Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

As well as the big pile of unused paper there were four small ones,

carefully weighted down with stones.

Thomas and I lowered the ladder quietly--Topaz was behind us simply

panting to descend. She had to go down backwards, of course, which was most unlike a ministering angel, but she made up for that when she got to the bottom. Holding the lantern as high as she could, she cried:

"Mortmain, I've come to rescue you! It's Topaz, Mortmain, You're safe!" Father shot up into a sitting position, gasping: "Great God!

What's happened?" Then she swooped on to him and the bed went down wallop, its head and foot very nearly meeting over them.

Choking with laughter, Thomas and I dodged out of sight and down the

steps. From there we could hear a perfect hullabaloo- Father was

managing to curse, make waking-up noises, and laugh all at the same

time, while Topaz did a sort of double-bass cooing.

"Hadn't you better leave them together for a while ?"

said Simon.

"Yes, let her work off her worst histrionics," I said to Thomas.

We waited in the courtyard until we saw the lantern coming down the

mound. Then Simon tactfully decided not to be seen and went to wait in his car.

"Shall we vanish, too ?" said Thomas.

"No, we'd better get the meeting over."

We ran towards them as they crossed the bridge. Topaz was hanging on

to Father's arm--I heard her say: "Lean on me, Mortmain, lean on me"

-like little Lord Fauntleroy to his grandfather.

"Are you all right, Father ?" I called brightly.

"My dear young jailers," said Father, rather exhaustedly.

"Yes, I think I shall survive if Topaz will stop treating me as if I were both the little princes in the Tower."

As he went into the kitchen Topaz hung back, grabbed my arm and did one of her most endearing quick changes into hard-headedness.

"Cut back and see what he's written," she whispered.

We dashed up the mound; luckily I still had Simon's torch.

"Heavens, this is a thrilling moment," I said as we stood in front of the rustic table.

"Perhaps one day I shall be describing it in Father's biography."

Thomas took the stone off the first pile of paper.

"Look, this is the beginning," he said as the torch lit up a large

"Section A." He snatched the top sheet off, then let out a gasp of astonishment.

The whole of the page underneath was covered with large block

capitals--badly formed ones, such as a child makes when learning to

write. As I moved the torch along the lines, we read: THE CAT

SAT ON THE MAT. THE CAT SAT

ON THE MAT. THE

CAT SAT ON THE MAT .. . on and on, to the end of the page.

"Oh, Thomas!" I moaned.

"We've turned his brain."

"Rubbish. You heard how sanely he was talking--" "Well, perhaps he's recovering but--don't you see what's happened?" Suddenly it had come back to me.

"Don't you remember what I shouted under the door when I was so

upset?

"Write anything you like as long as you write," I told him.

"Write "The cat sat on the mat."" And he's written it!"

Thomas was turning over more pages. We read: THE CAT BIT THE FAT RAT, and so on, still in block capitals.

"It's just second childhood," I wailed.

"We've brought it on prematurely."

"Look, this is better," said Thomas.

"He's growing up," At last we saw Father's, normal handwriting, at its neatest and most exquisite.

"But what on earth- good Lord, he's been making up puzzles!"

There was an easy acrostic, a rebus, some verses with the names of

animals buried in them--every kind of childish puzzle that is in our

old bound volume of Little Folks. Then came a page of simple riddles.

On the last page of all, Father had written:

Investigate:

Old Copybooks Samplers Child's Guide to Knowledge Jig-saw Puzzles Toys in the London Museum "That's sane enough," said Thomas.

"I tell you this stuff means something."

But I didn't believe him. Oh, I had got over my first fear that Father had gone insane; but I thought all the childish nonsense was a way of passing the time--something like the game he plays with the

Encyclopedia.

Thomas had taken the stone off Section B. "Well, there's nothing childish about this," he said after a few seconds.

"Not that I can make head or tail of it."

There were a lot of numbered sentences, each about two or three lines long. At first I thought they were poetry; there were beautiful

combinations of words, and though they were mysterious I felt there was a meaning behind them. Then my new-born hope died suddenly.

"They're the clues to a crossword puzzle," I said disgustedly.

"He's just been amusing himself -I'm not going to read any more." It had just struck me that if I didn't hurry back to the castle, I might not see Simon again before he went.

"Here, come back with that torch," shouted Thomas, as I started up the ladder.

"I'm not leaving until I've looked at everything he's written." I didn't stop, so he snatched the torch from me. By the time I reached

the top of the ladder he was calling after me: "You should see Section C--it's all diagrams showing the distances between places. And he's

drawn a bird, with words coming out of its mouth."

"It's a homing pigeon," I called back derisively.

"You'll probably come to the carpet-bag and the willow-pattern plate before long."

He shouted that I was just being Harry's Father, jeering at Jacob

Wrestling "There's something in all this, I'm positive."

But I still didn't believe him. And for the moment, I didn't much

care one way or the other.

My whole mind had swung back to Simon.

Topaz came running downstairs from the bedroom as I went into the

kitchen.

"It's all right to talk -Mortmain's gone to have a bath," she said.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful that he's begun work his What did you find ?"

I so hated having to disappoint her that I told her Thomas might be

right and I might be wrong. But the minute I mentioned the crossword

puzzle her spirits sank.

"Though I'm sure he thinks he's been working," she said, worriedly.

"His mind must be confused-it's all he's been through. I've a few things to say to you, my girl But there's no time for that now;

we must do something about Simon. Cassandra, will you go with him

instead of me his Then I can stay with Mortmain. I don't want him to

know about Rose until he's recovered a bit- he doesn't even know that Simon's here."

My heart gave a leap.

"Yes, of course I'll go."

"And for goodness' sake try to make Rose see sense. I've told Simon I'd rather you went and he thinks it's a good idea- that you may have more influence with her. He's waiting in his car."

I ran upstairs and got ready. It was the wicked est moment of my life, because in spite of believing we had failed with Father, in spite of

the wretchedness I had seen on Simon's face, I was wildly happy. Rose had given him up and I was going to drive with him into the dawn.

It was still dark when I ran out to the car, but there was a vague,

woolly look about the sky and the stars were dimming. As I crossed the drawbridge I heard Heloise howling in the gatehouse room where we had left her shut in. She was up on Father's desk with her long face

pressed close to the dark window.

Seeing her reminded me that my journal was still on the desk, but

luckily Topaz came after me with some sandwiches and promised to put it away without trying to read the speed-writing.

"And give my love to Father and tell him we meant it for the best," I said--I was so happy that I wanted to be kind to every one in the

world. Then off we went--past the barn where I once overheard Simon,