It was raining the next morning, as Olivia awoke and crept downstairs. Hiram was not yet awake, and he would not be making breakfast that day, because they had to fast for Church, so Olivia felt secure in that he would not catch her using his typewriter to compose the final draft of Basil's message. Clutching the paper in one hand, she snuck into their small living room and seated herself at the desk where the typewriter was. She applied a clean sheet of paper, then began copying her written message:
"Basil of Baker Street,
I have information on the convicts Jack, Jerry and George, which might help you in their case. They are the ones stealing apple preserves from Miss Samantha Lottridge's stores, together with a fellow convict named Chris. They have dug out a secret entrance to the place, starting at the front of the yard of the house behind the one on the right of hers, hidden under a rock, and ending under the fence on the side of her yard. Here is one of the shovels they used to dig it out. Also, I heard them say that they are stealing the preserves for someone named "Johnny". I'm not sure what this has to do with their robbing Mr. Horwood, but I hope it helps.
Anonymous."
Just as Olivia finished, she stopped, as the thought had suddenly hit her that Basil might wonder upon reading this letter how the writer knew about Horwood's mugging. Knowing how smart Basil was, she didn't doubt that even the shadow of a hint could give her hand in the solving of this case away, so she had to make absolutely sure that there was no reason for Basil to suspect her. Praying that she would have enough time before her father woke up, Olivia crumpled up the paper, took another clean sheet, wrote a new draft by hand, leaving out any indication that the writer knew about any crime except the Lottridge case, and then proofread it:
"Basil of Baker Street,
I have information on the thieves stealing from Miss Samantha Lottridge's stores of apple preserves. I observed them last night; their names are Chris, Jack, Jerry and George. They are stealing the apple preserves for a fellow named "Johnny", from what I heard. They have dug out a secret entrance to the place, starting at the front of the yard of the house behind the one on the right of hers, hidden under a rock, and ending under the fence on the side of her yard. Here is one of the shovels they used to dig it out. I know Miss Lottridge is very upset about her wares being stolen, and I know she's written to you for help. I hope with this information, you can solve her case.
Anonymous."
Satisfied that this letter would get the job done, and also make it seem like the writer was simply a concerned neighbour of the old woman, Olivia typed the message up again on the typewriter, folded the paper, put it in an envelope and sealed it. Just then, she heard footsteps, and then her father's voice calling out, "Olivia! Where are you!"
"I'm downstairs, Daddy!", she called up to him, standing beside the staircase.
Hiram sighed with relief, "Are you alright, dear?"
"Yes Daddy," she smiled back.
"Oh, good. Now, we must get ready; mustn't be late for Church!"
"Yes, Daddy!"
Hiding the letter in the chest of her nightie, Olivia returned upstairs, and went into her bedroom. Remembering that it was raining, she wondered how she could leave the letter outside for Toby to receive, without it getting wet. She could leave it on the eaves beneath her window, and the eaves above it should protect it, she hoped. But what if they didn't? She had to make sure Toby got this letter. Or perhaps she could see about making another visit to 221 Baker Street, and the "delivery" of the letter could be brought about then. Just as this was looking to be the safer option, she heard barking outside her window. Toby was there already! "What luck," she thought as she opened the window and patted him, before slipping the letter in behind his ear. "Now you be careful with the letter, Toby, it's very important Mr. Basil gets it!"
Toby wagged his tail, then he and his master continued on.
Just as he had told Olivia the night before, Fidget was already falling asleep standing up when he and the others returned from Church. Almost as soon as they were inside, he stumbled his way into the hall at the back, and over to the closet. Pulling the door to, he hopped up and positioned himself, upside down, hanging from the rung, stretched his wings and yawned, then blanketed himself in them and closed his eyes.
Normally when Fidget made to sleep, he was out like a light in seconds, but on this occasion a sudden surge of memory made him jolt himself awake. "Oh no! Oh no!" he muttered, jumping down, then stopping to massage his head after banging it - sometimes it seemed like a ritual - "That letter! Livy will be so mad!" Fidget then scampered back into the main room, and beelined for the door. He got to it, then by chance he glanced out the window, and remembered the rain. Toby probably wouldn't be left outside on a day like this. But how would he get the letter from him? Basil! Basil would know a way! Fidget snapped his fingers as this thought occurred to him, smiling with pride and excitement. The detective was nowhere around, so he'd better go check for him. Fidget tried the upstairs first, and indeed, he heard muttering going on in Basil's room, from the sounds of it he was checking over his disguises, for whatever reason. Probably not a good time to disturb him, but when it was to know how to retrieve a letter that could help him, maybe - if he had known, at least - he wouldn't mind. Fidget raised his hand to knock on the door, but froze solid at that same second. If Basil knew! He wasn't supposed to know, that's right! Fidget shuddered at how he'd nearly betrayed Olivia. He had to be more careful, he reprimanded himself.
But, if he was going to be careful, that also meant he wasn't going to get the letter Basil didn't even know he needed. Fidget slumped down in defeat and covered his face with his hands, wishing there was a safer, more secret alternative. Then he looked up all of a sudden, and his face brightened. There was! The secret indoor entrance Basil and Dr. Dawson used when going to meet up with Toby when he was indoors! He could get to him that way! Once again Fidget began to feel proud of himself, and once again an oceanic wave came to wash it all away.
Without warning, Basil suddenly opened his door at full force, excited about something. He was in one of his ruffian disguises, so he must be going off to work on some lead in his latest case. However, his interest turned to a different subject once he saw the young bat who was sitting down in front of his doorway, with his back turned to him.
"Ahem, ahem! Is something the matter, Fidget?" Basil asked in a tart manner. This was a delay he could do without, but the bat's presence there at this time and his behaviour did seem a little strange.
Surprised, the bat glanced over his shoulder, then twisted himself around, kneeling. "Aggh! Um, I - I uh, well, I - I c-couldn't find the - I forgot where it was!"
Frowning, the detective inquired, "Forgot where what was?"
"The-th-the - where I sleep! In the c-closet!"
"You forgot where the closet was?" Basil frowned, arms folded and tapping a foot.
Fidget felt his forehead dampening under that gaze. The detective wasn't buying the claim. Why couldn't he have thought of a better excuse than that? Frantic, he thought of every angle he could think of to use.
Basil repeated his question, with about 60% less patience in his voice. As if his guardian angel were told to whisper the advice in his ear, the perfect response suddenly sparked in Fidget's mind.
"N-no! I, I didn't really forget, it's a game!"
"A game?" Basil was now confused. "Do you mean to say you've created a game involving the pretense that you do not remember where you sleep?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Fidget stood upright, now so proud, that he was lucky not to be wearing a buttoned-up jacket. "I, I call it… 'Where do I sleep, again?' Clever, huh?"
Clever was one word to describe it; Basil himself was envisioning a large room whose walls were adorned with clocks, all of which had little Fidgets in place of kuckoo birds, chiming in unison with each other, but clever was easily another valid way of putting it, alright. The whole thing seemed very peculiar, and Basil had the sneaking suspicion Fidget was up to something - hopefully not trying to "help" Mrs. Judson or someone again; they'd had enough of that noise over the week. Most of the time, he would have interrogated the bat further, but he did have to get on with this case, and besides, it was true that Fidget had a habit of letting his mind wander when he wasn't on a job - and ruefully, sometimes when he was - so perhaps the thought of this "game" had just popped up in his mind, and finding it amusing, he'd decided to give it a try. So saying, the detective decided to let it go for now, and get on with his work.
Fidget wiped his forehead with his wing as Basil disappeared down the stairs, then, when he was gone, he too crept down, and made off to the secret passage in the wall, from their flat to the human one up above.
Entering the flat where the human detective Sherlock Holmes and his associate Dr. Watson lived arguably posed more of a threat to Fidget than it did even to Basil and the others. Not that the humans would be too pleased to find mice getting in there, but a bat, being a much more unusual find, would probably disturb them a lot more so. Nevertheless, Fidget had taken much more perilous chances in his life before, and he could be considered an expert at hiding away when the time and opportune cover arrived, so he felt he could make it through this.
As it happened, nobody seemed to be about, so he continued on till he found a chair, and crawled underneath. Poking out from behind the stringed embroidery at the bottom,* he called, "Toby!"
No answer. The dog had to have better hearing than that. "TOBY!" he shouted.
Still no answer. Good grief, he hated having to wait. "TOBY! TOBY! TOBY!" he yelled at the top of his lungs; in fact, if his shouting capacity could be measured on a bar, he had just added three maybe four notches to it. Feeling like his jaw was about to fall off, he sat down behind the leg of the chair and let himself settle down. Where on earth was that bassette hound?
Suddenly he heard the thump of giant steps entering the room. Funny, they sounded heavier and with a shorter consistency than Toby's; had he put on weight all of a sudden or something? Curious, Fidget peeked out again, then shot back under his cover, wishing he hadn't looked. It was the human landlady, Mrs. Hudson. If she found him there - he'd heard about human women - he'd be a dead bat for sure.
He heard her muttering something about it sounding like someone was calling from here - had he really been that loud? Well Toby must have heard him then, he simply must have! Unless, oh joy, unless he wasn't in to begin with! The bat was batting a thousand today.
Oh, wait a moment, now suddenly he heard more footsteps entering - was a search party for the caller in the living room forming now? He didn't need all this company; how was he ever supposed to get out of there alive with so many humans about? Then he heard the snuffling sound of a creature sniffing all along the ground, and his palpitating heart relaxed; Toby had heard after all! He peeked out and saw the huge face of the dog smiling down at him, then sniffing as if expecting something.
"No Toby, I've got nothing," Fidget said, realizing he should have brought something for the hound. Indeed, Toby's smile turned to a look of quiet disapproval at this fact. "Sorry. But I've got to get that letter for Basil; Livy's counting on us both!"
At that, Toby got back to business. Mrs. Hudson, noticing the dog was paying attention to the base of the chair for some reason, came over and inquired of the dog what was the matter, had a mouse gotten in or something? Quickly Toby opened his mouth and grabbed Fidget before the bat could react, then tried his best to make it look as though his mouth were empty as he turned to shake his head at the landlady (which, considering the unsuspecting Fidget was now struggling to get out, pleading with the dog and promising he'd bring any food he'd like him to bring next time, was not an easy task).
While the landlady remained in the living room, perplexed, the dog carried the bat to the safety of his basket. He then gently spat Fidget out into the soft folds of the blanket inside. Though Fidget was still confused over what had just happened, as he came to realize where he was now, his mind cleared, and he thanked the dog for getting him out of that dangerous room. Toby then nosed part of the blanket in his basket away, revealing the letter. Sighing with relief, Fidget retrieved the letter and pocketed it, before noting, "Now I've gotta get back!"
Toby nodded, then opened his mouth for Fidget to step inside. Fidget did, and then Toby, mouth shut, made back into the living room, and towards the wall where the mouse-sized door from the wall-passage was located. Fidget was less alarmed about this ride the second time around, but he wasn't totally relaxed either; at any moment, were something to go wrong, Toby might end up swallowing him by mistake. Those teeth all around him were no more of a comfort either, even if they did help to keep him safe from human's gaze.
Well, they made it to the little door, safe and sound - which was good, for Fidget had thought, "One more close call on this job, and I'm gonna start keeping count!" He bid Toby farewell for the time being, then closed the door behind him and made back to the world of the mice and other similar creatures. Now he still had to go outside and retrieve the shovel from that tunnel, which he had hidden in the bushes outside the building, and leave all of this on the doorstep, ring the bell, and run like what would rhyme with bell. At least the worst was over; he'd been and gotten what he was after, which was one of the most familiar sensations of satisfaction to him; a job well done. Through his new friends he'd soon realized he had a lot more of those under his belt than he believed before - though he'd generally come away from them feeling pretty good about himself, usually Professor Ratigan would find something wrong to nitpick about, which quickly deflated his spirits again. And in hindsight, it probably was never more than nitpicking, anyway. What was it with geniuses, especially evil geniuses, that they always complained about the most trivial of things? It was as if they could not stand to be reminded that mistakes could be made, everything for them had to be 100% or more, and nothing less would do.
Philosophical thoughts aside, Fidget chose to go outdoors via the kitchen entrance when he was back, and snuck around the bend, pulled out the shovel, went over to the front entrance, left letter and shovel on the step, rang, then scurried around the bend again. His clothes were damp from the rain, so he pulled them off and left them laid out on the floor outside his closet, pulled the door to, assumed his sleeping position, and dozed off, utterly exhausted.
When Mrs. Judson heard the doorbell, she went to answer it, unaware that Fidget had been up and about all this time. The sight of a letter to Basil of Baker Street greeting her when the door was open was hardly surprising, it was the shovel which accompanied it that caught her interest. Oh well, she knew it was none of her business, and that Mr. Basil became extremely upset whenever anyone tampered with evidence in his cases, especially before he'd even had a chance to look at it, so she took the letter inside - the shovel seemed very dirty, and she would not bring that into her nice clean home no matter what the detective said. She instead left it neatly perched beside the door, leaning on the wall.
When Fidget awoke at eight, Basil and Dr. Dawson had only recently returned from their investigation. Basil had indeed been most intrigued by his "gift", and apparently was still studying the letter and the shovel. Smiling to himself, Fidget moved away from the door into the living room, where he'd been listening, and went in to help Mrs. Judson.
Dawson, meanwhile, was sitting in the green chair, watching as Basil read the letter for the umpteenth time, and finally asked, "Well Basil, what can you deduce?"
"Hmm?" Basil looked up at Dawson; he'd been very submerged in the letter's contents. The old doctor had waited very patiently this whole time, so he enlightened him, "It seems as though our quartet of thugs from Green Park share a taste for homemade preserves. Do you recall that case about the old woman with the stolen preserves I put aside in my lowest priority list?"
"Um, well-" Dawson recalled something of the sort, but it was a fleeting memory.
"It appears as though I must reassess that case; it has proven to be connected somehow with the Horwood mystery!"
"Basil, do you mean the fiends who robbed Mr. Horwood are also stealing an old woman's stores?"
"I mean that exactly, read this letter, if you please; I want one more look at that shovel."
The doctor put on his spectacles and read the letter in a low tone to himself. "My my," he said when finished, "I wonder who our 'assistant' in this case may be?"
Basil did not look up from his examination of the shovel as he said, "From the way they've written, I believe it was a neighbour of Lottridge. Most likely they are taking understandable precaution by assuming a state of anonymity; this may also explain why the letter was typed and not handwritten. Now, from that letter I was able to determine that the paper was produced in China, and the typewriter used is a Voles and Lidden, assembled by the A. Lemmington and Sons company in New York, United States, most likely in the year 1875.* One can easily tell because due to an error in the manufacturing almost all typewriters produced by the company that year print with an ink slightly grayish in colour, rather than the standard black. Since the writer has neglected to include the date on which the letter was written, and since they mention the time of their observation as being last night, not to mention that the shovel was left strategically beside the letter, it is safe to assume that they wrote the letter sometime between last night and this morning, and that they delivered it personally."
"Astounding!" Dawson said with his eternally enthusiastic enthrallment at the detective's observational skills. "And what of the shovel?"
"Ah yes, doctor! From analyzing this tunnelling instrument, I've determined a few details which may be of use. First off," he held the shovel up to the doctor for him to see, "as you can see here, the handle is heavily caked with mud. If it was used to help dig out a tunnel, depending on its depth, the ground likely became stiffer near its lowest level, and the culprits probably used water to help soften the soil."
"Indeed," Dawson muttered.
"Also, the signature carved into the handle over here reads 'Roger Days'*, which is the company that manufactured it."
"But Basil, how will knowing the company be of use?"
"It will either be a red herring, Dawson, or else it may provide us with a few further clues. First things first, we shall go down to Roger Days tomorrow, and inquire if they've made any recent sales of garden spades to anyone matching the description of our quarries! If that is how they acquired this shovel, the clerks may be able to provide us with more information on them."
"That is absolutely amazing, Basil!"
"Ah, elementary, my dear Dawson!"
Mrs. Judson suddenly entered, beginning to announce that dinner was almost ready, then she exclaimed, "Mr. Basil! Did I not tell you not to bring that filthy thing in here?"
"I apologize, Mrs. Judson, but it is extremely important to my research that I analyze this gardening instrument carefully -"
"Mr. Basil, I'll admit that I've put up with a lot of your nonsense over the years, but I simply will not tolerate having a muddy shovel anywhere near the furniture in this house! Now, unless you are going to clean it thoroughly, you have to take it outside, no buts!"
Basil momentarily looked like a little boy caught sneaking sweets between meals, but he pulled himself together and dismissed Mrs. Judson the way he always did when she scolded him, "Very well, Mrs. Judson, that will be done. Oh, and might I say, the soup you're preparing smells simply enchanting, but I highly doubt any of us would much appreciate it, were it to get burned. Why don't you go back and take care of that, while I take care of the shovel?"
The landlady allowed him to usher her into the kitchen again, but remained firm, "Alright, but remember, Mr. Basil! I do not want to see that shovel indoors again, until it's spotless!"
"Yes, yes, quite," Basil shut the door behind her, then grumbled as he came back and made off outside with the troublesome piece of evidence, "how could she really expect me to clean it off before I examined it? One must never tamper with evidence before learning all they can from it! Women!"
Olivia was sound asleep in her bed that night, when the knocking at the window came. She awoke, but was a little confused at first, and assumed that someone was trying to break in. She got up and ran to her bedroom door, and was about to run into her father's room to alert him, when she glanced over at the window, and saw that it was Fidget.
"Fidget, you scared me!" she frowned as she opened the window to greet him.
"Wouldn't be the first time," he grinned devilishly.
"Did you get the letter?" she asked hopefully.
"Yup, all delivered safe and sound." Fidget avoided relating the events leading up to it, in case their talking woke Hiram. He only meant for this to be a quick stop-by, to assure Olivia that all had gone well.
"Has Mr. Basil gotten it yet?""Uh-huh."
"Why are you in such a hurry?"
"Your dad. Don't wanna talk too much."
"Oh. I know!" Olivia climbed over the window sill, got down on Toby, beside Fidget, and pulled the window to. "Now you can tell me more about it!"
"But, uh, can you sit in that?" Fidget pointed to her nightie.
Olivia looked down herself. "Um," she began.
"Here," Fidget said, and she looked up and gaped when she saw that he'd removed his sweater. "Use this, Livy."
"But Fidget!" Olivia was aware that it was quite inappropriate for those of one gender to see the other in a half-dressed state, even for girls and boys.
Misunderstanding her apprehension, Fidget dismissed, "Nah, I'll be fine. I can get by with my wings!" He then folded them around his body in a self-embrace and grinned.
Olivia's expression was one of a reluctant "alright then", and she then sat down beside him, on his sweater.
Fidget recounted what he had heard of Basil's deductions, listening to his discussions with Dr. Dawson at dinner - unless there was company over, Fidget ate with everyone else. This could not be done when there was someone else present, because he was not a mouse, and was supposed to be thought of as a servant there, but between the four of them, no one minded.
When he was finished, Olivia said, "I still wish we could have figured out where those men went. That would save Mr. Basil a lot of trouble."
Fidget was quiet, but he stared at the girl intently. Something about the way she'd spoken gave him the feeling that she was thinking. Not in a normal sense, of course, but that she was "getting ideas" about this situation. His suspicions proved correct when she said, "Maybe if we go there again, tonight, we can catch them! I mean, we'll be there when they arrive. Then we could secretly follow them back to wherever they go next!"
"Aw, Livy, are you actually thinking at all? I didn't know the others very well, but I clashed with Chris a number of times; he ain't a nice guy at all! What happens if they find out we're following 'em? Besides, you've got school tomorrow, right?"
"That's true." Olivia's face fell. Then she brightened again. "But Fidget, yesterday and last week, I was up late, knowing I would have to go to Church the next day, and I still was on time for it! I didn't even need for Father to wake me, either time!"
"But school's different, Livy -"
"No it isn't, Fidget. Not really, both are important things you should always be on time for.""But Livy -"
"Fidget, you're just trying to convince me not to go! You're scared again!"
"For Pete's sake, Livy," Fidget stood upright as he spoke, "It's not me I'm worried about, it's you!"
"Fidget! Shhh!" Olivia hissed, pointing to the window.
Fidget knelt down and spoke more quietly, but his expression remained uncharacteristically serious, "Livy, come on. The thought of you getting hurt scares me. Yeah, I'm scared for myself, but I was able to carry the queen on my back not long ago, and she's a tonne to hold! Could you ever do that? So which of us has a better chance in a fight?"
Olivia was the silent one this time. Fidget went on, "You're like my little sister, Livy. I don't wanna see you get hurt. Yeah, there was a time there when I did, but things aren't like that any more." Years from now, things would change between Fidget and Olivia again, and he would begin to see her as something more advanced than a sister-figure, but neither of them knew it yet.
Olivia was more perceptive than most her age would be. Perhaps it was also because, though he was not nearly so good at explaining things to anyone else he knew, Fidget was very direct in what he told her. "I guess you're right, Fidget. I just want to help Basil so badly, and…" she looked up at him, "and I really enjoy working on cases with you. I now know why Mr. Basil gets so enthusiastic when he's solving a mystery, and Dr. Dawson seems to like helping him too. And I feel as if we're already involved in this case anyway." That was because they were. If they were not officially involved when she selected the case out of the collection of letters, if they were not when she and Fidget were nearly caught by the bandits the night before, then they most certainly were once she'd written the letter to Basil and he'd delivered it to him.
Both were quiet for a long time. Truth be told, Fidget had deeply enjoyed these past experiences as well. It felt refreshingly good to be actively working on the right side of the law, for the first time in his life. He'd even become acquainted with members of his own kind, when the only bat he'd ever truly interacted with before was his father, and that was only in his first ten years.
In fact, Fidget also wanted to track those fellows down and learn more about their doings, himself, but knowing what they'd be up against if anything went wrong, he understandably wanted to hold back. If anything were to happen to him, Mrs. Judson would probably be upset, and doubtless Olivia would be, but they would eventually carry on. If, however, anything bad became of Olivia, Hiram, Basil, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, Toby, and himself would all be shattered, and most if not all would be shattered beyond repair. If Fidget shuddered at the potential of himself getting killed, the thought of it happening to Olivia sent him reeling.
And yet, the more he looked at the somber mouse-girl sitting on his sweater beside him, and the more he thought of the case, the more his more adventuresome side kicked in. This case was now just as much theirs as it was Basil of Baker Street's. Screw it, Fidget's moment of maturity had faded. As precautious as they ought to be, this had to be done.
"Livy," he said in a suggestive tone, "if we were going to go after them, how would we do it?"
Olivia stared at him hopefully, before thinking it over. "Hmmm… well, we'd want to stay hidden, of course. Actually, we'd probably better not be in Miss Lottridge's yard when they showed up, because it would slow us down in following them."
"How would it do that?"
"We couldn't take Toby in with us, Fidget. So we would have to wait until they left, and then go under the fence and get Toby. More importantly, we couldn't see right away where they went. I've got an idea. We'll go into the yard where the tunnel starts, hide behind one of the trees, and then we can wait and see if they show up. Toby can hide there with us. If they do come, we'll stay hidden till they leave, and then we'll follow them to wherever they go next."
Fidget stared at her, and she continued, "I'm sure we could manage it, Fidget. What do you say?" She held her hand out, and waited patiently.
Fidget's second thoughts began to resurge, but all he asked was, "If I said no, you'd try to go on your own, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I'm in!" he abruptly declared, shaking Olivia's hand so fast that she had to hold it for a few moments afterwards.
When they arrived at their location as planned, Olivia whispered to Toby to hide in the grove of bushes and trees on the side of the yard opposite the stone where they knew the tunnel to begin. Afterwards, they waited for about ten minutes, when suddenly, they heard the voices of several men and the familiar creaking of a wheelbarrow. Peeking out from their hiding spot, the mouse, the bat, and the dog watched as the four adult mice all pushed the stone out of place, then one in a green shirt and darker green trousers took ahold of the wheelbarrow again ("George is the one with the wheelbarrow, Jack's the one dressed like him with a jacket, Jerry's the one in purple, and the guy in blue is Chris," Fidget whispered to Olivia, who nodded in acknowledgement). One by one, the four of them disappeared down the hole, and it was nearly half an hour before they saw them again. During that time, they exchanged a few questions between each other.
"Come to think of it, why did they come back here, anyway? I thought they said there weren't many jars left."
"Well, maybe the wheelbarrow was too small to carry all the ones they hadn't gotten yet, Fidget. When they come back, let's look at how big the wheelbarrow is. Or, maybe they just wanted to make sure they got everything."
"I guess you're right. Either way. Hey, when we follow them back to where they go next, what are we gonna do then?"
"How are we gonna know until we're there, Fidget?" Olivia asked a little impatiently.
Fidget could not answer this, so he shrugged, and the three of them resumed their watch over the hole.
When the preserves-robbers came back, Toby growled in disapproval of their actions, and both Olivia and Fidget had to shush him. They waited until all four disappeared down the sidewalk, then, with the bat and the mouse riding atop him, Toby made off after them. Heading to the other side of the yard, and peeking around the fence, he watched as the mice continued down the street, to the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Ever quietly, and keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he treaded after them. This went on for a while, but as it turned out, after only a few twists and turns, the mice arrived at what apparently was their destination. It was a human house, but although it was clear that there was a mouse residence at the bottom, that was not where the robbers were going. There was a doggie door built into the front door of the human residence, and it was through here that they entered the building. "What do you think they're doing in there?" Olivia whispered. Fidget didn't know any more than she did. She turned and whispered to Toby, "Well, what are we waiting for, Toby? Sic'em!"
Toby sat down instead, whimpering softly. "Toby, what's wrong?"
Toby looked towards the door. Olivia wondered what he meant, until she spied the canine entrance again. Of course. There must be another dog, in that house, and Toby was afraid of encountering it. That was understandable. "Alright Toby, you don't have to go inside. But please wait out here, in case we need to get away in a hurry." She slid down his leg, then hugged his ankle. "We'll be back as soon as possible, Toby! Come on, Fidget!"
"How far are you gonna go with this, doll?" Fidget asked as he joined her on the pavement.
"As far as I have to, Fidget." she said simply as she took his hand and they proceeded up the steps, Fidget lifting her up each one, then pulling himself up after her. He lifted the dog door up, and they each crawled under and in.
The house was very stylishly designed for its time, with blue floral wall paper and various pictures and portraits in beautiful, intricate frames adorning the walls, a wine-coloured carpeting covering the stairs, and a dark, polished wooden chest with a mirror and a few flower pots ontop, a grandfather clock on the wall opposite the stairs, not to mention two elegant but simple chairs with velvet seating matching the carpeting. One glance at the clock made Olivia wince with the realization that it was 11:47 p.m. She didn't have long to think about that, however, for Fidget gently nudged her shoulder and pointed towards the top of the staircase. There, they could see their quartet-quarry rounding the corner, the wheelbarrow still in tow. "How did they get up there?" she asked.
"Livy, why do you keep asking me these things I haven't got a clue about?" Fidget asked, quietly but with noticeable irritation tinging his voice.
"Maybe we have got a clue," Olivia said as she walked over to the staircase. "Look at the bottom of the railing, Fidget! The base on this side of the bars is just wide enough that they could go up to the top easily, one by one of course. And they could take the wheelbarrow. They had not seen the mice get off of the sidewalk outside and up the steps to the front door of the house, but now she reasoned that they must have done the same thing out there.
Joining her, Fidget looked up to the top of the stairs and asked, "But what are they doing? Why did they have to come here?"
"Now who's asking questions the other can't answer?" Olivia joked, smiling to him. Fidget frowned, but it was clear he too was amused by the irony. "Well, I guess since we're here, we'd better go up and see where they've gone now." Fidget helped Olivia up onto the base of the railing - both agreed that now that the concept had been revealed to them, it seemed a nicer way to travel human stairs than the walk, stop, climb, walk motion of climbing the steps themselves. Especially now that they were ascending such a longer staircase! When he joined her on the base, they proceeded up to the second floor of the house.
The furnishings on this floor were similar to the hall furnishings they'd seen below, but they weren't here for a tour, they were here to find those men who had robbed Miss Lottridge of her wares, and Mr. Horwood of his valuables. Sadly, they seemed to have lost all trace of that Toby were there to sniff them out, which both had forgotten till now that he could, they were about to give up and go back home - at least they would have more information to provide Basil with in secret - when Olivia stopped, and grabbed Fidget's shoulder to stay him. "Fidget, look!" she hissed in excitement, pointing to a door by the corner of the hall, to the left of the stairs, or their current right. There, at the bottom of the door, was the wheelbarrow, and as they cautiously came nearer, they saw that it had been emptied of its cargo. Fidget smoothly lay down on the floor and peered under the door, into the room.
It appeared to be a young boy's room, based on the bed and the furniture around it. As for the whereabouts of Chris and the others, the first clue the bat observed was four or five glass objects which looked like jars, at the bottom of the night table beside the bed. Then he glanced under the bed and saw the four mice standing around an enormous glass jar resembling the mouse-sized ones. "Wait here," Fidget said, "I'll go in." He then scrambled under the door, and snuck over to the dresser across from the bed. Hiding under there, he watched as Jerry came out from under the bed, retrieved the rest of the jars, and carried them back inside. Fidget then noticed that he and the others were opening the jars and painstakingly emptying their contents into the larger one. He heard them talking in low tones, but couldn't distinguish the words. They then lifted a huge disk that must be the lid of the jar ontop of it, and all together fastened it tight, then made to push the jar out from under the bed. All were turned away from him, so he chanced approaching the bed, and hopping up onto the edge of the blanket above and suspending himself upside down.
From here, he could better make out what they were saying.
"Well, that's the last of 'em, Chris. Where are we gonna go when we need to fill'er up again?"
"Easy. There's another old lady who makes homemade preserves about three blocks west from here. That's where we strike next!"
"Won't Johnny be pleased when he wakes up!" George said gleefully.
Fidget guessed correctly that Johnny was the human boy asleep in this bed.
"How much longer do we have to do this for? I've said it before and I'll say it again, this ain't my way of earning keep."
"Quit whining, Jerry," Chris admonished, "this ain't any worse than working under Professor Ratigan, in fact it's much better. All we gotta do is remain here acting like the boy's pets and getting sauces and jams for him like this in return for his hospitality, till we've saved up five thousand pounds! Then we'll move on and have it made!"
"Yeah, but these nightly trips are exhausting, Chris. Plus, don't you feel humiliated being treated like a common animal?"
"Listen, that's all humans see any other creatures as! And it's not so bad. We're given food, shelter, free space to roam and do as we please, and there are countless places to store our loot, like what we got from that rich guy in the park, yesterday! Plus, this family ain't got no mangy cat around, so we're completely safe!"
"Eh, I don't know if I'd trust that dog, he's kinda toothy," George said meekly. Out of the four of them, Fidget remembered him as being the quietest and nicest.
"Well, I dunno 'bout the rest of you, but I'm gonna turn in," came Jack's voice. The others yawned and agreed.
Fidget had been entirely engrossed in gathering and memorizing information from this conversation he was eavesdropping on, but the second he realized that they meant to leave the underneath of the bed in the direction he was in, he quickly scrambled up the side of the bed, crawling underneath the blanket in hopes that it would conceal him from their view.
It almost did, but he forgot to stay still once covered, and continued to climb up the side of the bed. As Chris and his posse were making their way over to the cage where Johnny kept them (through a faulty bar on one side, Jack had managed to forge an easy come-and-go entrance for them to go in and out by, when Johnny had first taken them in as pets) George happened to turn around, and he noticed a strange lump moving up the side of the bed, under the covers. "Hey Chris, what's that?" he pointed in the direction of the object.
"One too many swigs of wine from the cellar, if you ask me," Chris growled; George was always seeing things. However, he said that before he followed the younger mouse's finger and saw what he saw. "Hey, wait a minute! That's an intruder! Guys, someone's trying to hoard in on our turf!"
"Well, we gotta stop 'em!" Jack cried, drawing his pistol from in his jacket.
"Oh, this can't be good!" was what went in Fidget's mind when he heard their voices, and crawled faster, finally climbing over the edge of the bed. There was a bed sheet underneath, so it was a moment before he noticed he was running up onto the body of the sleeping boy. However, when the "bed" beneath him started moving, he realized his mistake, and stopped running altogether.
Johnny sat up, groaning sleepily, awakened by the feeling that something small was crawling on him. Assuming one of his mice had snuck out again, the fourteen-year-old boy pulled back his blankets, calling them out by the names he'd given them.
Fortunately, he'd pulled back the sheet as well, so Fidget remained safely out of sight. At the same time, Chris, Jack, Jerry and George all arrived over the edge of the bed, on top of the blankets, only to find their "master" awake.
"So there you guys are," Johnny said as he picked them up. "And what are you doing out of your cage?" he asked as he carried them back to the little cage on the floor, opened the door, popped them back inside and locked the door shut. "You know Mother won't like it if she catches you out of there. I'd better put you up here." So saying, he placed the cage on top of his dresser.
Fidget was unaware of these goings-on, and continued to panick as he reached the edge of the side of the bed, and slid out from the sheets, unsuccessfully grappling at them and dropping down to the floor with a thump. "Ow!" he muttered briefly before picking himself up and running under the bed, out the other side, and under the door again. By sheer luck, neither the mice atop the boy's dresser nor the human boy himself saw him.
Olivia waited for him on the other side of the door, all this time, but seeing the look of fright on his face she did not stop him with questions, but instead accepted the hand he reached out for her, and they dashed back towards the staircase. They had to stop and change course, however, when they saw the huge German Shepherd with the mean set to the jaw, who was coming up. He'd stayed in tonight, instead of sleeping in his dog house, because although it had stopped raining, the clouds looming overhead that night threatened a reprise of the earlier downpour.
Almost crying with desperation, the bat and the mouse turned around and ran under a door in the wall in front of the stairs, when you came up them. On the other side of the door, they stopped to catch their breaths, but their moment of recovery was shortlived, as the dog, who had noticed them and not recognized them as the mice his youngest master kept, came sniffing and growling at the other side of the door. Trembling, they backed away, hugging each other in terror and hoping the angry dog would eventually relent and go away. To their further fright and dismay, however, he started barking.
"Henry, wake up! Robbers!" the woman sleeping in the bed exclaimed groggily as she pulled herself upright.
Henry was still tired, of course, but he could not ignore his dog's barking or his wife's exclaimation. "Oh no!" Olivia gasped as she saw the adult human get up out of his bed, grab a wooden stick from beside it, tell his wife, "Stay here, darling," and then make for the door.
As they ran to a chair to hide underneath, Olivia panicked, "Oh Fidget, if he opens that door, the dog will come in and find us! What are we going to do?"
As if echoing her, Fidget was muttering to himself, "What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?" Pulling his ears down over his face, he fought hard to get his thoughts straight. However, he was given no further time as the door opened and the dog pushed past his master, heading straight over to the bed and snarling loudly, as he tried to flush the intruders out.
"What is it, Rufus?" Henry was now certain it was not robbers, at least in the strict human sense, that Rufus had been alerted of. "Is it a rat?"
Watching her husband go over to the chair his dog half-lay down beside, trying to reach under, his wife got out of bed and joined him. "Henry, perhaps it's Johnny's mice. I've told him before not to let them out, but he never listens."
"Well Beth, we'll have to discuss things with him after-"
"There is nothing to discuss. I told him if he lets them out of that cage one more time we'll have to get rid of them, and this is the last straw!"
"Beth," Henry said impatiently, "before we do anything with them, what do you say we get them out from under the chair?"
"H-he-he's - th-their gonna kill us!" Fidget stammered.
"Fidget, we can't stay here. Weren't you ever this close to getting caught by someone before? What did you do then?"
Fidget licked his dry lips, then looked around as if expecting the answer to appear before him. It was at this moment that the chair began to raise up on the side opposite them, and Fidget instinctively grabbed Olivia's hand and dragged her out with him. They were taking a blind shot, but they ran in the shadow of the chair, and upon seeing a mouse-door in the wall, ran over to it, pulled it open, and hastened inside, shutting the door behind them.
Finally safe, they remained in there, letting their minds and bodies settle after their ordeal and narrow escape. It was then that they looked around, and noticed that instead of having a corridor running through the walls, as was customary for mice living in human homes, in case of emergencies, this place had three walls and the door. It was a closet.
"Oh, great!" Fidget snapped, "now we either gotta stay in here for the rest of our lives, or we gotta go back there if we're gonna get out! This was such a great idea, Livy!"
For once, Olivia didn't argue with him. This was all her fault. All she had wanted to do was help Basil - well, and see if she and Fidget could solve the case - but she had just gotten too ambitious. And unchecked ambition always lead to one's downfall, there were no exceptions. And now, she had not a blessed idea how they were going to get out of this mess. No matter how it went, it could not end well. Try to head back out there, and they would doubtlessly be caught, either by the couple or by their dog. They could wait in here, but how long would it be before Basil or anyone figured out where the criminals they'd pursued were, and would they even find them then? And if they did, suppose it took days, or even weeks? With no food or water, they'd be dead by then. And how about her father, or Mrs. Judson and her tenants, or Olivia's school? Everyone would be worried sick about them. As she thought about it, tears of stress, fear and regret filled her eyes, until she could not contain them any longer, and she began crying softly.
She had her face buried in her knees, so she did not notice Fidget wrapping a wing around her at first.
"Cheer up, Livy. We'll get out of here."
"How, Fidget? How are we going to get out without those people or that mean dog finding us?"
"Um, I don't know. I just thought you'd feel better if I said that."
Olivia growled. She was not in the mood for games, she was too busy feeling upset.
Then again, feeling sorry for oneself never helped in anything, did it? Perhaps Fidget had a point, until they could think more clearly about their situation, they ought to take their minds off it. Good grief, she almost suffered a melt-down like the one Basil had suffered when Ratigan had seemingly defeated him on June 19th! Fortunately, just as Basil had Dr. Dawson, Olivia had Fidget to help her regain her senses.
Choosing to focus her mind on their past experiences, she recalled another incident this part of their current adventure reminded her of. "Fidget, doesn't this remind you of when we became friends?"
"How so?"
"When you kidnapped me again in Scotland so Ratigan could use me for blackmail, but you ended up in that locked-up room I was left in, too. It was a lot like this."
/
Olivia sat in the corner of the small, dark room, exhausted from yelling and banging on the walls in vain hope that someone merciful would come and release her. She was scared, sad, and angry. Scared because she was in the hands of the nefarious criminal genius who had used her father to try and annihilate the queen almost a month ago, the evil sewer rat she, her father, and most of Britain thought had died from falling off of Big Ben that same night. Well, apparently he'd survived by using his cape or his jacket as a parachute, and had returned to his ambitious reign over the criminal world of Mousedom as soon as he could. Now he was in Scotland with most of his men, and upon finding out that Basil and Dr. Dawson had gotten onto his trail, and that they were in association with the Flavershams again in the meantime, he had had that despicable bat who worked for him capture her as a means of disarming Basil's efforts to stop him. She was sad, because once again, she was separated from her father, and all who cared for her, including her godparents whom they were visiting and the detective and the good doctor. And she was angry because the nasty old rat had survived, and for whatever reason, it seemed he just couldn't leave them alone. What right did such a man have to barge into their peaceful lives and muck things up for them? What right?
All of a sudden, she heard angry voices yelling outside. Gathering up her hopes, she listened at the door, but all she heard was that stupid bat shouting "You'll never catch me, jerks!" He then fumbled with the handle, banged the door open as she only got away just in time, then shut the door behind him, laughing. "Hahaha! They actually thought I was gonna pay up to them! Nice try! Hahaha!" Then he turned around and saw Olivia sitting on the other side of the room, glowering at him. Gasping, he turned back to the door, "Oh no! If she's in here, oh no! That means I'm locked in! Can't get out! Help! HELP! Someone open the door!" Fidget banged on the door with his fists.
Wondering why Fidget came in here if he was going to lock himself in, she nonetheless hoped that the others he was running from, whoever they were, would open the door and let him out. Then she might be able to escape along the way.
Fidget stopped banging momentarily when he heard the voices of his pursuers outside. "Aw, look at that! The little idiot locked himself in!"
"Yeah, now he can die with that brat, and we'll be rid of 'im!"
After that, their voices became fainter, as if they were walking away.
"No, no, no! I've gotta get outta here!" Fidget searched around him for some way out. Olivia stayed in her spot, watching as the bat darted to and fro, feeling the walls for some sort of fault, or maybe a secret exit, that he could use to free himself with, muttering to himself all the while. Once, he turned and looked back at her, saying, "You know, you could help me try to get out!"
It was plain outrageous on so many levels, the way he said it. It was he who had put her in here in the first place, and now that he had been stupid enough to trap himself in here, he was asking her for help! Besides, how did he know she hadn't tried the walls like he was doing? She hadn't thought of that, exactly, but still! "You want me to help you? It's because of you and your evil boss that I'm here!"
"Don'tcha wanna get out?" Fidget now suddenly had a smug look on his face, as if he felt he'd gotten her trapped in a verbal manner.
"Well of course! But I don't want to help you get out!"
Fidget's smirk faded. "Well would you rather stay in here forever, yourself?"
"NO!" Olivia snapped, then stopped. Why get angry? That wouldn't solve anything, she was told, by her father, by her etiquette teacher, even by Basil of Baker Street. "Besides," she said, keeping her cool, "Basil of Baker Street will find out where I am. Then he and Daddy and Dr. Dawson will come and rescue me!"
"Don't count on it."
"Of course I will! Mr. Basil is the smartest mouse in the world! He can figure out where Professor Ratigan's hiding no matter where he goes!"
"Wanna bet?" Fidget was just toying with her, he didn't really know whether Basil would find them or when.
"I don't gamble. I'm eight," was all Olivia said, adding, "and ladies aren't supposed to, anyway."
For a dumb girl, it was proving difficult to wear her down. Well, until he either was let out, or found his way out of that dingy room, he needed to pass the time somehow. Teasing her seemed like a good idea, but now all he could think to say was, "Well, I'm seventeen and I do gamble! And it don't matter if a guy does or not!"
Fidget looked proud of his comeback, but Olivia just gawked at him, asking, "You're seventeen?" She knew he was a lot older than her though still not quite a man, but she would never have thought he was nearly out of his teens.
The image of pride turned to the image of guardedness on the bat's face as he said, "Yes, I'm seventeen! What's it to you?"
"You, you just look younger, that's all." Olivia had been standing, but she sat down again. It was lonely in here, to be sure, but even so, she was not so sure she wanted to make conversation with the room's sole other occupant, knowing who it was.
Minutes passed, and Olivia began to grow sick. Not in the physical sense, but nevertheless she felt sick. Sick of this room. Sick of these people. Sick of sitting. Sick of sulking over the circumstances. Sick of sick.
The thought then occurred to her. Since she had realized after her first encounter with Basil and Dr. Dawson, not to mention their enemies, that she needed to improve on her ability to think things out and interpret information around her, she had been practicing almost non-stop. Now was the perfect time to put her abilities to use! Except try as she might, she could not think of anything that would help her get out of here. But maybe escape wasn't the only way out. Perhaps she ought to learn more about what she was doing here in the first place.
"Why exactly am I here?" She turned to Fidget and asked.
Because there was nothing for him to hang upside down by, the bat had chosen to curl up on the floor, and was beginning to doze off. Annoyed, he looked up at her and replied, "What?"
"What does Ratigan want me in here for? How long am I going to be here?"
"Beats me. He never tells me anything unless he wants me to do something, or he wants to talk about how brilliant he is."
Well, that didn't help her much. But he had more to say, all of a sudden. "Those guys left me in here, saying now I'll die with you."
"Die? Are we going to be left in here till we starve to death?" "Aren't you scared?"
"No, it's the best news I ever got." Fidget sat up and rolled his eyes, "of course I'm scared! But I'm too tired to do anything about it." He then lay down the other way, turned his back to her, and snuggled up as best as he could.
Olivia felt an indescribable sense of incompleteness, like she should keep talking, but she didn't know why, nor what to say. So she just remained standing there.
Fidget, meanwhile, was trying his best to sleep and regain his strength, but he had a nagging feeling that he was being watched. Guessing it must be the girl (unless there were ethereal beings in there with them, and he didn't believe in those), he turned around and said, "What?"
Olivia took a stab at conversation. "Why did you lock yourself in here, anyway?"
"Because I forgot that stupid door can't open on the inside!"
"I mean, why did you come in here in the first place?""I lost at poker and I didn't want to pay up."
At each answer, he was hoping that would be the end of it, but she continued asking any questions she could. "If you aren't going to pay when you lose, why would you play the game?"
Again, Fidget sat up and faced her, looking at her like she was touched in the head. "Why do I play poker, you mean? Why? Because I - because… because I…" He fumbled with his thoughts, but he couldn't think of a satisfactory answer. How could you tell someone why you liked to play a card game? It would be like trying to explain why you needed to breathe air. "I just do, alright? Happy now?"
Olivia flinched at his harshness. "I'm sorry," she said, then her face went blank. Did she just apologize to her captor? Yes, she did. If anything, he should be the sorry one! The bat looked just as surprised by what she said. Frowning, she voiced her opinions, "But you're the one who should be sorry! You've kidnapped me now one, two…" she counted with her fingers, "THREE times!"
"Pretty good, huh?"
"NO IT'S NOT!" she raged, and Fidget was the one to flinch this time. It was comical that a teenaged boy would be afraid of a girl who hadn't entered her double-digits yet, but he was now huddled up in his wings so only his ears could be seen, and he was shaking. Olivia had been going to list all the reasons she had to be angry at the bat, but seeing him like that checked her. "Why would you be proud of kidnapping someone?"
He peeked out at her. "Why not? If I have to do it, and if I do it, why not feel proud?"
"Because it's wrong! Can't you see that it's wrong to just grab someone, sack them or rope them or whatever, and take them away?"
"Yeah, I know it's wrong. But if the boss wants me to do it, I ain't got a choice. And if I do it right, I feel pretty good about it!"
Olivia was left speechless. Fidget came out of hiding and stood up. "Look here, girl! Do you think I chose this life? The moment the boss fed my Papa to his cat, he snapped me up just like that!" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "I wanted to get away, but no, he wouldn't let me! Papa had been a good worker, but he couldn't take his back talking! I was just a little brat to him, and I had no one to protect me, so I was fair game! And if I didn't go along, I'd join Papa in the cat!"
"Your father also worked for Ratigan?"
Quietly, and looking like he was about to cry, Fidget replied, "Did for him exactly what I do. He had nowhere else to go, and he had to support me somehow." Olivia was listening, so Fidget went into detail. "Mum died giving birth to me. Papa lost his job after being wrongly accused of theft. He couldn't look to anyone for help; Mum was a Spanish gypsy and her family hated Papa. Papa's Papa was a deadbeat, and Papa couldn't find a job anymore. He wouldn't give me up, but where was he gonna go? Then the boss showed up, and offered him a job. Everyone already thought Papa was a thief, so why not?"
"So you lived under Ratigan your whole life?"
Fidget nodded. "Wasn't too bad, actually. There was lots of space to play, and nobody really bothered with me. Well, Papa usually asked Bill the Lizard and his friends to look after me if he had to be away in the daytime, coz they were nicer than most. Papa always spent as much time with me as he could. He said I was all he had left."
Olivia could feel her heart melt at this story. "How old were you when he…"
"Ten." Fidget said simply, then without warning he broke down and cried, leaping up and grabbing her in a fierce embrace. It was the sort given by one looking for comfort, and although she was still angry at him for what he'd done to her and her father, she found herself holding him in return. Olivia had always been a compassionate little girl.
At last, the crying boy pulled himself off of her, and steadied his tears. "I, I w-woke up that n-night. I-I was, I was alone. Papa, he usually held me while we slept, c-coz he didn't trust too m-many of the others." "How adorable," Olivia genuinely thought. "I went looking for something to do, coz I guessed he was off on an errand or something. Then R-Ratigan appeared, and he told me what he'd done. And the way he said it! He played with me; he asked me to guess where Papa was. Then when I guessed, he told me Papa had fed Felicia. I thought that was strange, Ratigan normally won't let anyone do that except him. Then he tells me Papa didn't exactly feed her, no, he was FEDto her!" Fidget was yelling now. "No more smart mouthing from him, he says! He's so happy about it! Then he mocks me with the news! I'm stunned! I can't believe it! Papa's dead!" Olivia watched, alarmed, as Fidget pranced around the room, hands clasped to his head, throwing a fit. "Papa's dead! MY Papa! All the family I got! I don't know what to do! So I run! I run to the grate, I run through the pipes! I run to the Rat Trap - Ratigan owns the place. I go to the bartender and his wife - Papa also would get them to look after me if the others couldn't. Even they are shocked! I want to hide, I don't want the rat to find me! What if he kills me next! What can I do now? Where am I to go? Papa's DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!" Exhausted, Fidget collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap.
Olivia went over to Fidget and knelt beside him. As angry as she still was, she could feel herself reaching out to him within. "That was horrible, what Ratigan did to you, Fidget," she sympathized. The bat did not stop crying. She decided to try and change the subject. "Did your father name you?"
It worked. Fidget stopped crying and lifted his head out of his wings, looking up at her. Sniffling, he got up and replied, "Yeah. He and Mum couldn't think of a name for me, so after I was born and she died, and it was up to him, he named me the first thing he thought of. I was always fidgetting about, he said, so that's what he called me."
Olivia giggled. It was not unusual, apparently bats often chose strange names for their children, a cultural trait they shared with lizards and amphibians.
Seeing that he was beginning to cheer up, Olivia ventured to ask, in need to understand now that they'd begun to bond, "If you know what it's like to lose your father, why were you so uncaring when you kidnapped mine?"
"Was I?" Fidget cocked an eyebrow. "The way I remember it, you were nowhere around, so how could I apologize?" Not that he would have, even if he had seen her, one couldn't say "Good afternoon, little girl, my boss needs your father to do something for him, so I'll just be taking him now. Thanks!"
"And anyway, Ratigan didn't want to kill your dad. He just wanted him to make that robot, then he was gonna let him go. Doesn't sound all that bad, does it?"
"Well, nobody told me!" Olivia replied.
"And you weren't all that nice to me either," Fidget motioned towards her with his hand, "you stomped on my foot, you said I was ugly, you think I'm gonna want to assure you then?"
Olivia started to laugh. Stomping on someone's foot and insulting them hardly compares to taking someone's father, then them, stuffing them in a bottle, taking their clothes and masquerading as them, later kidnapping them again, and then suggesting that they be thrown in the Thames! How could Fidget, after doing all that to her, plus kidnapping her again now, and locking her in this small, dark room, seriously feel like the victim between them?
"What - what's so funny?" Fidget asked, puzzled.
"You, hahaha, you're completely silly!" Olivia burst into giggles and sat down. Fidget's hands were on his hips as he frowned at the girl laughing at him, but, although he did not understand why, her merriment caught on, and soon they were both laughing wholeheartedly. There was still much confusion between them, but in that moment, after sharing what they had shared, they decided there was just too much to work on, and chose to let it go for now. When they calmed down, Olivia told Fidget her first name, and said he could call her "Livy" as her friends did, and Fidget jokingly said she'd better not call him "Peggy" in reference to his wooden leg; he hated that nickname. In that moment, a friendship was formed.* When Basil and Dawson, accompanied by a fretting Hiram Flaversham, finally came to the rescue of Olivia, and located where she was confined, they found a little girl mouse and a young lad bat huddled together in the corner, the bat with his wing around the mouse and the mouse resting her head on his shoulder, both fast asleep.
/
Back in the present, Olivia finally said, "Fidget, I don't care what the dangers are. We can't stay in here, I've got to get to school, and we've got to let Basil know what we know. What were you able to find out in Johnny's room, anyway?"
"Chris and the others are acting like pets to the kid. They steal jams and sauces for him as a 'thank you', and they plan on staying here until they get, um, several thousand pounds at any rate. And they're getting all that by stealing from folks, like they did to that Horwood fellow. When they get the money, they're gonna go away somewhere."
"Fidget, do you know what you've done! You've solved it! Now all we have to do is write another letter to Mr. Basil, explaining all of this to him, and he can have them arrested!"
"I didn't solve it, Livy, we solved it," Fidget said firmly. "And wait, won't Basil need proof or something?"
"Well, what proof can we give him other than the letter?"
"I don't know. But how can we even get out of here without that dog or those humans catching us?"
"Maybe we can, maybe we can't. But whatever happens, we've got to try!" Olivia punched her hand with her other, wearing a look of determination. "We'll go out on the count of three, one, two, THREE!"
Holding hands, they pushed the door open and snuck out. Everything was still in the room, and the dog apparently had been shooed out. Quietly, they crept to the door and slithered underneath… and came face to face with Rufus. "OH NO!" they both cried as they ran away from the snarling German Shepherd. They were running in the direction of Johnny's room, and they spied the wheelbarrow. "Aha!" Fidget said, "Livy, climb aboard!" Olivia did as told, and Fidget began wheeling her towards the stairs. At that moment, Henry, Beth, Johnny, and three more of their children all awoke and came into the hall, to find out what the commotion was about.
"What is going on here? And what the blazes is that?" Henry pointed to the bat wheeling the juvenile mouse away, down the base of the stair rail. "A bat? With a… with a mouse?"
"Alright Johnny, that does it!" Beth could be heard saying. "No more keeping mice in this house if you're going to let them run about loose like this! And we never said it was alright to keep a bat!"
"I don't have a bat, Mother!" Johnny protested. "Although wouldn't it be great if I did! Hey, come back!" they could hear him coming down the steps after them. Rufus, unfortunately, had beaten him to it, and once on the main floor, they only got outside in the nick of time before he could nab them. An alarmed Toby was waiting for them, and he picked them up in his mouth, wheelbarrow and all, and made off, just as Rufus ran out after them. Though the enraged dog pursued them for about three blocks, they got away. To say they were shaken by that close-shave was the very least of it, but together they kept their resolve. When they got back to the Flaversham residence, Olivia told Fidget she was going to write up what they had learned just as she had done the night before. Then Fidget could drop by her school, and she would slip it to him through the window when she got the chance. Also, he and Toby had better take the wheelbarrow home, in case it proved useful as evidence. Fidget agreed, and they parted ways for the night.
Everything after that went smoothly. When Basil received the letter and the wheelbarrow, he and Dawson went to the police, then with Toby they tracked down the location of the bandits. They were actually just leaving, themselves, as Beth refused to let them stay there any longer. Confessions and arrests were made, Mr. Horwood and the other mugging victim's valuables were returned, Miss Lottridge's wares were compensated for, and all was settled. The double-case was closed, but still, Basil and Dawson wondered who the courageous "neighbour" who risked their lives to help Miss Lottridge was, and Basil resolved to find out. But that was another story…
AN:
Phew! Finally this chapter's done! This was the hardest one for me to think up yet! But it was also the most fun, and at least the mystery's been solved. We've even gotten a little insight on what happened between the events surrounding Queen Mousetoria's Diamond Jubilee and Olivia and Fidget's first case. Hopefully I'll be able to think up what happens next time a lot sooner, but for now, to explain the details behind those places I marked with an asterisk:
1. Yes, the chair Fidget was hiding under while calling for Toby is the same one Olivia hid under when she and Toby first met. Fidget seems quiet adept at hiding, so he probably guessed immediately that it was the best choice of cover.
2. The "Voles and Lidden" typewriter is a play on the "Sholes and Glidden" typewriter which was produced by the New York-based E. Remmington and Sons company (parodied here by A. Lemmington and Sons). Research was done in Wikipedia. Just so you know, that error in manufacturing I described as happening in 1875 was meant to only refer to the mouse-world company; I did not intentionally reference any actual incident in the human version!
3. "Roger Days" is supposed to be a mouse-version of the real-life hardware franchise "Robert Dyas", which began in London during the late 1800s (I researched hardwares stores in the United Kingdom on Wikipedia, to find one that would work). I chose this name because "Roger" sounds similar to "Robert", and "Days" is "Dyas" transposed. No reference to the BBC presenter Roger Day, who also has a Wikipedia article, was intended!
4. It's funny how often it is that some of the strongest friendships started out as enemy-ships.