Part II Chapter 14 Doctor Dolittle's Return by Hugh Lofting
THE LITTLE VILLAIN
We got back home about three in the afternoon.
Once again the whole household wanted to know what had happened—all of them, that is, except Whitey. I noticed that he was not among the welcoming committee who met us in the garden.
When the Doctor was inside the house he explained why he had come back so soon.
"Did you say your first visitor was a mouse, Doctor?" asked Dab-Dab suspiciously.
"Yes," said the Doctor. "First one and then hundreds—then rats and then badgers. They turned the whole jail upside down. It will cost the police hundreds of pounds to put the building right again. I really can't blame them for wanting to get rid of me. But just the same it was very provoking, most annoying—just when I was getting into a nice swing with my book and everything was going splendidly. You see, I had planned, after they would turn me loose at the end of my thirty days, to break another window and come in again for a new sentence. But there wouldn't have been much use in trying to do any more harm to that police-station. The mice and rats and badgers had positively wrecked the place already."
"Humph!—Mice, eh?" said Polynesia. "I smell a mouse myself now—a white mouse. Where's Whitey?"
I suddenly remembered the noise I had heard behind the books when I had been talking to Cheapside.
"Yes," I said, "where is Whitey?"
A general search for that inquisitive little animal was made at once. Too-Too discovered him hiding behind an egg-cup in the china cupboard. He was brought out looking very ashamed of himself and quite scared. Dab-Dab seemed to be the one he was most afraid of. He immediately scrambled up on to the mantelpiece to get out of her reach. Dab-Dab positively bristled with anger as she came forward to talk to him.
"Now," she said, "tell us: did you have anything to do with this?"
"With what?" asked the white mouse, trying very hard to look innocent but making a poor job of it.
"With all these mice and rats and badgers going to the prison to set the Doctor free?" snapped the duck. "Come on now—out with it. What do you know?"
The housekeeper stretched up her neck towards the small culprit with such blazing anger in her eyes that for a moment it looked as though she was going to gobble him up. Poor Whitey was absolutely terrified.
"Well," he gasped, "you see, Gub-Gub and I—"
"Oh, so Gub-Gub was in it too, was he?" said Dab-Dab. "Where's that pig?"
But Gub-Gub had apparently thought it wiser to go off gardening. At any rate he could not be found in the house.
"Go on then, go on," said Dab-Dab. "What did you and that precious Gub-Gub do?"
"We didn't really do anything," said Whitey. "But—er—well, you see—er—we couldn't find out how the Doctor was getting on over there at Goresby-St. Clements. No one could tell us even whether he was getting enough to eat or not. We knew that the food in prisons isn't usually very good. So we—er—well, I—"
"Yes, go on!" Dab-Dab hissed.
"I thought it would be a good idea to talk it over with the members of the Rat and Mouse Club," said Whitey.
Dab-Dab looked as though she was going to have a fit.
"So!" she snorted. "You knew perfectly well it was to be kept a secret—where the Doctor had gone and everything—and yet you went down and gabbled your silly little head off at the Rat and Mouse Club!"
"But don't you see," wailed Whitey, real tears coming into his pink eyes, "don't you see we didn't know what had happened to him? For all we knew he might have been put in jail for life. When we had talked it over at the club the old Prison Rat—you remember, the one who told us that story years ago—he said, 'John Dolittle should be set free right away.' He didn't tell us then how he was going to do it. But he is a very old and cunning rat—frightfully experienced where prisons are concerned. And we trusted him."
"Oh," said Dab-Dab. "Well, will you be good enough to tell us what happened next?"
Then Whitey explained how the old Prison Rat (who in his day had set free an innocent man from jail by carrying a file in to him, so that he could cut his window-bars) had taken charge of the situation and acted as commander-in-chief in this plot to set the Doctor free.
Rats and mice are curious folk. They live in the houses and homes of people although they are not wanted there—and they know it. But they listen behind the panelling or under the floors, and they hear everything and know what is going on. They know what time a man goes to bed; what time the cook closes the pantry; at what time the lady of the house wakes up; whether she takes tea or coffee for breakfast, and whether she takes it in bed or at the dining-room table. They know when the cat comes home at night and when the dog goes to sleep in front of the fire; they know all the plans of the whole family. They know everything, because they are always listening.
And so the Prison Rat, that old grey-haired veteran of many adventures, had engineered the whole thing. Directly Whitey had spoken at the club about his fears, this general had laid his plans without asking further questions. All the underground machinery of the world of rats and mice was set in motion. Word was sent out that the beloved John Dolittle, the man who had cured the sicknesses of all the animal world, was locked up in a town called Goresby-St. Clements.
The troops were mustered immediately—at first only mice and rats. The message was sent from house to house. Then the field mice were called on and the news flew across country from town to town. John Dolittle was in danger! The message reached Goresby. Larger burrowing animals, like badgers, were needed to pry up the stones of the prison floor. Food was needed! All right. Every larder for miles around was robbed of slices of cheese, pieces of bread, apples, bananas—anything. The great man must have food. At night, when only a few policemen were on guard, the army set to work and drilled tunnels under the prison walls. And that was how Goresby jail had been wrecked.
When Whitey finished his story there was a short silence. Suddenly I heard something outside. I could see from the Doctor's face that he heard it too. It came from the bottom of the garden. It was a most peculiar noise. To any ordinary ears it was just a lot of squeaks—loud squeaks. But to us who knew animal languages it meant something more. It was coming from the Rat and Mouse Club down in the Zoo. A party—a very noisy party—was going on, to celebrate the Doctor's home-coming. We listened. Speeches were being made. There was a lot of applause as one speaker ended and another began. Cheers—and more cheers. Now we could even make out the words in the distance: "Hooray! Hooray! The Doctor's back home again! Hear, hear! Hooray! ... Who brought him back? Who set him free? The Prison Rat! ... Three cheers for the Doctor! Three cheers for the Prison Rat! ... Hooray, hooray, hooray!"
The voices trailed off and faded away. Dab-Dab turned again to scold Whitey.
"You little villain!" she began, "I could—"
"Oh, never mind, never mind," said the Doctor. "Leave him alone, Dab-Dab. The harm is done now. And anyway it was the Prison Rat who was probably responsible for most of it. Whitey thought he was acting for the best, no doubt. Let bygones be bygones."