Pippinella, do you know the name of the town where the windmill stood? That seems the best place for us to start.'

'Yes,' replied the canary. 'It's called Wendlemere; a little town with a cathedral right in the middle and a river which makes a sort of loop around three sides of it.'

'The cathedral stands at one end of a large market square, doesn't it?' asked the Doctor.

'Yes,' said Pippinella. 'That's the town.'

'Fine,' said the Doctor. 'Now we're on thee trail. Did you ever hear your friend's name?'

'Never once,' said the canary. 'He was careful always to avoid giving any names. And, as I told you, so far as his life at the mill was concerned, no one was ever there to ask it.'

'Humph!' said the Doctor. 'It isn't much to go on, just the name of the town. Still, people have been found before today with no more information than that. I will do my best. Now, let's all go back to the caravan for supper. Dab–Dab, have we something extra nice? Some kippers and tea would taste good after this busy day.'

'Kippers!' squealed Gub–Gub. 'I'd rather have a kipper than a dozen truffles!'

During supper a lively discussion went on; everybody wanted to go along to hunt for the window–cleaner. But it was finally decided that only Jip and Pippinella should accompany the Doctor. Matthew and Theodosia were commissioned to see that Dab–Dab had sufficient food for the larder at all times; and the family all joined with Pippinella in making plans for the trip to the windmill.

In the morning the Doctor, Pippinella, and Jip were up and away early. It took them the whole day to complete the journey to Wendlemere and by the time they got there darkness had fallen.

'I'm going to have a look around,' said the Doctor. 'One can tell better at night if a place is occupied—by the lights in the windows, you know.'

'Smells are good at night,' too,' said Jip. 'The dampness makes them hang close to the ground. I'll go with you, if you don't mind, Doctor?'

'Certainly, Jip,' said the Doctor. 'Pippinella, you come on to my shoulder. We'll stroll around and see what we can see.'

The little party set out for the mill while the rest of the town slept. They went immediately to the foot of the hill on which the windmill stood, to see if any light was visible in the tower. But all was in darkness.

'Perhaps he's gone to bed,' said the canary hopefully. 'It's long after midnight. And he used to turn in early when we lived here before.'

'Yes,' said the Doctor, 'And I think that's what we better do, too. We'll find a room at the inn and wait until morning to investigate further.'

On the morrow they returned after a hasty breakfast to the home of the solitary philosopher. Their first glance at the mill from below the hill was quite discouraging. No smoke rose from the stove pipe that stuck out of the roof. Yet it was the hour when breakfast, if the mill was occupied, should be cooking. With a sinking feeling of failure, the Doctor, with Pippinella on his shoulder and Jip at his heels, hurried up the hill till finally he stood before the little gate in the ramshackle fence. The stone walk leading to the tower door showed no footprints of habitation.

Heavy at heart, the Doctor turned his head to speak to Pippinella.

'We've come on a wild goose chase, Pippinella,' he said, 'Your friend, evidently has been gone from here a long time.'

'I'm afraid you're right, Doctor,' said the canary. 'What do we do now?'

Jip jumped up and put his front paws on the Doctors leg.

'There's a man over there in the field,' said he. 'Why don't you ask him if he's seen the window–cleaner?'

'That's a good idea, Jip, said the Doctor. 'Perhaps he owns this place. He'd be sure to know something about his tenant if he did.'

The man, a weather–beaten, grey–haired countryman of about fifty years of age, turned out to be a civil fellow—only too willing to rest his plough and gossip, if he got the chance.

'No,' he said. 'I ain't seen nowt of that queer loon for—let me see—not for over a year. He used to pay me a few shillings a month for the use of the old mill. He'd bring me the money regular, himself, while he was here. Didn't like to have me come up and collect it. It seemed he hadn't no wish for human company around him. I never even heard what his business was.'

Suddenly the man peered sharply at Pippinella sitting on the Doctor's shoulder.

'That's queer, sir,' he said. 'That fellow you're lookin' for had a bird that the spittin' image of that one. Used to hang his cage on a hook outside the tower window—when the weather was good. But, of course, it couldn't be the same one. Yours seems sorta tame like—the way he sits there—not moving or nothing.'

The Doctor was relieved that the man did not pursue the subject further; it would be awkward to try to explain his relationship with birds and animals to this simple countryman.

'He wur surely a strange, strange man,' the farmer went on. 'I used to say to the wife, I'd say, "Maybe he's a hanarchist, a mixing dynamite and bombs up there in my mill—never did see a soul live so secret and solitary." "Oh, go along," she'd say, "no man with a face like his'n never mixed bombs to blow folks up with. He looks more to me like a minister—and not any of your simpering psalm–singing kind neither, but just a plain, honest man who thinks more of others than himself." That wur the wife's opinion. Howsomever, hanarchist or minister, he wur a queer duck all right.'

'Do you remember exactly,' the Doctor asked, 'what day it was you saw him last?'

The farmer called to his team to stand and he scratched his head.

'Aye,' he said, after a moment. 'I mind it wur the day I took the potatoes in off the north field. It rained about noon and I had to stop 'cause potatoes don't store good when they're wet. I hadn't even seen him go away. But his not coming with the rent told me that he'd gone off and I'd like as not ever see him again. Then, when I were starting for home I saw a man a crossin' down from the mill to the gate. It wur him. He wur running, crazy like. "So," I thinks to myself, "he's come back, 'as he?" Minding he never like to have me come to see him, I thinks to meself: "He'll be round to my place afore long with his rent and I'll not bother." And I goes off home in the rain. But he never comed and I never seen him from the fields here while I was ploughing. And at the end of the week I goes up to the mill, anyhow. But he wasn't there.'

'Yes, but what day was that?' asked the Doctor.

'It wur the day I took the potatoes off the north field,' the farmer repeated, 'end of the first week in September. That'll be twelve months ago come Friday.'

'And have you seen anyone else around the mill, either before or since?'

'Not a soul. Nobody ever comes up here.'

'Thank you,' said the Doctor. And bidding the farmer good–bye he set off to return to the town.

2 The Green Parrot Has a Clue

WHEN John Dolittle got back to the inn he put Pippinella back in the small travelling cage he had made for her.

'There's plenty of seed and fresh water, I believe,' he said. 'You must be very hungry.'

'No, Doctor,' said the canary. 'I'm too discouraged to eat.'

'You mustn't feel that way,' said the Doctor. 'We've only begun to look for your friend. I feel sure he'll turn up. Have some food—and rest awhile. I'm going out to ask around the town whether a stranger has been seen lately. Jip, you stay here to keep Pippinella company. Try to cheer her up while I'm gone.'

Jip wagged his tail and said he would.

At a corner of a long street of stately old–fashioned mansions the Doctor paused a moment, looking upwards at a curious lamp–post which stood close to one of the houses. Two fine shady trees spread their branches overhead. Outside the corner window of the house a mirror was fastened on a bracket. A plump, white–haired lady sat knitting at the window, and the Doctor noticed that she was looking at him in the mirror. Something about the spot struck John Dolittle as familiar. And while he paused an old lame man came along, put a ladder against the lamp–post and climbed up to clean the lamp.

A smile of recognition suddenly spread over the Doctor's face.

'Aunt Rosie's house!' he whispered. 'Of course, I wonder if she's heard anything of the window–cleaner. There she is, still knitting, still watching the neighbours pass. I'll go and call on her.'

Aunt Rosie, while knitting at her window, had noticed a small, round man pause at the corner of the street.

'Hah! A stranger!' she muttered, dropping a stitch. 'Distinguished looking man. A scientist or a barrister—possibly a diplomat. I wonder what house he's bound for. Doesn't look like a relative of anyone in this street. Goodness gracious, I believe he's coming here! Yes, he's walking up my steps. Well, did you ever! Emily, Emily!'

A maid, neatly dressed with white cap and apron, entered from the next room in answer to her mistress's cry.

'Emily,' said Aunt Rosie. 'There's a caller at the door—a gentleman caller. I'm not dressed or anything. Get me my cashmere shawl quickly. It's on the top of my bureau. And take this old woollen one away. There's the bell. Hurry! I've no idea who its is, but it looks like someone very important. He's got a black bag. Come from out of town, that's clear. Are the tea things ready? Answer the door, girl. Don't stand there like a dummy! No, get the shawl first. And don't forget the buttered toast. Hurry, I tell you! Here, come back. Put this old woollen thing out of sight.'

In a great state of flutter and excitement Aunt Rosie threw off the white knitted shawl from her shoulders—nearly upsetting a green parrot that perched on a stand at her elbow. The maid, bewildered at receiving half a dozen orders at once, took it from her and left the room. In the hall she set it down upon a chair and went to open the front door.

Without she found a small, round man, with a very kind face.

'Er—er—hum—er—a. Is Aunt Rosie in?' asked the Doctor.

'The maid stared at him in astonishment.

'She is, I know,' the Doctor went on, answering his own question. 'Because I saw her at the window.'

Emily, though still somewhat at sea, finally found her voice.

'Won't you come in, sir?' she murmured.

'Thank you,' said the Doctor, stepping across the threshold.

In the hall on his way to the parlour the Doctor was met by the hostess herself, who came forward, fluttering, to greet him.

'Ah, how do you do, Aunt Rosie?' said he, holding out his hand.

Now 'Aunt Rosie' was a nickname for this lady, used only by herself when talking with her pets and some of her relatives. Imagine, then, her astonishment to be greeted in this fashion by an entire stranger. However, her guest seemed such an amiable, disarming person, she supposed he must be someone whom she ought to know and whose face she had forgotten.

'Good afternoon,' she murmured feebly. 'Emily, take this gentleman's hat and bag.'

Then she led the way into the room where she always sat and the first thing the Doctor noticed was the green parrot perched on the stand.

'Ah!' said he. 'I see you've got a new parrot. The other one was a grey one, wasn't he?'

'Er—yes. Quite so,' muttered Aunt Rosie, feeling surer than ever that this man, if not one of her own relatives greatly altered, must at least be someone she ought to know extremely well. Afraid to offend him by asking him his name, she proceeded to potter around with the tea things while she watched the doctor out of the corner of her eye and sought wildly to remember who he was.

Before the Doctor had a chance to explain the object of his visit he was offered, to his great delight, a cup of tea by his fluttering hostess.

'I hope you will pardon my dropping in unexpectedly like this,' he began, taking the teacup from her.

'Oh, don't mention it,' said she, returning to the tray. 'Let me see, I've forgotten whether you take sugar?'

'Two lumps, please,' said the Doctor.

'Yes, of course,' murmured Aunt Rosie.

'Well, now,' said John Dolittle, 'I wanted to ask you about your window–cleaner. You remember the odd fellow that you used to employ, the one you gave the canary to?'

'Oh, perfectly,' the hostess answered, still cudgelling her brains for the name of this man who apparently knew her private affairs so well. 'A quite extraordinary individual—most peculiar.'

'Have you seen him recently?' asked the Doctor. 'I mean since you gave up having your windows done regularly by him—that was somewhat over a year ago, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' said Aunt Rosie, 'I have.'

For the quiet old lady of the sleepy cathedral town that odd character, the window–cleaner, had always held the spice of mystery. Many a time she had tried by questioning him and inquiring among the neighbours to find out more about him. But she had met with nothing but baffling failure. The object of the Doctor's visit, therefore, threw Aunt Rosie into a greater state of excitement than ever. She stopped rattling the teacups and leaned forward in her chair as though about to impart some terrible secret.

'I had not seen that man,' she whispered, 'for fifteen months. I supposed that he had left the town, and I'm quite certain that he had, for several of my neighbours used to employ him, and if he had been working in the town I would surely have seen him. Well, then, one day, as I was feeding the parrot, I saw him come up the steps. I noticed at a glance that he was greatly changed, much thinner—he used to be quite plump, you know. And when the maid let him in, he asked for work. I didn't really need him to do the windows, because I have them done by the maids now. But he looked so down–at–heel and poverty–stricken that I hadn't the heart to say no. So I told him to do all the windows on the top floor. On the way upstairs he suddenly swayed weakly against the wall. I guessed at once what was the matter. I whispered to the maid to take him to the kitchen and give him a good meal. And do you know, the poor man was actually starving. The cook told me he ate nearly everything in the larder. Then I questioned him while he was at work, to see if I could find out what had befallen him. But he would tell me hardly anything. Just murmured something above have run into bad luck.'

As Aunt Rosie finished her long speech the green parrot on the stand moved restlessly, jingling the chain about his leg.

'And did you, madam,' asked the Doctor, 'see him gain after that?'

'Only once,' said the old lady, handing her guest the buttered toast. 'Seeing what sad straits he was in, I told him I wanted the rest of the windows done the following day. He came back early on the morrow—very early—and the maids told me they had seen him hanging around the house in the small hours. I believe he never went to bed at all; perhaps he had no place to go, but just waited through the night to do the rest of his work the following day. When all the windows were done and there was nothing further to keep him I asked him, as I paid him his money, whether he intended staying in the town for some time. He glanced at me suspiciously, as though I were trying to incriminate him, and then said no, he was only remaining long enough to earn his coach fare to go on farther.'

'Did he say where he was going?' the Doctor asked.

'No,' said the old lady. 'But I'm pretty sure he left the town that night. Because he finished his work here in the forenoon, and I never saw him again.'

At this moment Emily, the maid, entered and whispered something in her mistress's ear.

'Excuse me,' said Aunt Rosie, rising. 'I have to see the butcher about his bill. I'll be back in a moment.'

And she left the room, accompanied by the maid.

John Dolittle put down his teacup and leaned back in his chair, staring in a puzzled manner at the ceiling.

'Confound the luck!' he said aloud. 'It looks as though the trail leads no farther. For heaven only knows where he went when he left the town.'

Suddenly the Doctor heard a rattle behind him. Thinking it was perhaps his host returning he sprang to his feet politely and turned about. But he found that he was still alone, except for the green parrot, whom he had forgotten. That wise–looking bird now seemed very wide awake. He stepped gravely to the end of his short perch and craned his neck out towards the Doctor.

'Oh, how do you do?' said John Dolittle in parrot language. 'You had been so quiet behind me there I had forgotten all about you. I suppose you can't help me in this problem?'

The parrot glanced over his shoulder at the door still ajar and listened a moment. Then he motioned with his head to the Doctor to come a little nearer. John Dolittle at once stepped up to his stand.

'He went to London, Doctor,' the parrot whispered. 'You know, as the old lady told you, he used to mutter a lot—talk aloud to himself—but only when there were no people about. While he was doing the window of this room, standing on the sill outside, with the window half open, he looked in and saw me on my perch here. Seemed sort of mesmerized at first. Then he laughed kind of childish–like and went on polishing the window. There was no one in the room but me. "Good old Pip," he kept saying. "There you are, still, sitting in the window. Watching me polish up the glass. So you came back to the old lady, did you, Pip? Well, she's a good sort. She'll take better care of you than I did. Poor old Pip! But you're looking well—you've grown bigger. Shan't see you again after today—not for a long time. I'm just making enough money to get after them, Pip. Curse them! Curse them! I'm just making enough money to buy a coach ride. Then I'm off. I know where they've gone, Pip. They've gone to London. And I'm going after them—tonight!"'

As the green parrot finished speaking the Doctor heard Aunt Rosie's footsteps in the distance, coming up the kitchen stairs.

'Listen,' he whispered quickly, 'Did you get any idea of where he was going in London—any names of people he meant to see, eh?'

'No,' said the parrot, 'nothing more. I don't think he had a very clear idea himself. He seemed very vague and hazy. Tell me, Doctor, how is Polynesia getting on?'

'Oh, did you know my Polynesia?' asked John Dolittle.

'Why, certainly!' said the parrot. 'She was a distant relative of mine. I heard that she was living at your house in Puddleby.

'I left Polynesia in Africa,' sighed the Doctor. 'Last time I was there. I have missed her terribly.'

'She's lucky,' said the parrot. 'She always was a lucky bird, was Polynesia. Look out, here's the old lady coming back!'

When Aunt Rosie re–entered the room she found her caller scratching the parrot's head.

'I'm sorry to have been so long,' she said. 'But you know what these tradesmen are. That dreadful man insisted hat I had a pound of steak last Tuesday, when that is my meatless day. I haven't eaten meat on a Tuesday for three years—not since Doctor Matthews put me on a diet. Then he discovers that he sent the steak to somebody else in the street—some one who really had ordered it—and he had charged it to me by mitake.'

'Very trying,' said the Doctor. 'Very trying.'

Aunt Rosie now settled down again to her tea, hoping to find out from her caller something of the private history of her mysterious window–cleaner. But before she had a chance to put a single question the Doctor began asking questions himself.

'Perhaps your maid—the one who opened the door for me—could remember something that would help me find the window–cleaner,' said the Doctor.

'Oh, Emily!' said Aunt Rosie, wrinkling up her nose. 'She never notices really important things. But we'll ask her anyway.'

Then Emily was summoned and questioned by her mistress. She said all she knew was that he hadn't done a very good job on the windows the last time he'd washed them. As she was retiring the front door bell rang.

'Pardon me,' said Aunt Rosie, rising. 'This is my at–home day. Some friends drop in regularly and bring their needle–work with them.'

'Oh—er,' said the Doctor, getting up out of his chair. 'I think I ought to be going—really.'

'Oh, no, don't run away,' said Aunt Rosie. 'I'll just see who it is. I'll be back in a moment.'

And before the Doctor had a chance to protest his hostess had left the room again and closed the door behind her.

In the hall Aunt Rosie greeted a sour–faced lady ho had just been admitted by the maid.

'My dear,' she said, fluttering forward, 'I'm so glad you've come. Listen: there's a man in the parlour whom I can't make out at all. He seems to know all about me and my private affairs. And I suppose it's someone whom I ought to know extremely well. Perhaps you can help me. If you recognize him, whisper his name to me when he's not looking, will you?'

'Is that his?' asked the sour–faced lady, sternly pointing to the Doctor's high hat hanging on the stand in the hall.

'Yes,' said Aunt Rosie.

'Then I know already,' said the other.

Now, as soon as Aunt Rosie had left the parlour the Doctor was summoned by a sharp 'Pst!' from the corner of the room. He slipped across to the parrot's side and leaned down to listen.

'It's your sister Sarah,' whispered the bird. 'She's always the first to arrive at these sewing circles. They're all a dreadful lot of old gossips. But she's the worst of them all. A sparrow told me that she was your sister.'

'Good heavens!' said the Doctor. 'Sarah! How can I get out of here, I wonder?'

'Push the window up and drop down into the street.' said the parrot.

'But my hat and bag are in the hall,' whispered the Doctor. 'I can't go without them. Oh, Lord! And she'll start in about the circus again. I suppose, as soon as she meets me.'

'Listen,' whispered the parrot. 'You see that other door over there? That leads around through the pantry. Go through it and wait just on the other side. As soon as they come in here and the hall is clear I'll give a loud squawk. Then hurry along the passage and it will bring you out into the hall. Take your hat and bag and let yourself out of the front door. Hurry up! I hear them coming.'

The Doctor only just closed the door behind him as Sarah and Aunt Rosie entered the room. He waited a moment in the narrow dark passage till a hearty screech from the parrot told him that the coast was clear. Then he groped his way along till he found the door at the end, passed into the hall, grabbed his hat and bag and let himself out into the street.

'Dear me!' he muttered as he hurried around the corner and set off towards the inn. 'A lucky escape, a merciful escape! I don't know what poor Aunt Rosie will think of me—running off like that—after she had given me a cup of tea and everything. Good tea it was, too … Oh, well, I'll write her a letter and tell her I was afraid I'd miss the coach. Fancy that old fellow being a relative of Polynesia's—good old Polynesia! I wonder how she's getting on. What a small world it is, to be sure. Well, well! I haven't found out an awful lot about the window–cleaner. Still, it's a good deal to know that he's in London. And the search lies in our direction, too. It's an awfully big city, though. But you can't tell. I have a feeling that we'll find hm.'

3 Cheapside Helps the Doctor

THE Doctor went immediately to his room at the inn and told Pippinella the result of his expedition. When he had ended the canary shook her head.

'It looks bad,' she said, 'very bad, Doctor. From what both the farmer and Aunt Rosie told you, there is no doubt in my mind that the window–cleaner found his kitchen ransacked and his papers gone. Oh, dear! Poor man. I suppose he was just distracted with grief. What can we do, Doctor? What can we do?'

'Well, now,' said John Dolittle, 'be patient. After all, it's something that we know he went to London. I have a notion that we're going to succeed in finding him.'

'Oh, I hope so,' sighed Pippinella. 'I hope so. I'm so worried about him.'

'I hope we don't end up down at the East End docks again,' said Jip. 'I simply can't get the smells untangled. What with tar smells mixing with the scents from boxes of spices the ships from India unload on the docks, and the fish smells so strong one can barely breathe, I find it impossible to pick out the man smell.'

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'It must be very difficult .Let's hope we don't have to go there.'

That evening the little party took the London coach from the town square. A there were no other passengers for that journey the Doctor was able to stretch out on one seat and sleep most of the way. When they reached the city it was early morning and everything was bustling with activity. The Doctor tucked Pippinella's little traveling cage under his arm so that in case they should meet the window–cleaner among the crowds on the streets the canary could recognize him. Jip trotted along at John Dolittle's heels, ready for action.

As they walked along the thronged pavements Pippinella, with her keen eyes, searched the faces of every passer–by, hoping to find her friend. After about two hours of this they all began to be a bit tired. On his way across a bridge that spanned the river, the Doctor sat down on one of the public seats to take a rest.

'Dear me, Doctor,' said the canary. 'I'm afraid there isn't much chance of our running into him haphazardly. Look at those crowds across the bridge! Their faces all swim together when I try to pick out one at a time.'

The Doctor, who was beginning to be depressed about the prospect himself, did not answer. Presently he got up and moved off, with the intention of finding Cheapside, the London sparrow who had promised to help them find the window–cleaner.

Passing by St Paul's Cathedral he looked up at the statue of St Edmund which stood against the sky. The Doctor knew that Cheapside and Becky, his wife, made their nest in the ear of the great statue. And although he couldn't see it from that distance, he hoped it was there and that Cheapside would be at home and would see him.

Suddenly he saw a small speck shot out of the statue's ear. It dropped to earth with the speed of a bullet, and, with a fluttering of wings, landed on his shoulder.

'Lor' bless me, Doc!' said Cheapside. 'I 'ad no idear you was in town. When I looked down off St Edmund's ear just now and see'd your old stovepipe 'at, you could 'ave knocked me over with a feather!'

'Well, well, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'I'm glad I found you so easily.'

'But what are you doin' 'ere, Doctor?' asked the sparrow. 'When I went out to Greenheath yesterday they told me you was in Wendlemere—'untin' for Pip's friend.'

'We were,' replied the Doctor. 'But we had no luck. Nobody there has seen him for months and months. However, I did hear that he'd come up to London. Then I remembered that you had promised to help us and we came to find you.'

'So I did,' said Cheapside. 'So I did, And I ain't one to go back on my word. I'll do my best. London's a big place. Still, there ain't no one knows it better than what I do. Hullo, Pip,' he said, peering into the cage under the Doctor's arm. ''Ow's the primer donner this morning?'

'Very well, thank you,' said Pippinella. 'But I'm terribly worried about my friend.'

'Don't you fret now, Pip,' said the sparrow. 'We'll find the bloke if we 'ave to 'unt the whole of England over. Just you leave it to old Cheapside. I'm the champion 'unter of the British Hempire. I am! You and the Doc—and Jip—Hullo Jip,' he said. 'I was so busy talkin' I forgot to say hullo.'

The sparrow hopped over on to the Doctor's other shoulder.

'As I was sayin',' continued the sparrow, 'you three go back 'ome and wait to hear from me. I'll bring you word as soon as I 'ave something to tell you.'

'I'm awfully glad we found him.' said John Dolittle as they made their way homeward towards Greenheath. 'He'll be much better at tracing your friend than I could ever hope to be. You see, he's lived in London all his life—knows every street and house in the whole cirty.'

'I do hope he finds him,' sighed Pippinella. 'But I'm very fearful. Suppose those spies have found him again and taken him off on that dreadful ship.'

'Now, now, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'We mustn't look on the dark side. I still feel confident he's around somewhere. Let's leave it to Cheapside for a while. If it's possible to find him he'll do it. He'll do anything for me.'

Reaching Greenheath, the Doctor was met by Gub–Gub and the rest of the family clamouring for news of the window–cleaner. They were tremendously interested to hear of the Doctor's visit to Wendlemere and of his meeting with Cheapside in London and they began at once to look forward to the visit of the little cockney sparrow. For they always found the worldly little city bird excellent company and never tired of his comic chatter and amusing anecdotes.

And they had not long to wait, as a matter of fact. About noon the next day, when the Dolittle household was sitting down to lunch in the wagon, two sparrows suddenly flew in at the open door and settled in the middle of the table—Mr and Mrs Cheapside.

As soon as the greetings were over Dab–Dab provided them with a place beside the white mouse (next to the salt cellar) and gave them a supply of crumbs and millet seed.

'Bless me, Doctor,' said Cheapside with his mouth full. 'It's nice to sit down to dinner with you again. Becky and me 'ave been lonely for you since the opera closed.'

'It's nice of you to say so,' replied the Doctor. 'We've missed you, too.'

'Ah, Doc,' said Cheapside. But he was secretly very pleased.

'By the way, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'I don't want to seem impatient, but have you started your search for Pippinella's friend yet?'

'Who's that?' asked the sparrow.

'The window–cleaner—you know,' said the Doctor, 'the man I spoke to you about yesterday.'

'Oh, 'im!' said the sparrow. 'Yes, we found him all right.'

'You found him!' cried the Doctor, springing to his feet. 'Already? Good heavens!'

'Yes,' said Cheapside. 'We ran him down this morning—about eleven o'clock.'

A regular chorus of exclamations broke out around the Doctor's luncheon table after Cheapside's extraordinary statement.

'When will he come here?' asked Gub–Gub, climbing up on to his chair to make himself heard. 'I'm so anxious to see that window–cleaner.'

'How was he looking?' asked Pippinella.

'Whereabouts did you find him?' Dab–Dab wanted to know.

'But, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'How on earth did you do it in so short a time?'

'Well,' said the sparrow when the general noise and clatter had quieted down, 'the first thing I did was to go around to the gangs.'

'What do you mean, the gangs?' squeaked the white mouse.

'The sparrow gangs, of course,' said Cheapside. 'The city sparrows are divided into gangs. Very exclusive, some of them, too. For instance, the West–Enders; oh, my! They're lah–di–dah, they are! Live in Berkeley Square, Park Lane and Belgravia. Call 'emselves the Four Thousand— gentry, you know. They wouldn't be seen speakin' to a White–chapel sparrow or any of the Wapping gang, Mile–Enders, Houndsditchers and low bird–life like that. Ho, no, indeed. Then there's the sort of betwixt–and–betweeners—the Chelsea push, live among the artists; the Highgate and Hampstead lot, 'ang around among the writers, they do. They're kind of half–and–half, sort of dingy—you know, down–at–heel genteel—look glum on Sundays, never do their fightin' in the street, all for keepin' up appearances. But they're all the same to me, see? Whitechapel, Highgate or Belgravia, I don't take no lip from none of them.

'Well, when you says you wants to find this window–washer of yours, I says to the missus, I says: 'Becky, the Doc wants this bloke found. It's up to us to run 'im down. You go 'round the high–life gangs—you see, she uses better class talk than what I do—and I'll go 'round the East Enders and the middle–class 'ippocrites. I'll meet you on the top of Cleopatra's Needle at ten o'clock sharp. Tell the gang leaders the job is for the Doctor and I'll want to know the reason why it ain't done right. If that bloomin' window–swabber ain't found by noon the feathers'll begin to fly—and they won't be mine, neither.

'So Becky goes off one way and I goes off another. The first bunch I hinvestigates is the Greenwich squad. They 'ang 'round the docks, all the way from the Tower to the Isle of Dogs. I looks up the leader right away, One–Eyed Alf, they calls 'im—the Wapping Terror. Thinks 'imself a fighter. I 'ad to push 'is 'ead in the gutter before I could make him listen to reason. "Hark at me, you crumb–snatchin' Stevedore," I says," 'ave there been any strangers come 'round your district lately?"

'"Ow should I know?" 'e says off–' and like, "I ain't the Lord Mayor!"

'"Well, look 'ere," I says, "You get busy with your boys and bloomin' well find out, see? There's a window–cleaner missin' and the Doctor wants 'im found. Your gang of pickpockets will know if any new faces have settled in the Greenwich District. I'll be back this way in half an hour. And I'll hexcept reports, see! Now, hop about it, you moth–eaten son of a dishrag!"

'It's no use mincin' words with that Greenwich lot. A kick behind the ear is the only hargument they understand. Well, then, I goes off up the river for Chelsea, to set the next gang to work.

'Inside of half an hour,' Cheapside continued, 'I'd got around all the gangs in my half of London. And I felt pretty sure that if your friend had settled anywhere within their boundaries I'd get to hear of it, all right, because, you'd be surprised, there's nothing that escapes the eye of a city sparrow. Other birds what visit towns casual, as you might say, like the thrushes and starlings, that come into the parks and gardens—well, they don't bother much with the human side of city life. They're only visitors, anyway. But we London sparrows, we are citizens, part of the town. You could ask any bird in the Piccadilly circus gang at what hour any of the theatres close up and they could tell you to a minute. You see, they get their living picking up the scraps of cake that the ushers sweep out when the audiences go home. The Westminster lot could tell you the name of any member of Parliament that you might see going or coming out of the House of Commons. The Pall Mall set could spell off the membership list of the Athenaeum Club for you—with the family history of the waiters and all. The St James Park lot could tell you what the queen had for breakfast and whether the royal babies slept well last night. We go everywhere. We see everything. Yes, when it comes to city news there ain't nothing we don't know. Ah, many's the 'air–raisin' yarn I could spin yer of outlandish goin's–on in 'igh places—Jiminy!

'Well, to return to where we was on my way back to Cleopatra's Needle to keep my appointment with Becky 'ere. I drops in again on One–Eyed Alf, to see what news 'e 'ad for me. 'E told me as 'ow he tracked down three or four window–washers, new arrivals, in his district. But not one of them answered the description I'd given 'im. You remember Pippinella had told me that 'er man had a scar across the side of 'is 'ead where the 'air didn't grow no more. And, although several of Alf's gang had spent hours 'angin' 'round sundry window–cleaners at work, waiting for them to take their 'ats off to scratch their 'eads, they 'adn't seen one with a scar like what you canary 'ad described.'

'But he might not be working at window–cleaning at all now,' said Pippinella. 'That wasn't his real profession.'

'Yes, I know. But we found him, anyway,' said Cheapside, 'as you will hear. And it came about through that scar you told me of, too. I questioned Alf for a few minutes and I come to the conclusion as 'ow 'e 'ad covered the ground thorough. So I scratches Greenwich and the Lower River off the list and goes on to meet Becky.'

'Yes, and you didn't get there by ten, as you said you would,' chirped Mrs Cheapside, bringing her sharp little nose out of a saucer of milk she was drinking.

'Of all the—Now, ain't that just like a woman, Doctor?' cried Cheapside. ''Ow could I, with all that ground to cover? And I suppose you ain't never kept me waitin', Mrs Quick Tongue? I suppose you don't remember that time last winter when I sat shivering in the―'

'Come, come,' said the Doctor quietly, 'Don't quarrel, Get on and tell us about the window–cleaner.'

'Becky told me,' Cheapside went on, 'that she hadn't been able to find out nothing. "It's queer, Beck," I says—"very queer." Then she says to me, she says, "Maybe the man's sick"—you know you'd spoken of his being unwell—"and if 'e is sick," says Becky, "he 'd not be seen by the ordinary sparrows. Better get the hospital birds on the job."

'"Right you are," I says. And off we both go to look up the hospitals. There's quite a lot of them in London, you know. But with the 'elp of some gang leaders we goes around them all. When we'd come to the last of 'em and still 'adn't 'eard nothing I say to the missus, I says: "Becky, it looks as though we'd got to go back to the Doctor with empty 'ands."

'"It's a shame," she says. "And 'im trustin' us and all."

'And then, just as we was movin' off to come 'ere, up flies One–Eyed Alf, the Wapping Terror.

'"We've found 'im," 'e says, short like.

'"You 'ave?" I says. "Where is 'e?"

'"'E's in the Workhouse Infirmary," 'e says, "over in Billingsgate."

'"You're sure it's 'im," says Becky.

'"Yes," says 'e. "Not a doubt of it. Come over and take a look at 'im, if you don't believe me."

'Then we flies off with Alf and he takes us to a dingy sort of place in Billingsgate, next to a glue factory. It's a sort of an institution for the destitute. Old men and women and folks that ain't got no 'ome is took in there. And those what are able–bodied 'as to work, and those what ain't walks around in a yard with 'igh walls. A cheerless sort of place.

'"Come over 'ere," says Alf, leading us off to the north end of the yard. "This is the infirmary, where they keeps the sick ones, that yellow brick building with all the windows in it."

'We follows 'im and he flies along a line of windows, lookin' in as he passes, and at the fifth one he stops and we lights beside 'im on the sill. Inside we sees a bed and am man's 'ead a–lyin' on the pillow. Across the side of 'is 'ead was a scar. I goes close up to the glass, and presently the man rolls 'is 'ead from side to side and starts talking to 'isself. "Pippinella," he cries. "Where are you? They've opened the hole in the floor and the papers are gone."

'What he meant I don't know. But as soon as I 'eard 'im call the canary's name I knew we'd run the right man down at last.

'"Come on," says Becky. "That's 'im, all right. Let's go and tell the Doctor, quick." And 'ere we are.'

The sparrow had hardly finished speaking before the Doctor had risen from his chair and was reaching for his hat.

'Thank you, Cheapside,' said he. 'We are both ever so grateful to you. If you and your wife have finished lunch we will go down there at once, and you can show us the way. Did you mark the room, so I can inquire for the right bed? We don't even know the man's name.'

'I couldn't tell you what the inside of the infirmary is like, Doc,' said Cheapside. 'But you can find him, all right, because I saw a card hung upon the foot of his bed and on it was written a number—No.17.'

'Can't I come with you, Doctor?' asked Gub–Gub, as John Dolittle hurried towards the door of the wagon.

'I'm sorry, Gub–Gub,' said the Doctor. 'But I'm afraid it won't be possible. You see, I'm going to a hospital.'

'But I don't mind going to a hospital,' said Gub–Gub.

'No, quite so,' said John Dolittle. 'But—er—I'm a little afraid they may not let me in if I brought too many pets. They're sometimes rather fussy in hospitals.'

Gub–Gub was very disappointed, but the Doctor had to be quite firm because he was really afraid that he might not be admitted himself if he took the pig with him. Jip, too, had to be left at home for the same reason. Finally John Dolittle set out with Pippinella and Mr and Mrs Cheapside for London.

4 John Dolittle, M.d

JOHN DOLITTLE hadn't been in London more than five minutes before he discovered news of his arrival had already spread among the animal life of the city. This, of course, was due to the gossip of Cheapside and his fellow sparrows of the streets. While the Doctor and his party were still at the inn yard where they had just stepped down from the Greenheath coach a funny, scrubby little bird flew up and whispered something to Cheapside who was travelling with the Doctor. Cheapside brought him forward and introduced him.

'This is One–Eyed Alf, Doctor,' said Cheapside, 'the feller I was telling you about. 'E's got something 'e wants to say to you.'

'Oh, how do you do?' said John Dolittle. 'I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. I learn that it was largely through you that we have been able to trace our man. We are very grateful to youl.'

The newcomer was indeed a strange looking bird. The first thing the Doctor noticed about him was that, in spite of his having only one eye, he seemed very alert and wide–awake. He had several feathers missing form his tail and altogether looked like a very rough customer.

'Don't mention it, Doc,' said he. 'Only too glad to be of any help. O' course, I'd heard a whole lot about you, and we city folks are always 'appy when you pays us a visit. I got a sister over in Wapping what got herself tangled up in a clothesline. I'd be glad if you could come and take a look at her. She's broke a wing, I think. Ain't been able to fly for over a month. We've had to bring 'er crumbs to 'er and feed 'er like a baby.'

'I'll certainly do anything I can,' said the Doctor. 'Take us to where she is and I'll see what can be done.'

'Look here, Cheapside, 'whispered Pippinella as the party set off in a new direction under the guidance of One–Eyed Alf, 'you'll have to protect the Doctor. Once it gets round that he is doctoring animals he is just swamped with patients of all kinds. Dab–Dab told me it always happens this way. He'll never get to my window–cleaner if you let him be side–tracked by every sparrow who wants to see him.'

And it turned out that Pippinella was right in her fears. For when John Dolittle arrived at the place where One–Eyed Alf was leading them he found plenty of work for him. In the back yard of an empty house in one of London's slummiest quarters there was awaiting him not one sparrow but over fifty. Birds with broken legs, birds that had been bitten by dogs, birds that had fallen into paint pots—even birds that had their tails injured under carriage wheels were there. All the accidents, all the casualties of London's sparrowdom were gathered to await the arrival of the famous Doctor.

'I'm sorry, Doc,' said One–Eyed Alf as he gazed over the collection of patients waiting in the grimy yard. 'I didn't mean to let you in for nothing like this. I told Maria to keep quiet about your coming here. But you know how women is—they must talk.'

'Lor' bless us!' murmured Cheapside, scratching the top of his head with a thoughtful claw. 'Like Puddleby days, ain't it, Doctor? I don't know what you better do. I s'pose the dogs and cats will 'ear of it next and you'll have another bunch of hinvalids waitin' for you tomorrow. P'raps you better disguises yourself and let me give it out that you've left town.'

'No, Cheapside,' said the Doctor. 'That would never do. I must patch these birds up, now I'm here. But I think you had better let it be known that I will see animals patients between seven and ten every morning out at Greenheath. That's what I've had to do in other towns―regular dispensary hours. Now, which is your sister, Alf?'

'That's Maria across there in the corner,' said the gang leader. 'Hey, Maria! Come over 'ere. The Doctor wants you.'

A very dejected little bird, trailing a stiff wing behind her on the ground, shuffled her way through the throng of sparrows and approached the Doctor.

In a moment John Dolittle had his little black bag open, and then his fat but nimble fingers got busy with the tiny wing joints of the patient.

'Yes,' he said, 'it's broken—in the upper bone. But we can mend it. You'll have to wear a cast for a week or two and carry your wing in a sling. Find a dry sheltered spot, a place where cats can't reach you, and keep perfectly still for ten days at least. Have your brother, Alf, bring your meals to you as before. Don't peck this plaster off till I have seen you again. There you are, now! A strip of this handkerchief will make a sling for you—so—round your neck. Now you're all fixed up. Next, please.'

The second patient to come forward was a very woeful sight—a young, inexperienced bird who had been fighting on a new building. In his excitement he had fallen into a paint pot and all his feathers were caked stiff with white lead, making it, of course, impossible for him to fly. The Doctor's task here was to take the paint out of the plumage without injuring the bird's skin.

Then came a bad case of dog bite. A sparrow who lived around a cab rank, feeding on the oats that fell from the nose bags, had been caught off his guard and severely mauled by a fox terrier.

'One of the cab horses moved and trod on the dog's tail just in the nick of time,' said the patient, telling the story of his adventures as the Doctor's swift hands felt for the injured rib. 'If he hadn't 'a done that I'd be a goner for sure. I was half–way down his throat when he gave an awful yelp and coughed me up again. Then I scurried under the cab–man's shelter while he nursed his tail.'

'The horse must have been a friend of yours,' said the Doctor. 'Lucky escape. No serious harm done. Some sprains. You'll be all over it in a week. Next, please!'

The afternoon was more than half gone before the Doctor had attended to all his patients and was able to continue his way to the workhouse.

Reaching that gloomy building at last, he knocked upon the door marked 'Visitors' and was admitted by a porter. He had asked Cheapside and Becky to wait for him outside. He was conducted to a large waiting–room and presently the superintendent appeared and inquired whom it was he wished to see. When he said it was someone in the infirmary the Doctor in charge was brought forward. Not knowing the window–cleaner's name, John Dolittle had to describe him as best he could, and at length he succeeded in making the authorities understand who its was.

'Oh, you mean the man in bed No. 17,' said the doctor in charge. 'Humph! You can't see him. He's very sick.'

'What's the matter with him?' asked John Dolittle.

'Memory gone,' said the other, shaking his heads gravely. 'A very bad case.'

Well, finally, after explaining that he himself was a doctor of medicine, the visitor was told that he might see the sick man, but must not remain with him long.

'He gets so easily excited,' the workhouse doctor explained as he led the way down a long passage and up a flight of stairs. 'We moved him into a private room last week. It's a very mysterious case altogether. He seems to have forgotten even his name. Gets dreadfully worked up when anyone asks him. I'm afraid we have very little hope of his recovery.'

Upstairs they were taken to a small room at the end of another corridor. And by the light of a candle, for it was now growing dark, the Doctor saw a man lying in a bed.

'He seems to be sleeping,' John Dolittle whispered to the doctor in charge. 'Would you please leave me with him till he wakes up?'

'All right,' said the other. 'But don't stay long, and please don't get him excited.'

As soon as the door was closed the Doctor brought Pippinella's cage out of his pocket and stood it on the table beside the bed.

'It's he, Doctor,' whispered the canary. And she chirruped gently with joy. Instantly the man on the bed opened his eyes and tried weakly to sit up. For a moment he stared stupidly at the bird in the cage.

'Pip–Pippin—' he began hesitatingly. 'No, I can't remember. It's all hazy.'

'Pippinella—your canary. Don't you recognize her?' said the Doctor quietly from the chair beside the bed.

The sick man had not realized there was another person in the room. He turned suddenly and glared at the Doctor in a funny, frightened sort of way.

'Who are you? he asked suspiciously.

'My name is Dolittle,' said the Doctor—'John Dolittle. I'm a physician. Don't be afraid of me. I've brought you your canary—Pippinella.'

'I don't know you,' said the window–cleaner in a hoarse gasp. 'This is some plot—a trick. But it's no good now. You can't worm any secrets out of me. I haven't any. Don't even know my own name. Hah! It's a good joke. Everything a blank. Memory gone. And no one can get it back for me. I was so successful keeping my life a secret from the world that now no one can tell me even who I am!'

As the window–cleaner finished speaking he sank back on the bed and closed his eyes.

'Oh, dear!' whispered Pippinella. 'What shall we do, Doctor? What shall we do?'

The Doctor though a moment in silence. Then he leaned forward and touched the patient gently on the shoulder.

'Listen,' he said. 'Please believe that I am your friend. I don't want to trick you into telling me your secrets. I know a great deal of your life already. In fact, I am the only man in the world who does know. You have been very ill. But you are going to get all right again. You are going to get your memory back. Let us see if we can't recall things. You remember the windmill on the hill?'

Very quietly and soothingly John Dolittle then told the window–cleaner the story of his own life which he had learned through his knowledge of bird language from Pippinella. At first the man on the bed listened without a great deal of attention. On and on the Doctor went, telling of the old cathedral town, of Aunt Rosie's house, of the secret writings, of the kidnapping, the escape from the ship, of Ebony Island, the raft, the rescue. Gradually the window–cleaner's haggard face showed interest. At length, when the Doctor was describing his return to the mill and his finding the place deserted, the patient suddenly gave a cry and clutched John Dolittle by the arm.

'Stop!' he cried. 'I remember now. The old windmill—the hole in the floor where I kept my papers. Did you steal them?'

'No,' said the Doctor quietly. 'I have told you I am your friend.'

'But how do you know all this?' cried the other. 'It's all true—every word. It's coming back to me. Tell me what you are?'

'I'm just a doctor,' said John Dolittle—'a doctor who has spent most of his life learning the ways and the speech of animals. Most people think I'm crazy when I tell them that. But it's true. You see the canary on the table there?'

'Yes,' said the window–cleaner. 'That's Pippinella. She was stolen from me when I got back to the mill.'

'Exactly,' said the Doctor. 'Well, it was she who told me the story of your life. If you don't believe me, give me some question now to ask her and I'll show you that I can do as I say.'

The sick man gazed at the Doctor a moment, still with something of suspicion in his eyes.

'Either you are crazy or I am,' he said at last.

'I know,' said the Doctor, smiling. 'That's what everybody says. But give me a question to ask and I'll prove it.'

'Ask her,' said the window–cleaner, 'where I kept the ink.'

And then he chuckled to himself quietly.

The Doctor turned and exchanged a few words with the canary at his elbow.

'She tells me,' said he, facing the bed again, 'that you never used ink at all. You wrote in indelible pencil—everything. Is that right? She says you kept a box of them on the kitchen mantelpiece.'

The window–cleaner's eyes grew wide with wonder.

'It's uncanny,' he murmured—'absolutely uncanny. And yet—what you say must be true. The things you've told me, about the journey back to the mill—and all the rest—there was no one there but her, Pippinella. Funny I always thought she was listening and watching. So you speak her language, eh? It sounds impossible. But it must be true. I—I am sorry if I mistrusted you.'

When the infirmary doctor re–entered the room John Dolittle at once broached the subject of the patient's being moved as soon as possible. This apparently meant a great deal of filling out of papers and signing of documents. The Doctor had to guarantee that he would care for the sick man for a certain length of time. That of course he was quite willing to do. And after a day had been agreed upon for his next visit, he and Pippinella left and set off on their way home.

The canary's joy knew no bounds. She was a different bird. She sang all the way home. The night air was cold; so the Doctor put her little travelling cage in his pocket. But even there, so great was her relief to know that her friend the window–cleaner was safe, she went on warbling away at the top of her voice. And people passing the Doctor in the street were greatly puzzled to know where the sound was coming from.

When the Doctor and Pippinella arrived at Greenheath the whole family gathered about him as soon as he entered the wagon, clamouring for news.

'When is he coming?' cried Gub–Gub.

'Next Thursday,' said the Doctor,' 'if he is well enough to make the journey. I think he will recover more quickly here than at the infirmary. Theodosia, do you think you could fix up a bed in your wagon for Pippinella's friend? He'll need a great deal of rest at first.'

'Certainly, Doctor,' said Theodosia. 'I'll be happy to.'

That night Pippinella entertained the whole company with her gayest songs. She was in splendid voice because the window–cleaner was found and would have gone on all night if Dab–Dab hadn't brought the celebration to an end by reminding them that it was past twelve o'clock and time they were all asleep.

5 The Window-cleaner Tells His Name

THURSDAY came, the day when the Doctor had said he would bring Pippinella's friend away from the hospital if he was well enough to travel. And the devoted canary had the poor Doctor out of his bed very early that morning, you may be sure. Indeed, it was barely light when John Dolittle, driving a hired wagon so as to have plenty of space to carry Pippinella's friend comfortably, set out with Matthew Mugg for Billingsgate.

On their arrival Matthew took charge of the horses at the door while the Doctor went in to see the patient.

He found the window–cleaner greatly improved and most anxious to leave and come with him. And as soon as some more forms had been filled out and signed, the sick man was helped into the wagon and they started back for Greenheath.

On the way the Doctor discovered that now the window–cleaner had recovered his memory he was most anxious to get on the trail of his lost papers again. It was quite clear, too, that whatever suspicions he had had about John Dolittle's honesty he now trusted him completely.

'And is it your intention,' the doctor asked, 'to go on with your writing as soon as you are able?'

'Why, certainly,' said the other. 'But I must first get some sort of a job by which I can earn enough money for living expenses.'

The window–cleaner was half sitting, half lying, in the covered wagon. The Doctor was seated beside him. Matthew was up in front driving.

'Humph!' murmured the Doctor. 'Er—by the way, I never learned your name. Of course, if you don't want to tell me, it is your business and you have a perfect right to keep it to yourself. But while you are with us it would be more convenient if we have some name to call you by.'

The sick man sat forward slightly to see if Matthew was listening. Then he turned to the Doctor again.

'I trust you,' he said. 'I am—or was—the Dukes of Loughborough.'

'Great heavens!' said the Doctor. 'But who then is this man who now holds the title? The day arrived in London I noticed in the papers that he was leaving town for the North.'

'That is my younger brother,' said the window–cleaner. 'When I disappeared he came into the estate and the title. They supposed I was dead—as I intended they should.'

'Well, well!' murmured the Doctor. 'Tell me, why did you do it?'

'It was impossible for me to write what I wanted to write, freely, while I was still a duke. I would have got my friends into trouble.'

'I see,' said John Dolittle. 'And have you never regretted disappearing? Have you never wished to go back to your dukedom?'

'No,' said the other firmly, 'never! I may often have been sorry that I had no money to do the things I wished. But I've never regretted the step I took.'

'I understand,' said the Doctor. 'Well, now listen: we must have some sort of a name to call you by while you are with us. Have you any preferences?'

'Call me Stephen,' said the window–cleaner.

'Very good,' said the Doctor. 'Ah, look, we're coming to Greenheath now. Matthew and Mrs Mugg have made room for you in their wagon; and you are to make yourself entirely at home. And, please, ask for anything you want.'

On their arrival at the now deserted circus enclosure the Doctor insisted on the window–cleaner going to bed at once and remaining there until he gave him permission to get up. His meals were given to him by Theodosia and he was treated like one of the family.

So great was Gub–Gub's interest in the window–cleaner that the pig sneaked around secretly to get a glimpse of him from behind Mrs Mugg's skirts when she brought his lunch to him. And after he had learned that he was a real duke he could scarcely be kept away from the neighbourhood of the Mugg's wagon.

'You know, I always suspected,' he said at supper that evening—'that he was some great person in disguise. I suppose he used to ride in a carriage and drink out of gold basins before he became a window–cleaner. Fancy giving up all that just to be able to write!'

'He gave it up for the sake of other people he would help by his writing,' said Too–Too.

'It's a good thing, Doctor,' Dab–Dab put in, 'that you are the only one who can understand animals' language. Otherwise the man's secret would be all over the country now that pig knows it.'

'How long is he going to stay with us, Doctor?' asked Jip.

'I'm not sure yet,' said John Dolittle. 'Certainly till he is well enough to get about by himself. For the present he needs constant medical attention. He has not taken care of himself at all. That's one reason why his condition is so low.'

'But after he gets well,' asked Jip, 'is he going back to the mill?'

'I haven't discussed that with him,' said the Doctor. 'He says he will need some kind of a job—just to make enough money to carry on with.'

Pippinella, who had been listening to the Doctor's family discuss her friend, came forward and said:

'I won't hear of him going to work, Doctor. I have plenty of money saved up from the opera. He took care of me, now I'm going to take care of him.'

'Well, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'You can put it to no better use, I'm sure. In the meantime, he shall stay with us as long as he wishes.'

Within a day or two after Steve joined the Doctor's family, John Dolittle noticed that he did not seem as contented as he might be. Not that he said anything or complained. On the contrary, he frequently spoke gratefully of how fortunate it had been for him that he made the Doctor's acquaintance. But he so often seemed wrapped in thought and moody.

'He's thinking of those papers he lost, Doctor,' said the canary one evening after supper when they were discussing Steve. 'His health is much better and he's getting stronger all the time. But that is what is making him unhappy. In the evenings he lies in bed with a pad on his knees and tries to write; but always it ends the same way. "What's the use," he mutters. "Even if I could remember the book and rewrite it word for word—which I couldn't—even then I wouldn't have the documents to prove what I say." Then he falls to mumbling and cursing the men who robbed him.'

'Humph, too bad! Too bad!' murmured the Doctor. 'I wonder if there's anything I could do. Let me see, I might go back to the mill with him. But I doubt even then if I could do much.'

'Well, try it anyway, Doctor,' Pippinella pleaded. 'You never can tell.'

'All right,' said John Dolittle. 'If he wants me to go with him we'll take a run up one day soon. I'm sure he's well enough now. We'll take Jip with us.'

Dab–Dab, who had been listening to the Doctor and Pippinella, fluttered her wings with annoyance.

'John Dolittle!' she demanded noisily. 'You said that as soon as you found Pippinella's friend we would go back to Puddleby. Well, now he's found. Why must we wait in this deserted old mud hole?'

'Dab–Dab,' said the Doctor. 'I'm just as anxious as you to get home. But neither Pippinella nor Steve will be really happy until we at least make an effort to find the missing papers. I'm sorry, Puddleby will have to wait.'

'Oh, bother!' snapped the duck. 'The trouble with you, John Dolittle, is that you never think of yourself.'

Whitey, who was curled up half asleep in the Doctor's pocket, stuck his head out and said:

'Listen who's talking, Doctor. Why, Dab–Dab spends every minute of every day doing something for others.'

'Quite so, Whitey,' said John Dolittle, smiling, 'Quite so.'

The following morning, after the Doctor had examined Steve thoroughly, he told him that he could get up now and spend part of each day in the sunshine. But the good news didn't raise the window–cleaner's spirits as it should have. He obeyed the Doctor but sat dejectedly on the wagon steps staring into space. Then the Doctor asked him if he would like to take a run up to Wendlemere in a day or so and have a look around the old mill. Steve jumped at the offer with such enthusiasm that even Dab–Dab was glad they were going to have a try at finding the lost papers.

And that is how John Dolittle came to make still another trip to Aunt Rosie's town—this time accompanied by the window–cleaner himself. Dab–Dab packed a lunch for the two men—with a bone for Jip and seed for Pippinella. They took the morning coach form Greenheath with the canary in her travelling cage and Jip under the seat at the Doctor's feet.

6 The Search for the Missing Papers

THE party reached its destination late in the evening and, after spending the night at the inn, proceeded next morning to the mill. Things here were, of course, in a more dilapidated condition than before. But it surprised the Doctor somewhat to find the door to the kitchen unlocked and a great litter of nut shells and fruit stalks and other rubbish about the floors and window–sills. This he at first supposed must have been left by rats or squirrels. But of these creatures themselves—or, indeed, of any animal life—nothing could be seen. Hanging from a beam on the ceiling were two bats fast asleep.

In the centre of the kitchen floor was the hole where Steve had kept his papers. Beside it lay the big stone that had covered it, just as he had left it when, after discovering that this property had gone, he had departed, determined to proceed to London.

In bringing Jip the Doctor had hoped that his keen sense of smell and his eye for tracks might help in the search. And they were hardly inside the door when Jip put his nose down in the hole and sniffed long and noisily.

'Well,' asked the Doctor, 'what about it, Jip?'

For a moment Jip did not answer but continued sniffing and snuffling at the hole in the floor. Then he smelt the stone that had been the lid, or cover, to the hole. Finally, he looked up at the Doctor and said:

'The scents are mostly quite old ones and therefore very faint. It's curious the strongest of them is a badger—but not in the room here, only in the hole.'

'How odd!' said the Doctor. 'Badgers don't usually have much to do with buildings. But how about the scent of men? That's there, too, isn't it?'

'Yes,' said Jip, 'surely. But it is very dim. Of course I can plainly smell your friend the window–cleaner. The scent of his hands on the stone is fairly distinct still. But other men have been in the room around the hole quite a while before, and some again since Steve as here, I should judge. That's what puzzles me so. It would seem as though there had been two lots of men here—at different times. And then on top of it all the smell of this old badger is so strong that I'm surprised the other scents are not drowned out entirely. It is a very difficult problem in smelling altogether.'

'Humph!' muttered Steve gloomily, though of course he had not understood what Jip said. 'I'm afraid I've brought you on a fool's errand, Doctor. Everything is pretty much as I left it. You can see for yourself that the hole is empty.'

'What did he say, Doctor?' asked Jip. 'I didn't quite get that.'

'He is discouraged,' said John Dolittle. 'He fears that there isn't much chance of your doing anything.'

'Well, don't let him go away yet,' said Jip. 'I haven't finished by any means.'

'There's some sort of mystery here,' Jip continued. 'It's funny how different those two lots of men smelt. The first lot had a sort of office smell—parchment, sealing wax and ink and all that sort of thing. Probably there were two in the party. And the other was an open–air man, smelled of wood fires, stables, the mud of roads and rank tobacco. Oh, look out! Don't disturb that hole, Doctor!'

John Dolittle had knelt down and was feeling around in the loose earth that lay at the bottom of the hole.

'Why, Jip?' he asked, rising.

'You'll get the smells all mixed,' said the dog. 'Let's just leave it exactly as we found it. It'll be much easier to pick up a scent so. The first thing we've got to do is to try and run down that old badger. While you're going over the mill on the inside to see if you can find out anything I'll make a circle outside round the hill and try to pick up that badger's trail. I have a kind of notion that if we can only get hold of him he'll be able to tell us a whole lot.'

'Why?' asked the Doctor.

'Well—I've a kind of notion,' said the dog.

Jip, who as you know was quite a wonder at the fine arts of smelling and tracking, dearly loved to wrap a certain amount of mystery around his doings when employed on work of this kind. The Doctor was always willing to humour him in this and never insisted on an answer if the great expert seemed unwilling to give one. So this morning he just drew Steve away and set about examining the house and left Jip to his own devices.

All this time Pippinella was tucked away in her little travelling cage in the Doctor's pocket, she had kept absolutely quiet as she didn't want to be a bother to them. But she was relieved when John Dolittle put his hand in his pocket and drew her out.

'My goodness, Pippinella,' said the Doctor anxiously. 'I'd forgotten all about you. I am sorry,'

'That's all right. Doctor,' said the canary, blinking at the unaccustomed light. 'Perhaps if you let me out I could be of some help to you and Jip.'

'Certainly,' said John Dolittle, releasing the catch on the cage door. 'But don't go too far away from us. We may have to run for it and we don't want to leave you behind.'

'I'll be careful,' said Pippinella. 'I'll just ride around on Steve's shoulder—if you don't mind.'

'Not at all,' said the Doctor. 'Your place is with him.'

Of course the window–cleaner could not understand the conversation between the Doctor and Pippinella but he smiled and stroked her head when she flew on to his shoulder.

'Good old Pip,' said he. 'It's like old times to see you there.'

The Doctor with Steve then made a thorough examination of the premises both inside and out. They discovered very little, beyond what appeared to be signs that the mill had been occupied not so very long gao. There were still bits of candles ends here and there, some mouldy apple peel, a needle and thread which the window–cleaner was quite sure he had not left behind.

These, of course, might have showed nothing more than that the farmer had let the mill again to some other person since Steve had left. But both the Doctor and Steve thought it wiser not to go and ask him.

In the mean time the hour for lunch arrived and the Doctor sat down with his companion to enjoy the meal Dab–Dab had prepared for them. And still Jip had not returned. Indeed, it was four o'clock in the afternoon before he showed up. And when he did he looked anything but satisfied with the results of his expedition.

'It does beat everything,' he sighed as he flopped down wearily on the kitchen floor, 'how far a badger can travel when he makes up his mind to move his quarters. Holy smoke! Since I last saw you, Doctor, I've covered a circle a good twenty miles across, but not a vestige of that long–snouted old vagabond could I find. I struck many a trail, dozens—none of them very fresh—but I followed each one to the bitter end, just to make sure. They all wound up the same—at the old hole which Mr Badger had let out to some beetles a month or so before I got there. Then I consulted all the farm dogs within miles. Most of them knew him—and said he was a funny, cunning dodger. They'd never been able to catch him, though every one of them had tried many times. They reckoned it was about two or three months since he had disappeared. And that's all I got for one of the heaviest days work I've ever put in.'

'Perhaps some of the dogs killed him—ones whom you didn't talk with,' said the Doctor. 'Or possibly he may have died of old age. Badgers don't live terribly long, you know.'

'No,' said Jip patiently. 'I hardly think that's worth taking into account. This fellow was not an old badger and from what I hear he should have been easily able to take care of himself against dogs. And, as for traps, well, you know how farm dogs get around. They nose into every corner of the countryside and find out everything; they say there aren't any traps set in these parts. And there you are.'

'Humph!' said the Doctor. 'And you couldn't find any other badgers?'

'Not one,' muttered Jip.

The Doctor gazed through the dirty, cobwebby kitchen window for a moment, thoughtfully watching the setting sun that reddened the sky in the West.

'How about the rats and the mice in this place? Pippinella asked. 'There used to be plenty of them when we lived there. Perhaps they could tell us something.'

'That's what I was thinking as I came back across the fields,' said Jip. 'But I don't suppose the duffers will know. They never know anything useful. But we might try. You'll have to do it, of course. They're scared to death of me. I'd better get outside so they won't smell me so strong.

'All right,' said the Doctor. 'I'll see what I can do.'

And then, as soon as Jip had disappeared, the Duke of Loughborough, otherwise known as Steve, was treated to the spectacle of John Dolittle summoning his friends the rats. Standing in the centre of the kitchen floor the great naturalist suddenly screwed up his face and squeaked in an extraordinary high voice, at the same time gently scratching the wood of the table–top with his finger–nails. Then he sat down in the chair and waited.

After five minutes had passed and nothing had happened the Doctor went to another part of the room and repeated his peculiar summons. But still neither rats nor mice appeared.

'That's very extraordinary,' said John Dolittle. 'I wonder why they don't come. A place like this, unoccupied, must be simply riddled with rats.'

Just as he was about to go through his performance, for a third time Jip scratched at the door and the Doctor let him in.

'It's no use,' the dog said. 'You can save yourself the trouble, Doctor. There are no rats here.'

'None here!' cried the Doctor. 'Why, that's hardly possible. I should have said this was an ideal home for rats and mice.'

'No,' said Jip. 'There isn't a one. I've been around the outside examining the place where the holes come up into the open air. I know the looks of a hole that's occupied. Even without smelling it I can tell whether it's in use or not. And I didn't find a single one that rats had passed through in weeks.'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'I'm not going to doubt the opinion of an old ratter like you, Jip. But it's most extraordinary. I wonder what's the reason for it.'

'Poison,' said Jip shortly, 'rat poison. Lucky for me they used a kind I know the smell of. I picked up a bone round the back of the mill. And I was just going to start chewing it up when I caught a sniff that made me drop it like a red–hot poker. I've been laid up once by eating meat that had been poisoned and set out for rats to nibble. And I'll never get caught again. For two weeks I was so sick I could scarcely move. Well, to go back: after I'd dropped the bone I started to nose around the outhouses and I came across some bits of stale bread that had more poison smeared on them. Then I found one or two dead rats in the ditch a little distance away. That's the reason that there are none in the house. Some one poisoned them all off. And, if you ask me, I should say it was a pretty experienced rat–catcher.'

'Well, but they'd come back,' said the Doctor, 'if this work was done some time ago—as it surely must have been. Other rats would have come to live here even if all the old ones had been killed of. There's no one living in the place now to keep it clear of them.'

Jip came up close to the Doctor and whispered in a mysterious manner. 'I'm not so sure.'

'What do you mean?' asked John Dolittle.

'I'm not so sure there isn't some one living here—right now,' Jip whispered. 'I told you there was something mighty queer about this place. I saw signs around the doors of those outhouses that makes me almost believe that someone is making his home here.'

'Great heavens!' muttered the Doctor. 'This is uncanny. But it someone was living here, even in hiding, you'd have smelled him surely, wouldn't you? Your nose would have led you right to the place where he's concealed.'

'It would,' growled Jip, 'if it wasn't for that blessed old badger. The trails are so crossed and the scents so mixed up no dog could follow a smell there without getting led off it after two or three yards. Wait! Did you hear that sound?'

'No,' said the Doctor. 'Where was it coming from? My goodness, how dark it's getting. The sun has dropped below the hill. I had no idea it was so late.'

'No, I didn't hear any sound,' the Doctor repeated.

'I thought I did,' said Jip—'a sort of fluttering noise. But perhaps I was mistaken.'

'Listen, Jip,' said John Dolittle. 'If what you suspect is true, and there is someone living here, we had better set to work to find him. I don't think it's possible, myself. But your suspicions are so often correct. Now, let's see, what places are there where a man could hide? There's that old attic over your heads; there are the outhouses. And that's about all, isn't it? Oh, what about a cellar? No, there can't be any cellar, because that hole in the floor has earth in it, and if there was a cellar beneath we could see right down into it. No, the attic in the tower and the outhouses are the only places we need bother with. All right? Let's set to work.'

And after the Doctor had explained Jip's suspicions to Steve, they got an old ramshackle ladder and climbed into the attic. Jip stayed below to watch and help should they discover anyone there and Pippinella went along with the Doctor and Steve.

'Hang on tightly to Steve's shoulder, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'We mustn't get separated in the dark.'

7 The Secret Hiding Place

THE attic of the old mill was filled with every conceivable kind of rubbish. Bundles of old newspapers were piled on top of broken furniture; cobwebs had gathered on dilapidated trunks and boxes and discarded clothing lay in heaps of dust and dirt, their threads chewed and crumbled by a hundred generations of moths and beetles.

'It's obvious no one has been up here for a long time.' said the Doctor, lighting another match. 'This dust hasn't been disturbed since these things were put here.'

However, the Doctor crawled around on his hands and knees and peered into every corner. When they came down and after the Doctor had taken a candle out of his little black bag (for now they could barely see a foot ahead of them, the night was so black) they went round to the back of the mill to examine the outhouses.

Here they had no better success. The ruined buildings contained nothing more than junk, lumber and odd parts of mill machinery.

'Humph!' muttered the Doctor as they started back for the kitchen. 'I think you must be mistaken, Jip—although, goodness knows, you very seldom are in these funny notions of yours. If we could find some life in the place, rats, mice, squirrels—any kind of animals—I could question them and get some information. Listen, Steve, you are sure there is no cellar to the place?

'There was none when I was here,' said Steve. 'Of that I'm sure.'

On reaching the kitchen they found it quite dark inside. For more light the Doctor was about to open his bag and get a second candle when he discovered to his astonishment that it was no longer on the table.

'That's curious!' he muttered. 'I could have sworn I left the bag on the table.'

'So could I,' said Jip. 'But look, there it is on the chair.'

'And it has been opened,' said the Doctor, going towards it. 'I'm certain that I latched it when I left the kitchen.'

The Doctor opened the bag and looked inside.

'Why, somebody's been through it!' he whispered in astonishment. 'Everything's here, all right. But it's all topsy–turvy inside. It has been searched while we were out!'

For a moment the Doctor and the dog gazed at one another in silence. Finally John Dolittle whispered:

'You're right, Jip. There's someone in the house. But where?'

Slowly the Doctor looked around the walls.

'If only I could find some animal life,' he murmured.

'Sh!' said Jip. 'Listen!'

All four of them kept still. And presently, faintly but quite plainly, they heard a curious little fluttering, rustling sound.

'Look!' said Jip, pointing his sharp nose up at the ceiling. 'The bats! They're just waking up with the coming of dark.'

The Doctor looked up. And there, from a beam across the ceiling, hung two little bats. Fitfully and sleepily they stirred their wings, making ready to start out on their night rounds. They were the only living things that John Dolittle had seen since he had entered the mill.

'Dear me!' he said. 'Why didn't I think of that before? Bats—of course! Nobody could poison them off without first poisoning the flies. Well, I must see what they can tell us.'

The odd furry creatures were now circling around the room, their queer shapes throwing strange shadows on the wall in the dim light of the candle.

'Listen,' said the Doctor in bat language (it was a very strange language and consisted mostly of high needle–like squeaks, so faint that they could scarcely be heard by the ordinary ear). 'I have several things I would like to ask you. First of all, is this house occupied?'

'Oh, yes,' said the bats, still flying around in endless circles. 'Someone has been living here off and on for ever so long.'

'Is there anyone here now?' asked the Doctor.

'Most likely,' said they. 'He was here last night. But, of course, during the daytime we sleep. He may have gone away.'

'What can you tell me about this hole?' asked the Doctor, pointing to the floor.

'That was where the man beside you kept his papers,' said the bats.

'Yes, I know that,' said John Dolittle. 'But the papers were stolen or something during his absence. Did you see anything of that?'

'It was a very complicated, mixed–up business,' squeaked the bats. 'But, as it happened, we saw it all, because, although the papers changed hands three times, it all took place in the evening or night, and we were awake and watching.'

'The papers changed hands three times!' cried the Doctor. 'Good heaven! Go on, go on! Who took them first?'

'The badger,' said the bats. 'He used to live outside, but he thought he'd like to come inside for the winter. So he started making a tunnel from the outside. We watched him. He bored right down and came up in the middle of the floor. But the flagging stones were too heavy for him to lift and he could get no further. However, one evening a man came and made his home here. Then about a week afterwards two more men came. The man who was living here hid himself. The two newcomers hunted and hunted as though they were looking for something. At last they started taking up the stones of the floor and they found that hole and got the cover of it pried half–way up. But just at that moment the farmer who owns this place came to the mill with one of his helpers. The men in the kitchen only just had time to scuttle away, leaving the hole as it was. It was the funniest thing. You'd think it was some new kind of hide–and–seek game. The farmer did some bolting and hammering up—he didn't come inside the kitchen—and then he left. Very soon we saw the badger's nose appear at the half–opened stone, trying to get up into the kitchen and scratching away like everything. But soon he was disturbed, because the first man—the one who had been living here all the time—appeared again and pulled the stone right up and laid it down as you see it now. But the badger, who had been working underneath, had thrown earth all over the papers and you couldn't see anything inside but dirt. So the man just left the hole the way it was and set about preparing his supper. And all the time the papers were still lying underneath.

'There the paper would have stayed awhile,' the bats went on, 'if the badger hadn't late that night, when the man was sleeping, again started poking about in the hole. He had made up his mind, it seemed, to have that hole for a home, and the first thing he did was to throw the papers out on to the floor of the kitchen. And there the papers lay for anyone to pick up. We supposed,' said the bat, 'the man who was staying here would find them in the morning and keep them. But the other two fellows came back about an hour after he had gone to sleep. However, he heard them coming and woke up. Then he hid himself and watched. The other two did not, of course, know there was anyone staying at the mill.

'And as soon as they felt sure the farmer had gone for the night they entered the kitchen, lit candles and made themselves at home. And there, the first thing they saw, was the papers they had been looking for, lying on the floor, as large as life. They put them on the table and started going through them. After a while one of them went out to investigate a noise they heard and while he was gone he must have fallen and hurt himself, for he suddenly called to his partner, who left the papers and hurriedly ran out to join him. Then, while they were both gone, the man who was living here sneaked out, took the papers and hid himself again.

'When the two came back they didn't know what to make of it. Finally they decided the mill must be occupied. And, drawing pistols out of their pockets, they went hunting around the place, looking for the man who had taken the papers. But they never found him, and finally, about dawn, when we were thinking of going to bed, they departed in disgust and never showed up again.'

'And they left the papers then in the hands of the man who still occupies the mill?' the Doctor asked.

'Yes,' said the bats, 'so far as we know, he has them still.''

'Good heavens!' muttered the Doctor. 'What an extraordinary story.'

And, turning, he translated what the bats had told him to Steve. Meanwhile the odd creatures went on wheeling in silent circles about the dim–lit room, as though playing a game of touch with their shadows on the walls.

'Splendid!' whispered Steve, when the Doctor finished. 'Then we may rescue them yet.'

John Dolittle turned back to the bats.

'And you never found out where the man hides himself?' he asked.

'Why, certainly,' said the bats. 'He hides himself in the cellar. He's probably there now.'

'But I understood there was no cellar,' said the Doctor, gazing down into the hole in the floor. 'This gentleman with me lived here for years, and he says he never found one.'

'No,' said the bats, 'no one would find it except by chance. There's a secret passage to it. The man who lives there blundered on it by accident. It isn't under the part of the floor where the hole is at all. It's under the other half of the kitchen. Listen; you see that big white stone in the wall over there at about the height of a man's head? well, you push it at the lower left–hand corner and it will swing inward, showing a passage. Then if you stand on a chair and crawl into a hole you'll find a stairway leading downwards on your left, built inside the wall.'

Again the Doctor translated to Steve. And the window–cleaner got so excited he was all for getting a chair and staring right away. But the Doctor held up his hand.

'We've got to go slowly,' he whispered. 'We don't know yet whether this man has the paper on him. Wait, now. This needs thinking out.'

In whispers, then, the Doctor and Steve worked out a plan of action while the bats went on circling around the guttering candles. Under the table Jip, with ears cocked, sat tense and still, listening for sounds from beneath the floor.

'It is most important,' said the Doctor, 'not to alarm the man before we are certain where he has those papers. Because, once he knows what we're after, you may be sure he'll never let us get a glimpse of them.'

'Quite right,' whispered Steve. 'Certainly he realizes their value. I imagine his idea is to blackmail the agents of the government who came her for them and sell them to them, if he gets a chance. I have no notion who he can be; just some chances shady character, I fancy, who has blundered into this by accident and hopes to make some money out of it. What plan would you suggest?'

'Let us pretend that we are leaving the mill altogether.' said the Doctor. 'I don't think he can have any idea yet what we're after. Then we'll come back and watch. If we have luck he may go to the place where he has hidden the papers and give the show away. Then we'll have to rush him and hope to overpower him before he destroys them.'

'Your idea is good,' said Steve gravely, 'Could we overlook the kitchen from the window, do you think?'

'Quite easily,' said the Doctor. 'But we must be terribly careful that he does not see us or get suspicious. We will begin by noisily making preparation for our departure. When we are outside we can settle other details.'

8 The Thief Escapes

THEN suddenly talking out loud, the Doctor closed his bag with a snap. And with much tramping of feet the two of them, followed by Jip, left the mill.

After they had gone about a hundred yards along the path that led down the hill into the town, the Doctor said to Jip:

'Now you run on ahead and do a little barking—just like a dog setting out on a walk would do. Don't bother about us; we're going to stay here a while and then go back to the mill. But I want you to continue barking, moving slowly farther away all the time, so the man will think we're going on into the town.'

'All right,' said Jip. 'I understand. But don't forget to whistle for me, if there's a fight.'

The Doctor assured Jip that he would. Then, taking Pippinella's small cage out of his pocket, he put the green canary in it and returned it to its hiding–place.

'If we should have some trouble,' he said to her, 'You'll be safer there. Most birds—except bats and owls—don't see too well in the dark.'

'Yes,' said Pippinella. 'That's why we hide ourselves in the trees when the sun goes down. With cats on the prowl at night that's the only way we can hope to be sfae.'

'Quite so,' said John Dolittle. 'Please be very quiet, Pippinella.'

By now Jip was off down the hill and Steve and the Doctor could hear him bark out every once in a while, each time a little farther away. After waiting a few minutes they turned and made their way slowly and carefully back.

When they were within about fifty yards of the mill the Doctor motioned to Steve, and they hid themselves behind some bushes.

'I ought to have told those bats to keep me informed,' whispered the Doctor. 'Silly of me not to have thought of it. Listen! There's somebody opening the kitchen door.'

Presently Steve and the Doctor saw the door of the mill open slowly. A man came out and stood motionless, listening. In the distance Jip, still cheerfully yapping for an imaginary man to throw stones, could be plainly heard from below the hill.

After a while the man seemed satisfied that his visitors had really departed for he re–entered cautiously and closed the door behind him.

'Look!' said the Doctor. 'He's lighting candles. He has hung something over the window, but you can just see a glimmer through the chinks of the door.'

The Doctor and Steve were about to move forwards form their hiding–places when they heard the faint fluttering of wings near their heads. Against the sky they saw queer little shapes dancing. It was the bats.

'He turned us out,' they said to the Doctor. 'We wanted to stay and see if we could get you any information. But he flapped us out of the kitchen with a towel. You know some people think we bring bad luck.'

'Did you see anything of the papers?' asked the Doctor.

'Yes,' said they. 'He went and brought them up from the cellar, after he had closed the door and lit the candles. He's examining them on the table. He doesn't seem to be able to read very well, because he spends an awful long time over one line. We couldn't find out any more, because shortly after he started reading he saw us and drove us out.'

'Thank you,' said the Doctor, 'what you have told us is very valuable.' And he translated the bats' information for the benefit of Steve.

'We're going to have a job,' the Doctor added, 'because that door is probably securely fastened from the inside. And the window is too small to get through in a hurry.'

'I should think,' said Steve, 'the best way would be to watch him and wait till he goes out for a minute. The chances are that he'll leave them on the table if he does.'

'Well,' said the Doctor. 'let's sneak up and get a look at him, if we can, through the cracks of the door. Then we may be able to know better what to do.'

Together, then, the two taking the utmost care to make no noise, crept forward to the hill till they stood beneath the great towering shadow of the mill. On the left–hand side of the door the woodwork had wrapped away from the frame, leaving a narrow chink. Through this the Doctor peered.

Inside he saw a ragged, rough–looking man, with a stubby growth of beard on his chin, seated at the table. The table was littered deep in papers. Underneath the table was a piece of sacking spread out flat, in which they had evidently been wrapped and carried.

'Tweet! Tweet!' whistled the canary from the Doctor's pocket.

'What is it, Pippinella?' asked John Dolittle bringing her tiny cage in the open.

'Do you mind if I have a peek at that fellow?' she asked. 'I may need to recognize him later.'

'Certainly,' said the Doctor. And he placed the cage at the opening through which they had been peering.

When she had memorized his features thoroughly the Doctor returned her to his pocket and speaking to Steve said:

'If only I knew,' he said, 'what kind of a fastening this door had on the inside I could tell what chance we'd have in rushing it. If it gave way to one good heave we might grab the fellow and secure your papers before he had time to do anything.'

'No. Better wait,' whispered Steve. 'If the door should not break down easily he'd be warned and have lots of time to destroy the papers in the fireplace or anything else. Better wait to see if he comes out. Can't you think of a way to entice him out?'

'Humph!' said the Doctor. 'Not without grave risk of arousing his suspicions and making matters worse than they are. Well, let's wait a while, then, and see what he does.'

So, despite the cold night wind, which had now begun to blow freshly from the East, the Doctor and Steve kept guard at the door, watching through the cracks, hoping the man would get up and come out. John Dolittle had it all planned exactly how they should jump on him, one from each side, and secure him before he had a chance to resist.

But hour after hour went by, and still old Jip kept cheerfully yapping away below the hill and never a sign or a move did the man make.

Finally the Doctor thought he had better go down the hill and relieve poor Jip, who was still performing the part given him and barking cheerily at regular intervals. So, leaving Steve to continue watching, John Dolittle set off down the hill, and finally found Jip—by this time well within the streets of the town—and told him how things were.

'Bother the luck! muttered Jip. 'Well, what are you going to do, Doctor?'

'I don't know, Jip,' said John Dolittle. 'But we are determined we're going to get those papers, if we have to wait all night.'

'How would it be, Doctor,' asked the dog? 'If I were to moan and whine around the mill? Maybe that would entice him out and you could jump on him at the door.'

'No,' said the Doctor, 'I think not. We're so afraid of scaring him, you see.'

'You couldn't get up on top of the tower and drop down on him from the inside?' asked Jip.

'Not without making enough noise to wake the dead,' said the Doctor. 'You better stop barking now. You may get the townsfolk aroused and do more harm than good. Come on up the hill, nearer the mill, but, for heaven's sake, don't make a sound!'

So once more they proceed cautiously up the hill, and, after the Doctor had stowed Jip away beneath a hedge and repeated his instructions about keeping quiet, he rejoined Steve at the door.

'Has he moved yet?' he asked.

'Not an inch,' whispered the window–cleaner. 'I believe he's reading my book from beginning to end.'

'Tut, tut!' muttered the Doctor. 'Luck seems against us tonight. What's that? Oh, the bats again.'

Once more the little hovering shadows circled around John Dolittle's head.

'Listen!' the Doctor whispered. 'Do you think you could get inside from the top and tell me what kind of a fastening he has on this door?'

'Oh, we know already,' said the bats. 'He has hardly anything at all—just a small, crazy bolt that you could easily force.

'Good,' said John Dolittle.

'Then he explained to Steve how they were both to draw back and to rush the door together.

'With the weight of the two of us it should surely give,' he whispered. But we must be sure to hit it together. Now, are you ready? Go!'

Together they charged. And together their shoulders hit the panels with a rash. The door gave way to the splintering sound of wood and fell inward. But, unfortunately, the Doctor fell on top of it and tripped Steve up, too. With a sweep of his hand the man at the table put out the candle. The Doctor scrambled to his feet and jumped for where he thought the table was. He found the table, but no man and no papers. The thief had lifted the piece of sacking cloth bodily and rolled it up.

'Guard the door, Steve!' yelled the doctor. 'Don't let him out!'

But he was too late. Steve, over–anxious to recover his papers, had already plunged into the dark room and was feeling and stumbling around wildly. Against the patch of sky framed in the door way the Doctor saw a man's figure, with a bundle under his arm, bound outward into the night.

'Jip!' he yelled—'Jip! Look out, Jip! He's getting away. And he's got the papers with him!'

Still calling for Jip, the Doctor jumped over the fallen door and ran out into the open. The wind had now increased and was blowing strongly from the East. John Dolittle, knowing that the man had doubled away to the right, realized at once that the weather was again him. Jim, who he had left a little below the crest of the hill, was to the windward. But the Doctor's voice and the man's sent would be carried in the opposite direction.

Thus it was at least tow minutes elapsed before John Dolittle could get Jip's attention at all. And by that time the man had got a good start, downwind. However, Jip shot away on the trail at once and the Doctor and Steve blunder after him through the windy night as best they could.

'Even with the weather against him,' the Doctor panted as he stumbled over the uneven ground, 'Jip may yet keep in touch with the scamp. He's a wonder, that dog, when it comes to tracking.'

'I only hope that fellow doesn't destroy the papers,' muttered Steve.

'No, I don't think that's likely,' said John Dolittle. 'After all, why should he? He certainly could not make anything out of them if he did that.'

'He might want to get rid of evidence that he had stolen them,' said Steve.

After about a twenty–minute run, during which the two men entirely lost touch with the dog, they ran into Jip returning from the hunt. His miserable, dejected appearance told them at once that he had met with nothing but failure.

'It's no good Doctor,' said he. 'He got away, confound him! As soon as I heard you call I dashed off to try to get ahead of hi, where the wind would blow the smell of him towards me, instead of away. But what with the start he had and the crossed trails that wretched old badger had left behind, it couldn't be done. He must have got into the woods below the second filed—of course, he'd know the country like his own hand, having lived here. And, although my speed is better than his, the lay of the land is new to me. I hunted right through the woods and along every ditch where he might have hidden. The forest was quite large and beyond it I came out on a road. I followed it a way, thinking he'd likely have stuck to it because it gave him a chance for clear running in the dark.

'This road led round, in a wandering sort of zig–zag, back into the town on the far side,' continued Jip. 'There, the wind was against me again. And to find him by myself among the houses would be pretty nearly impossible, even if he did not go on through the town—which he probably did. I'm sorry to have failed you, Doctor. but you see how things were, don't you.'

'Oh, quite, Jip, quite.' said the Doctor. 'Too bad, too bad! Have you anything to suggest that we might do?'

'We could go into the town,' said Jip gloomily. 'The three of us, by hunting through it thoroughly, might run him down. But I have my doubts. I've a notion that customer had been chased before and knows a good deal about the game of lying low.'

The Doctor explained to Steve what the dog had said and the three of them, after the door had been put back in its place to keep the rain out, made their way down into the town. By the time they got there it was three o'clock in the morning. As yet, except for a sleepy watchman in the market square, there was no one abroad.

The Doctor had very little hope of accomplishing anything, but he proceeded with the help of his companions to make a thorough search of all the streets. Each one took a section of the town, and it was agreed that they should meet again in the square after an hour had passed.

But quite early in the hunt John Dolittle realized that it would be perfectly easy for a man to hide, when hunted at such a time as this with all the townsfolk abed, to find some shrubbery in a garden, or a stable, or other place of refuge, from which he could not be routed without walking up the whole town. And as the nature of their business was something which Steve did not wish to have made public, it would not be possible to arrest him in the ordinary way.

When the Doctor returned to the square the first of the market gardeners were beginning to arrive with their wagons of vegetables. While he waited for the return of Steve and Jip. John Dolittle reviewed the events of the night; he tried to imagine what he would do, were be the hunted man. The only idea that came to him was that he would most likely try to make his way to London where it would be easy to lose oneself in the crowds. With this in mind he made inquiries of the farmers who were arriving from that direction, hoping to hear that one of them had seen the tramp with the sacking bundle under his arm. But they all gave him the same reply. Nobody had seen the stranger the Doctor described.

Neither Steve nor Jip, when they finally turned up, had any better report to give than his own. It was decided then to have breakfast and talk over what they would do next.

9 The Runaway Coach

BREAKFAST was a sad affair. Steve's dejection over the loss of his papers affected all the members of the party. The Doctor sat in silence, eating his boiled egg, with little relish, while Steve just pushed the bacon on his plate from one spot to the other.

'You know, Doctor,' he began, 'I don't believe I was ever meant to finish my book. I think I had better drop the whole thing.'

'I wouldn't do that,' replied the Doctor. Men like you are needed in this topsy–turvy world. If someone doesn't do something about the unfortunate people in other countries they may start another war—and then, sooner or later we'd get mixed up in it, too. Cheer up, Steve. We're not giving up yet. That fellow may still be lurking about round here—waiting for a chance to get a ride up to London.'

'And if he does,' said Steve, 'how on earth are we ever going to find him there?'

'We found you, didn't we?' said the Doctor. 'Cheapside and his sparrow gangs spent less than a day doing it, too.' The Doctor smiled. 'I wish we had had him here; that thief wouldn't have got very far with your papers.' And turning to Jip, the Doctor went on:

'I don't blame you, Jip. Not even a pack of blood hounds could have held his scent in that wind. But birds—with their wonderful ability to dart in and out of trees—could have kept him in sight when he went into the woods.'

Jip looked a little crestfallen.

'But, Doctor,' he said, 'You forget, it was pitch dark in that woods and—'

'So it was,' said the doctor thoughtfully. 'So it was, Jip—I had forgotten. Well, now, don't worry. I still think you're the best tracker I ever knew.'

With that Jip brightened up. 'The crowds are gathering in the market square,' he said. 'Couldn't we just walk round and see if I can pick up his scent?'

'A splendid idea, Jip,' said John Dolittle. 'I'll pay the innkeeper for our breakfast and lodging and we'll get started.'

While explaining the new plan to Steve, the Doctor finished his tea and called for his bill. Pippinella had breakfasted handsomely on toast crumbs and bits of Steve's neglected bacon and was ready to start off on the hunt again. She took her place on her friend's shoulder and said to the Doctor:

'Please tell Steve that I can look out for myself. He might waste time trying to protect me when he should be concentrating on catching the rascal who has his papers.'

'Yes, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'I'll explain to him what you said.'

Then they walked among the fruit and vegetable stalls peering into the faces of those who came to buy. Jip kept sniffing at the heels of each passer–by until someone accidentally bumped him on the nose with a heavy boot. Jip let out a squeal of pain and rubbed his paw over his aching nose.

'Serves me right,' he mumbled. 'I'm acting like an amateur. If he's anywhere around here I'll get his scent without having to put my nose on every pair of heels in the market–place.'

The Doctor and Pippinella laughed at Jip's remark. But Steve, not understanding dog language, looked more put out at the heartlessness of their laughter until the Doctor explained.

'Jip is right,' John Dolittle said, after he'd repeated the dog's remark. 'We're all too tense. I think we had better go and sit down for a while. We can watch people coming and going from the bench over there.'

The sun was warm and the Doctor and Steve were very tired, not having slept at all the night before. Fully intending to keep a sharp look out for the thief, they however, soon found themselves dozing off into a deep slumber. Jip was curled up at the Doctor's feet, his head on his paws, watching with one eye open and the other snatching a moment of sleep now and then, the people milling about the square. It wasn't long before he, too, gave up and went to sleep.

But Pippinella was wide awake. Something about the night's adventures had fired her imagination. She felt as if she were living part of her life over again—just which part she couldn't decide. But there was an excitement in the air—a kind of anticipation—as she sat on Steve's sleeping shoulder watching the activity all around her.

Suddenly, as the crowd parted in front of her, Pippinella saw a familiar figure in a cashmere shawl with a market basket on her arm, walk briskly along the path in front of a group of vegetable stalls.

'Aunt Rosie!' whispered Pippinella. 'I'd forgotten she lived near her.'

Without waking her three companions, the canary flew over the heads of the villages and landed on Aunt Rosie's shoulder.

'E–e–eh!' squealed the little old lady, dropping her basket and throwing her arms into the air. 'What's that?—What's that?'

As she turned her head to see what had frightened her she gasped with astonishment.

'Pippinella!' she cried. 'I do declare! What a start you gave me. Where did you come from? Why, I thought you were up in London. I saw you in the Opera. Quite a celebrity you are these days. And just imagine—you lived in my very own parlour!'

While she chattered on, a gentleman, who had stopped to watch the queer behaviour of the little old lady, picked up Aunt Rosie's basket, and with a bow, handed it to her.

'Are you ill, madam?' he asked.

'Certainly not!' she snapped. 'I was startled by this bird. She's the prima donna of that famous opera a doctor by the name of Dolittle presented in London a few months ago. You must have read about it in the papers, sir. It made quite a sensation.'

'Indeed,' said the man, raising his eyebrows quizzically 'But if this is the same bird, what is she doing here? And how does it happen she picked you out to land on?'

'Nincompoop!' muttered Aunt Rosie under her breath. And then, smiling very smugly, she answered the stranger.

'Sometime ago she used to belong to me. I gave her away to a fellow who washed windows for me. He must have given her to that opera fellow—sold her, most likely; he was very poor. I can't imagine what she is doing here, but she must have recognized me. I wonder if she's lost.'

'Perhaps the doctor you speak of is somewhere about here,' said the man, glancing over his shoulder. 'That might account for the bird's presecen.'

The idea so surprised Aunt Rosie that she walked abruptly away from the man without so much as a nod. She began peering into the faces of the people around her, searching for the famous impresario of the opera, Doctor Dolittle. Suddenly she stopped.

'Why, my goodness, Pippinella!' she said. 'I don't even know what he looks like. Everybody in London was talking about him. And the papers were full of his pictures but each one was so different from the others I couldn't make up my mind what he did look like. I know he wore a high silk hat and—and—'

Aunt Rosie was staring across the square with her head thrust forward. When Pippinella realized that the old lady had spotted the Doctor, she spread her wings and took off for the bench.

'Doctor Dolittle! Wake up!' the canary cried. 'Aunt Rosie is coming this way!'

John Dolittle opened his eyes with a start and pushed his hat to the back of his head.

'A—um,' he said sleepily. 'What did you say, Pippinella?'

'Aunt Rosie is here,' Pippinella said. 'You remember, Doctor, the little old lady who took me out of the coal–mine.'

By the time the Doctor was fully awake and had straightened his tie, Aunt Rosie was standing before him. John Dolittle quickly arose and bowed to her.

'Doctor John Dolittle!' she cried. 'Why—my gracious me! You're the same man who came to tea that afternoon—and left in such a hurry to catch the coach. Your sister said something about your being a doctor and all that. But I was so disappointed at your sudden departure I didn't pay much attention. Imagine me having entertained the great John Dolittle. And didn't know it. I declare! I must tell the ladies of my sewing circle about this.'

Doctor Dolittle just stood there—hat in hand. It always confused the modest little man to be treated like a celebrity. He much preferred to allow others to take the bows and receive the praise.

'Good morning, madam,' he said, bowing to cover up his shyness. 'I'm very happy to see you again.'

With that, Aunt Rosie let loose a flood of questions. How had the Doctor come by Pippinella? Did he know his sister, Sarah, had moved to Liverpool? Was he planning any more operas to be presented in London? Did he ever find that fellow, the window–cleaner? Wouldn't he please come to tea some day soon and meet the ladies of the sewing circle?

The Doctor kept opening and closing his mouth in an effort to answer each question as it tumbled forth. But Aunt Rosie didn't give him a chance; she wasn't really concerned with the answers—all she wanted to do was to engage the Doctor's attention long enough so that her friends around the market–place should see her talking to the famous John Dolittle.

Suddenly, in the middle of another question, she caught sight of Steve, who had awakened and shoved his hat off his face where it had served as a shield against the bright sun. Pointing her finger at him, she cried:

'Why, there he is now—the window–cleaner! Whatever happened to you, my good man? I thought surely you'd be back to do my windows again. That maid of mine, Emily, is simply no good at it. Are you still cleaning windows?'

While Aunt Rosie was chattering on, Steve had risen from the bench, removed his hat, and was waiting for the flood of questions to cease so that he could answer one of them, at least.

'No, madam,' he finally managed to say. 'I'm living with the Doctor now. You see, the window–washing was just as mens to an end.—A way to earn some money so that I could get back to London.'

'Well, I'm not surprised,' said the old lady. 'I knew there was something different about you. I suppose you're in one of the arts—as the Doctor is?''

'In a way,' Steve replied.

The Doctor, realizing that Aunt Rosie would not stop probing until she discovered something she could take to her sewing circle friends, decided to bring the interview to an end. He took his gold watch out of his pocket and consulted it.

'We really must be going. Aunt Rosie,' he said. 'It's ten minutes to eight and we—'

'Oh, my gracious!' interrupted the woman. 'The coach for London will be here any moment. I came up to market to get some eggs for my sister—she lives in Knightsbridge, you know. Has six children and uses a tremendous quantity of food. And they get the most abominable eggs in the city —not fit to feed to a pig! It gives me a good excuse to pay her a visit every fortnight or so. Today I'm taking her some cheese as well. Did you ever taste our local cheese, Doctor? It's made right here in Wendlemere. There's none better, I tell you—finer than imported.'

'Indeed!' said the Doctor. 'I must try it sometime.'

He glanced at Steve who was waiting uncomfortably for Aunt Rosie to stop talking. The window–cleaner stepped to the old lady's side and offered her his arm.

'May I escort you to your coach, madam?'; he asked politely, knowing that John Dolittle was having a difficult time getting rid of Aunt Rosie.

'I must get my eggs and cheese first,' she said, taking his arm. 'We can chat on the way. Good–bye, Doctor. Don't forget your promise to come to tea one day.'

John Dolittle nodded as they hurried way. Pippinella, who had been on Steve's shoulder all during the conversation, called out as they left the Doctor and Jip.

'I'll just go along with Steve, if you don't mind, Doctor. I may catch a glimpse of that fellow in the crowd. If I do, I'll be back in a hurry.'

The Doctor and Jip watched Steve piloting Aunt Rosie among the stalls as she made her purchases. Finally they saw them heading towards the coach stop at the north end of the square. In the distance could be heard the clippity–clop of horses's hoofs and the jingle of harness as the London coach approached the town. Over the various sounds that accompanied a market gathering the Doctor heard the clear sweet voice of the canary as she gaily sang The Harness Jingle Song.

'Pippinella is happy again with her master,' he said to Jip. 'I suppose the jingle of the harness recalls the song she compose when she lived at the Inn of the Seven Seas.'

'Yes,' said Jip. 'It's good to hear her singing again. I hope nothing happens to part her from her friend—no that he's found.'

As they listened, the sound of the approaching coach grew louder. In the distance, the Doctor could see Aunt Rosie with her arm upraised as a signal to the driver to stop. Business around the market–place momentarily suspended while merchants and townspeople turned their heads to watch the coach from the North arrive.

Suddenly, with a thundering of hoofs and a rumble of carriage wheels, the coach tore past the stop and continued right on through the market–lace. People scattered in fright, chickens and ducks ran for their lives—their feathers flying, and the dust threw a screen over the whole town.

'What do you make of that?' asked Jip, looking puzzle. 'The Driver certainly could see that Aunt Rosie wanted to get on.'

'It's very odd,' said the Doctor. 'Wendlemere is a regular stop on this coach route. It didn't look as though the horses were running away, either. Oh, look, Jip! Here comes Pippinella.'

The green canary landed with a fluttering of wings on the Doctor's outstretched hand. Her eyes were watering from the dust cloud through which she'd flown. She was gasping for breath.

'Dear me!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'You might have crashed into a tree—flying blind like that. Now, rest a moment before you try to talk.'

He held her gently in his hand until she was able to speak.

'You saw what happened, Doctor?' she finally managed to gasp between breaths.

'Yes,' replied John Dolittle. 'And it was most puzzling. Didn't the driver see Aunt Rosie?'

'Oh, he saw her, all right!' answered the canary. 'But he drove by anyway. There's something very strange about it. I know that man. He's the most reliable drive on this road.'

'What do you mean, Pippinella,' said the Doctor. 'I don't understand. Did you say you recognized the coach–man?'

'Yes, Doctor,' replied the canary. 'I saw his face very clearly. He's my old friend, Jack—the one who used to bring me a lump of sugar when he stopped at the Inn of the Seven Seas.''

'Then something surely is amiss!' said the Doctor. 'Pippinella, do you think you could catch up to that coach?'

'Certainly!' she said. 'I can out fly him by fifty times his speed.'

'Well, go quickly then!' said the Doctor, raising his hand so that she could take off. 'And find out why he didn't stop. I'll be busy here getting help should we need it. Report back to me as soon as you can.'

10 The Papers Recovered―and Puddleby Again

WHEN the green canary left the Doctor's hand she darted through the leafy oaks that circled the market square. As she reached the outskirts of town she could see, in the distance, a cloud of dust which marked the swiftly disappearing coach. Cutting across a field to where the road swerved to the right she overtook the galloping horses and lit on the driver's shoulder.

'Jingle! Jingle! Crack and tingle. Coachman hold your horses!' she sang at the top of her lungs so as to be heard above the racket of the rumbling wheels. This song, she felt sure, Jack would remember as she had sung it to him every time his coach had entered the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Seas.

'Pippinella!' he cried. 'My old friend, Pippinella.'

But instead of smiling at her he drew his brows together and, grasping the reins more tightly in his hands, urged the panting horses on.

'Go away, Pip!' he yelled. 'Go away! There's danger here!'

But Pippinella clung more tightly than ever to the cloth of Jack's coat. Sensing that something was seriously wrong, she dug her claws more firmly into the fabric and leant way out to see who rode in the body of the carriage. A face with a stubbly beard and piercing black eyes hung out of the window. In his hand the man held a big black pistol which he was aiming at Jack's head.

It was the thief who had stolen the window–cleaner's papers!

'Go away, I say!' shouted Jack again. 'You'll get hurt if that rascal decides to pull the trigger!'

An evil gleam came into the eyes of the thief. He brandished the pistol. 'Who are y' callin' a rascal?' he screamed. 'I'll blow yer into kingdom come if yer gets sassy with me!'

Pippinella hopped to Jack's other shoulder so as not to further antagonize the dangerous passenger. For a moment or two she wondered what she had better do. Then, remembering the Doctor's orders to report back to him as soon as she could, the canary flew into the air and head back to town.

Mean while the Doctor had not been idle. With the help of Jip he had rounded up a half dozen mongrel dogs who were noted for their bravery and fighting ability.

'Listen,' said the Doctor in dog language when they had ceased barking their pleasure at meeting the famous animal physician. 'Can I count on you for some help—if I need it?'

'Why, sur–r–re, sur–r–re!' said Mac, a Scottish terrier of mixed origin. 'We're verra happy at assist ye, Doctor Dolittle. What is it ye want done?'

'I don't know yet,' replied the Doctor. 'But it may be very dangerous.' And glancing from one to the other of the eager faces watching him, he went on:

'Are you all agreed on Mac's decision?'

The dogs answered the Doctor with a perfect avalanche of tail–waggings, ear–scratchings and nose–twitchings.

'Come with me then!' ordered John Dolittle. And he started down the London road at a fast pace with Steve at his side and Jip and the pack of mongrel dogs at his heels.

As he scanned the sky for some sight of Pippinella, the Doctor heard the thud of a small object on his high silk hat. Reaching up to investigate he felt the clutching on his finger of a pair of tiny claws.

'It's you, Pippinella,' he said, lowering his hand as he continued running.

'No, it ain't "you, Pip",' said the bird. 'It's me, Cheapside! And I'd like to–know where yer goin'—and in such a hurry. It ain't good for your heart, Doc.'

'Never mind that now,' said the Doctor. 'I'm delighted to see you again, Cheapside. How does it happen you are down this way?'

'I didn't 'appen—as you say, Doc,' said the London sparrow. 'I were lookin' for you. Becky went off to visit her maw who's building a new 'ome in Hyde Park.—Uppitty, the old girl's got since she landed on the Queen's bonnet during a parade least week. Says Piccadilly ain't no fit place for a bird what's sat on the Queen's new bonnet. Well, as I was sayin': Becky went off for the day and I thought I'd 'ave a run down to Puddleby to see 'ow you was gettin' on. When I found you wasn't there I 'ad a quick look around.—Lor' bless me, Doc, things is in a mess.—Then I went to Greenheath and 'eard how you was off on another 'unt—for some missin' papers. Say, Doc, slow up a bit, will you? I 'ave to shout me lungs out to make myself 'eard. And what's the 'ounds doing at yer heels? Say the word, and I'll peck out their eyes!'

'No, no, Cheapside!' cried the Doctor. 'We're on our way to help Pippinella's friend, Jack, the coachman.'

As the Doctor was about to continue, he saw a tiny speck in the sky coming closer and closer.

'Here comes Pippinella now!' he said, slowing to a walk. 'She'll tell you the rest.'

The little party stood in the road and waited for the canary to arrive.

'She flies good—for a primer donner—don't she?' said the sparrow.

When the little canary landed on the Doctor's hand she had to sit gasping for a moment before she could speak. Then she described the predicament Jack was in.

'And the man with the pistol,' gasped Pippinella, 'is the fellow who stole Steve's papers!'

'Are you sure?' asked the Doctor.

'Yes!' replied the canary. 'One never forgets a face as ugly as his.'

'What about Steve's papers?' John Dolittle asked, anxiously. 'Did he have them with him?'

'I don't know,' replied Pippinella. 'But in any case we must help Jack.'

'Yes, indeed!' said the Doctor. 'We must carry out our plan quickly now,' he continued. He translated the canary's story to Steve in as few words as possible. Then turning to Jip, he said:

'Jip, take Mac and the others and follow Pippinella as fast as you can. Catch up to that coach and tell the horses I want them to stop. Mac, while Jip is explaining to the horses you get into the carriage and see that that rascal doesn't use his pistol!'

'We're on our way!' cried Jip. 'That thief isn't going to get away this time!'

'Wait for me,' cried Cheapside. 'What makes you think I ain't goin' along to 'ave some fun, too?'

The two birds shot into the air as the pack of dogs, led by Jip, raced down the road. By now the coach was no more than a tiny speck on the horizon and it took the strange group of pursuers a good ten minutes of their best speed to close the ever increasing distance between them. When they began to near the speeding carriage the dust became so thick they could barely see one another, nor could they breathe with comfort.

'Cut across this hayfield!' called Pippinella from above. 'The road makes a sharp turn just before those elms. We can reach the place ahead of the coach and cut them off.'

With Pippinella and Cheapside flying lower over the standing grain the dogs followed through the hay leaving a path behind them like the wake of a ship at sea. When they broke into the open the canary was ahead of them pointing the way with her bill.

'That's the spot—over there!' she cried. 'Follow me!'

They reached the shelter of the big elms as the coach rounded the bend. It was lurching from side to side as the horses pounded on in panic. Jack continued to urge them on while the man in the back hung out of the window shouting orders and waving his pistol in the air.

Jip dashed into the road and raced beside the galloping horses.

'Stop!' he cried. 'Doctor Dolittle orders you to stop!'

'We can't,' whined the horse on Jip's side. 'If we do, Jack will be killed!'

'Do what I tell you!' Jip commanded, nipping at the horse's foreleg. 'The other dogs will take care of that fellow with the pistol!'

Cheapside, sitting on the horse's ear, leant over and shouted into it:

'Do like he tells you, Milly! Else I'll peck out yer eyes!'

'Oh, hello, Cheapside,' said Milly, I'm happy to see you again.'

'Never mind the pink tea chatter, you dumb wagon–puller!' screamed the sparrow. 'The Doc says stop! And I'm 'ere to see his horders is carried out!'

Milly turned her head nervously and looked back over her shoulder while she raced on. She saw that what Jip had said was true; the dogs, led by Mac, the Scottish terrier, were jumping and clawing their way through the open window of the speeding carriage. The thief had disappeared from the window and the sound of scuffling could be heard from within. The exhausted mare turned to her team mate and, puffing and panting, said:

'Stop, Josephine! It's all right. Those dogs have taken care of that fellow. Thank goodness, Jack is safe and we can stop this senseless running.'

Gradually the two mares brought the lumbering coach to a halt. With relief from the nervous strain they became quite hysterical and wept openly.

'Brace up, me 'earties!' said Cheapside. 'There ain't no cause fer weepin'. You only did what you 'ad to!'

Milly shook the tears from her eyes and nudged Josephine with her nose.

'Cheapside's right,' she said. 'It wasn't our fault.'

With the stopping of the coach, the thief managed to turn the handle on the door and man and dogs tumbled out into the dusty road. He tried to get on to his feet to make a break for freedom but the dogs piled on to him and bore him to the ground again. Pippinella and Cheapside kept making short dives at his head, pecking him on the ears and generally worrying him into complete confusion.

''Elp! 'Elp!' yelled the frightened man. 'Call off your dogs! I'll come quiet like!'

Jack, with carriage whip in hand, stood over the milling mass of dogs and man.

'You're not so brave now,' he said—'without your pistol.'

Jip, seeing that Mac and his gang had the situation well in hand, was hunting frantically for the bundle of missing papers. With a yelp of joy he found them under the seat of the coach where the thief had hoped to conceal them.

'Pip! Pip!' he yelled. 'Come here! I've found Steve's papers!'

Meanwhile, down the winding road, could be seen the rapidly approaching figures of the Doctor and Steve, their jackets billowing out behind them. Pippinella flew to meet them with the good news that the papers had been recovered. The Doctor told Steve what Pippinella had said.

'Good old Pip!' said Steve. 'You're the best friend a man ever had.'

'Oh, I didn't do anything,' replied the canary. 'Jip was the one. He's guarding them until you get there.'

Again the Doctor interpreted.

When they reached the coach they found Jack trying to persuade Jip to let him have the bundle of papers. Knowing nothing of their history, he naturally supposed they belonged to the man the dogs were holding and that they would disclose his identity.

'Good doggy, Jack was saying as he poked his head into the carriage and tried to remove the bundle. 'I won't harm them.'

But Jip was adamant. He didn't know Jack—except through Pippinella—and he wasn't going to take any chances. He growled and bared his teeth at the coachman. But when he saw the Doctor framed in the open carriage doorway he let out a yelp of welcome.

'Thank goodness, you've come!' he said. 'I didn't want to have to bite Pip's friend. But I was determined to do it if he insisted on removing Steve's papers.'

The Doctor then took the bundle and handed it to Steve.

'Excellent work!' he said to Jip. 'I'm proud you. Come—we'll take a look at this rascal who has given us so much trouble.'

John Dolittle, with a smile at the comical positions of the dogs all piled helter–skelter on top of the cringing man—said to Mac:

'You may release him now. I want a word with him.'

The dogs untangled themselves, shook their rumpled coats, and came to stand beside the Doctor. As the man got to his feet the Doctor turned again to Mac.

'You and your friends are excellent hunter,' he said. 'Not a scratch on your quarry. I want to commend you very highly.'

'Thank you, Doctor Dolittle,' said the Scottish terrier. 'It was a bit difficult—when he got rambunctious—not t'nip his ears. But we remembered what ye said t'us.—Aboot not drawin' blood.'

The man, puzzled by the strange manoeuvres of the Doctor and Mac,—for, of course, they spoke in dog language—turned his head frantically from left to right looking for a means of escape.

'I wouldn't make any attempts to get way if I were you,' said the Doctor. 'My friends here would overtake you in the matter of moments.—And I'm not so sure I'd caution them against tearing you to pieces this time.'

'I didn't mean no 'arm, governor!' whined the man. 'I were just lookin' for a place t' get out of the weather when I seen those fellows a'sneakin' around the old mill and a' diggin' under the floor. "Well," I says to myself, "there must be something mighty important in this 'ere mill. I'll stick around and see what it is."'

By this time everyone—Steve, Jack, Pippinella and Cheapside—had joined the Doctor and the pack of dogs and were listening to the stranger's story.

'Like I said,' continued the man. 'I ain't no regular thief. I thought if those papers were so important to somebody else, they might fetch a quid or two if I could find the right person. They weren't no good to me, goodness knows, I couldn't make 'ead nor tail of 'em. All full of political talk—and about foreigners, at that. Please, governor, let me go. I ain't done no 'arm. If I'd 'a knowed this bloke were the rightful owner I'd 'a been 'appy to turn them over to 'im.'

Steve and the Doctor exchanged a glance and the window–cleaner, smiling, nodded.

'All right,' said the Doctor to the relief of all the party who were feeling sorry for the man and didn't want to see him punished after all. 'You may go. But try and stay out of trouble from now on. The police might not be so lenient with you.'

While the man started back up the road towards Wendlemere the Doctor thanked Mac and his friends for their assistance and dismissed them with a promise to return some day and pay them a visit.

Cheapside, perched on top of the coach, spoke to the Doctor.

'Is it 'ome to Puddleby now, Doc?' he asked.

'Yes, Cheapside,' replied the Doctor. 'It's home to Puddleby at last! I'm ready for a good long rest by the fire–side.'

'Hoh! Hoh!' laughed the sparrow. 'If it's rest you want, Doc, better not go 'ome. The 'ouse looks like a bloomin' 'ospital, it does—since some gossipin' bluejays passed the word around that you might be comin' back. Rabbits with busted paws sleepin' all over the place, 'orses with 'eaves lodgin' two to a stall in the stable, and a sneakin' weasel with her 'ole brood a' nasty little brats coughin' their 'eads off under the 'ouse.'

'Oh, dear,' sighted the Doctor. 'Then I must get there quickly. I'd feel terrible if one of them should die because it hadn't had the proper care.'

Jack would listen to nothing else but that he should drive the whole party home to Puddleby.

'Oh, I couldn't let you do that,' said John Dolittle. 'You see, we must go to Greenheath first and collect the rest of my family.'

'Well, that's all right,' the coach man said. 'Greenheath is on the way to Puddleby.'

'But there must be other passengers on the road waiting for you at this very moment,' said the Doctor.

'Probably,' said Jack. 'But I'm so late now it doesn't matter. The twelve o'clock coach will be along shortly and can pick up anyone bound for London. Besides,' Jack continued, 'you saved my life and I'd like to show my gratitude in some small way. Hop in, and we'll get started.'

'Well,' said the Doctor, hesitating. 'If you're sure it will be all right we'd be delighted to go home in such splendour. My, my! Our own private coach! Won't Gub–Gub be surprised. Come along, Steve and Pippinella.'

'We don't want to be a bother, Doctor,' said the window–cleaner. 'Pip and I can go up to London and—'

'Nonsense!' declared the Doctor. 'There's plenty of room at Puddleby. You can finish your book and enjoy some of Dab–Dab's excellent cooking at the same time. There is nothing she likes better than to have a company of hungry people around her table. Now, now,' he continued as Steve began to protest further. 'I won't hear of anything else. Get aboard everybody. We're off for Greenheath and home—home to Puddleby at last!'

THE END