The Maharajah's Monkey Read Online Free PDF Page A

wore a bit of yellow cloth wound round his ’ead. Looked like a big tea cozy it did.”
    â€œIt’s called a turban,” I replied. “I believe Indians wear them to protect their head from the sun. It is burning hot in the deserts of India.”
    â€œWell it’s not ’ot ’ere,” Peg remarked, casting her eyes to the heavens. A gray light was coming down from the sky on to the bright boats. It looked to rain or snow. A land of sunshine seemed very far away. “A right nincompoop he looked, goin’ round like a giant teapot.”
    All this talk of Indians was very interesting but it was a distraction from my search for Champlon. I had to focus, for I felt sure Peg knew something of the Frenchman. “Have you seen anyone like the man with mustaches that I described,” I pressed Peg.
    â€œLor’ girl, can’t yer listen when I tell yer? That’s what I’m tryin’ to say. Them foreigners stick together. Frenchie was on the Indian’s boat. I seen them on the deck, arguin’ loudly. Shouting and screaming at each other, they were. Then they went inside. I lost sight of ’em, I did. Anyway I ’ad to get on wiv me work. Can’t stand around all day, I can’t. I can tell you one fing, I never seen such a lot of strange folk.”
    â€œWhen? When did all this happen?”
    She shrugged, a massive rolling motion in her vast shoulders: “’Bout two hours ago.”
    â€œWhich one?” I asked urgently. “Which barge does the Indian live on?”
    Peg pointed one out to me, a few boats down. It had a strange name—the
Oudalali—
and was painted in eye-popping shades of turquoise and lime.
    â€œThanks so much, Peg,” I called, hastening to move down the banks to the
Oudalali
. But the boat-woman called me back.
    â€œYer too late!”
    I halted.
    â€œYe won’t ’ave any luck,” she said. “They’ve scarpered. The whole lot of ’em ’ave cleared out.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œA carriage came for ’em. It took ’em, Frenchman, Indian, them two other gents, bags and baggage and all. I’ll bet yer we’ve seen the last of ’em. The Indian and ’is rascally goblin.”
    I stared at Peg confounded. “What do you mean
goblin
?” I asked. “Do you mean he had a dwarf?”
    â€œWorse than that. ’E had a bleedin’ monkey!”
    Things were coming together in my head. Those claw-like tracks leading from Champlon’s room to the river. Not made by some urchin at all, but by something far stranger. Something that could scale walls and dart through small openings with no problem.
    A monkey!

Chapter Four
    â€œA monkey,” I stuttered. “Are you sure?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œThere aren’t any monkeys in Oxford.”
    â€œI knows what I saw.”
    â€œBut what was it doing here?”
    â€œThieving,” Peg snapped. “He’d steal the knickers from under yer bottom, beg your pardon, young lady.”
    I was glad the Minchin wasn’t here. She would have fainted at the word “bottom.”
    â€œThere wasn’t anyfing that monkey wouldn’t nick. Not nothing. When he looked at yer, with them beady eyes, grinning away, he looked wicked through and through.”
    A thieving monkey. I had no time to lose. ThankingPeg Leg for her information I hurried to the
Oudalali
. The boat was moored to the bank with a strong chain, the windows covered with check curtains and the cabin door firmly closed. It looked deserted. It was a simple matter to climb aboard. I was met with an odd sight. The deck was littered with rubbish; piles of twigs and leaves made into nests, bits of bright paper and scraps of material. I tried the door and to my surprise it opened.
    At first glance the interior was typical of a canal barge. Paneled wood walls, a fold-down table and bunk. Gleaming pots and kettles.