by Enid Blyton
"I think it's a very good idea of Bets," said Fatty. "Very good indeed. If he knows what the mystery is that Goon is working on—and he's sure to—I don't see why he can't tell us. He knows we'll keep out mouths shut and do all we can to help."
So the next day the Five Find-Outers, with Buster in Fatty's basket, rode on their bicycles to the next big town, where Inspector Jenks had his headquarters. They went to the police-station there, and asked if they might see him.
"What! See the Inspector himself!" said the policeman in charge. "Kids like you! I should think not. He's a Big Man, he is, too busy to bother with kids. Sauce, I call it!"
"Wait a bit," said another policeman, with a nice face, and very bright blue eyes. "Wait a bit—aren't you the kids that helped with one or two difficult cases over in Peterswood?"
"Yes, we are," said Fatty. "We wouldn't want to bother the Inspector if he's busy, of course—but we would like to ask him something rather important. Important to us, I mean."
"Shall I go in and tell the Inspector then?" said the first policeman to the other one. "Don't want my head bitten off, you know, for interrupting without due cause."
"I'll tell him!" said the blue-eyed policeman. "I've heard him talk about these kids." He got up and went out of the room. The children waited as patiently as they could. Surely their old friend would see them!
The policeman came back. "He'll see you," he said. "Come on in."
The children followed him down a long stone-floored passage, and then down another. Bets looked about her half-fearfully. Was she anywhere near prisoners in their cells? She hoped not.
The policeman opened a door with a glass top to it, and announced them. "The children from Peterswood, sir."
The Inspector was sitting at an enormous desk, piled with papers. He was in uniform and looked very big and grand. His eyes twinkled, and he smiled his nice smile.
"Well, well, well!" he said. "The whole lot of you at once—and Buster too, I see I Well, how are you? Come to tell me you've solved the mystery that's been worrying us for months, I suppose!"
He shook hands with them all, and put Bets on his knee. She beamed at him. She was very fond of this big High-Up Policeman.
"No, sir, we haven't come to tell you we've solved any mystery, unfortunately," said Fatty. "These are the first hols for ages that we haven't had a mystery to solve. But sir, we know that Mr. Goon has got one he's working on, and we thought perhaps we could work on it too. But we don't know what it is."
"Yes, Goon's on it," said the Inspector. "In fact, most of the police force of the country seem to be on it too! But it's not one that you can be mixed up in. I don't think you could help at all, first-rate detectives though you are!”
"Oh!” said Fatty, disappointed. "Is it—is it all these big burglaries, sir?"
"Yes, that's right," said the Inspector. "Very clever, they are. The thieves know just what jewels to steal, when to get at them, and lay their plans very carefully. And we don't know one single one of the men! Not one. Though we have our suspicions, you know! We always have!"
He twinkled at the listening children. Fatty felt desperate. Surely the Inspector could tell them more than that. Surely Goon knew more? Else why was he so busy and important these days?
"Mr. Goon looks as if he knew quite a lot, sir," said Fatty. "Is there anything going on in Peterswood at all?"
The Inspector hesitated. "Well," he said at last, "as I said, this is not a thing for children to be mixed up in. Definitely not, and I am sure you would agree with me if you knew what I know. Peterswood is not exactly mixed up in it—but we suspect that some of the gang go there—to meet perhaps—or to pass on messages—we don't know."
The children's eyes brightened immediately. "Sir!" said Fatty, at once, "can't we just keep our eyes open, then? Not snoop round too much, if you don't want us to—but watch and see if we hear or spot anything unusual. Children can often see and hear things that grown-ups can't, because people suspect other grown-ups, but they don't notice children much."
The Inspector tapped with his pencil on his desk. Fatty knew that he was weighing up whether or not to let them keep a watch on things in Peterswood, and his heart beat anxiously. How he hoped they would be allowed just to have a little hand in this Mystery! It seemed a pretty hopeless one, and Mr. Goon was sure to do better than they could, because he knew so much more—but Fatty simply couldn't bear to be left out of it altogether!
"All right," said the Inspector at last, and put his pencil down. "You can keep your eyes open for me—but don't plunge headlong into anything foolish or dangerous. Just keep your eyes open. It's barely possible you children might spot something, simply because you're children. Report to me if you find anything suspicious."
"Oh, thank you!" said every one at once, delighted.
"It's jolly good of you, sir," said Fatty. "We will find out something! And we'll be as careful as Mr. Goon!"
"Well, I'm afraid he will come out on top this time," said the Inspector, his eyes twinkling. "He knows so much more than you do. But I can tell you no more than I have done. Good-bye—and it's been so nice to see you!"
The children went. They got on their bicycles and rode back home, thrilled and pleased. They all went to Pip's garden, and sat down importantly in his summer-house, right at the top of the garden.
"Well—we've got a Mystery after all!" said Fatty. "Who are the gang that steals all these jewels? Goon's on the job, and he's got a flying start—and now we'll be on it too. Has anybody noticed anything suspicious in Peterswood lately?"
They all thought hard. But nobody could think of anything in the least suspicious. Things seemed to be pretty much as usual, except that the hot weather had brought crowds of people into the little riverside village.
"I can't think of a thing," said Larry.
"It's not a very easy Mystery," said Daisy, frowning. "There doesn't seem anywhere to begin."
"Can't we do it the usual way—find clues, and make a list of Suspects? " said Bets.
"Right!" said Pip scornfully. "You tell us what clues to look for, and who to put down on a list of Suspects!"
"There are no clues to look for, and we don't even know where to look for Suspects," said Larry mournfully. "I wonder what Goon knows."
"He's probably got a list of men he's suspicious of," said Fatty thoughtfully. "And he's also probably got all details of all the burglaries committed lately. I'd better get some back numbers of the newspapers and read them up. Not that it will help us very much, really."
There was a long pause. "Well," said Pip, at last. "What's the plan? What are we going to do?"
There simply didn't seem anything to do! All they knew was that it was possible that the thieves sometimes met in Peterswood.
"I think it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to disguise myself as that old deaf fellow, who sits on that sunny bench in the middle of the village," said Fatty. "We know he isn't there in the mornings, so that would be the time for me to go and sit there. I might be able to spot something suspicious. Men passing notes to one another as they meet—or making remarks in low voices—or even sitting on that bench and talking."
Every one looked doubtful. It didn't seem at all likely, really. Bets guessed that Fatty wanted the fun of disguising himself again. "You had certainly better not be there in the afternoon!" she said. "People would begin to wonder, if they saw two old fellows, exactly alike, sitting on the same bench!"
"Yes. Goon would have a fit!" said Larry, and every one laughed.
"Don't you think it would be better if you chose some other disguise, not disguise yourself like that old fellow?" said Pip. "Just in case you did both wander along at the same time? There doesn't really seem any point in dressing up like that dirty old man."
"There isn't, really. I just feel I'd like to, that's all," said Fatty. "You know, if you're as good an actor as I am, there are certain parts or characters that appeal to you much more than others. I loved being that old Balloon-woman—and I shall l
ove to be that old man. I can act him exactly right."
He gave a realistic sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The others laughed, and did not tease him over his boasting of being such a good actor.
"You're disgusting!" said Daisy. "Don't for goodness sake start doing that sort of thing in front of your parents! They'll have a fit!"
Fatty got up and hobbled out into the garden, shuffling like the old man. He bent his back and dropped his head. He really was an extremely good actor.
Then he gave another frightful sniff and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
A horrified voice spoke to him. "Frederick! Haven't you a handkerchief? What disgusting behaviour!"
And there was Pip's mother, come to fetch them in to a meal, as they all seemed completely deaf to the gong. Poor Fatty! He went red to the ears, and produced an enormous handkerchief at once. How the others laughed!
Something Rather Queer.
With, the help of the others, Fatty managed to get together some old clothes very like the old man on the bench had worn. Pip produced a very old gardening hat belonging to his father. Larry found an old coat hanging in the garage.
"It's been there for years, as far as I remember," he said. "Nobody ever wears it. You might as well have it. It's got mildew inside the pockets, so be careful how you put your hands in them!"
It was easy to get an old shirt and muffler. Fatty produced a torn shirt of his own, and found a muffler down in the garden shed, which he must have left there months before.
He dragged the shirt in the dirt, and it was soon as filthy as the old man's. He dirtied the muffler a little more too.
"What about the shoes?" he said. "We want frightfully old ones. That old man's were all cracked open at the toe."
The shoes were a real problem. Nobody’s father had shoes as old as that. The children wondered if they could buy a pair from some tramp, but when they went out to find a tramp, the only one they met had perfectly good shoes on.
Then Daisy had a brain-wave. "Let's look in all the ditches we pass!" she said. "There are always old boots and shoes in ditches, I don't know why. We might find some there."
Sure enough they did! Larry came across a dirty,-damp old pair, open at the toes and well worn at the heels. He tossed them to Fatty.
"Well, if you think you really do want to wear such horrible things, there you are! But you'll have to dry them or you'll get awfully damp feet, and have a streaming cold."
"He'll be able to sniffle properly then," said Bets. She too had been practising the old man's sniff, much to her mother's annoyance.
"Ill put them under the tank in the hot cupboard," said Fatty. "They'll soon dry there. They'll about fit me. I don't at all like wearing them, but, after all, if it's important to solve the Mystery, it's important to put up with little things like this!"
The trousers seemed quite impossible to get. Nobody's father wore the kind of coarse corduroy that the old man wore. Could they possibly buy a pair in the village shop and make them torn and dirty for Fatty to wear?
"Better not buy them in Peterswood, in case the news gets round," said Fatty. "I wouldn't want old Goon to know I'd bought workman's corduroys—he'd be sure to snoop round and find out why. He's got more brains lately, somehow."
"We'll walk across the fields to Sheepridge," said Daisy. "We might buy a pair there."
Half-way across the fields Pip gave a shout that made every one jump. He pointed to an old scarecrow standing forgotten in a field. It wore a hat without a brim, a ragged coat—and a pair of dreadful old corduroy trousers!
"Just what we want!" said Fatty joyfully, and ran to the scarecrow. "We'll give them back to him when we've finished with them. Golly, aren't they holey? I hope they'll hang together on me."
"I'd better give them a wash for you," said Daisy. "They really are awful. If you wear your pair of brown flannel shorts under them, Fatty, the holes won't show up so much. There are really too many to mend."
Joyfully the Find-Outers went back to Larry's. Daisy washed the trousers, but not much dirt came out of them because the rain had washed them many a time. Bets couldn't imagine how Fatty could bear to put on such horrid old-clothes.
"Duty calls!" said Fatty, with a grin. "Got to do all kinds of unpleasant things, Bets, when duty calls. And a really good detective doesn't stick at anything."
The next day they held a dress rehearsal and dressed Fatty up in the old clothes. He had already got a ragged, sandy-grey beard, which he had cut more or less to the shape of the old man's. He had shaggy grey eyebrows to put on too, and wisps of straggly grey hair to peep out from under his hat.
He made himself up carefully. He put in some wrinkles with his grease-paints, and then screwed up his mouth so that it looked as if he hadn't many teeth.
"Oh, Fatty—you're marvellous!" cried Bets. "I simply can't bear to look at you, you look so awful. Don't stare at me like that! You give me the creeps! You're an old, old man, not Fatty at all!"
"Wassat?" said Fatty, putting his hand behind his ear. He had very dirty hands indeed—and this time he had remembered to blacken his nails too. He really looked appalling.
"What's the time?" he asked, for he had taken off his wrist-watch, in case it showed. "Oh, twelve o'clock. Well, what about shuffling off for a snooze in the sun, on that bench? My double won't be there, because he said he never goes out till the afternoon. Come on. I'll see if I can play my part all right!”
"We'll all come," said Pip. "But well not sit near you. Well go and have lemonade in that little sweetshop opposite the bench. We can keep an eye on you then, and see what happens."
Fatty, after sending Larry down his garden path to the back gate, to see if the coast was clear, shuffled down, hoping that nobody in his house would spot him. He didn't want his mother to get curious about the odd old men and women that seemed to haunt her back-entrance.
Once out in the road, the other four children kept near to Fatty, but not near enough to make any one suspect they were with him. He shuffled along, dragging his feet, bent and stooping, his hat well down over his ears.
"He's just exactly like that old fellow we saw!" whispered Bets to Daisy. "I'd never know the difference, would you?"
Fatty did a loud sniff and the others grinned. He came to the sunny bench and cautiously sat himself down, giving a little sigh as he did so. "Aaaah!"
He was certainly a marvellous actor. He sat there in the sun, bending over his stick, the very picture of a poor old man having a rest. The others made their way to the little lemonade shop, and sat down at the table in the window to watch him.
Just as they were finishing their lemonade a man came by on a bicycle, whistling. He was a perfectly ordinary man, in a perfectly ordinary suit and cap, with a very ordinary face. But, when he caught sight of the old man, he braked very suddenly indeed, and looked at him in some astonishment.
He got off his bicycle and wheeled it over to the bench. He leaned it against the seat and sat down by Fatty. The children, watching from the shop opposite, were surprised and rather alarmed. Had this man seen something queer about Fatty's disguise? Had he guessed it was somebody pretending? Would he give Fatty away?
Fatty, too, felt a little alarmed. He had been enjoying himself thoroughly, getting right "under the skin" of the old man, as he put it to himself. He had seen the look of surprise on the man's face. Now here he was sitting beside him. Why?
"What you out here for, in the morning?" said the man suddenly, in a very low voice. "Thought you never came till the afternoon. Anything up? Expecting any one?"
Fatty was taken aback to hear this low and confidential whisper. Obviously the man thought him to be the old fellow, and was amazed to see him out in the morning. But what did all the questions mean?
Just in time, Fatty remembered that the old man was deaf. He put his hand to his ear and put his ear towards the man, so that he should not look directly into his face. He was afraid that he might be recognized as a fraud if the man looked int
o his eyes.
"Wassat?" said Fatty, in a croaking old voice. "Wassat?"
The man gave an impatient exclamation. "Of course—he's deaf!" He gave a quick look round as if to see if any one was near. Then somebody else cycled slowly by and the man sidled a little way away from Fatty, and took out a cigarette to light.
The cyclist was Goon, perspiring freely in the hot sun. He saw the two men at once, and got off his bicycle. He pretended to adjust the chain. The four children in the shop watched him with interest, hoping that he wouldn't go and say anything to Fatty.
Buster saw Goon, and with a delighted yelp he tore out of the sweet-shop, and danced round the policeman's feet. Larry rushed after him, afraid that Buster would go and lick Fatty's face, and give the show away to Goon. But Buster was fully engaged with the angry policeman, and was having a perfectly lovely time, dodging kicks, and getting in little snaps and snarls whenever he could.
Fatty got up hurriedly and shuffled away round the nearest corner without being noticed by Mr. Goon, who was rapidly losing his temper. All the others, seeing Fatty wanted to get away before Goon noticed he was gone, began to join in the fun, pretending to call Buster off, but only succeeding in exciting the little Scottie more than ever!
When at last Buster was safely in Larry's arms, and Goon could look round at the bench, it was empty! Both the men had gone. Mr. Goon looked extremely angry.
"That there dog!" he said, dusting his trousers down violently. "I'll report him, I will. Interfering with me doing my duty, that's what he did. And now where are them two fellows gone? I wanted to put a few questions to them!"