Mystery of the Strange Bundle (10 page)

Fatty took his bicycle and rode off to Larry’s at top speed, with Buster in the basket. On the way he saw Mr. Goon, also on a bicycle, far in the distance. The policeman saw Fatty and waved to him frantically. He had a few questions to ask him about the night before!

Fatty knew that. He certainly wasn’t going to stop! He waved back cheerily, as if he thought that Goon was simply being friendly. The policeman pedalled furiously to catch up with Fatty.

“Blow him,” thought Fatty, and pedalled as fast as he could. He turned a corner, leapt off his bicycle and disappeared with it into the garden of an empty house. He crouched behind the fence.

Mr. Goon came by, purple and panting, and sailed up the road, marvelling that Fatty could disappear so swiftly. Fatty came out quickly, mounted his bicycle and rode off in the opposite direction. Buster was surprised at all this, but hadn’t even got out of the basket!

“Goon’s on the lookout for me,” thought Fatty. “I’ll have some awkward questions to answer. Blow him! Does he suspect it was me last night that he followed? I wonder if he’s found that sack of bricks and stones yet! He said he was going to get a boat-hook and drag it up. Well, good luck to him! It’ll keep him out of the way for a bit, messing about in the river!”

He arrived at Larry’s out of breath. Pip, Bets, Larry, and Daisy were watching for him. Daisy was holding the kitten.

“Nobody’s seen a sign of Mr. Fellows,” said Larry, as soon as Fatty came up. “We think he may be lying low for a bit. Do you think you really should go and see him? I mean - he mayn’t be at all pleased to see you!”

“Can’t help that,” said Fatty. “I can’t miss this chance. I simply must question him before Goon gets at him.”

He took the kitten. “Thanks, Daisy. Well, you funny little thing? You won’t like leaving your playmate, will you, and going back to that lonely house!”

He left his bicycle at Larry’s, and went up the road to the next house but one - Mr. Fellows’. He looked in at the gate. Should he go to the front door or to the back? There was no sign of life in the place at all. Was Mr. Fellows pretending to be still away?

“I’ll go round to the back,” thought Fatty. “I don’t want Goon to see me standing at the front door if he comes by.”

He went quietly and cautiously round to the back. He looked in at the window there, the one that was broken. Nobody was about. Fatty debated with himself again.

It was likely that Mr. Fellows would not answer any ringing or knocking if he was lying low. But somehow Fatty must get hold of him. How? Fatty racked his brains.

And then a splendid idea came to him. It was quite likely that Mr. Fellows had been looking for the kitten, now he was back - perhaps he was worried about it. Fatty would stick his face close to the broken pane, and miaow as loudly as he could! If that didn’t fetch Mr. Fellows into the kitchen, nothing would!

An Interesting Conversation

“Miaow! Miaow! MIAOW!”

A most pitiful, heart-rending noise penetrated into the kitchen through the broken window. The little kitten that Fatty was holding jumped when it heard his life-like mewing. It suddenly added its own high-pitched mew.

“That’s right,” whispered Fatty. “Keep up the good work, kitty. Mew as loudly as you can!”

“Miaow!” said the kitten obligingly. “Miaow.”

Fatty listened. He thought he heard a noise in the house. It seemed to come from upstairs.

“MIAOW-ee-ow-ee-OW!” said Fatty piercingly.

He listened again. Yes, certainly some one was moving in the house now - there were footsteps on the stairs. Then they stopped.

“Miaow,” said the kitten shrilly. It certainly was doing its best for Fatty.

A man appeared at the inner door of the kitchen, the one that led into the hall.

“That must be Fellows,” thought Fatty, looking at him closely. He was fully dressed, though Fatty had half expected him to be in dressing-gown and slippers! He hadn’t caught sight of the boy and the kitten yet. He was looking all round the kitchen floor as if wondering where the mewing had come from. He was a youngish fellow, with a thin face, and bright, intelligent eyes. His hair was smoothly brushed, and he didn’t in the least look as if he had rushed panic-stricken out of his house two nights before.

“Miaow,” said the kitten again, struggling to get out of Fatty’s arms. The man heard the mew and looked across to the window. He saw Fatty’s head and shoulders there, and made as if to draw back at once. Then he saw that Fatty was a boy, and that he was holding the kitten.

He came forward slowly. Fatty guessed that he was annoyed at having been seen. He spoke apologetically through the broken pane.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir - but this is your kitten, isn’t it? We’ve been looking after it through the - er - upset.”

The man smoothed back his hair. He answered cautiously. “Yes - it’s my kitten. Er - wait a minute, I’ll undo the kitchen door.”

He unlocked and unbolted it. Fatty was at the door, waiting. The man stretched out his hand for the kitten, and Fatty sensed that once he had taken it, he would probably say no more than a word of thanks, and shut the door.

“I say, sir - your burglary caused quite an excitement!” said Fatty, holding on to the kitten. “The police were here - did you know?”

Mr. Fellows looked startled. “The police!” he said. “What for? How did they know anything about the house being empty - or, er - burgled?”

Fatty thought rapidly. Mr. Fellows hadn’t heard then that the milkman had reported anything - he didn’t know that Mr. Goon had inspected the house and found it upside down. Probably he hoped that nobody knew anything at all, either about the intruder, or about his rushing out of the house!

“I’ll tell you all about it, if you like, sir,” said Fatty, stepping firmly into the kitchen. Mr. Fellows now obviously wanted to know what Fatty had to say. It was news to him that the police had been into his house. He looked worried.

He shut the kitchen door and locked it. He took Fatty into the little sitting-room. Everything was now tidy and in its place. Mr. Fellows had obviously been very busy since he had got back, and had cleared everything up. The kitten followed, mewing.

“Does it want any milk?” asked Mr. Fellows, looking down at it. “I’m afraid there isn’t any. The milkman apparently didn’t come this morning.”

“No. I expect the police told him not to as you weren’t here,” said Fatty. He sat down on a chair.

“What is all this about the police!” said Mr. Fellows irritably. “Can’t a man go away for a short while without the police coming in and snooping round! I think that is most unnecessary.”

“Well, you see, apparently burglars got in and turned the place upside down while you were away,” said Fatty, watching Mr. Fellows closely. “Didn’t you find everywhere in an awful mess?”

The man hesitated. He quite obviously wasn’t going to say more than he needed to.

“Yes - but I’m an untidy person,” he said. “Er - who did you say gave the alarm to the police?”

“The milkman,” said Fatty, stroking the purring kitten. “He found the front door wide open when he came to leave your milk yesterday morning - walked in, saw the confusion, and telephoned the police.”

“I see,” said Mr. Fellows. “This is all news to me.”

“What time did you leave your house then?” asked Fatty suddenly. He knew quite well what time it had been, because of Erb’s information, but he wanted to see what Mr. Fellows had to say.

The man hesitated again. “Oh, sometime that night,” he said. “I - er - went to visit a friend and stayed the night with him. I came back last night - to find the house a little untidy, certainly. But nothing has been stolen as far as I can see. I don’t see why the police had to butt in without my permission.”

“Because of the open front door,” said Fatty, patiently. “I suppose you did shut the front door after you when you went out, Mr. Fellows?”

“Of course,” said the man, but Fatty didn’t believe him. He felt sure that Mr. Fdlows had probably only pulled it to, not wanting the intruder in the house to hear him go. It was the intruder who had left it wide open!

Fatty debated whether or not to ask Mr. Fellows what he had been dressed in when he had left the house. He decided that he wouldn’t. He would only be more on his guard than ever, and would anyhow lie about it. Fatty glanced at him - he looked extremely clean and tidy and well brushed.

“Not a bit like my Uncle Horatious!” thought Fatty. “Now - if I want to find out if he really did wander about in a dressing-gown and bedroom slippers, I’ll somehow have to slip upstairs and snoop round for them. But how?”

All conversation suddenly came to an abrupt end. A big red face unexpectedly appeared at the sitting-room window, and looked in. The face owned a helmet - it was Goon!

Mr. Fellows gave an exclamation. “Who’s that? Of all the brazen cheek! It’s the police again! What do they think they’re doing, snooping and prying on private property like this? I’ll put this fellow where he belongs!”

“I certainly would, if I were you,” Fatty agreed fervently. “A man can’t call his house his own these days! Are you going to let that policeman in, sir? He’s speaking to you.”

Goon had just been on his rounds, and had, as a matter of routine, called in at Mr. Fellows’ house to see if anything had happened there. As there was no smoke from the chimneys, and everything seemed quiet, he hadn’t done anything but peep in at the windows. He wasn’t going to enter that house alone again if he could help it!

He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Fatty sitting there with a man who must be Fellows. He gaped at them both. Then a familiar rage boiled up in him. That boy! That toad! There he was again, poking his nose in - and getting it there before he, Mr. Goon, could get in his. How did he do it?”

“Open the door, sir,” bellowed Mr. Goon. “I have a few words to say to you.”

Mr. Fellows glared at the red-faced policeman. He strode to the window and opened it.

“What do you mean by peering in like this at my window?” Mr. Fellows asked in a furious voice. “Can’t you see I’m sitting here talking to a friend? What’s the matter with you?”

“A friend?” choked Mr. Goon, glaring at Fatty. “Is that boy your friend?”

“I shall report you for this extraordinary behaviour,” said Mr. Fellows. “My house is my own, and I am not aware that I have done anything to cause the police to pry into it.”

“But - but - there’s been a burglary!” spluttered Mr. Goon. “The house was all upside down, and…”

“There has been no burglary,” said Mr. Fellows. “As far as I know not a single thing has been stolen. As for the house being untidy, well, I’m an untidy person. I can turn my own house upside down if I want to, can’t I?”

“The front door was wide open,” persisted Mr. Goon, angry and bewildered.

“I’m forgetful,” said Mr. Fellows. “I do sometimes forget to close my doors. Now - clear off - do you hear me, CLEAR OFF!”

Fatty could have hugged himself in joy. Goon was always yelling at people to clear off - and now here was some one yelling the same thing at him. But the policeman had not finished yet.

“Well, let me tell you you’ve no right to go away and leave animals to starve in the house,” he said.

“The kitten is quite all right,” said Mr. Fellows coldly, and was about to shut the window when Mr. Goon put an enormous dark-blue arm in to stop him.

“What about the dog?” he said. “And the pig?”

Mr. Fellows stared at Mr. Goon as if he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. “What dog and what pig?” he demanded. “Are you crazy, constable?”

“Ho! And what about the fellow who kept crying out, and wanted his auntie?” said Mr. Goon, trying to force the window open.

Mr. Fellows was now quite convinced that Mr. Goon was raving mad. He turned to speak to Fatty - but Fatty was not there!

No - Fatty had seen a chance to creep upstairs and examine bedroom slippers and dressing-gowns, and also pyjamas. Reluctant as he was to leave the battleground on which Mr. Fellows and Mr. Goon were squabbling so fiercely, he felt that he couldn’t miss this chance.

He picked up the kitten and tiptoed out of the room. He wanted the kitten with him to provide him with an excuse for going upstairs - why should any one think it odd if the kitten fled upstairs and needed looking for?

Up the stairs went Fatty, grinning to hear Mr. Goon shouting the questions about the dog and the pig. Gosh, Mr. Fellows would think he was quite mad!

He saw that everywhere had been tidied up. He tiptoed into the biggest room, which he guessed was Mr. Fellows’ bedroom. Now - where were his slippers - and pyjamas - and dressing-gown?

Fatty is Pleased

Fatty looked round the room. No slippers to be seen! He looked under the bed. Ah - a pair of red slippers lay there, rather like Larry’s, but bigger. Fatty turned them upside down and examined them.

They were muddy, very muddy! Mud had even got splashed on the tops of the slippers. It was quite obvious that Mr. Fellows had been wandering about the streets in these.

Fatty slipped his hand under the eiderdown and pulled out pyjamas, striped red and white. He gave a low whistle. The bottom edges of the legs were filthy dirty - splashed with mud and clay. Fatty nodded his head. Yes - that muddy clay down by the river.

Now for the dressing-gown. It was hanging in a tall cupboard. It was dirty - but it was also messed up with hay and straw - strands stuck out here and there. Where had Mr. Fellows been in his dressing-gown? Fatty thought rapidly, as he shut the cupboard door.

“He didn’t go to stay with a friend, he hid somewhere for the rest of that night, and all day yesterday - because he didn’t want to be found in his night-clothes - questions would be asked! He hid in a barn or in a haystack or rick - and crept home in the middle of last night. I bet the watchmen were surprised to see him again, if they spotted him. Gosh, they’d think my Uncle Horatious had been out again!”

The angry voices downstairs had stopped. There was the sound of a window being slammed shut. Fatty dropped down on his hands and knees and began calling.

“Puss, puss, where are you? Kitty, kitty!”