Mystery #05 — The Mystery of the Missing Necklace tff-5 Page 11

  "I must look into the matter at once," said the Inspector. "I'll get into touch with his parents. Now finish your story quickly, so that I can get on to this matter of Frederick Trotteville at once."

  So poor Mr. Goon had to cut short his wonderful story, and blurt out quickly the rest of the night's happenings. He felt very down in the mouth as he cycled back home. The pearls had gone after all! What a blow! And now this wretched boy had disappeared, and there would be no end of a fuss about him. Privately Mr. Goon thought it would be a very good thing if Fatty disappeared for good. Oh, why hadn't he let him out of that cupboard last night? He had known that he ought to—but it had seemed such a very good way of paying out that interfering boy!

  Where could Fatty be? Mr. Goon pondered the matter deeply as he turned into the village street. Had the escaped thief gone back to the Hall, and taken Fatty prisoner, meaning to hold him up for ransom, or something? Mr. Goon went cold at the thought. If such a thing happened, he would be held up to scorn by every one for not having freed Fatty when he could.

  He was so deep in thought that he did not see a small dog run at his bicycle. He wobbled, and fell off, landing with a bump on the road. The dog flew round him in delight, barking lustily.

  "Clear-orf!" shouted Mr. Goon angrily, and suddenly recognized Buster. "Will you clear-orf!"

  He looked round to see who was in charge of Buster—and his mouth fell wide open. He was so astonished mat he couldn't get up, but went on sitting down in the road, with Buster making little darts at him.

  Fatty was standing there, grinning down at him. Fatty! Mr. Goon stared at him. Here he'd been reporting to the Inspector that Fatty had vanished—and the Inspector had gone all hot and bothered about it—and now here was that same boy, grinning down at him, large as life and twice as natural.

  "Where've you been?" said Mr. Goon at last, feebly pushing Buster away.

  "Home," said Fatty. "Why?"

  "Home?" said Mr. Goon. "You've been at home? Why, the others kept asking me where you were, see? And I reported your disappearance to the Inspector. He's going to start searching for you."

  "But Mr. Goon—why?" asked Fatty innocently. "I'm here. And I got home all right last night, too. All the same, it was jolly mean of you to leave me in that cupboard. I shan't forget that in a hurry."

  Mr. Goon got up. "How did you get out of that there cupboard?" he asked. "All tied up you were, too. Do you mean to say you untied yourself, and unlocked that cupboard and got out all by yourself?"

  "You never know, do you?" said Fatty. "Well so long, Mr. Goon—and do telephone the Inspector to tell him not to start searching for me. I'll be at home if he wants me!"

  He went off with! Buster, and poor Mr. Goon was left to cycle home, his head spinning. "That boy! First he's locked up, then he disappears, then he comes back again—and nobody knows how or when or why." Mr. Goon couldn't make head or tail of it.

  He didn't enjoy ringing up the Inspector and reporting that he had just met Fatty.

  "But where had he been?" said the Inspector, puzzled. "Where was he last night?"

  "Er—at home, sir," said poor Mr. Goon. "It was the other children put me off, sir—asking me if I knew where he was, and all that, sir."

  The Inspector put down his receiver with an impatient click. Really, Goon was too idiotic at times! The Inspector sat looking at his telephone, thinking deeply. He had had reports from all kinds of people about this Case—but not from one person, who appeared to know quite a lot about it—and that was Master Frederick Trotteville! .The Inspector made another telephone call. Fatty answered it.

  "I want you to cycle over here this morning and answer a few questions, Frederick," said the Inspector. "Come straight along now."

  So, with Buster in his basket, Fatty rode off to the next town, wondering a little fearfully what the inspector wanted to know. Would he think he had been mixing himself up in this Mystery a bit too much? He had warned the Find-Outers not to get mixed up, because it might be dangerous.

  The Inspector was friendly, but business-like, and he listened ito the whole of Fatty's tale with the greatest interest, especially to the tale of Fatty's various disguises.

  "Most interesting," he said. "You've got a gift for that kind of thing, I can see. But don't over-do it. Now—you've heard all about (the arrests, I suppose? "

  "I only know what's in the paper this morning, sir," said Fatty. "I knew it was no good asking Mr. Goon anything. I'm a bit fed up that he managed the Mystery after all, whilst I was locked up in the cupboard."

  "He should have let you out," said the Inspector shortly. "Very remiss of him. Not the kind of thing I expect from a police officer. Well, Frederick, three arrest were made—as you know—but the man on guard in the garden below escaped. And, most unfortunately, he appears to have escaped with the Castleton pearls!"

  "But the papers said they were found in one of the arrested men's pockets!" said Fatty.

  "We've got later news," said Inspector Jenks. "Those pearls were only cheap ones, bought by one of the men as a gift for his wife—or stolen from somewhere else probably. They're only worth a few pounds. The real pearls have gone."

  "I see," said Fatty, and he cheered Up considerably. "So—the Mystery isn't quite over, sir. We've got to find out where the pearls are? Can you find the man who escaped, do you flunk? He might split, and tell where he put the pearls."

  "We have got him," said the Inspector grimly. "The news came in ten minutes ago. But he hadn't got the pearls, and won't say where he's put them! But we happen to know that Number Three of the gang is usually the one who disposes of the stolen jewels—and its likely that this fellow we've just arrested has put the pearls in some agreed place, for Number Three, whoever he is, to fetch when all the hue and cry dies down."

  "You don't know who Number Three is, do you sir?" asked Fatty.

  "Haven't any idea," said the Inspector. "We more or less had our suspicions of the other four—but Number Three we've never been able to guess at. Now, Frederick, I'm not altogether pleased at the way you mixed yourself up in this, when I warned you not to, because it was dangerous—now you just see if you can't solve the rest of the Mystery, and find those pearls before Number Three does. There's no danger now—so you Five Find-Outers can go ahead."

  "Yes, sir," said Fatty, looking rather subdued. "Well do our best. We've got just a few things to go on. I'll work them out and see what can be done. Thanks for giving us a chance to solve the Mystery of the Missing Pearls! Good-bye, sir!"

  Number Three Again.

  Fatty went straight to Pip's. He felt sure he would find the rest of the Find-Outers there, waiting for him. They were outside the summer-house, making Larry tell them over and over again all that had happened.

  "Here's Fatty!" cried Bets. "What did the Inspector say, Fatty? Wasn't he angry with Goon for leaving you in that cupboard?"

  "He wasn't very pleased with him—at least he didn't sound very pleased," said Fatty. "He didn't sound very pleased with me either! Seemed to think I oughtn't to have got so mixed up in this Mystery. But how could I keep out of it?"

  "I expect he (thought it was dangerous," said Bets, "and so it was, last night. Oh, Fatty, I knew you were in danger. I really, really did."

  "Good old Bets!" said Fatty, giving her a hug. "I'm jolly glad you had one of your funny feelings about me—if you hadn't sent Pip to Larry, and Larry hadn't come along to the Waxworks Hall, goodness knows how long I'd have been shut up in that cupboard. By the way—the Mystery is still not quite ended!”

  Every one sat up at once. "What do you mean?" said Daisy.

  Fatty explained about the missing pearls and Number Three. "The Inspector thinks that Number Five, who escaped with the pearls last night, had time to put them in some safe place, before he was caught this morning. He will probably try and get a message to Number Three—the gang member who wasn't there last night and so is still at large—and till Number Three gets that message about the pearls and finds them, any on
e might find them! And it's up to us to do it!"

  "I see," said Larry slowly. "But how in the world can any one find them if they don't even know where to look? It's impossible."

  "Nothing's impossible to a really good detective," said Fatty. "I agree that it's a frightfully difficult mystery to solve—but I think if only we can get hold of Number Three somehow, and shadow him, he might lead us to the necklace!"

  "What do you mean—shadow him?" asked Bets.

  "Follow him, silly—always keep him in sight," said Pip. "Spot where he goes, or where he hangs about. He's sure to hang about the place where the pearls are, waiting for a chance to get them."

  "That's right," said Fatty. "The thing is—who is Number Three and how can we get hold of him?"

  There was a silence. Nobody knew the answer.

  "What do we know about Number Three?" said Fatty, considering. "We know he rides a bike that has a hooter on it. We know he has odd eyes, one blue and one brown. And we know he rows a boat. I rather think, as we've seen him in Peterswood twice that he must live here."

  There was another silence. None of the things they knew about the odd-eyed man seemed to be of any help in finding him. Then Pip suddenly gave an exclamation.

  "I think I know what to do!"

  "What? " said every one eagerly.

  "Well, we're sure that Number Five hid the pearls somewhere, and we're pretty certain he'll get a message to Number Three, somehow—has probably sent one already, in case he himself got caught by the police and put into prison. Now who would he send that message to, to deliver to Number Three? "

  "The old man, Johnny, of course!" said Fatty. "He's the one they always use, apparently, when they want to send messages to one another. So—if we watch old Johnny again—sooner of later we'll see Number Three go quietly up to him...."

  "Sit down beside him—and receive the message!" said Larry. "And if we shadow him, after that, we shall spot where he goes. Maybe hell lead us straight to the necklace!"

  Every one felt much more cheerful and hopeful. "That's a brain-wave of yours, Pip," said Fatty. "I'm surprised I didn't think of it myself. Very good."

  All the Find-Outers loved a word of praise from their leader. Pip went quite red with pleasure.

  "I suppose that means we must go and sit in that smelly little lemonade shop again," said Daisy. Fatty considered.

  "Only one of us had better shadow Number Three closely," he said. "If he sees five of us tailing him he's bound to get a bit suspicious. I'll do the shadowing—if you don't mind, Pip, though it was your idea—and you can all follow me at a safe distance."

  "I don't mind a bit," said Pip generously. "I'm sure you'll be much better at shadowing than I shall. Where will you wait? And shall we have bikes or not?"

  "Better have bikes," said Larry. "He was on a bike last time he went up to the old man. If he's walking we can always leave our bicycles somewhere, and walk after him."

  "Yes, that's a sound idea," said Fatty. "What's the time? Almost dinner-time. The old fellow doesn't come out till the afternoon, so well meet just before two, at the bottom of my lane, with bikes."

  "But, Fatty, do you think the old man will come out and sit on your seat, after your warning, and after what he will have read in the papers today?" asked Larry. "Wont he be afraid?"

  "Yes, probably he will," said Fatty. "But if he has a message to deliver, I think he'll risk it. I bet the gang pay him well for this go-between business."

  Now that there was something to do; Outers felt very cheerful. They went to their dinners pleased that there was still a Mystery to solve. If only they could find those pearls before Goon did!

  Mr. Goon, of course, was exercising his mind too, about the missing pearls. He too knew that if only he could spot Number Three, he might be led to the pearls. But he had not got as far as reckoning out that it would be a good idea to watch old Johnny again, to see if Number Three came to receive a message!

  That afternoon four of the Find-Outers sat in the little sweet-shop, on the opposite side of the road to the bench where the old man so often sat. Fatty was not with them. He was leaning against a tree not far off, apparently deep in a paper, his bicycle beside him. He was watching for the old man to come. How he hoped he would!

  The bicycles belonging to the others were piled against the side of the sweet-shop. The four children in the shop were eating ices, and watching the bench opposite as keenly as Fatty was.

  Some one came shuffling round the corner. Hurrah! It was the old man, complete with sniffle and pipe and cough. He sat himself down gingerly on the bench with a little groan, just exactly as Fatty used to do.

  Then he bent himself over his stick-handle and seemed to go to sleep. The children waited, whilst their ices melted in the saucers. Had Johnny got a message to deliver from Number Five to Number Three?

  A noise made them jump violently. It was the sound of a hooter! Fatty jumped too. He lifted his head cautiously from his paper, and saw a man riding down the High Street on a bicycle.. It had a hooter instead of a bell.

  The man rode to the bench, hooted, and got off his bicycle. He stood his machine against the kerb and went to sit down on the bench close to the old man.

  The old fellow did not even look up. How would he know if it was Number Three or not then? He was deaf and would not hear a whisper. Fatty puzzled his brains to think.

  "Of course!" he thought suddenly. "That loud hooter always tells the old man when Number Three is coming to sit on the bench beside him. Of course! Gosh, that's clever."

  The old man took absolutely no notice of the other man. Fatty watched very carefully, but he could not see any movement of the old man's mouth, nor could he see the giving of any paper-message.

  For a few moments the two men sat together, and then old Johnny sat up a little straighter, and began to draw patterns in the dust with the end of his stick. Fatty watched more carefully to see if the old man was talking, under cover of his movements. But he could not make out that he was—unless he could talk without moving his lips, as a ventriloquist can!

  After a minute or two the other man got up and went to his bicycle. He got on it, hooted, and rode slowly over to the sweet-shop. The four children in there stiffened with excitement. What was he coming over there for?

  Bets gave a gasp as he came in, and Pip kicked her under the table, afraid she might give them away. Bets took one look at the man and then began to finish her ice, making rather a noise with her spoon.

  "Box of matches, please," said the man, and put a penny down on the counter. Nobody liked to look at him in case he became suspicious of them.

  He went out, lighting a cigarette. "He's got odd eyes!" said Bets. "He's the one! Hooter on his bike—and odd eyes! Oooh—it's getting exciting."

  Fatty, waiting by the tree outside, saw the man go in and out of the shop. The boy folded up his paper quickly, and mounted his bike as the man went swiftly by him. He followed him at a discreet distance, wondering if he had had any message, and if he was going to lead him to the pearls!

  "Come on," said Larry, going out of the shop quickly. "We've got to follow too."

  The man rode down to the Fair. He wandered round a bit and then went to the Hall of Waxworks. But he only just put his head inside, and came out.

  Fatty popped his head inside too, but except that it was full of people looking at the waxworks, there was nothing different to see. Napoleon was dressed and back in his place, and the red-haired boy was relating an extraordinary tale of how, in the night, Napoleon had apparently got out of his place, undressed and put himself to bed in a cupboard.

  "Story-teller!" said some listening children. "What a fib!"

  "And what's more," said the red-headed boy, thoroughly enjoying himself, "that wax policeman over there—do you see him? Well, he got up in the night and went and stood himself behind that curtain. Such goings-on!"

  Fatty longed to hear more of this, but the man he was following had gone, and Fatty had to go too, or lose him.<
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  The man had put his bicycle beside the hedge and pad-locked the back wheel, so Fatty knew he meant to stay around for a while.

  The other Find-Outers came up, and Fatty winked at them. "Looks as if we're going to spend an hour or two in the Fair!" he said.

  The man wandered about most aimlessly. He didn't even have a ride on the roundabout, or try for a Hoopla gift, or go in a Bumping Car—he just trailed about. Every now and then he passed the Waxworks Hall, and looked inside. But he didn't go in at all. Fatty wondered if he was waiting for somebody to meet him there.

  "I don't believe he knows where the pearls are!" thought Fatty. "Or surely he'd go straight to them! My word what a crowd there is at the Fair today!"

  The man evidently thought the same. He asked a question about it of the man at the Hoopla stall. "Quite a crowd today I What's up?"

  "Oh, it's a trip from Sheepsale, a kind of outing," said the man. "They're going at four o'clock, then the place will empty a bit. Good trade for us, though!"

  The man nodded. Then he made his way through the crowd to his bicycle, and unpadlocked it. Fatty followed him. It was clear that the man couldn't do whatever he wanted to do, because the place was too crowded. Probably he would be coming back. It was up to Fatty to follow him. He would leave the others down in the Fair, because he was sure that he and the man would be back there sooner or later, when the trippers had gone.

  He had time to give a quick message to Larry. Then off he went over the level-crossing on his bicycle, following the man as closely as he dared. Round the corner they went, the man hooting with his little hooter—parp-parp.

  And round the corner on his bicycle came Goon! The two almost collided. Goon, who had heard the hooter, glued his eyes on the man at once. Was he Number Three? He must be! He seemed to be the only man within miles who had a hooter on his bicycle, instead of a bell, for some peculiar reason that Goon couldn't guess.

  Goon made up his mind to follow Number Three at once, and keep him in sight. Visions of pearl necklaces floated in front of his eyes. Number Three knew where those pearls were, Goon was sure of it. Off he went after Number Three.