The other four tried in vain to make Fatty tell them more. But he wouldn’t. ‘You can look at all these clues as much as you like,’ he said, ‘and if you use your brains they will tell you exactly what they tell me. Exactly. I could tell you everything in two minutes - but I do really think you should try to find out what I have found out.’
‘But that silly alphabet book!’ said Daisy. ‘It doesn’t tell me a thing!’
‘And all that time-table tells me is that there’s a bus to Sheepsale at 10.15, and it’s the bus the letter-writer probably took - but it doesn’t tell me anything else,’ said Pip. ‘As to my dictionary - well, that beats me!’
‘Come on - let’s get back home,’ said Fatty. ‘I’ve got to think this all out. It’s not a scrap of good going to Goon about it. He won’t believe a word. In fact I think he’s got it firmly in his head that I’m mixed up in all this letter-writing. I’m sure he thinks I wrote the letter to him!’
‘Well - who are we going to, then?’ asked Bets. ‘Inspector Jenks? I’d like that!’
‘I thought perhaps we’d better tell your mother first,’ said Fatty. ‘I don’t somehow feel as if I want to bring Inspector Jenks down here for an affair like this - and go right over Goon’s head with the clues that Goon himself presented us with. Doesn’t seem quite fair somehow.’
‘It seems quite fair to me!’ said Bets, who disliked Mr. Goon more than any of the others did. ‘Oh, Fatty - tell us all you know from these clues, do, do, do!’
‘Now, Bets, if you like to think hard and study these clues, you would know as much as I do,’ said Fatty. ‘Come on - let’s go home - and on the way you can all think hard and if nobody can find out what these clues mean, or who they’re pointing to, then I’ll tell you myself. But give your brains a chance, do!’
In silence except for Buster’s occasional yaps at a stray cat, they went home to Pip’s. When they got into the drive they saw a big black car there.
‘Whose is that?’ said Bets, in wonder.
‘And there’s Mr. Goon’s bike,’ said Daisy, pointing to where it stood by the front door. ‘He’s here too.’
Mrs. Hilton suddenly opened the front door and stood there, waiting for them, looking pale and worried.
‘Come in this way,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. Mr. Goon is here - saying most peculiar things - and he’s got Inspector Jenks over too!’
‘Oh! Is he here?’ cried Bets in delight, and rushed into the drawing-room. The big Inspector sat there, his eyes twinkling as he saw Bets. He was very fond of her.
She flung herself on him. ‘I haven’t seen you since the Christmas holidays! You’re bigger than ever! Oh - there’s Mr. Goon!’
So there was, sitting upright in a corner, looking curiously pleased with himself.
The other four came in more quietly, and shook hands with the big Inspector. They knew him well, for he had come to their help very often, when they were solving other problems. Buster capered round his ankles in delight, awaiting for the pat he knew would come.
Mrs. Hilton waited till the greetings were over, and then spoke in a worried voice.
‘Children! Mr. Goon brought Inspector Jenks over here today, when he was visiting Peterswood, because he had a serious complaint to make of your behaviour, especially one of you, and he thought that it would be a good thing if the Inspector reprimanded you himself. But I cannot imagine what you have been doing - unless you have been interfering in this anonymous letter business - and I said you were not to.’
Nobody said anything. Fatty looked politely and inquiringly at the Inspector.
‘Suppose you hold forth, Goon,’ said the Inspector, in his pleasant, courteous voice. ‘You have quite a lot to say, I believe.’
‘Well, sir,’ began Mr. Goon, in a righteous sort of voice, ‘I know your opinion of these here children has always been high - but I’ve always known more of them than you have, if you’ll pardon me saying so, sir - and they’ve bin getting above themselves, sir - meddling in things that don’t concern them, and hindering me in my business, sir - and one of them - this here boy by name of Frederick Trotteville, sir, I regret to inform you that he has meddled in this anonymous writing, and sent me a most rude and incivil letter, sir - and what’s more he goes about pretending to be what he’s not, sir - and deceiving me proper-like...’
‘Exactly what do you mean by that, Goon?’ asked the Inspector mildly. ‘Going about pretending to be what he’s not?’
‘Well, sir, he’s a whole lot of red-headed boys, sir,’ said Mr. Goon, to the great mystification of the Inspector and Mrs. Hilton. ‘Took me in proper, he did. First he was a red-headed telegraph-boy, sir - then he was a butcher-boy - and a messenger-boy, sir - tearing round on his bike, a public danger, sir, and a nuisance. But as soon as I found the red wig, sir...’
‘Who told you where it was?’ asked Fatty.
‘Mrs. Moon showed me,’ said Mr. Goon. ‘Yes, and she told me, too, all the things you’ve been saying about me, Master Frederick - you and the others - and how she overheard you planning to write that there cheeky letter to me!’
‘Really?’ said Fatty, his eyes gleaming curiously. ‘Perhaps she told you also, who is the writer of those other anonymous letters?’
‘Well, no, she didn’t,’ admitted Mr. Goon. ‘Unless it was some one she’s Got Her Eye On. But she wasn’t mentioning any names just yet.’
Frederick, this is all very disturbing,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘I cannot imagine what you have been doing! And surely, surely you did not write that letter to Mr. Goon!’
‘No, Mrs. Hilton, of course I didn’t,’ said Fatty. ‘As for the disguises - well, I mean to be a famous detective when I grow up - and I’m just practising, that’s all. I have been looking into the mystery of the anonymous letter-writing - and by great good luck I’ve had a whole lot of clues thrust upon me. As a matter of fact we were going to tell you the whole thing as soon as we got back.’
‘Ho yes!’ said Mr. Goon disbelievingly.
‘That will do, Goon,’ said the Inspector. ‘What are these clues, Frederick, that you’ve had thrust upon you?’
Fatty went into the hall and came back with the little sack. He placed it on the table. Mr. Goon stared at it and his eyes bulged.
‘Those clues!’ he said, scornfully. ‘Those clues you planted for me to find! Ho! Copybooks and alphabet books! White rats and match-boxes that jump! Clothing pegs and dolls’ hats!’
The Inspector looked most astonished at this long list of things. Fatty looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Just my little joke,’ he murmured.
‘Well, your little jokes have landed you into Serious Trouble,’ said Mr. Goon. ‘Just like I said they would. It was lucky the Inspector was in Peterswood today. Soon as I told him about everything, along he came.’
‘Very kind of him,’ said Fatty. ‘In fact, as far as we are concerned, he has come at exactly the right moment. We were just discussing whether or not we should telephone him and ask him to come over. Now he’s here!’
‘And what did you want to see me about?’ asked the Inspector.
‘About this anonymous letter-writing business, sir,’ said Fatty. ‘You see, we couldn’t let a mystery like that happen under our very noses, so to speak, without going into it a bit. And we were all sorry for Gladys.’
‘Quite so,’ said the Inspector. ‘Another case for the Five Find-Outers - and Dog!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Fatty. ‘A very difficult affair too, sir. We got on a lot of wrong trails.’
‘We found out that the letter-writer caught the 10.15 bus to Sheepsale,’ said Bets. ‘And we went on it on Monday, to see who the passengers were. But nobody posted a letter there!’
‘Except Master Frederick!’ shot out Mr. Goon.
‘There - I told you Mr. Goon would put you down on his List of Suspects if he saw you posting that letter!’ said Bets.
‘I rather hoped he would!’ said Fatty, with a grin. Mr. Goon scowled. This interview wasn’t coming off quite as he had hoped it would. That wretched boy, Fatty! He always seemed to get away with anything. And the Inspector didn’t seem to be taking the matter very seriously, either. It was too bad.
‘I expect Mr. Goon has told you about the bus to Sheepsale, though, sir, and how the letters were always posted there by the 11.45 post,’ said Fatty.
‘And how nobody posted any that day - except me! - and I expect, like us, he made inquiries to see if any of the regular bus-passengers failed to go on the bus that day for some reason or other - and got his Suspects narrowed down to Old Nosey, Miss Tittle, and Mrs. Moon.’
‘Yes. He did tell me,’ said the Inspector. ‘And I think, if I may say so, that it was pretty smart work on the part of you children to work all that out!’
This was too much for Mr. Goon. ‘Smart work! Interfering with the Law, that’s what I call it!’ he said. ‘I suppose he’ll tell you next that he knows who that letter-writer is!’
‘Yes. I was going to come to that,’ said Fatty quietly. ‘I do know who the letter-writer is!’
Every one gaped at Fatty. Even the Inspector sat up straight at once. As for Goon, his mouth fell open and he goggled at Fatty in disbelief.
‘Who is it?’ he said.
‘Mrs. Hilton - may I ring the bell?’ said Fatty.
She nodded. He went over to the wall and rang the bell hard. Everyone waited.