Mystery of the Pantomime Cat (7 page)

"What do
you
know?" said Pippin, curiously.

"Well—I and the other four were round at the back of the
Little Theatre from about half-past five last night till seven," said
Fatty. "Just snooping about you know—looking at the posters and
things."

"Oh, you were, were you?" said Pippin, sitting up and
taking notice. "Did you see anything interesting?"

"I looked in at the window at the back of that
verandah," said Fatty. "And I saw the Pantomime Cat there—at least, I
feel sure that's what it must have been. It was like a huge furry cat. It came
to the

window and stared at me—gave me an awful scare. I saw it in the
reflected light of the street lamp. Then when Larry and Pip and I looked in
later we saw it sitting by the fire, pretending to wash itself like cats do. It
waved its paw at us."

Pippin was listening very earnestly indeed. "This is most
interesting," he said. "You know—there doesn't appear to have been
any one at all in the Little Theatre when the robbery was committed—except the
Pantomime Cat! Goon wants to arrest him. He's sure he doped the manager and
robbed the safe. Would you believe it—the Pantomime Cat!"

Pippin's Story-and a Meeting.

Fatty's brains began to work at top speed. "Go on," he
said. "Tell me all you know. What time were you there, Mr. Pippin—what did
you see—how did you discover the robbery and everything? My goodness, how lucky
you were to be on the spot!"

"Well, actually I was after two rogues I'd seen under a bush
the other night," said Pippin, and Fatty had the grace to blush, though
Pippin didn't notice it. "I thought they might be meeting at the back of
the Little Theatre, and I was hiding there. I got there at half-past eight, and
when I looked into the room at the back of the verandah—where you saw the Cat—I
saw him too. He was lying fast asleep by the fire. Funny to wear a cat-skin so
long, isn't it?"

"Yes. Must be a queer fellow," said Fatty.

"Well—he
is
queer—queer in the head," said
Pippin. "I saw him this morning, without his cat-skin. He's not very big,
except for his head. He's about

twenty-four, they say, but he's never grown up, really. Like a
child the way he walks and acts. They call him Boysie."

"I suppose he got dropped when he was a baby," said
Fatty, remembering stories he had heard. "Babies like that don't develop
properly, do they? Go on, Mr. Pippin. This is thrilling."

"Well, I saw the Cat asleep by the fire as T said," went
on Pippin. "Then, when the clock struck nine I reckoned I'd better hide
myself. So I climbed up through a hole in the verandah roof and sat on the
window-sill of the room above, waiting. And I heard groans."

"Go on," said Fatty, as Pippin paused, remembering.
"Gosh, weren't you lucky to be there!"

"Well, I shone my torch into the room and saw the manager
lying stretched out on his desk, and the empty safe in the wall behind
him," said Pippin. "And I smashed the window and got in. The manager
was already coming round. He was doped with some drug. I reckon it had been put
into his cup of tea. The safe was quite empty, of course. It's being examined
for fingerprints—I got an expert on the job at once—and the cup is being
examined for drugs—just a strong sleeping-draught, I expect."

"Who brought the manager the cup of tea—did he say?"
asked Fatty, with interest.

"Yes—the Pantomime Cat!" said Pippin. "Seems pretty
suspicious, doesn't it? But if you talk to Boysie—the Cat—you can't help
thinking he'd got nothing to do with the whole thing—he's too silly—he wouldn't
have the brains to put a sleeping-draught into a cup of tea, and he certainly
wouldn't know where the safe was—or where to get the key—or how to find out the
combination of letters that opens the safe door, once the key is in."

"It's very interesting," said Fatty. "Who was in
the Little Theatre at the time, besides Boysie?"

"Nobody," said Pippin. "No a soul! All the cast—the
actors and actresses, you know—had gone off after the free show they'd given to
the children of the Farleigh Homes, and we can check their alibis—find out
exactly where they were between the time of their leaving and eight o'clock.
The deed was done between half-past five and eight—between the time the show
was over and the time the manager had drunk his cup of tea, and fallen
unconscious."

"I see. And you've got to check the whereabouts of all the
people who might have gone back and done the robbery," said Fatty.
"Yes. But what's to prevent a stranger doing it—I mean, why should it be
one of the actors?"

"Because whoever did it knew the best time to do it,"
said Pippin. "He knew where the safe was. He knew that the manager had put
the takings there the day before and hadn't taken them to the bank that day as
he usually did. He knew where the key was kept—in the manager's wallet, not on
his key-ring—and he knew that the manager liked a cup of tea in the evening—and
into it went the sleeping-draught!"

"Yes—you're right. No stranger would have known all those
facts," said Fatty, thoughtfully. "It must be one of the cast—either
an actor or an actress. It's queer that Boysie took in the tea, though, isn't
it? Do you think he helped in the robbery?"

"I don't know! He says he doesn't remember a thing except
feeling very sleepy last night and going to sleep in front of the fire,"
said Pippin. "That's certainly where I saw him when I looked into the
room. He even says he didn't take in the cup of tea to the manager, but that's
nonsense, of course—the manager says he certainly did, and he wouldn't be
likely to be mistaken.

I think Boysie is scared, and said he didn't take in the tea to
try and clear himself—forgetting he is quite unmistakable as the Pantomime
Cat!"

"Yes—it looks as if Boysie either did the whole thing or
helped somebody else," said Fatty. "Well, thanks very much, Pippin.
I'll let you know if we spot anything. And remember—don't you give away
anything to Goon. He won't thank you for it!"

"I shan't open my mouth to him," said Pippin. "My
goodness—here he is, back again—and I haven't even begun this report he wants!
You'd better clear out the back way, Master Frederick."

Goon loomed up at the front gate, looking most important. He was
talking to the vicar, solemnly and ponderously.

Fatty tiptoed out into the hall and made for the kitchen, with
Buster in his arms. He meant to go into the back garden, hop over the fence at
the bottom and make his way to Pip's. What a lot he had to tell the others!

He heard Goon's loud voice. "Do you know what the vicar tells
me. Pippin? He tells me you were rude (o his brother yesterday—snatched at his
hat or something! Now, I really do think ..."

But what Goon really did think Fatty didn't wait to hear. Poor
Pippin! He was going to get into trouble over his curiosity about red-headed
people now! Fatty couldn't help feeling very, very sorry!

"If we'd known Pippin was so decent we'd never have thought
up all those tricks," said Fatty to himself, as he made his way to Pip's,
where he knew the others would be anxiously awaiting him. "Still—I can
make it up to him, perhaps, by solving this peculiar mystery. The Mystery of
the Pantomime Cat. Sounds good!"

Larry, Daisy, Pip, and Bets had got very impatient

indeed, waiting ages for Fatty. He had been gone for an hour and a
half! What in the world could he be doing?

"Here he is at last," called Bets from the window.
"Rushing up the drive with Buster. He looks full of importance—bursting
with it. He must have plenty of news!"

He had. He began to relate everything from the very beginning, and
when he got to where Goon had actually struck poor Buster with a poker, Bets
gave a scream, and flung herself down on the floor beside the surprised
Scottie.

"Buster! Are you hurt? Oh, Buster, how
could
any one
hit you like that! I hate Goon! I do, I do. I know it's wrong to hate people,
but it's wronger
not
to hate cruel people like Goon. Buster, are you
bruised?"

The whole tale was hung up for about ten minutes whilst Buster was
carefully examined by all the Find-Outers. Fatty had been pretty certain that
Buster was not really hurt, for he had an extremely thick coat of hair, but
when he saw how concerned the others were, he began to wonder if poor old
Buster
had
been badly bruised. The five children tenderly parted the
thick hair along Buster's back and examined every speck of the remarkably pink
body beneath. Buster was thrilled. He lay down on his tummy, wagging his plumy
tail with pleasure at all this loving fuss. In fact he was so thrilled that he
hung his red tongue out and began to pant with joy.

There was nothing to be seen at all except for a tiny mark in once
place. "That's where he was hit," said Bets, triumphantly. "I
wish I could hit
Goon
with a poker- very, very hard."

"How bloodthirsty you sound. Bets!" said Daisy in
surprise. "You know you'd run for miles if Goon so much as yelled at
you!"

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Bets
did
take a
poker to Goon if she thought he was going to hurt Buster," said Fatty.
"She may be frightened of him herself—but she'd be all pluck and no fright
if she thought he was going to hurt any one else! I know Bets!"

Bets was so pleased at this speech from Fatty. She went red and
buried her face in Buster's neck. Fatty patted her on the back.

"I felt like banging Goon on the head myself when I twisted
the poker out of his hand," he said. "Oh my goodness—you should have
seen his face when he found that I had the poker and he hadn't!"

"Go on with the story now," said Pip. "It's getting
more and more exciting. Gosh, I wish I'd been there."

Fatty went on with his tale. The children squealed with laughter
when they heard that Goon had demanded all the false clues, and had been
solemnly handed them by Pippin.

"He'll meet that Sunday train, Fatty!" chuckled Pip.
"Can't we meet it too?"

"Oh
yes,"
begged Bets. "Let's. Do let's.
Goon would be awfully annoyed to see us all there. He'd think we knew the clue
too."

"Which we do," said Larry. "Seeing that we thought
of it!"

"Yes—it's an idea," said Fatty. "Quite an idea,
I've a good mind to disguise myself and arrive on that train—and arouse Goon's
Suspicions and get him to follow me."

"We could all follow too," suggested Bets. "We
really must do that. It's tomorrow, isn't it. Oh Fatty, wouldn't it be
fun?"

"Go on with the tale," said Daisy. "Let's hear it
to the end before we make any more plans. It'll be dinner-time before Fatty's
finished."

Fatty then told the rest of the tale to the end. The children were
very glad to hear that Pippin had stuck up for Buster and Fatty. They all
agreed that Pippin was very nice indeed. They were thrilled to hear about the
Pantomime Cat, and the two girls wished they had been brave enough to peep into
the verandah-room and see him the night before.

"Do you think he did it all?" asked Bets. "If he
took in the tea, he must have done it. He may be cleverer than we think."

"He may be. Bets," said Fatty. "I shall have to
interview him. In fact, I thought we all could—together, you know, just as if we
were children interested in him. He may be on his guard with grown-ups. He
wouldn't be with children."

"Yes. That's a good idea," said Larry. "Gosh, what
a thrill this is! To think we put our clues in the very place where all this
was going to happen—and managed to put a policeman there too, so that he would
discover the crime. It's extraordinary."

"Well—we must set our wits to work," said Fatty.
"We've only got just over two weeks to solve the mystery—and Goon is on
the job too—hampered by a few false clues, of course! But we've got Pippin to
help us. He may learn a few things that it's impossible for us to find
out."

"How are we going to set to work?" asked Larry.

"We must make a Plan," said Fatty. "A properly
set-out Plan. Like we usually do. List of Suspects, list of Clues, and so
on."

"Oooh yes," said Bets. Let's begin now, Fatty. This very
minute. Have you got a note-book?"

"Of course," said Fatty, and took out a fat notebook and
a very fine fountain-pen. He ruled a few lines very neatly. "Now then—
suspects."

A bell sounded loudly from the hall. Bets groaned.

"Blow! Dinner-time already! Fatty, will you come this
afternoon and do it?"

"Right," said Fatty, "Half-past two every one—and
put your best thinking-caps on! This is the finest mystery we've had yet!"

Pippin is a Help.

Fatty thought hard during his lunch. His mother found him very
silent indeed, and began to wonder about his teeth again. She looked at him
closely. His cheeks seemed to have subsided—they were not very swollen now—not
more than usual, anyway!

"Frederick—how is your tooth?" she asked suddenly.

Fatty looked at his mother blankly. His tooth? What did she mean?

"My tooth? "he said. "What tooth. Mother?"