Paddington Novels 1-3

so I lay in wait.” He pointed towards a door at the top of the stairs. “He’s in there!”
    Before either of the policemen could ask any more questions there came the sound of banging and a voice cried, “Let me out!”
    “Good heavens!” exclaimed the first policeman. “There is someone in there.” He looked at Paddington with renewed respect. “Did you get a description, sir?”
    “He was about eight feet tall,” said Paddington, recklessly, “and he sounded very cross when he found he couldn’t get out.”
    “Hmm!” said the second policeman. “Well, we’ll soon see about that. Stand back!” With that he pulled the piece of wood from under the door and flung it open, shining his torch into the room.
    Everyone stood back and waited for the worst to happen. To their surprise, when the man came out it was another policeman.
    “Locked in!” he exclaimed bitterly. “I see some lights flashing from an empty house, soI go to investigate… and what happens? I’m locked in… by a bear!” He pointed towards Paddington. “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s him!”
    Paddington suddenly began to feel very small. All three policemen were looking at him, and in the excitement his beard had fallen off one ear.
    “Hmm,” said the first policeman. “And what were you doing in an empty house at gone midnight, young fellow-me-bear? And wearing a disguise at that! I can see we shall have to take you along to the station for questioning.”
    “It’s a bit difficult to explain,” said Paddington, sadly. “I’m afraid it’s going to take rather a long time. You see… it’s all to do with Mr Brown’s marrow – the one he was going to enter for the vegetable show…”
    The policemen weren’t the only ones who found it all rather hard to understand. Mr Brown was still asking questions long after Paddington had been returned from the police station to the family’s safe keeping.
    “I still don’t see how my losing a marrow has got anything to do with Paddington being arrested,” he said for the hundredth time.
    “But Paddington wasn’t arrested, Henry,”said Mrs Brown. “He was only detained for questioning. Anyway, he was only trying to get your marrow back for you. You ought to be very grateful.”
    She sighed. She would have to tell her husband the truth sooner or later. She’d already told Paddington. “I’m afraid it’s all my fault really,” she said. “You see… I cut your marrow by mistake!”
    “ You did?” exclaimed Mr Brown. “You cut my prize marrow?”
    “Well, I didn’t realise it was your prize one,” said Mrs Brown. “And you know how fond you are of stuffed marrow. We had it for dinner last night!”
    Back in his own room, Paddington felt quite pleased with himself as he got into bed. He’d have a lot to tell his friend, Mr Gruber in the morning. Once the inspector at the police station had heard his full story he had complimented Paddington on his bravery and ordered his immediate release.
    “I wish there were more bears about like you, Mr Brown,” he had said. And he had given Paddington a real police whistle as a souvenir. Even the policeman who had been locked in said he quite understood how it had all come about.
    Besides, he had solved the mystery of the flashing lights at last. It hadn’t been anyone in the garden at all, but simply the reflection of his own torch on the window. When he stood up on the end of the bed he could even see himself quite plainly in the glass.
    In a way Paddington was sorry about the marrow. Especially as he wouldn’t get the reward. But he was very glad the culprit hadn’t been Mr Briggs. He liked Mr Briggs – and besides, he’d been promised another ride in his bucket. He didn’t want to miss that.

Soon after the marrow adventure the weather changed. It began to get colder. The leaves fell from the trees and it became dark very early in the evenings. Jonathan and Judy went back to school and Paddington was left on his own for much of the day.
    But one morning, towards the end of October, a letter arrived with his name on the envelope. It was marked ‘Urgent’ and ‘Strictly Personal’ and it was in Jonathan’s writing. Paddington didn’t get many letters, only an occasional picture postcard from his Aunt Lucy in Peru, so it was all the more exciting.
    In some ways it was a rather mysterious letter and Paddington couldn’t make head ortail of it. In it Jonathan asked him to collect all the dry leaves he could