Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kastner

Author:Erich Kastner [Kastner, Erich]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RHCB Digital

“Well, goodbye for now.”

“Good luck, chaps. Oh lord, I forgot! Password Emil.”

“Password Emil,” Mittler repeated, and went back to the courtyard to report.

It was now eight o’clock and the Professor went out to inspect the guard.

“We’re not likely to get hold of him tonight, dash it!” said Gustav restlessly.

“Well it wouldn’t be a bad thing for us if he went straight to bed,” Emil pointed out. “If he goes out again and starts taking taxis and going to restaurants or night clubs or a theatre, we shouldn’t have enough money to follow him.”

The Professor came back and sent the Mittlers out to the square to act as liaison men.

“We’ve got to think how to keep tabs on that fellow,” he said. “Think hard now, will you?”

They all sat still for a time, thinking deeply, until they were interrupted by the sound of a bicycle bell, and a very new and shiny bike came flashing into the courtyard with Pony riding it, and Brett behind her, on the step. They both shouted “Three cheers!” as they saw the others.

Emil jumped to his feet and ran to help them off, recognizing Pony, and they shook hands gaily. “This is my cousin Pony Hütchen – or rather Heimbold,” he said.

The Professor politely gave up his chair, and she sat down, but turned on Emil immediately.

“You are a wretch!” she cried. “You come to Berlin – and before you even get off the train, you run smack into the middle of a thriller! We were just going off to the station again, to meet the next train from Neustadt, when your friend Brett turned up with your note. He’s all right, by the way. I like him.”

Brett blushed and stuck his chest out.

“Mum and Dad and Grandma are all sitting at home wondering what on earth you can be up to. Brett wouldn’t tell me anything in front of them of course, so I just said I’d see him downstairs. Then I slipped out of the house with him and came along. But I must dash back at once, or they’ll be sending for the police. Their nerves won’t stand losing two of us in one day.”

Brett held up two pennies. “Pony’s bike saved us the return fare,” he said proudly, and the Professor put the money back in his pocket.

“Are they furious?” Emil asked Pony.

“Not a bit,” she replied. “Grandma got a bit wild, and kept on saying, ‘I expect he’s just gone to call on the President!’ till Mum and Dad seemed to think it was quite possible. I hope you’ll catch your man tomorrow though. Who is your Sherlock Holmes?”

“The Professor,” said Emil. “Here he is.”

“Nice to meet you,” laughed Pony. “I’ve always wanted to know a real detective.”

The Professor laughed too, because he was embarrassed, and mumbled something quite unintelligible.

“Before I go, I’d better give you my pocket money,” said Pony. “Here it is – eightpence. Buy yourself a cigar or two with it, boys!”

Emil took the money, but Pony remained on the only chair, like a beauty queen surrounded by the selection committee.

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