J.T. Edson - Blonde Genius

Advancing to the foot of the wall, while her companions kept watch for any others of the domestic staff who might be taking constitutional strolls, Amanda set free her rope and grapnel. She did not bother to open the latter, knowing that its shape would be inconducive to accurate throwing. Instead, she uncoiled the rope and tossed the weighted end upwards.

Passing over the wall, the grapnel dropped downwards until the rope struck the stone. Swung inwards, the grapnel struck the hard surface and its quadruple, carefully shaped, hooks sprang open. Amanda drew gently on the rope. Rising to the top of the wall once more, two of the hooks engaged and grasped it securely.

Climbing swiftly, Amanda peered over the wall. She studied the grounds before completing her ascent, satisfying herself that she could do so without fear of being observed. There had been, she noticed with satisfaction, no major or significant alterations to the lay-out of the gardens. So she turned her attention to the villa. Most of the ground floor’s interior lights appeared to be on, but the upper stories were in darkness. The front exterior wall, however, was illuminated.

That had been anticipated and was catered for in the plans laid down by the School Swot. She had moulded her line of actions on the memory of the arrangements which she had suggested to the Mediterranean Syndicate to prevent similar informal visitations. Luckily for the success of her party’s mission, the Syndicate had refused—on the grounds of excessive expense—to install all the precautionary devices which she had included in her written essay on the matter.

Carefully, making sure that she did not produce any unnecessary sound or motion, Amanda eased herself higher. She straddled the wall, but lay along its flat top instead of either sitting up or going over. Swiftly, she scanned the garden. So far there was no sign of the watchdogs, but she knew that they would be making their patrol. Before the headmistress’s party could hope to make an unheralded arrival at the villa, the animals would need to be silenced.

With that in mind, Amanda opened the plastic bag on her belt. First she extracted a bottle filled with a liquid of a slightly pinkish tint. She made sure of her aim, then pitched the bottle through the air. It fell, striking a stone statue some distance from her position. Having been specially weakened, the glass shattered with only a fraction of the noise one might have expected. Its liquid contents sprayed forth, over the plinth of the statue and ground near by.

Satisfied with things so far, the School Swot emptied the rest of the bag’s meagre contents. She quickly stripped the polythene wrapping from the two large, succulent steaks which Cook had obligingly provided. Returning the covering to the bag—for a Benkinsopian was taught to always be neat and tidy—she skimmed first one, then the other steak in the general direction of the shattered bottle. They fell, as she had planned, some two feet apart and close to the area over which the liquid had splashed.

At that moment, the Alsatians loped around the end of the villa. Trained for their work, they were allowed to patrol free of restraint. Keen as they were, neither was aware of the girl’s presence. The wind was in the wrong direction for them to catch her scent; a factor which Amanda had taken into consideration. Nor had she made sufficient sound for their sharp ears to detect it. Motionless as the sleeping sentry, Amanda watched the dogs. Everything depended upon them acting in the required manner.

Sure enough, the dogs moved across the garden. Then one of them halted, its head raised and tail wagging as if in eager anticipation of something pleasant. Its companion mirrored the reaction. Making for the statue, they snuffled around it in great excitement.

Amanda held her breath, wondering if she had miscalculated in using the liquid as a means of distracting—or attracting—the Alsatians attentions. Just as she was deciding that she had, their questing nostrils located the meat. Having been kept hungry, to ensure that they remained awake and alert, the dogs did not hesitate to wolf down the succulent morsels.

“One! Two! Three!” Amanda counted, sounding relieved. “Four! Five!”

By the time the School Swot had reached the fifth number, both dogs lay on their sides and were sleeping peacefully.

Turning and waving a confirmatory hand to her companions, Amanda slipped over the wall. She dropped down, landing with cat-like grace and agility. Looking upwards, she saw Penelope appear at the top. The head girl paused long enough to collect and drop the kitbags to her waiting friend, then joined her in the garden. On completing her ascent, Miss Benkinsop hauled up the rope. She set free the grapnel and lowered it to the waiting girls. Then she jumped down as lithely as either of them had managed.

“I see your sleeping potion worked, Amanda,” Miss Benkinsop remarked, nodding towards the recumbent dogs. “By the way, I didn’t ask you before. What was in the bottle.”

“I hardly like to say, ma’am,” Amanda answered, blushing shyly.

“Go on,” Penelope dared. “Tell us.”

“Well,” Amanda said hesitantly. “It was a concentration taken from a—er—lady dog—who was—er—ready for the attentions of a male.”

“Oooh!” giggled the head girl, who had no sense of the proprieties, nudging Amanda gently in the ribs with her elbow. “You ain’t ’alf a saucy little devil on the quiet.”

“ Please don’t be flippant. Penelope,” Miss Benkinsop requested coldly, deciding that she must have a long, stem talk with the head girl regarding her decorum. It would, however, have to wait until some more opportune moment. “You may lead the way, Amanda.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the School Swot, having re-coiled and packed the rope with its grapnel into her kitbag. “We must crawl along the ground for the first part of our journey. I arranged for a system of photo-electric cells to be positioned exactly thirty-one inches from the round so that the dogs could pass beneath the beams without setting off the alarms.”

“Very considerate, dear,” Miss Benkinsop praised. “We wouldn’t want the domestic staff to be disturbed by false alarms. That would never do.”

While Penelope agreed with her headmistress in principle, she soon found herself wishing that Amanda had been less efficient and considerate.

Lying flat on their stomachs, with the kitbags resting on their forearms, Miss Benkinsop and the girls wriggled forward. Before she had gone far, Penelope was regretting the snack—no more than three eggs, eight sausages and some chips—Cook had provided for her to partake of shortly before they had left the school. Glancing sideways, wondering how poor old Benkers was managing, she was astounded to discover that the headmistress was displaying no hint of strain, nor distress.

Guided by Amanda, the party passed beneath the beams of the warning system and did not disturb the members of the ‘Heavy Mob’ who were in attendance at the ‘Guard House’, Amanda continued to advance in the crawling position, followed by Miss Benkinsop and Penelope, until safely in the concealment of a clump of bushes not far from the sleeping dogs.

“Whew!” Penelope gasped, rolling away her kitbag and starting to rise. “I’m not sorry—”

“Get down!” Amanda hissed, catching her friend by the arm and tugging to emphasise the words.

Wondering what was wrong. Penelope nevertheless obeyed immediately. Then she gazed in the direction that the School Swot and the headmistress were looking.

“Ooer!” Penelope breathed, realising that her impulsive action had bordered upon the indiscreet.

“Do stop puffing and blowing, dear,” Miss Benkinsop requested in a whisper, without diverting her scrutiny from the cause of Amanda’s warning.