by Энид Блайтон
"Clear-orf," he said. "Dogs and children! Always messing about and getting in the way. Now that fellow's gone, and I've missed a chance of questioning him!"
He waited to see if Fatty was really hurt. But, except for a good shaking, and some fine big bruises, Fatty was not hurt at all. His fat had kept him from breaking any bones!
As soon as the policeman saw the others helping Fatty up, brushing him down, and comforting him, he took a look round to see if he could make out where the tramp had gone. But he was nowhere to be seen. He turned to the five children.
"Now, clear-orf," he said. "And don't let me see you hanging round again."
Then, with great dignity, Mr. Goon made His way heavily to the path, and walked down it without turning his head once. The children looked at each other.
"We were getting on so well till Clear-Orf came," sighed Daisy. "I wonder where that tramp went to."
"I'm going home," said Fatty miserably. "I feel awful."
"I'll take you home," said Daisy. "You come too, Bets. Do you boys want to see if you can trace the tramp?"
"Yes," said Larry. "Might as well whilst we've got the chance. I don't wonder Fatty fell off the rick. It was pretty exciting, wasn't it?"
"Fancy old Clear-Orf having a drawing of that footprint in his notebook." said Pip thoughtfully. "He's smarter than I thought. Still — we've got something he hasn't got — a bit of grey flannel!"
Fatty, Daisy, Bets and Buster went off together. The other two set off in the direction the tramp had taken. They meant to find him again if they could!
What must be done next?
Larry and Pip ran quickly in the direction the tramp had gone. It seemed silly that, although all the children had seen him, and Clear-Orf too, nobody had managed to find out what kind of soles his shoes had! There was no sign of the tramp at all. The boys met a farm labourer and hailed him.
"Hie! Have you seen an old tramp going this way?" "Yes. Into that wood," said the man, and pointed to a small copse of trees in the distance. The boys ran there, and looked about among the trees and tangled undergrowth.
They smelt the smoke of a fire, and their noses and eyes soon guided them to it. By it, on a fallen tree, sat the dirty old tramp, his hat of! now, showing his tangled, straggly hair. He was cooking something in a tin over the fire.
When he saw Larry he scowled. "What! You here again?" he said. "You get away. What do you mean, following me about like this? I haven't done nothing."
"Well," said Larry boldly, "you tried to steal eggs from Mr. Hick's hen-house the other day. We know that! But that's nothing to do with us."
"Mr. Hick! So that's his name," said the old tramp, sticking a skewer in whatever it was that he was cooking. "I didn't steal his eggs! I didn't steal nothing at all. I'm an honest old fellow, I am, and everybody will tell you the same!"
"Well — what were you doing hiding in the ditch at the bottom of his garden?" said Larry. The tramp looked astonished.
"I never hid in no ditch," he said. "I wasn't the one that did the hiding. Ho, dear me no! I could tell you something, I could — but I'm not going to. You put that policeman after me, didn't you?"
"No," said Larry. "He came along unexpectedly and went over to you. He didn't know we were anywhere about."
"Well, I don't believe you," said the old tramp. "You set that bobby after me. I know you did. I'm not going to be mixed up in anything that don't concern me. But there was funny goings-on that night, ho yes, I should think there were."
The old fellow suddenly groaned and rubbed his right foot. His big toe stuck out of the shoe, which was too small for him. He took the shoe off, showing a sock that was practically all holes, and rubbed his foot tenderly.
The boys looked at the shoe, which the tramp had thrown carelessly to one side. The sole was plainly to be seen. It was of leather, and so much worn that it could not possibly keep any damp out.
"No rubber sole!" whispered Larry to Pip. "So it couldn't have been the tramp hiding in the ditch. Anyway, I don't believe he knows a thing. And look at the old coat he's got under the mack — it's green with age, not grey!"
"What you whispering about?" said the tramp. "You get away. Can't I live in peace? I don't do no harm to nobody, I don't, but children and bobbies, they come after me like flies. You leave me alone. I'd be as merry as a blackbird if I had a pair of shoes that fitted me poor old feet. You got a pair of shoes that would fit me?"
"What size do you take?" asked Pip, thinking that perhaps he could get an old pair of his father's boots for the footsore old tramp. But the tramp didn't know. He had never bought a pair of shoes in his life.
"Well, if I can get an old pair of my father's boots, I'll bring them to you," said Pip. "Or better still, you come and get them. I live in the red house in the lane not far from Mr. Hick's house. You come there tomorrow, and I'll perhaps have got some boots for you."
"You'll set that bobby after me again if I come back," grumbled the tramp, taking out something peculiar from the tin, and beginning to eat it with his hands. "Or that Mr. Hick will. Well, he'd better be careful. I know a few things about Mr. Hick and his household, I do. Yes, I heard him shouting at quite a few people that day, besides me. Ho yes. There was funny goings on there, but I'm not mixed up in them, I tell you."
Larry looked at his watch. It was getting late. "We'll have to go," he said. "But you come along to Pip's house tomorrow, and you can tell us anything you want to. We shan't give you away."
The boys left the old tramp and tore home to their dinner, very late indeed. Their mothers were not pleased with them.
"Whatever have you been doing?" asked Pip's mother. "Where have you been?"
Pip couldn't possibly tell her, because the Find-Outers and their doings were very secret. "I was with the others." he said at last.
"You weren't. Pip," said His mother. "Bets and Daisy have been here a long time — and that fat boy too, whatever his name is. Don't tell stories."
"Well, I was with Larry," said Pip. Bets saw that he was in difficulties and she tried to rescue Mm by suddenly changing the subject.
"Fatty fell off a hay-rick this morning.," she said. It certainly changed the subject. Her mother stared at her in horror.
"Who did? That fat boy? Did he hurt himself? Whatever were you doing on a hay-rick?"
Pip was afraid that Bets was going to say why they were all on the rick, so he changed the subject quickly too.
"Mummy, has Daddy got a very old pair of boots he doesn't want?" he asked innocently. His mother looked at Mm.
"Why?" she asked. Pip was not usually interested in His father's old clothes.
"Well, I happen to know some one who would be very glad of them indeed," said Pip.
"Why?" asked His mother again.
"Well, you see, his toes are sticking right out of his shoes," explained Pip, trying to interest His mother in the matter.
"Whose toes?" asked His mother, astonished.
Pip stopped. Now he would have to bring in the tramp, and that was part of the secret. Bother! Whatever they talked about seemed to lead back to something the Find-Outers were doing.
"It's just a poor old tramp," said Bets. Pip glared at her.
"A tramp!" said her mother. "Surely you are not making friends with people like that, Pip?"
"No," said Pip desperately. "I'm not. I'm only sorry for him, that's all. You always say, Mommy, that we should be sorry for people not so well-off as ourselves, and help them., don't you? Well, that's why I thought of giving him some old boots, that's all."
"I see," said his mother., and Pip gave a sigh of relief. "Well, I'll find out if there is an old pair of Daddy's boots, and if there is, you shall have them. Now, do get on with your dinner."
After he had finished his very late meal, Pip escaped into the garden and went to find Bets, who was in the summer-house.
"Bets! Was Fatty all right? He wasn't really hurt, was he?"
"No. He's got some lovely bruises though," said Bets. "Th
e best I've ever seen. I guess he'll boast about them till we're sick of hearing about bruises. Didn't he make a thump when he fell? Did you and Larry find the tramp? What happened?"
"Well, he's not the person who hid in the ditch, nor the one whose coat got caught on the brambles," said Pip. "We saw both his shoes and his coat. He heard all the quarrels that went on. Larry and I thought we'd ask him a few questions tomorrow, when he comes to get the boots. I believe he could tell us quite a few things if he was certain we wouldn't put the police after him. He may even have spotted who was hiding in the ditch!"
"Oooh!" said Bets, thrilled. "Oh, Pip, wasn't it funny when the tramp woke and saw Larry kneeling in front of him — and after that, old Clear-Orf doing the same thing!"
"Yes, it was funny," said Pip, grinning. "Hallo, there's Fatty and Buster."
Fatty limped into the garden, walking extremely stiffly. He had tried to make up his mind whether to act very heroically, and pooh-pooh His fall, but limp to make the others sorry for him, or whether to make out that he had hurt himself inside very badly and frighten them.
At the moment he was behaving heroically. He smiled at Bets and Pip and sat down very gingerly.
"Do you hurt much?" asked Bets sympathetically.
"Oh, I'm all right," said Fatty, in a very, very brave voice. "A fall off a rick isn't much! Don't you worry about me!"
The others stared at him in admiration.
"Do you want to see my bruises?" asked Fatty.
"I've seen them," said Bets. "But I don't mind seeing them again. I like bruises best when they begin to go yellow, really. Pip hasn't seen them, have you. Pip?"
Pip was torn between wanting to see the bruises, and not wanting Fatty to boast and show them off. Fatty didn't wait for him to answer, however. He began to strip off various garments, and display braises of many sizes and shapes. They were certainly good ones.
"I've never seen such beauties," said Pip, unable to stop himself admiring them. "I never have bruises like that. I suppose it's being fat that makes them spread so. Won't you look lovely when you go yellow-green?"
"That's one thing about me," said Fatty, "I'm a wonderful bruiser. Once, when I ran into the goal-post at football, I got a bruise just here that was exactly the shape of a church-bell. It was most peculiar."
"Oh, I wish I'd seen it," said Bets.
"And another time," said Fatty, "some one hit me with a stick — just here — and the next morning the bruise was exactly like a snake, head and all."
Pip reached out for a stick. "I'll give you another snake if you like," he said. "Just tell me where you'd like it."
Fatty was offended. "Don't be mean," he said.
"Well, shut up about snakes and church-bells then," said Pip, in disgust. "Bets has only got to say 'Oh, how wonderful, and you make up the tallest stories I've ever heard. Hallo — here are Larry and Daisy."
Fatty didn't like to say any more about his bruises, though he was simply longing to show them to the others. Lany had been thinking a lot about everything whilst he had gobbled up his late dinner, and he had his plans all ready. He didn't even ask poor Fatty how he felt after his fall, but started off straightaway with His ideas.
"Look here," he said, "I've been thinking about Clear-Orf. I don't like him knowing about those footprints. We don't want him to solve this mystery before we do. For all we know he's got his eye on Peeks and Mr., Smellie too, as well as the tramp. We must get in first. It would be too awful if horrid old Clear-Orf found out everything before we did!"
"It would.," agreed every one wholeheartedly. Buster wagged His tail.
"We must see this man-servant, Peeks," said Larry. "It's most important I don't suspect that old tramp any more now that I've seen His shoes and coat. Anyway, I'm certain that if he had fired the cottage, he would have fled away out of the district as soon as ever he could. As it is, he's still about. I don't believe he did it. I'm much more inclined to think that Peeks did it. We must find out."
"We must," agreed every one again.
"I shall question the tramp closely tomorrow," said Larry, rather grandly. "I feel certain he can tell us plenty. Fatty, do you think you and Daisy could find out about Peeks tomorrow? I'll stay here with Pip and Bets and question the tramp."
"Right!" said Fatty and Daisy joyfully. If only they could get ahead of Clear-Orf! They simply must beat him!
Lily comes into the Story
Fatty really was too stiff to want to do anything more that day, so Larry, Pip and Daisy left Mm in the garden with Bets and Buster, reading quietly. They thought they would go down to Mr. Hick's house and talk to Mrs. Minns again.
"We ought really to find out if Mrs. Minns could have fired the cottage herself," said Larry. "I don't feel as if she did, but you can't go by feelings if you are a detective. Also, we must get Horace Peek's address."
"We'll take some fish for Sweetie, the cat," said Daisy.
"I think there was some left over that cook might let me have. Mrs. Miens will be awfully pleased to see us if we take a present for Sweetie."
The cook gave her a fish-head, wrapped up in paper. Buster smelt it and wanted to follow Daisy., but Fatty held him firmly by the collar.
"It's no good him coming," said Daisy. "He'd be sure to chase Sweetie, and then Mrs. Minns would chase us!"
They went down the lane together. "Leave me to do the talking," said Larry.
Daisy laughed. "Don't you worry — it will be Mrs. Minns who does it!" she said.
They arrived at the kitchen door and looked inside. Lily was there, writing a letter. She looked as if she had been crying. "Where's Mrs. Minns?" asked Larry.
"Upstairs," said Lily. "She's in a bad temper. I upset a jug of milk over her, and she keeps on saying I did it on purpose."
"Were you here on the night of the fire?" asked Larry. Lily shook her head.
"Where were you, then?" asked Larry. "Didn't you see the fire?"
"I saw it when I came back from my evening off," said Lily. "Never you mind where I was. It's got nothing to do with you!"
"I know," said Larry, surprised at Lily's violent tone. "What I can't understand is — why didn't Mrs. Minns or her sister smell the fire when it began!"
"Here's Mrs. Mirhis's sister now," said Lily, looking up as a very fat woman, with twinkling eyes under a big hat trimmed with flowers, came up to the kitchen door. She looked in and seemed surprised to see the children.
"Hallo, Mrs. Jones," said Lily sulkily. "Mrs. Minns is upstairs changing her dress. She won't be a minute."
Mrs. Jones came in and sank into a rocking-chair, breathing heavily. "My, it's hot today," she said. "Who are all these children?"
"We live up the lane," said Pip. "We've brought a fish-head for Sweetie."
"Where are all the kittens?" said Daisy, looking at the empty basket.
"Oh!" said Lily. "I hope they haven't gone out of the kitchen and upstairs. Mrs. Minns told me to keep the door shut!"
"Perhaps the kittens are outside," said Larry, shutting the door that led into the hall. He didn't particularly want Mr. Hick to hear the talking in the kitchen and come in. "Oh — there's Sweetie!"
The big black and white cat came into the kitchen, her tail straight up in the air. She smelt the fish-head and went to Daisy. Daisy unwrapped it and put it into the cat's dinner-bowl in a corner of the kitchen. Sweetie immediately took it out of the bowl and began to eat it on the floor.
"Was Sweetie frightened of the fire the other night?" asked Pip, thinking it was about time to start on the subject.
"She was kind of restless," said Mrs. Jones.
"Oh, were you here?" said Daisy, pretending to be surprised. "Goodness — how was it you didn't know the cottage was burning then?"
"I did" said Mrs. Jones indignantly. "Didn't I keep saying to Maria, 'Maria, there's something burning! I've a very good nose, but Maria hasn't. I kept sniffing round the kitchen, and I even put my nose into the hall, thinking there might be something burning there."
/> "Didn't Mrs. Minns go and see if there was anything burning too?" asked Larry.
"Ah, Maria didn't want to move that evening," said Mrs. Jones. "She'd got her rheumatism back something cruel. She was stuck, real stuck."
"What do you mean, stuck?" asked Larry, with interest.
"Well, she sat down in this rocking-chair at tea-time, and she says to me, 'Hannah, she says, I'm stuck. Me rheumatism's got me again, and I can't move. So I says to her, 'Maria, you just stay put. I'll get the tea and everything. Mr. Hick is out, so there's no dinner to get. I'll just stay with you till your poor legs are better."
The children listened, and each of them thought the same thing. "If Mrs. Minns was stuck in a chair all the evening with rheumatism, then she couldn't have fired the cottage!"
"And didn't poor Mrs. Minns get up at all out of the rocking-chair?" asked Daisy. "Not till you really knew there was a fire, I mean?"
"No — Maria just stayed put," said Mrs. Jones. "It wasn't till me nose told me there really was something burning terrible that Maria got up. I went to the kitchen-door and sniffed — and then I went out into the garden — and I saw the flare down at the bottom there. I shouted out, 'There's a fire, Maria! and she turned as white as a sheet. 'Come on, Maria! I says, 'We've got to do something. But poor Maria, she can't get out of her chair, she's so stuck!"
The children drank all this in. It certainly could have been nothing to do with Mrs. Minns. If she had been so "stuck" with rheumatism, she wouldn't have been likely to rush around setting fire to cottages. And anyway her sister was with her all the time. It was quite plainly nothing to do with Mrs. Minns. That was another Suspect crossed off!
Mrs. Minns opened the kitchen door and came in, looking angry. She had been upstairs to take off her milk-drenched dress. She glared at Lily., and then looked in surprise at the three children.
"Well, Maria," said Mrs. Jones, "how's the rheumatics?"
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Minns," said Daisy. "We came to bring a fish-head for Sweetie."