Mystery of the Strange Bundle (5 page)

Fatty took out a big white handkerchief. He twisted it firmly round his fingers. Then he gingerly put his hand through the hole in the broken pane and tried to reach the fastening of the window. It was a casement, opening sideways once the clasp was moved.

“Got it,” said Fatty, and jerked the clasp. It slid down stiffly and he took back his hand again. He could now easily open the window.

“Done it,” he said pleased, and hopped up to the ledge. Buster began to bark, wanting to go with Fatty.

“Keep him quiet, for goodness’ sake,” said Fatty. “We don’t want any one to see me climbing in!”

They hushed Buster while Fatty climbed nimbly into the kitchen. He found the tiny kitten, which crouched back in the cupboard, spitting and scared. But it soon began purring when Fatty picked it up and petted it.

“I’ll find some milk,” he called quietly to the others. “I expect it’s hungry.”

He came to the larder and looked inside. Even that was untidy, and a broken dish lay on the tiled floor. Fancy hunting in the larder too! Whatever had the intruder been after?

“Here you are, kitty,” said Fatty, and put down a saucer of milk for the little creature. It lapped hungrily. When it had finished it rubbed itself against Fatty’s legs, purring. He bent to pick it up, but it scurried away, and ran through the doorway into the hall.

“Puss, puss!” called Fatty. “Come back here.”

“What’s up?” said Pip’s voice, looking in at the window. “Daisy says if you hand the kitten out to her she’ll take it home, as she lives so near. They’ve got a kitten too, and it can be with hers till somebody comes back here.”

“Right. But I’ll have to find it first,” said Fatty. “It’s dashed through the kitchen door into the hall. Half a tick. I’ll get it. I can hear it there somewhere.”

He went out of the kitchen door into the hall. He paused there, amazed at the untidiness. Coats, shoes, umbrellas were all in wild confusion on the floor, flung there from the hall-cupboard and from a chest of drawers.

The kitten was nowhere to be seen. Fatty went into one room after another, but the little thing was hiding, whether from fright or from play he didn’t know.

Fatty took the opportunity of having a good look round. There were three rooms downstairs and three above and a bathroom. Each of them was in confusion. By the soot that lay in the fire-places Fatty guessed that the hunter had even felt up the chimney for whatever it was that he had been looking for.

And then, as he came out from a bedroom on to the little landing, Fatty saw something in a corner, near the top of the stairs. It was bright red. He picked it up.

“A child’s glove,” he said to himself. “A very small glove, for a very small child. But surely there was no child here? And there’s only one glove. Could Mr. Fellows have been hiding a child here - kidnapped it, perhaps - and the other fellow came to find it?”

He shook his head. “No - people don’t look for even very small children up chimneys and in drawers. I wonder whether there are any more clothes for a child here. It doesn’t look like a house where children came at all - not a single toy, not a book or a doll - and no cot.”

There were no children’s clothes to be seen, thrown in the muddle on the floor. All kinds of other clothes were there - men’s coats, trousers, vests, shoes, hats - as well as a trouser-press flung down and opened, books, cushions, papers, blankets, sheets, pillow-cases…

“Well,” said Fatty, slipping the child’s red glove into his pocket. “I’ll keep it, just in case - though in case of what I don’t know! Only one of the pair - that’s the queer part. Was a child here last night - and was it dressed in a hurry, so that it dropped one glove? No, it couldn’t be.”

A loud whisper penetrated to him.

“Fatty! Quick! Goon’s coming back. He’s coming up the road. QUICK, Fatty!”

Mr. Goon is Astounded

Almost before Fatty had had time to get downstairs there came the sound of Goon’s angry voice.

“Now then, you kids! What are you doing here? Clear orf!”

Then came the sound of Buster’s barking. Fatty grinned. How many, many times had this same scene been acted - the Find-Outers snooping round - Goon finding them - ordered them off - and Buster objecting loudly! Well - Buster could certainly look after not only himself, but all the children too.

Fatty wondered whether he could slip out of the front door. He could hear that Mr. Goon was round at the back.

“Interfering with the Law!” he heard, in the policeman’s angry voice. “Poking your noses in! What’s it to do with you, I’d like to know. Clear orf!”

“Well, we live just close by,” said Larry. “It’s naturally interesting to us - to Daisy and me, I mean. If burglars are in the district I want to get some information in case they come to rob our house too, next door but one.”

“Gah!” said Goon disbelievingly. “Tommy-rot! Just an excuse for interfering. This here job’s a potty little job - no mystery in it at all. Not worth your notice, see - And take that dog away before I lose my temper with him. Nasty yappy little mongrel!”

Fatty longed to be out there with the others. Calling Buster a mongrel! Why, the little Scottie had a pedigree a yard long, and all his grandparents had been champions. Fatty boiled with rage. He tiptoed to the front door. He didn’t want Mr. Goon to catch him in the house, even though he had the perfectly good excuse to offer of rescuing the kitten.

“Where’s that fat boy?” demanded Mr. Goon, suddenly realizing that Fatty was absent. “Still in bed with the ‘flu’, I hope. Best place for him, too. Hope he gets a relapse! WILL you call this dog off?”

Larry called Buster. “Buster, come here. I can find some better ankles for you if you want some.”

Mr. Goon snorted. That was one of the things he did remarkably well. “Go on out of this garden, all of you,” he said. “Any more messing about here and I’ll report you. Yes, and I’ll go round to your parents again, too - specially yours, Master Philip Hilton!”

Pip hastily removed himself from the garden of the little house, taking Bets with him. He didn’t want Goon to make any more complaints to his parents. They had a habit of taking Mr. Goon seriously! Larry and Daisy followed, Larry holding Buster by the collar. They stood outside the front gate, wondering what Fatty was going to do.

Fatty was most unfortunate. He opened the front door from inside at exactly the same moment that Mr. Goon unlocked it from the outside. Mr. Goon stared at Fatty as if a thunderbolt had hit him. His mouth fell open and he went a familiar purple colour. He swallowed hard.

“Good morning, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty, smoothly. “Do come in. I’ll shut the door for you.”

Mr. Goon stepped in, still wordless. Then he exploded into speech.

“What you doing here? HERE, in this house that’s under police supervision. You want to get locked up, I suppose - Being Found on Enclosed Premises, and up to no good, I’ll be bound! HO!”

Fatty stepped back out of range of Mr. Goon’s explosians. “I heard a kitten mewing here,” he said. still politely. “And being a subscriber to the R.S.P.C.A. - if you know what that means, Mr. Goon - I naturally had to come into the house to find it.”

“Pah!” said Mr. Goon, disbelievingly. “This here house is habsolutely hempty! I’ve been through it me-self with a tooth-comb already!”

“This ’ere ’ouse hisn’t habsolutely hempty,” said Fatty. “Dear me, I seem to be getting muddled. Hark, Mr. Goon - can’t you hear the kitten mewing now?”

“Miaow!” said the kitten, and obligingly crept out from under the hall-stand. It went to Fatty and rubbed affectionately against his legs. Then it looked at Mr. Goon, hissed at him and spat.

“Most intelligent behaviour,” observed Fatty. “I hope you believe in the kitten now, Mr. Goon.”

Mr. Goon did. He had to. “Take it away and take yourself off too,” he said to Fatty. “I’ve work to do here. And Keep Out of This, see?”

“You’ll be careful of the dog here, won’t you, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty. “I’m not quite sure where it is - you may possibly hear it growling somewhere, and trace it by that.”

“There’s no dog here,” said Mr. Goon, stalking past Fatty. “A kitten I might have missed, being so small like, but not a dog. What do you take me for?”

“It would be better not to tell you,” murmured Fatty. “Not here, anyway.”

He was just behind the policeman, and it was as well for Mr. Goon that he couldn’t see the innocent expression on Fatty’s face - a look that all his form-masters knew only too well.

A blood-curdling growl suddenly came from somewhere in the house. Mr. Goon stopped as if he had been shot. “What’s that?” he said.

“Sounded like the dog,” said Fatty. “What a horrible animal it must be. I think I’ll go, Mr. Goon, and leave you to tackle him.”

Another growl came from somewhere, and the policeman took two hurried steps backwards, treading heavily on Fatty’s foot.

“Ouch!” said Fatty. “Look out where you’re going if you want to walk backwards, Mr. Goon! Well - goodbye - I’ll leave you now.”

“You come and help me find that dog,” said Mr. Goon, changing his mind completely about wanting Fatty to clear off. “It might want two of us to get him. Funny I didn’t see him or hear him when I was here before this morning.”

Fatty grinned behind Mr. Goon’s broad back. He debated whether to produce another animal-noise. This ventriloquism was Most Useful!

“All right, Mr. Goon,” he said. “If you think it’s my duty to stay and help you, I will. I’m always around when Duty Calls, you know.”

Mr. Goon was very thankful. He began to tiptoe forward into the little dining-room. Fatty followed a few paces behind. He suddenly gave a shout that made Goon nearly fall over backwards.

“Look, look - what’s that - over there! LOOK OUT!”

Mr. Goon was so anxious to get out as well as to look out that he almost fell over Fatty, trying to rush out of the room. Fatty clutched him as he went.

“It’s all right! It’s all right! I just caught sight of you in that mirror over there, Mr. Goon, and it was such a dreadful sight I thought it must be some one lying in wait for us. Gosh, thank goodness it was only your reflection!”

Mr. Goon was very angry and very relieved. He glared at Fatty. “Any more of this funny business,” he began, and then stoppod suddenly.

From somewhere behind came the sound of heavy grunting. Mr. Goon swung round at once. “Did you hear that?” he asked Fatty, breathlessly. “That grunting noise. What was it? It sounded out there in the hall.”

“Yes, it did,” said Fatty, clutching at Mr. Goon’s arm and making him jump again. “You go first, Mr. Goon. I’m scared.”

So was Mr. Goon. He tiptoed into the hall and promptly fell over the kitten which made a dart at him as soon as he appeared. He retreated into the dining-room again, bumping into Fatty. The grunting noise was heard once more, this time sounding farther off.

“It’s a pig!” said Mr. Goon, hardly able to believe his ears. “Sounded upstairs that time. Did you think it was a pig, Master Frederick?”

The more frightened and puzzled Mr. Goon became, the more polite he got. At this rate, thought Fatty, he’ll soon be bowing to me every time he speaks! He badly wanted to laugh, but he firmly thrust down the ever-mounting guffaw that wanted to rise up and explode.

“What sort of a fellow was it who lived here, Mr. Goon?” asked Fatty, innocently. “Was he fond of animals? He seems to have kept kittens, and dogs, and pigs, anyway.”

“How was it I didn’t see the pig when I was here this morning,” marvelled Goon. “I turned everything over and looked everywhere for clues. And yet I didn’t see the dog or the pig. Shall we go upstairs to find the pig?”

“Yes. But be careful the dog doesn’t rush out at you,” said Fatty. “You go first, Mr. Goon.”

Mr. Goon didn’t want to go first. He pushed Fatty in front of him, and then immediately wished he hadn’t because a deep and ferocious growl came from somewhere behind him. Fatty was certainly practising his new talent well!

And then a new sound came to worry poor Mr. Goon. A voice came from somewhere, a groaning voice that said:

“I never did it, I never! Ooooooh! I never did it! Where’s my auntie?”

Goon listened, petrified. He began to feel as if hc was in a nightmare. He whispered to Fatty. “There’s a man here somewhere! This beats all! We’d better get help. I’m not going to snoop round here with dogs, and pigs, and a man groaning. What’s been happening since I was here this morning?”

“Look, you stay here, Mr. Goon, and I’ll go and get help,” said Fatty, and moved firmly into the hall. But Mr. Goon clutched at him.

“No, don’t leave me here alone. Can’t you stay while I get help?”

“Remember your duty, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty solemnly. “There is Something Queer here, and it’s your duty to examine it. But it’s not my duty. I’ll go and get help. Goodbye!”

Goon held on to him tightly, and then the Voice began again. “I never did it, I never! Oooooooh! I never did it! Where’s my auntie?”

Goon began to shake. “What’s he mean, talking about his auntie?” he whispered. “Come on, let’s go! This is a mad-house, this is.”

“Mr. Goon - why not telephone for help!” said Fatty, suddenly catching sight af the telephone in the hall. “You’d get some one here in a trice then.”

Mr. Goon was so relieved at this bright iden of Fatty’s that he almost embraced him. He stumbled to the telephone and dialled a number.

Fatty heard him telephoning to another constable. He tiptoed silently out of the front door, grinning as he heard Goon’s agonized voice.

“Send some one up here at once. There’s a fierce dog in the house - and a pig - yes, I said a pig - P-I-G. Yes, PIG, you ass. And a groaning man who wants his Auntie. AUNTIE! Yes, I did say Auntie. Are you deaf, or something? Well, how do I know why he wants his Auntie? No, I’m not daft, but I soon shall be if you don’t send some one to this address at once. Ycs - I do want help - YES, there IS a dog here - and a pig - and an Auntie - no, not an Auntie, but a man who wants one. Oh, and there’s a kitten, too, I forgot to mention that.”

There was a pause as Goon listened to a few remarks from the other end of the telephone. He splutted into it again.

“Any more sauce from you, Kenton, and I’ll report you. I’m NOT having a joke with you. You come up here at once. AT ONCE, do you hear?”