Mystery of the Missing Man (8 page)

Goon kept quite close behind him, and Mr. Tolling hurried a little, trying to get rid of him. Goon hurried too. Fatty, who had kept well out of sight, grinned as he saw what was going on. Poor Mr. Tolling - he must be very fed up with Goon on his heels all the time. He decided to rescue him.

He came out from behind a bush with Buster as Mr. Tolling passed, and hailed him. “Hallo, sir! What are you doing here? We thought you’d gone home.”

“Oh - Frederick - I’m so pleased to see you,” said Mr. Tolling, delighted. “I took the wrong road. I asked that fellow behind there to tell me the way, and he was most unpleasant - most familiar too. I half thought he might be thinking of robbing me!”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Fatty, comfortingly, and, to Goon’s amazement, he took hold of Mr. Tolling’s arm. Goon, of course, still had no idea that it was Mr. Tolling in front of him, and he could not imagine why Fatty appeared to be so friendly with him. Then a very worrying thought crossed his mind. Of course! Fatty must have the same idea as he, Goon, had - he probably thought that that fellow might be the man they were both looking for! The Chief Inspector must have told Fatty about him when he went to see him about that tramp.

He followed them both, annoyed to see that Fatty was on apparently such friendly terms with the man. Was he questioning him - finding out all about him? Goon went a little closer, afraid that Fatty was finding out all that he, Goon, ought to know. Where were they going, anyhow? Would Fatty take the man right to where he was hiding, supposing that he was the escaped prisoner? That would be too good to be true - but Goon didn’t want that. He didn’t want Fatty interfering at all!

To his enormous surprise Fatty turned down the road that led to his own home! He and the man now appeared to be the best of friends. Goon hurried right up to them, and joined them. Mr. Tolling looked at him with dislike.

“What do you want, fellow?” he said. “Why are you trailing behind us like this? I shall give you in charge if you aren’t careful!”

Fatty chuckled. Goon glared at him. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Home,” said Fatty, looking mildly surprised. “Where are you going?”

“Who is this man?” said Mr. Tolling, puzzled and exasperated. “I’m tired of him.”

“So am I,” said Fatty, and took Mr. Tolling’s arm again. “Come on - we’re almost home.”

Goon followed, frowning. Surely Fatty wasn’t going to take this fellow to his own home? Toad of a boy! Always leading him a dance!

Fatty came to the front gate of his house and held it open politely for Mr. Tolling, who went through thankfully. Goon stared, astounded. What was all this?

“You’ve a very short memory, Goon,” said Fatty, as he closed the gate. “Don’t you remember Mr. Tolling? You saw him yesterday, when you were called in about that fellow you thought was a tramp - the one down in my shed, you know. You didn’t recognize him either, did you?”

Goon stared after Fatty as he and Mr. Tolling went up the drive to the front door, his head in a whirl. Good heavens, yes - of course that was the fellow he had seen with Mr. Trotteville yesterday - only he looked so different in his out-door clothes! And what did Fatty mean about that tramp? Why should he, Goon, have recognized that dirty old fellow?

It suddenly dawned upon poor old Goon that he should indeed have recognized the tramp! It must have been Fatty himself! And he had told the Chief Inspector a lot of nonsense about him - how strong and violent he had been - and how that dog Buster had bitten the tramp’s ankles to the bone - and - and…

Goon gave a deep groan and went slowly to his own house. So that was why the Inspector had wanted to go and ask Fatty all about the tramp. He had guessed it was Fatty all the time. Another bad mark for Goon! “Pest of a boy!” muttered Goon to himself, as he let himself in at his front door. “He knows about that escaped prisoner too - and if I don’t look out, he’ll spot him before I do. That’s what they were all at the Fair for!”

Poor Goon - he was so upset that he couldn’t even eat his tea. That fat boy - if only he could get his hands on him!

Fatty has Trouble with Eunice

Fatty and Mr. Tolling were extremely late for tea, which had been cleared away. Mr. Tolling apologized profusely, and Jane brought in some fresh tea, complete with hot scones and chocolate cake.

Fatty was glad that he had brought Mr. Tolling home. Nobody would have thought of bringing Fatty tea if he had arrived when it had been cleared away - but now here was a perfectly splendid tea, all because of Mr. Tolling and his apologies.

Mr. Tolling described his adventures at the Fair, and then how he had been followed home by what he called “a half-mad, very nasty-looking fellow with no manners at all.” Fatty grinned. He wished that Goon could have heard that!

Eunice arrived much later, having been given tea by Larry at the Fair. She was cross that Fatty had gone off home without her.

“Well, I saw your father in difficulties,” said Fatty. “And I felt I must see him home. He had lost his way.”

“Well, really, Father,” said Eunice. “You’ll lose yourself on your way to bed one of these days!”

“Hadn’t you and Eunice better have a nice game of chess?” said Mrs. Trotteville, to Fatty’s horror. Before he could think of an excuse to say no, Eunice had arranged everything in her maddeningly competent way, getting the chessboard out and setting out the men.

“Ha - two school champions,” said Mr. Trotteville, with interest, and put down his paper to watch. But he soon became bored, for Eunice took at least twenty minutes before she made a move. Fatty was a much quicker player, and he soon grew bored too, and began going over all the happenings at the Fair in his mind.

“That clown,” he thought, “we must certainly find out about him. And that boy in the shooting-range who was so like the photo of the escaped man. Does he come into the picture anywhere? I can’t see how. Well, tomorrow morning I’ll go to the Fair again and talk to that clown - and in the afternoon I’ll go along to the Coleopterist Meeting, and just have a good look round there.”

“Your turn, Frederick,” said Eunice, impatiently. “You’re not paying attention.”

Fatty made his move at once, and Eunice again fell into a kind of trance, gazing at the chessmen intently. Poor Fatty became more and more bored. Chess was always a slow game - but this was dreadful!

Mr. Tolling began talking about the Fair again, and how he had enjoyed it. “There was only one thing I forgot to go and see,” he said. “And that was the Flea-Circus. How anyone can ever be fond enough of insects to train fleas to perform tricks I simply do not know!”

“Good gracious! I’d rather walk ten miles than go near a flea-circus!” said Fatty’s mother, horrified. “Are fleas really clever enough to be trained, Mr. Tolling? And do people ever train beetles?”

“Fleas are highly intelligent,” said Mr. Tolling. “Beetles vary. Now the most intelligent beetle known is found in the Atlas Mountains at a height of two thousand feet. It actually sews leaves together to…”

But why the beetle sewed leaves together Fatty didn’t hear, because an idea had suddenly flashed into his mind.

“A flea-circus!” he thought. “Of course - the fellow we’re after is keen on insects. He might be looking after the fleas! Gosh, I never even knew there was a flea-circus at the Fair! I must certainly go to it tomorrow, and have a look. I wonder if the others knew about it. As soon as I’ve made my next move, I’ll go and telephone Larry.”

Eunice at last made a move, and Fatty at once made his. Eunice frowned. “You ought to think longer,” she said. “No good chess-player plays quickly.”

“I have plenty of time to think out my moves while you’re thinking out yours,” said Fatty. “That’s more than enough time, my dear Eunice. As for trying to tell me I’m not a good player, you just wait till you’re well and truly whacked - then you’ll know who’s the good player! Excuse me a moment - I have to go and telephone.”

Eunice was not pleased. She bent her head over the chessboard again, determined to beat Fatty. He went out into the hall and looked round and about cautiously. Nobody appeared to be within listening-range.

He was soon speaking to Larry. “I say, Larry, thanks for giving Eunice tea. I had a funny time going after Mr. Tolling. Listen. I can’t talk loudly, so glue your ear to the receiver.”

He told Larry how Goon had followed poor Mr. Tolling and scared him, and how puzzled and exasperated Goon had been when he, Fatty, had taken Mr. Tolling right in at his front gate. Larry roared.

“You always get the exciting bits, Fatty,” he said. “What about tomorrow? Do we all meet at the Fair again - to see that clown?”

“Yes - and I say - did you know there was a flea-circus there?” asked Fatty. “I didn’t.”

“Oh yes - I saw a notice up,” said Larry. “But gosh, Fatty - you don’t want to go to a flea-circus, surely! Why, even Buster hates fleas.”

“Larry - think back to those notes about You-Know-Who!” said Fatty, lowering his voice. “Remember what he liked?”

“Yes. Cats,” said Larry. “There wasn’t anything about liking fleas though. I’m sure there wasn’t.”

“I know - but there was a bit about being interested in insects,” said Fatty.

“Oh my goodness, yes!” said Larry. “Of course. I just thought of butterflies or moths or beetles or bees - not of fleas. Well, we’d better visit the flea-circus tomorrow then. There may be a clue there.”

“Yes. Meet at the cross-roads by the bus-stop at ten o’clock,” said Fatty. “Tell Pip and Bets, will you? I must get back to my game of chess. At the rate we’re playing it I probably shan’t be able to meet you at ten tomorrow! Goodbye.”

He put down the receiver and went back to the chessboard. Eunice had just made a move. To Fatty’s horror he saw that it was an extremely good move - a master-move, in fact - and that if he didn’t think really hard he might find himself check-mated.

So for the next ten minutes he forgot all about clowns and flea-circuses and fairs, and frowned over the chessmen. However, he need not have worried, because in the end Buster brought the game to a very sudden finish.

The Scottie had been lying quietly under the little chess-table when he thought he heard the scratch-scratch-scratch of a mouse in the wainscoting nearby. He pricked up both ears, and turned his head towards the noise. To his joy the mouse actually came out of a small hole and ran across the room.

Buster leapt up in excitement and upset the chess-table! All the pieces were scattered on the floor, and Eunice shouted in exasperation. “What did he want to do that for? Just as I had got you into a hole, too, Frederick. Two more moves and I would have check-mated you!”

“You wouldn’t,” said Fatty. “Buster, stop barking, you ass. You’ll bring Mother in here.”

“I shall put all the pieces back again on the board,” said Eunice, firmly. “I remember where they were - and we’ll go on playing.”

Fatty groaned. He had never been so tired of a game of chess before.

“What made Buster upset the table like that?” said Eunice, severely, picking up the pieces.

“Didn’t you see the mouse run across the room?” asked Fatty. “It ran right by your chair. Buster saw it and…”

“What? A mouse?” said Eunice, with a shriek. “Oh no! I can’t bear mice. Is it still here?”

“Bound to be,” said Fatty, pleased to see that the bold, confident Eunice was trembling all over. Well, well - who would have thought it! Not even little Bets was afraid of mice! “It was a pretty big mouse, too - look, Buster is sniffing round your chair again.”

Eunice gave another shriek and disappeared out of the door at sixty miles an hour. Fatty heaved a sigh of relief and immediately put the chessmen away in their box, then hid them at the back of his mother’s sewing cupboard.

“And there they can stay till Eunice has gone,” he decided. “Don’t catch that mouse, Buster. It just about saved my life!”

The evening passed unexpectedly peacefully after that, because after supper had been cleared away Mr. Tolling announced that it would be nice to have a game of bridge.

“Eunice plays a wonderful game,” he said to Mrs. Trotteville. “She and I will take you and your husband on, Mrs. Trotteville. I am sure that Frederick will not mind being left out.”

Fatty was only too pleased! He wanted to think over the next morning’s plans. He had almost decided that he would go to the Fair in some kind of disguise. It would be easier to mix with the fair-people then, and ask a few questions, and keep his eyes and ears open. He slipped down to his shed as soon as the four others were sitting quietly over the bridge table, Eunice, as usual, laying down the law to everyone.

He locked himself into his shed, drew the old curtains over the windows, and lighted his oil-lamp. Now - what about tomorrow’s disguise?

“I’ll go dressed as a youth who wants a job with the Fair,” he thought. “I’ll put a lot of sunburn colouring on my face - and I’ll wear my false teeth over my own teeth in front - yes, and I’ll walk with a bit of a limp. I bet none of the fair-people will think I’m anything to do with the party of children who visited the Fair only this afternoon!”

He spent a pleasant hour sorting out the clothes he meant to wear - a very disreputable pair of flannel trousers, with stains all down the legs - a coat that had once belonged to a gardener, and which Fatty had bought from him for two shillings - a pair of broken-down old shoes, bright yellow socks, and an extremely dirty shirt, striped in what once had been bright colours.

“Yes,” said Fatty, looking at them. “You’ll do fine! I’d better rub dirt into my finger-nails too. I forgot that once, and it gave me away! And where’s that dirty old handkerchief? I’ll put that into the coat-pocket.”

He decided to get his mother on his side the next morning, so that she could give Eunice some job to keep her busy. Fatty felt that he really couldn’t cope with Eunice any more. It would be too difficult to slip down to his shed and disguise himself if she was about.

So he took Mrs. Trotteville into his confidence that night. “Mother - do you think you could give Eunice a job to do for you tomorrow morning?” he asked. “I’m doing something special with the others, and it’s not really fair on them to drag her about with us all the time. They were awfully good to her yesterday.”