Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Return

"But how did they know you were here?" I cried. "It has been kept a dead secret."

"I've no idea," he said. "I asked them, but they wouldn't tell me. Then after the mice had fetched up a lot of rats, the rats went off and fetched a whole lot of badgers. They brought me food, too—all sorts of stuff. Apparently they did not think I was getting enough to eat. The badgers began digging a tunnel under the prison wall to let me out by. I begged them to leave the place alone, but they wouldn't listen. Their minds were made up that it wasn't good for me to stay in jail. And there you are…. Sit down, Stubbins, sit down!"

I moved some of the papers aside on the bed and made room for myself.

"When the police discovered what a mess had been made," he went on, "they moved me into another cell, this one here. But the same thing happened again. The rats and badgers came tunnelling in at night under the walls."

"But, Doctor," said I, "outside, as I came in, they told me something about the superintendent. What does it mean?"

"It means, I fear," he said, "that I'm going to get put out of the prison altogether. After all my work in getting in here! And my book isn't one–quarter done yet!"

As the Doctor finished speaking we heard the rattling of a key in the lock. Two policemen entered. One I could see from his uniform was a superior officer of some kind. He held a paper in his hand.

"John Dolittle," he said, "I have here an order for your release."

"But, Superintendent," said the Doctor, "I was sentenced to thirty days. I've hardly been here half that time."

"I can't help it," said the superintendent. "The whole building is falling down. A new crack has just shown up in the guardroom wall—all the way from floor to ceiling. We've called the architect in and he says the whole jail is going to be wrecked if something isn't done. So we've got a special order from the court withdrawing the charge against you."

"But look here," said the Doctor, "you must admit I was a very well–behaved prisoner. All this disturbance was not my fault."

"I don't know anything about that," said the superintendent. "Whether these were your own trained circus animals that did the mischief is not the point. I've been in charge here for seven years now and nothing like this ever happened before. We've got to save the jail. The charge is withdrawn and out you've got to go."

"Dear, dear!" sighed the Doctor, "and just when I was getting so comfortably settled and everything. I don't know what I'll do now, really I don't."

He looked again at the superintendent as if he hoped he might relent and change his mind. But all that gentleman said was,

"Get your things packed up now. We've got to let the workmen in here to relay this floor."

Miserably the Doctor put his papers together and I helped him pack them into the satchel. When we were ready the police once again showed us, very politely, to the door and freedom.

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!"

"'Duffer! Didn't we tell you it was to be kept a secret?'"

"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.