Part III Chapter 11 Doctor Dolittle's Garden by Hugh Lofting
OUR MIDNIGHT VISITORS
Often, when I look back on the past, I realize that the Doctor's answer to my request to let me accompany him had the opposite effect to that which he hoped for—or expected. I made no answer whatever to his decision that night. I went to bed. But there I lay awake thinking.
What might happen if I let him go alone? I recalled what Too-Too had said: "We, the animal members of his household, would be much happier if he had some other human with him." And then, I suppose, just the fact that my coming was forbidden made it seem all the more desirable and put me on my mettle.
Anyhow, after many hours of sleeplessness, I decided that I would say nothing, lie low, and remember Too-Too's advice about keeping a very close watch on John Dolittle's movements for the next few days.
And as it turned out, it was a good thing that I did so. It is without question the proudest thing that I can boast of in my whole record that this determination, which the Doctor's refusal of my company bred in me, led to my eventually going with him.
From that night when I made up my mind I hardly let him out of my sight. No detective ever played a game of closer shadowing than I did. Whenever he sent me off on an errand I pretended to go, but sent Jip or Chee-Chee instead. From moment to moment I did not know when he might depart; but I knew where he was and exactly what he was doing. For I was quite determined that when he went he would not go without me.
In this Too-Too was the only one who helped me. There were hours of course when I could not be on the watch myself. I had to sleep. At such times the little owl did duty for me. I don't think that the Doctor ever realized how closely shadowed he was.
The hour came at last. I was fast asleep. Too-Too woke me by gently pulling my hair. In a second I was wide awake.
"Tommy!" I heard. "Get up!—Tommy! Tommy!"
"What is it?" I whispered. "What's happening?"
"Get your clothes on," whispered the owl. "The Doctor has gone out into the garden. He has his little black bag with him—and his overcoat. I have a feeling that things may be happening. Come down into the garden—Don't strike a light. Better be on the safe side. I can see. I'll guide you. But hurry—for goodness' sake!"
My bedroom was so small and I knew the exact position of everything in it so well, that it was no great feat for me to dress myself in the dark. I remember, as I felt for my clothes and finally drew them on, wondering what I had better take with me for this strange new voyage. What would one need most in the Moon?—Who could say? For who had been there? I had given this problem some thought already and decided that the freer we were of luggage the better. That had always been the Doctor's principle; and considering how impossible it was to make a choice in these circumstances, it seemed here a particularly good rule to follow.
My new big pocket knife! Yes, I must take that. I got it out of the bureau-drawer. It, with a box of matches, was all the dunnage I took. Many a time afterwards I laughed at the solution. And yet of course I did not know for certain that night, as I hunched on my overcoat in the dark, whether or no I was leaving the house and the Earth for the great voyage. Still something told me that the little owl had probably guessed right. I could hear him fidgeting and muttering somewhere near the door, impatient for me to be going. He gave a grunt of relief when I finally felt my way towards him and whispered that I was ready.
Hopping down the pitch-black stairs ahead of me he led the way, by means of his funny little grunts for signals, to the kitchen. Here I very stealthily undid the bolts of the back door which led into the garden.
I had not the vaguest notion what time it was. I knew Too-Too could tell me roughly at all events, but I was afraid to call to him. The Moon was visible, but only by fits and starts; because the gentle wind was blowing clouds across the sky in a constant procession.
Too-Too waited a moment for me to get used to the dim light of the garden. He knew that my stumbling or stepping on a cracking twig might easily give us away. He whispered that he would go forward alone and reconnoitre. I saw him crouch for a spring as though he meant to take to his wings. Flying he could see more than walking and be less likely to be noticed himself.
But he did not leave the ground. Suddenly, sharply, he turned his head. Then he came back to me.
"Tommy!" he whispered. "There are strangers in the garden. Two men have just come in at the front gate."
As I bent down to listen to him, he hopped on to my knee, and from there to my shoulder, a favourite travelling place of his when we went about together. From this lookout he could easily whisper into my ear.
"Who do you reckon they are, Too-Too?" I asked.
"Goodness only knows," he replied. "We've got to keep a close watch on them anyway. Then we'll soon know, I fancy. They're behaving mighty queerly—evidently anxious not to be seen."
"Do you think they might be burglars trying to get into the house?" I asked.
"Not the slightest chance of that," said the owl promptly. "No one in his senses would pick out the Doctor's establishment as a house to rob. Everybody knows he is almost always penniless. Everything in the house of real value John Dolittle has sold long ago. We must watch these birds and see what their game is. But it isn't plunder."
So, under whispered orders from the owl, I crept along in the shadow of bushes and hedges and tried to find out what our strange visitors had come for.
Very soon we saw it was a case of spying on spies. The two men, for the present at all events, wanted nothing more than an opportunity to find out what the Doctor was doing. There was no question now that the secret of the giant moth's presence in our garden was out. His gigantic form, lit up by the Moon's paling light, occupied the greater part of the back lawn. The black figure of the Doctor could be plainly seen scouting around it.
As a matter of fact I found myself playing a double part and watching both the Doctor and the men. I very soon saw from John Dolittle's movements that Too-Too had guessed right and that to-night was the date that the Doctor had decided on for his departure. Several suspicious-looking packages lying about the lawn, besides the black bag, showed me that John Dolittle had made preparations of a more extensive kind than he usually did for his voyages. The question now that seemed most important was: would these men try to interfere with his departure before he got away?
Altogether it was for me a strange and crazy night of adventure. At no time could I make up my mind whether it was more important to watch the Doctor than to keep my eye on the men. The men, I felt, were a menace, a danger, which at any moment might interfere with John Dolittle and with plans that could very possibly mean a great, great deal to the advancement of science and knowledge for the human race. On the other hand, if I neglected to watch the Doctor himself, he might quite possibly take flight with the moon moth and leave me behind.
While Too-Too and I were trying to make up our minds which we should give our best attention to, the men, to our great astonishment, came out from their concealment in the shrubbery and boldly walked up to the Doctor on the lawn.
"Good evening, Doctor Dolittle," we heard them say. "We represent the Slopshire Courier. We understand that you are interested in certain experiments and natural history research of a novel and sensational character. Would you be so good as to answer a few questions?"
"There you are, they're reporters!" whispered Too-Too. "I had expected as much. I wonder how on earth they heard of the moth's being here though."
"Well—er-" the Doctor began, "this is a very unconventional hour for you to call on me. But perhaps, if you came back in a few hours—say at ten or eleven in the morning—I might find time to give you an interview. Just now I am very busy."
The reporters who were clearly anxious to get the information they wanted right away (so as to be ahead of the other papers in their announcements) conversed together a moment before replying. Then they turned back to the Doctor. Neither Too-Too nor I heard exactly what they said. But whatever it was it seemed to be agreeable to the Doctor and in keeping with his wishes. For immediately after, the two men retired and the Doctor disappeared into another part of the garden.
It is quite certain that without Too-Too's aid in this night's work things could never have turned out as successfully as they did. I have often thought since that if the little owl had ever wanted to enter the profession of animal detective the great Kling could have been easily surpassed.
For Too-Too certainly had a gift for seeing things without being seen. Directly the men parted from the Doctor, he parted from me.
"Listen," said he before he left my shoulder: "I don't trust those gentlemen. We have a double job to-night. The Doctor should be the easier of the two, because he will be less suspicious. You watch him. I'll keep an eye on the newspaper fellows. It may be that they'll clear out, as they said they would. And then again they may not. We can't afford to risk it. You go ahead and watch John Dolittle and I'll let you know if the Slopshire Courier's men do anything out of the ordinary. Remember, whatever happens, the Doctor must not go on this voyage alone."
"All right, Too-Too," I said, "I'm ready for all emergencies. Go ahead."
With a little flirt of his wings, the owl left my shoulder and soared away into the darkness of the night. Then very, very stealthily and cautiously I made my way along the garden, keeping always in the shadow of hedges and shrubs, towards the great figure of the moon moth squatting on the lawn.
It wasn't easy work. For one thing I could not locate the Doctor himself for quite a while. And I was scared that any minute I might run into him and have to confess that I'd been spying. I didn't feel at all guilty about that. If Too-Too, speaking for the animal household in general, felt it necessary that he should be watched, I was very willing to do it without any qualms of conscience at all. What might not depend on my vigilance and skill? He must not go alone.
What was that?—Yes, the Doctor's figure coming out from behind the shadow of the moth. In his hands he held two packages. I wished that I had Too-Too's trick of seeing clearly in the dark. Dare I move a little closer?
As a matter of fact I did not have a chance to, before I found Too-Too back on my shoulder. With a gentle fanning of wings he dropped down beside my right ear as gently as a butterfly landing on a leaf.
"They haven't gone, Tommy," he whispered.—"Never had any intention to, I imagine. They clattered down the front steps, making a great noise, but almost immediately came back again on tip-toe. They are now hanging around the front garden close to the wall."
"What do you think we had better do?" I asked. "Well, as far as I can see it's a choice of two things," said he. "Either we continue to watch them and see how much they find out; or we wake up Bumpo and get him to chuck them off the premises. Myself, I'm all for throwing them out. I think it can be done too without the Doctor's realizing that you've been watching him. That's important of course."
"I think you are right," said I. "Suppose you take a spell at watching the Doctor while I go and wake Bumpo. I don't imagine they'll hang about long after he has recommended an early departure to them."
To this the owl agreed. And I wasted no time in getting to the business of rousing Bumpo—always a long job at best.
I found His Highness the Crown Prince of the Jolliginki snoring away in the deadest sleep a simple nature ever slept. By ten solid minutes of vigorous pummelling I managed finally to get a grunt out of him, and by keeping at the work without pity for another five I got him to sit up.
"Is it a conflagration, Tommy?" he asked sleepily rubbing his enormous fists into his still more enormous face. "It can't be time to get up yet. It's still dark."
"Listen, Bumpo," said I shaking him: "pull yourself together. It's important, serious. I'm awfully sorry to disturb you but it just couldn't be helped. Two men have come into the garden. They're newspaper reporters, it seems, spying on the Doctor. The Doctor himself is still working with the giant moth. We didn't want to disturb him. But these strangers must be got out, off the premises, you understand. You're the only one who can make them go. Get up and dress—quick."