Mystery Of The Missing Necklace (12 page)

But Larry was out. "Try at the Hilton's," said Larry's mother. "Oh, I do hope the children haven't been misbehaving themselves, Mr. Goon."

"Er no
—
for a wonder, no, Mam," said Mr. Goon, and went off majestically.

He arrived at Pip's just as the children were escorting Fatty, still disguised as the old man, out of the front gate. Fatty stared at Goon, and Goon stared back disbelievingly. What! Hadn't he just locked that old man up? And here he was again, free, and walking about! Mr. Goon began to feel as if he was in a peculiarly unpleasant dream.

"Er
—
good evening, Mr. Goon," said Larry. Mr. Goon took no notice of him.

"Here, you!" he said, grabbing at Fatty's arm. "How did you get out? Haven't I just locked you up? What are things a-coming to, I'd like to know! Here I've just locked you up and I meet you walking into me, bold as brass!"

Mr. Goon looked so amazed and disbelieving that Fatty badly wanted to laugh. He was at a loss to know what to say.

"Wassat? " he said at last, putting his hand behind his ear.

That was too much for Mr. Goon. He caught hold of Fatty's collar and marched him quickly up the lane.

"You've been ‘w
assating' me long enough!" said the annoyed Mr. Goon. "I don't know how you got out
—
but I do know you're going in again
—
and this time I'll lock the door on you meself! And there you'll stay 'till you see sense if it takes you a month!"

Fatty didn't like this at all. He debated whether or not to let Mr. Goon into the secret of his disguise. But

before he had made up his mind, he was at the police-station. Mr. Goon was unlocking a door, and Fatty was being pushed into the dark, narrow little room behind.

And in it was the real old man! He stared at Fatty and Fatty stared at him. The old chap let out a howl. He was beginning to feel he must be mad. Why, here was himself staring at him! What was happening?

Mr. Goon heard the howl and looked into the room
—
and then he saw the
two
old men! Exactly a
li
ke. As like as peas in a pod. Mr. Goon sat down heavily on a chair and mopped his forehead with a big handkerchief. He felt dazed. What with vanishing cigarettes, men that got locked up and then got out
—
and now two old men exactly alike
—
well, Mr. Goon began to feel that he must be lying asleep and dreaming in his own bed at home, and he fervently hoped that he would soon wake up.

"Lemme get out of here!" said the real old man, and tried to push past Mr. Goon. But the policeman caught hold of him. He wasn't going to have any more disappearings. He was Going to Get to the Bottom of Things.

Fatty saw that things had gone far enough, and he did not like the
thought of his parents knowing that he was locked up at the police-station. So he spoke to Mr. Goon in his ordinary voice, and gave the poor man another terrible shock.

"Mr. Goon! I'm not really an old man. I'm Frederick Trotteville."

Mr. Goon's mouth fell open. He gulped once or twice, staring at Fatty as if he couldn't believe
his
eyes. Fatty twitched off his beard, and then Mr. Goon did indeed see that it was Fatty. He dragged him out of the

dark little room, slammed and locked the door, and took Fatty into an office.

"Now you just tell me the meaning of all this here
!”
he said.

"Well," said Fatty, "it's a long story, but I'll tell you everything, Mr. Goon," and he launched into the tale of all that the Find-Outers had done, and how he had disguised himself as the old man, and sat there to trap a message from the gang.

"What about that cigarette?" said Mr. Goon when he had got his breath back a bit. "What about that? That's a most important thing!"

"Is it really?" said Fatty, in pretended surprise. "Well, we imdid the cigarette, of course, Mr. Goon, and inside we found nothing of importance at all, really
—
just a silly grocery list. We were terribly disappointed."

Fatty did not mean to tell Mr. Goon what he and the others had discovered in the message
—
the few lines in secret ink. No, he would keep that to himself, and go to the meeting on Tuesday night, and see what he could find out.
He
wanted to solve the Mystery, he, Fatty, the Chief of the Find-Outers. He did not stop to think whether it was dangerous or not.

Mr. Goon grabbed hold of the message. He spread it out. He frowned. He read it through two or three times. "Must be a code," he said. "I'll look up my code-book. You leave this to me."

"Er
—
well
—
I'll be going now," said Fatty, after watching Mr. Goon frowning at the list of groceries for a few minutes.

"If you hadn't given me this here bit of paper, I'd have locked you up," said Mr. Goon. "Interfering with the Law. That's what you're always doing, you five

kids. Ho, yes, I know you think you've got a fine friend in Inspector Jenks, but one of these days you'll find he's fed up with you, see? And I'll get my promotion and be a Big Noise, and then just you look out!"

"Oh, I
will
look out," said Fatty earnestly. "Thanks for warning me, Mr. Goon. Er
—
what about that old fellow? Are you still going to keep him locked up?"

"Yes, I am," said Mr. Goon. "And your own common sense will tell you why
—
that's always supposing you've got any, which I very much doubt
—
I don't want him warning the gang that I'm on their track. If he's here, under my nose, he can't do much warning."

"I think you're quite right, Mr. Goon," said Fatty solemnly. "I couldn't agree with you more. I think
—
"

"I'm tired of you," said Mr. Goon. "You clear-orf double-quick, before I change my mind about locking you up. I'm Right Down Tired of you. Messing about
—
interfering
—
dressing up
—
Gah
!”

Fatty scuttled off. He went home and quickly changed out of his old-man clothes, and then shot up to Pip's to tell every one what had happened.

"I had to give him the cigarette message, worse luck," he said. "It was the only thing to keep him quiet. But I don't believe he'll make head or tail of it, and I bet he won't test it for a secret message as we did. You should have seen his face when he pushed me into the same room as the real old man, and saw two of us there! I thought he would go up in smoke!"

The others roared. They were most relieved to see Fatty back safe and sound. Bets had been imagining him locked up in a dreary cell, with only bread and water.

"He's keeping the old man under his eye for a few
days," said Fatty, "in case he gets the wind up about all this, and warns the other members of the gang. I'm pleased he's doing that. I expect the Meeting will wonder why Number 3 doesn't turn up on Tuesday, whoever he is. Well, they'll have to wonder!"

"I think it's awfully dangerous for you to go down to the Waxworks on Tuesday," said Daisy. "I do, really. I think you ought to go and tell the Inspector about it, Fatty."

"Oh no," said Fatty. "I want us to solve this Mystery before we see
the
Inspector again. I shall be quite safe."

"I don't see how you can say that," said Larry, who agreed with Daisy that it might be dangerous. "The men will surely not be fools enough to hold their Meeting without being certain there's no spy there."

"They won't discover
me,"
said Fatty. "I shall wear a disguise!"

"I don't see how that will help you," said Larry. "Even if you are in disguise, you'll be a stranger to the men, and they'll want to know who you are."

"I shan't be a stranger to them," said Fatty, exasperatingly. "Nor to you, either."

The others stared at him. "What do you mean?" said Pip at last. "What are you getting at?"

"I shall be somebody the gang have seen often enough before, if they have held their other meetings in the Waxworks Hall. They'll know me so well they won't even look at me!"

"What do you mean?" said Daisy, getting annoyed. "Don't talk in these silly riddles."

"Well," said Fatty, and he lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper, "well
—
I shall be disguised as one of the waxworks, silly
I
Napoleon, I think, because I'm

pretty plump, and so was he!"

There was a complete silence. All the Find-Outers stared at Fatty in the greatest admiration. What an idea! No member of the gang would suspect any of the waxwork figures! Bets could just imagine Fatty standing stiff and straight as the waxwork Napoleon, staring fixedly in front of him
—
seeing and hearing everything.

"What a really marvellous idea!" said Larry, at last. "Oh, Fatty
—
I
should never have thought of that if
I’d
thought for a month. You'll be right in the lions' den
—
and they won't even
smell
you!"

"It
is
rather a good idea, isn't it?" said Fatty, swelling up a little. "That's one thing about me, you know
—
I've always got plenty of ideas. My form-master said only last term that my imagination was..."

But the others didn't in the least want to hear what Fatty's form-master had said. They wanted to talk about Tuesday night and what Fatty was going to do.

Tuesday night! Bets thrilled every time she thought of it. This Mystery was really getting too exciting for words. Oooh
—
Tuesday night!

A Very Bold Idea
.

That week-end dragged along very slowly indeed. Tuesday was such a long time in coming! The only thing that enlivened it at all was that on the two or three occasions when the children met Mr. Goon, Fatty had his hooter tucked under his coat, and sounded it as soon as they passed the policeman. This made
h
im
jump, and he looked round in hope

of seeing the cyclist who had once stopped and spoken to the old man. But he never did, of course. He hailed the children suspiciously the third time it happened.

"Did you hear that hooter?" he asked. They all nodded vigorously.

"Did you see a bike going by then?" said the policeman.

"A bike? All by itself with a hooter?" asked Pip, and the others grinned.

"Gab.!" said Mr. Goon, enranged as usual. "You clear-orf! I wouldn't put it past you to
carry
one of them hooters about, just to annoy me, like
!”

"He's getting quite bright, isn't he?" said Larry, as they walked off. "I shouldn't be surprised if he does get promotion one of these days. He's really trying to use those brains of his a bit. We'd better not hoot any more when we pass him. He's quite likely to go and complain about us if we do
—
and ever since he went up to my house and asked for me the other day, Mother's been warning me not to get into trouble."

Fatty was preparing himself very earnestly for Tuesday night. He knew how important it was, and he also knew that, unless all his details were absolutely perfect, he might be in considerable danger.

He and the others spent a long time in the Waxworks, much to the surprise of the red-headed boy, for it was very hot in there, and not many people visited the little hall these blazing days.

But Fatty had to study the figure of Napoleon very carefully indeed. He meant to get into the hall somehow on Tuesday evening, and dress himself up in Napoleon's clothes. Would they fit him? He asked Daisy what she thought.

"Yes, I should think they'd fit you very well," she said, considering first Napoleon and then Fatty. "You had better take a few safety-pins in case something doesn't quite meet. The hat will be fine
—
just your size, I should think. What about hair, Fatty?"

"I can manage that all right," said Fatty. "I rather think my own will do, if I smarm it down a bit, and pull a few pieces out in front, l
ike old Napoleon has got. An er—
I
don't know what you think
—
but
—
er
—
I'm not really
unlike
Napoleon in features, am I?"