Mystery of the Pantomime Cat (15 page)

"Well,
Zoe
didn't do it," said Bets, loyally.
"She's much, much, much too nice."

"I agree with you," said Fatty. "She couldn't have
done that robbery any more than
you
could. Bets. Well, we must look
elsewhere, that's all. We must check all the rest of the alibis tomorrow
without fail."

So the next morning the Find-Outers started off with their
checking. Larry and Daisy set off to Mary Adams' flat, to find out about the
gentle Lucy White. Fatty and Pip went off by the river, to find The Turret and
discover if William Orr and Peter Watting
had
been there on Friday
night, as they said.

"Then we'll check up on John James and the cinema if we can
this afternoon," said Fatty, "And on Alec Grant as well, if we've
time. We'll have to look lively now, because it seems to me that Goon will move
soon. If he sees that poor Boysie any more he'll send him
riqht
off his
head!”

Daisy found a half-embroidered cushion-case which she had never
finished. She took the silks that went with it and wrapped the whole lot up in
a parcel. "Come along," she said to Larry. "We'll soon find out
about Lucy White—though, honestly, I think it's waste of time checking
her
alibi.
She doesn't look as if she could say boo to a goose!"

They arrived at Mary Adams' flat and went upstairs to her front
door. They rang, and the old lady opened the door.

"Well, well, well—
what
a surprise," she said,
pleased. "Miss Daisy
and
Master Larry. It's a long time since I've
seen you—what enormous children you've grown. You come along in."

She led the way into her tiny sitting-room. She took down a tin of
chocolate biscuits from the mantel-piece and offered them one. She was a small,
white-haired old lady, almost crippled with rheumatism now, but still able to
sew and knit.

Daisy opened her parcel. "Mary, do you think you could
possibly finish this cushion-case for me before Faster? I want to give it to mother,
and I know I shan't have time to finish it myself, because I'm embroidering her
some hankies too. How much would you charge for doing it for me?"

"Not a penny. Miss Daisy," said Mary Adams, beaming.
"It would be a pleasure to do something for you, and especially something
that's going to be given to your dear mother. Bless your dear heart, I'd love
to finish it just for love and nothing else."

"Thank you
awfully,
Mary," said Daisy. "It's
very kind of you—and I'll bring you some of our daffodils as soon as they're
properly out. They're awfully behind this year."

"Have another biscuit?" said Mary, taking down the tin
again. "Well, it
is
nice to see you both. I've been

ill, you know, and haven't been out much. So it's a real change to
see a visitor or two."

"Do you know Lucy White?" said Larry. "We got her
autograph this afternoon. She's a friend of yours, isn't she?"

"Yes—dear Lucy! She came to see me every night last week,
when I was bad," said Mary. "I had a lot of knitting to finish and
that kind girl came in and helped me till it was all done."

"Did she come on Friday too?" asked Daisy.

"Ah—you're like that Mr. Goon—he's been round here three
times asking questions about Friday evening," said Mary. "Yes, Lucy
came along about quarter to six, and we sat and knitted till half-past nine,
when she went home. We heard the nine o'clock news, and she made us some cocoa,
with some biscuits, and we had
such
a nice time together."

Well, that seemed pretty definite.

"Didn't Lucy leave you at all, till half-past nine?"
said Daisy.

"Not once. She didn't so much as go out of the room,"
said Mary. "There we sat in our chairs, knitting away for dear life—and
the next day Lucy took all the knitting we'd done that week, and delivered it
for me. She's a good kind girl."

There came a ring at the door. "I'll go for you," said
Daisy and got up. She opened the door—and there was Mr. Goon, red in the face
from climbing the steps to Mary's flat! He glared suspiciously at Daisy.

"What are
you
doing here?" he demanded.
"Poking your noses in?"

"We came to ask Mary to do some sewing," said Daisy, in
a dignified voice.

'I/0 yes!" said Mr. Goon, disbelievingly. "Mary Adams
in?"

"Yes I am." called Mary Adams' voice, sounding

rather cross. "Is that you again, Mr. Goon? I've nothing more
to say to you. Please go away. Wasting my time like this!"

"I just want to ask you a few more questions," said Mr.
Goon, walking into the little sitting-room.

"Theophilus Goon, since you were a nasty little boy
so
high,
you've always been a one for asking snoopy questions," said Mary Adams,
and the two children heard Mr. Goon snort angrily. They called good-bye and
fled away, laughing.

"I bet he
was
a nasty little boy too!" said
Larry, as they went down the stairs. "Well, that was easy, Daisy."

"Very," said Daisy. "And quite definite too. It
rules out Lucy White. I do wonder how the others are getting on."

Bets was waiting at home with Buster. She had wanted to go with
Pip and Fatty, but Fatty had said no, she had better stay with Buster. He and
Pip had gone off down by the river, taking the road along which William Orr and
Peter Watting had said they went.

They came to a tall and narrow house, with a little turret. On the
gate was its name. "The Turret. Coffee, sandwiches, snacks."

"Well, here we are," said Fatty. "We'll try the
coffee, sandwiches, snacks. I feel jolly hungry."

So in they went and found a nice table looking out on a primrosey
garden. A small girl came to serve them. She didn't look more than about
twelve, though she must have been a good deal older.

"Coffee for two, please," said Fatty. "And
sandwiches. And something snacky."

The girl laughed. "I'll bring you a tray of snacks," she
said. "Then you can help yourselves."

She brought them two cups of hot, steaming coffee.

a plate of egg, potted meat, and cress sandwiches, and a tray of
delicious-looking snacks.

"Ha!
We've
chosen the right place to come and check up
on alibis," said Fatty, eyeing the tray with delight. "Look at all
this!"

The boys ate the sandwiches, and then chose a snack. It was
delicious. "Come on—let's carry on with the snacks, said Fatty.
"We've had a long walk and I'm hungry. I don't care if I
do
spoil
my dinner—it's a jolly good way to spoil it—most enjoyable."

"But have you got enough money to pay. Fatty?" asked
Larry, anxiously. "I haven't got much on me."

"Plenty," said the wealthy Fatty, and rattled his
pockets. "We'll start on checking the alibi as soon as we've finished our
meal. Hallo—
look
who's
here!"

It was Goon! He walked in as if he owned the place, and then he
saw Fatty!

More Checking—and a few Snacks.

Mr. Goon advanced on Fatty's table. "Everywhere I go,"
boomed Mr. Goon, "I see some of you kids. Now, what are you doing
here!"

"Snacking," said Fatty, politely. "Did you come in for
a snack too, Mr. Goon? Not much left, unfortunately."

"You hold your tongue," said Mr. Goon.

"But you asked me a question," objected Fatty. "You
said..."

"I know what I said," said Mr. Goon. "I'm Fed Up
with you kids! I go to Mary Adams and I see some of you there. I come here and
here you are again. And I bet when I go somewhere else you'll be there as well!
Lot of pests you are."

"It's funny how often we see
you
too, Mr. Goon,"
said Fatty, in the pleasant, polite voice that always infuriated Mr. Goon.
"Quite a treat."

Mr. Goon swelled up and his face went purple. Then the little girl
came into the room, and he turned to her pompously. "Is your mother in? I
want a word with her."

"No, she's not, sir," said the little girl. "I'm
the only one here. Mother will be back soon, if you like to wait."

"I can't wait," said Mr. Goon, annoyed. "Too much
to do. I'll come tomorrow."

He was just going when he turned to look at Fatty. He had suddenly
remembered his fat cheeks. They didn't seem nearly so fat now.

"What you done to make your cheeks thin?" he said,
suspiciously.

"Well—I
might
have had all my back teeth out,"
said Fatty. "Let me see—did I, Larry? Do you remember?"

"Gah!" said Mr. Goon, and went. The little girl laughed
uproariously.

"Oh, you are funny!" she said. "You really are.
Isn't he horrid? He came and asked Mother and me ever so many questions about
two men that came here last Friday night."

"Oh yes," said Fatty, at once. "I know the
men—actors, aren't they? I've got their autographs in my autograph album. Were
they here on Friday, then? I bet they liked your snacks."

"Yes, they came on Friday," said the little girl.
"I know, because it was my birthday, and Peter Watting brought me a book.
I'd just been listening to Radio Fun at half-past six, when they came in."

"Half-past six," said Fatty. "Well, what did they
do then? Eat all your snacks?"

"No! They only have coffee and sandwiches," said the
little girl. "They gave me the book—it's a beauty. I'll show you—and then
we listened to Radio Theatre at seven o'clock. And then something went wrong
with the wireless and it stopped."

"Oh," said Fatty, disappointed, because he had been
counting on the wireless for checking up on the time. "What happened
then?"

"Well, Peter Watting's very good with wirelesses," said
the little girl. "So he said he'd try and mend it. Mother said, 'Mend it
in time for eight o'clock then, because I want to hear a concert then.'"

"And was it mended by then?" asked Fatty.

"No. Not till twenty past eight," said the little girl.
"Mother was very disappointed. But we got it going by then, quite all
right—twenty past eight, I mean—and then Peter and William had to go. They
called the ferry and went across the river."

This was all very interesting. It certainly proved beyond a doubt
that William Orr and Peter Watting could not possibly have had anything to do
with the robbery at the Little Theatre. That was certain. The little girl was
quite obviously telling the truth.

"Well, thanks for a jolly good meal." said Fatty.
"How much do we owe you ? "

The little girl gave a squeal. "Oh, I never counted your
snacks. Do you know how many you had? I shan't half catch it from Mother if she
knows I didn't count."

"Well, you ought to count," said Fatty. "It's too
much like hard work for us to count when we're eating. Larry, I make it six
snacks each, the sandwiches and the coffee. Is that correct?"

It was. Fatty paid up, gave the little girl a shilling to buy
herself something for the birthday she had had

on Friday, and went off with Larry, feeling decidedly full.

"We've just got time to go to the cinema to see if we can
pick up anything about John James' visit," said Fatty. "Oh dear—I
wish I hadn't snacked quite so much. I don't feel very brainy at the
moment."

They went into the little lobby. There was a girl at a table,
marking off piles of tickets.

"Good morning," said Fatty. "Er—could you tell us
anything about last week's programme?"

"Why? Are you thinking of going to it?" said the girl,
with a giggle. "You're a bit late."

"My friend and I have been having a bit of an argument about
it," said Fatty, making this up on the spur of the moment, whilst Larry
looked at him in surprise. "You see, my friend thinks the programme was
The
Yearling
and I said it was—er—er—
Henry V."

"No, no," said the girl, graciously. "It was
The
Weakling,
not
The Yearling,
and
Henry the Fifteenth,
not
Henry
V."

Fatty turned crossly and went out. He bumped into somebody coming
up the steps.

He
nearly
fell, and clutched hold of the person he had collided with. A familiar voice grated
on his ear.

"Take your hands off me! Wherever I go, I find one of you
kids! What you doing
here,
I'd like to know?"

"They wanted to take tickets for last week's programme,"
called the girl from inside, and screamed with laughter. "Check! I told them
off all right."

"That's right," said Mr. Goon. "They want telling
off. Coming and bothering you with silly questions." Then it suddenly
struck him that Fatty was coming about the same thing as he was—to check up on
an alibi. He swung in a rage. "Poking your N ..." he began.

But Fatty had gone, and so had Larry. They were not going to stay
and argue with Mr. Goon and That Girl.

"Cheek," said Fatty, who was not easily out done in any
conversation. "I'm afraid Goon will get a lot more out of her than we shall."