"Ah." Mr. Brown scratched his stubble even more fiercely. "And you think we might learn something of their future plans, Charlie? Get one step ahead, as it were."316"That's
part of it," said Charlie. "But, actually, I thought you might find out where they've put the painting."
"Oh, yes. I could take a recorder. Get proof of the drowning. I've an excellent little instrument that fits into the arm of a pair of glasses."
Something about this device worried Charlie. There were people on Piminy Street who were gifted in ways that he could only begin to imagine. There might well be a clairvoyant among them, or someone with superhuman powers of detection. He explained this to the Browns, who reluctantly agreed that it would be safer to leave the recorder behind.
"Obviously, I can't go as myself," said Mr. Brown. "I would be instantly recognized as a non-sympathizer."
"I don't think you should go at all," said his wife. "Even in a disguise you would be recognized by people like that. It's your height and the way you move."
After a brief argument, which Mr. Brown lost,317Mrs. Brown went upstairs and returned fifteen minutes later looking nothing whatsoever like her old self. Three inches had been added to her height, not with high heels, but with ingeniously built-up boots. Her fair hair was tucked into a severe gray wig, and her face given a dusting of dark pink powder that made her look hot-tempered and irritable. Her eyebrows were thick and black, her nose was larger, and her lips had been reduced to thin, grayish lines.
For a moment Charlie actually believed that some evil-looking woman had broken into the house. When he realized who it was, he joined in with Benjamin's applause. Mrs.
Brown's transformation was truly amazing.
"Trish, you've surpassed yourself," congratulated Mr. Brown. "You've even fooled the dog."
Runner Bean had rushed out of the room and was now howling dismally in the hallway.
It took a good long sniff of Mrs. Brown's hand to convince him that the grim-looking stranger was none other than Benjamin's mother.318It was decided that Mr. and Mrs.
Brown (as herself) should drive to a quiet corner, not too far from Piminy Street. Once there, Mrs. Brown would change back into her disguise, and making sure that no one was watching, she would leave the car and make her way to Piminy Street. Mr. Brown would drive around for a bit, and then return to the same quiet corner and wait for Mrs. Brown to leave the meeting.
"I'll remove my disguise in the car," said Mrs. Brown, who was getting quite excited,
"and we'll drive back to Filbert Street, just like an ordinary couple who've been to the movies."
"Maybe Ben could sleep over at my house," Charlie suggested.
"Excellent," said Mr. Brown. "We'll leave Runner Bean to guard the house."
Runner Bean pricked up his ears, but didn't appear to object.
Mr. Brown printed out an exact replica of the invitation card Charlie had described, and at half past five,319Charlie and Benjamin wished Mrs. Brown good luck and walked over to number nine.
Maisie was alone in the kitchen when the boys walked in. She was pleased to see Benjamin and only too happy to let him stay the night.
Grandma Bone was not. A few minutes after the boys had arrived, she marched in and demanded to know why there was an overnight bag sitting in the middle of the kitchen, ready to trip someone up.
"Ben's staying the night," Charlie told her.
"Oh, is he? And who says?" asked Grandma Bone.
"He won't be any trouble, Grizelda," said Maisie.
"Maybe not" - Grandma Bone kicked Benjamin's bag aside - "but I like to be asked. What I don't like is irresponsible parents dumping their offspring, willy-nilly, on long-suffering neighbors."
Benjamin scowled and Maisie said, "Really, Grizelda! You take the cake."
Ignoring her, Grandma Bone demanded, "So what's the excuse this time?"320Making a superhuman effort to keep calm, Charlie said, "Sorry, Grandma, but Ben's parents were given tickets for this great movie, just half an hour ago, and Ben can't go because it's for adults only, so I thought he could come here for the night."
Grandma Bone glared at Charlie for several seconds before saying, "Fish for both of you," and sweeping out.
Maisie said quietly, "You don't have to have fish, boys. Grandma Bone won't be here.
She's going out for the evening. I'll give the fish to next door's cat."
Charlie and Benjamin were upstairs when Great-aunt Eustacia's car came snorting and squealing down Filbert Street. Peeping furtively over the win-dowsill, the boys saw Grandma Bone, dressed all in purple, climb into the passenger seat. The back of the car appeared to be rather full, and when it bumped off the curb and screeched down the road again, they saw a small pale face staring out of the rear window.321"They must be taking Eric to the meeting," said Charlie.
"Poor thing," said Benjamin.
After a very good dinner of scrambled eggs and beans and an hour watching television, the boys returned to Charlie's room just in time to observe Mr. and Mrs. Brown leaving number twelve. Mrs. Brown gave them a cheery wave and swung herself into the car. Mr.
Brown grinned at the boys in the window and then drove off, rather more expertly than Great-aunt Eustacia.
"I hope Mom'll be all right," Benjamin said anxiously.
"Of course she will," Charlie reassured him. "Your mom's the best private eye in the country."
Which was probably true.
Mr. Brown had chosen Argos Avenue, where the gardens and houses were hidden from the road by tall evergreen hedges. He parked beside the broad trunk of a plane tree and watched the road with an322expertise that only the most skilled detectives possess.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Brown swiftly applied her makeup, pulled on her wig, and exchanged her everyday winter coat for a moth-eaten and rather smelly fur coat. A plastic bag containing a rag soaked in chloroform was pushed into one pocket; in the other she had a pair of very sharp scissors and a bottle of smelling salts. The smelling salts were to help her recover from any fainting that might overcome her, after too much excitement.
The intrepid detective squeezed her feet into her built-up boots, gave her husband a kiss, and jumped out of the car.
"How do I look?" Mrs. Brown mouthed through the windshield at Mr. Brown.
Mr. Brown lifted his thumb. Reluctant to lose sight of his wife, he drove very slowly behind her as she walked down the road. She was approaching the turn onto Piminy Street when a group of three stepped out of a side street and hid Mrs. Brown from her
husband's view. Mr. Brown was worried. The323three people following his wife were all extremely wide and walked with clumsy, uneven strides.
Mr. Brown stopped the car at the top of Piminy Street. He dared not drive any farther, for fear of drawing attention to himself and thus arousing their suspicions. "Good luck, brave Trish!" he whispered.
Other groups now began to emerge from the houses on Piminy Street. They slid from behind trees, wafted through gates and out of doorways - silent, undefined figures, muffled in furs and hoods - all moving toward the Old Chapel.
Mrs. Brown was aware of the strangers accompanying her down Piminy Street. She had a momentary flutter of panic, and then sternly told herself that even if her true identity were discovered, no one would dare to harm her, unlike poor Tancred and little Billy.
People were now moving onto the dimly lit porch of the chapel. Mrs. Brown joined the throng and held out her card. It was grabbed by a tall man with elephants printed on his jacket. Mrs. Brown was324convinced she had seen the man before, but couldn't place him. He gave her an odd look and she quickly moved on. Finding a seat at the end of a row, close to the back, she sat down, breathing fast. Beside her sat a woman with lank red ringlets and over-rouged cheeks. She looked about ninety.
The sympathizers were unusually quiet people. They moved to their seats in wordless shufflings, only acknowledging one another with soft grunts and mumbles.