Daisy praised Bets too, but Pip was rather sulky. He was afraid his little sister would get swollen-headed. "If you say much more, Bets will want to be head of the Find-Outers," he said.
"Oh no, I shan't," said Bets happily. "I know it was only a bit of luck, really, Pip. You see, I actually put the pennies into Fatty's hands, and that's how I noticed the clean nails. Pip, I’ll lend you the propelling-pencil whenever you want it. See?"
That was so like Bets. Not even a cross elder brother like Pip could sulk for long with Bets. He grinned at her.
"Thanks, Bets. You're a good Find-Outer, and a good little sport too!"
"I say—look out—here's Goon!” suddenly said Larry, in a low voice. "Better pretend we're not with Fatty, or Goon will wonder why we are hobnobbing with an old Fair woman!"
So they all got up, and left Fatty behind on the seat, with his string of balloons bobbing over his head. Mr. Goon was on his bicycle as usual. He pretended not to notice the children at all. He always seemed busy and important these days!
But he got off his bicycle when he saw the old woman. Fatty was drooping over, pretending to be asleep.
"Here, you!" said Goon. "Move on! And where's your licence to sell balloons?"
The others heard this, and looked alarmed. Did you have to have a licence to peddle balloons? They were sure Fatty hadn't got one.
Fatty took no notice, but gave a gentle snore. Mr. Goon shook the shoulder of the Balloon-woman, and Fatty pretended to awake with a jerk.
"Where's your licence?" said Goon. He was always rude and arrogant to people like the old Balloon-woman.
"What did you say, sir?" said Fatty, in a whining voice. "Want to buy a balloon, sir? What colour do you fancy?"
"I don't want a balloon," said Goon angrily. "I want to see your licence."
"Oh, ah, my licence?" said Fatty, and began to pat all over his extremely voluminous skirts, as if to find where a licence would possibly be hidden. "Somewhere about, sir, somewhere about. If you can just wait a few minutes, kind sir, I'll find it in the pocket of one of my petticoats. An old woman like me, sir, she wants plenty of petticoats. Sleeping out under hedges is cold, sir, even on a summer night."
"Gah!" said Goon rudely, mounted his bicycle and rode off, ringing his bell furiously at a small dog that dared to run across the road in front of him. Was he, the Great Goon, in charge of a First-Class Case, going to wait whilst an old pedlar-woman fished for ages in her petticoats for a licence he didn't really want to see? Gah!
When Goon was safely out of sight the others went back to Fatty, amused and half-alarmed. "Oh, Fatty! How can you act like that with Goon? If only he'd known it was really you!"
"I enjoyed that," said Fatty. "Good thing Goon didn't wait to see my licence though, because I haven't got one, of course. Come on—let's get back home. I'm dying to take off these hot clothes! I’ve got layers of petticoats on to make me fat and shapeless!”
On the way up the village street they passed the bench where they had spoken to the old man on their way to the Fair that afternoon. Bets pointed him out to Fatty.
"Fatty. Do you see that old fellow, sleeping on that bench over there? Well, we thought he was you! And we went and called him Fatty, and Pip gave him a poke in the ribs!”
Fatty stood and looked at the old chap. "You know, it would be quite easy to disguise myself like him," he said. "I've a good mind to try it. Honestly, I believe I could."
"But you couldn't make your ears like his," said Bets. "He's got awful ears."
"No, I couldn't. But I could pull my cap down lower man he does, and hide my ears a bit," said Fatty. "Yes, that would be a very good and easy disguise indeed. I'll try it one day. Did Pip really .poke him in the ribs?"
"Yes. And the old fellow kept on saying, 'Wassat? Wassat?'" said Pip, with a giggle. "He's deaf, poor old thing."
The old man suddenly opened his eyes and saw the children looking at him. He thought they must have spoken to him. He cupped one of his ears in his hand and croaked out his favourite word, "Wassat?"
The old Balloon-woman winked at the children and sat down beside the old fellow. "Fine evening," she said, in the cracked voice the children were beginning to know well.
"Wassat?" said the old man. Then be sniffed, and wiped his nose deftly with the back of his hand. Fatty did exactly the same, which made Bets giggle in delight.
"FINE EVENING," said Fatty. "AND A FINE MORNING TOO!"
"Don't know nothing about mornings," said the old man surprisingly. "Always sleep till midday, I do. Then I gets up, has my bit of dinner, and comes out into the sun. Mornings don't mean nothing to me."
He sniffed again, and then took out his pipe to fill it. Fatty watched all he did. Yes, it would be a marvellous thing to do, to disguise himself as this old fellow. Pipe, sniffs, deafness, and all—Fatty could do it!"
"Come on, Fatty!" said Pip, in a low voice. "We really will have to get back. It's getting late."
Fatty got up and joined them. They soon parted and went their different way—Pip and Bets down their lane, and Larry and Daisy up theirs. Fatty went in at his back gate, and his mother caught sight of the old Balloon-woman, as she stood in the garden, cutting sweet-peas for the table.
"A friend of Cook's, I suppose," she thought; "or is she trying to sell balloons here?"
She waited for the Balloon-woman to come back again, but she didn't. So, rather curious, Mrs. Trotteville went to the kitchen door and looked in. There was no Balloon-woman to be seen—only Cook, red in the face, cooking the dinner.
"Where did that old Balloon-woman go?" said Mrs. Trotteville, in wonder. But Cook didn't know. She hadn't seen any old woman at all. And no wonder—for at that moment the old Balloon-woman was stripping off layers of petticoats down in the shed at the bottom of the garden—to come forth as a very hot and rather untidy Fatty.
"What a peculiar thing for a Balloon-woman to vanish into thin air!" thought Mrs. Trotteville. And so it was.
A Visit to Inspector Jenks.
Fatty had much enjoyed his fun as the old Balloon-woman, and so had the others. He gave Bets the silver propelling-pencil and she was really delighted.
"I've never had such a lovely pencil," she said. "It writes in red and blue, as well as in ordinary lead. Thank you awfully, Fatty."
"The holidays are going too fast," said Pip, rather gloomily. "And we still haven't got a mystery to solve, though we know that Goon has."
"Yes, I know," said Fatty, looking worried. "I can't bear to think of Goon getting busy on his mystery, and we haven't the least idea what it is. Though it may be all those burglaries that are cropping up all over the place, you know—I expect most of the police are keeping their eyes skinned for the gang that is operating such big thefts."
"Can't we keep our eyes skinned too?" said Bets eagerly. "We might see the gang somewhere."
"Idiot! Do you suppose they go about in a crowd together, all looking like burglars?" said Pip scornfully. "They're too jolly clever. They have their own meeting-places their own way of passing on messages, their own ways of disposing of the jewels they steal—haven't they, Fatty? And they are not ways we would be likely to find out, even if we did keep our eyes skinned!"
"Oh," said Bets, disappointed. "Well—can't we ask Inspector Jenks if there really is a mystery here, and ask him to let us help?"
"Yes—why can't we?" said Daisy. "I'm sure he'd tell us. We've helped him such a lot before."
Inspector Jenks was their very good friend. He was what Bets called "a very high-up policeman," and he belonged to the next big town. In the four mysteries the children had solved before, Inspector Jenks had come in at the end, and been very pleased indeed at all the children had found out. Mr. Goon, however, had not been so pleased, because it was most annoying to him to have those "interfering children messing about with the Law"—especially when they had actually found out things he hadn't.
"I think it's a very good idea of Bets," said Fatty. "Very good indeed. If he knows what the mystery is that Goon is working on—and he's sure to—I don't see why he can't tell us. He knows we'll keep out mouths shut and do all we can to help."
So the next day the Five Find-Outers, with Buster in Fatty's basket, rode on their bicycles to the next big town, where Inspector Jenks had his headquarters. They went to the police-station there, and asked if they might see him.
"What! See the Inspector himself!" said the policeman in charge. "Kids like you! I should think not. He's a Big Man, he is, too busy to bother with kids. Sauce, I call it!"
"Wait a bit," said another policeman, with a nice face, and very bright blue eyes. "Wait a bit—aren't you the kids that helped with one or two difficult cases over in Peterswood?"
"Yes, we are," said Fatty. "We wouldn't want to bother the Inspector if he's busy, of course—but we would like to ask him something rather important. Important to us, I mean."
"Shall I go in and tell the Inspector then?" said the first policeman to the other one. "Don't want my head bitten off, you know, for interrupting without due cause."
"I'll tell him!" said the blue-eyed policeman. "I've heard him talk about these kids." He got up and went out of the room. The children waited as patiently as they could. Surely their old friend would see them!
The policeman came back. "He'll see you," he said. "Come on in."
The children followed him down a long stone-floored passage, and then down another. Bets looked about her half-fearfully. Was she anywhere near prisoners in their cells? She hoped not.
The policeman opened a door with a glass top to it, and announced them. "The children from Peterswood, sir."
The Inspector was sitting at an enormous desk, piled with papers. He was in uniform and looked very big and grand. His eyes twinkled, and he smiled his nice smile.
"Well, well, well!" he said. "The whole lot of you at once—and Buster too, I see I Well, how are you? Come to tell me you've solved the mystery that's been worrying us for months, I suppose!"
He shook hands with them all, and put Bets on his knee. She beamed at him. She was very fond of this big High-Up Policeman.
"No, sir, we haven't come to tell you we've solved any mystery, unfortunately," said Fatty. "These are the first hols for ages that we haven't had a mystery to solve. But sir, we know that Mr. Goon has got one he's working on, and we thought perhaps we could work on it too. But we don't know what it is."
"Yes, Goon's on it," said the Inspector. "In fact, most of the police force of the country seem to be on it too! But it's not one that you can be mixed up in. I don't think you could help at all, first-rate detectives though you are!”
"Oh!” said Fatty, disappointed. "Is it—is it all these big burglaries, sir?"
"Yes, that's right," said the Inspector. "Very clever, they are. The thieves know just what jewels to steal, when to get at them, and lay their plans very carefully. And we don't know one single one of the men! Not one. Though we have our suspicions, you know! We always have!"
He twinkled at the listening children. Fatty felt desperate. Surely the Inspector could tell them more than that. Surely Goon knew more? Else why was he so busy and important these days?
"Mr. Goon looks as if he knew quite a lot, sir," said Fatty. "Is there anything going on in Peterswood at all?"
The Inspector hesitated. "Well," he said at last, "as I said, this is not a thing for children to be mixed up in. Definitely not, and I am sure you would agree with me if you knew what I know. Peterswood is not exactly mixed up in it—but we suspect that some of the gang go there—to meet perhaps—or to pass on messages—we don't know."
The children's eyes brightened immediately. "Sir!" said Fatty, at once, "can't we just keep our eyes open, then? Not snoop round too much, if you don't want us to—but watch and see if we hear or spot anything unusual. Children can often see and hear things that grown-ups can't, because people suspect other grown-ups, but they don't notice children much."
The Inspector tapped with his pencil on his desk. Fatty knew that he was weighing up whether or not to let them keep a watch on things in Peterswood, and his heart beat anxiously. How he hoped they would be allowed just to have a little hand in this Mystery! It seemed a pretty hopeless one, and Mr. Goon was sure to do better than they could, because he knew so much more—but Fatty simply couldn't bear to be left out of it altogether!
"All right," said the Inspector at last, and put his pencil down. "You can keep your eyes open for me—but don't plunge headlong into anything foolish or dangerous. Just keep your eyes open. It's barely possible you children might spot something, simply because you're children. Report to me if you find anything suspicious."
"Oh, thank you!" said every one at once, delighted.
"It's jolly good of you, sir," said Fatty. "We will find out something! And we'll be as careful as Mr. Goon!"
"Well, I'm afraid he will come out on top this time," said the Inspector, his eyes twinkling. "He knows so much more than you do. But I can tell you no more than I have done. Good-bye—and it's been so nice to see you!"
The children went. They got on their bicycles and rode back home, thrilled and pleased. They all went to Pip's garden, and sat down importantly in his summer-house, right at the top of the garden.
"Well—we've got a Mystery after all!" said Fatty. "Who are the gang that steals all these jewels? Goon's on the job, and he's got a flying start—and now we'll be on it too. Has anybody noticed anything suspicious in Peterswood lately?"
They all thought hard. But nobody could think of anything in the least suspicious. Things seemed to be pretty much as usual, except that the hot weather had brought crowds of people into the little riverside village.
"I can't think of a thing," said Larry.
"It's not a very easy Mystery," said Daisy, frowning. "There doesn't seem anywhere to begin."
"Can't we do it the usual way—find clues, and make a list of Suspects? " said Bets.
"Right!" said Pip scornfully. "You tell us what clues to look for, and who to put down on a list of Suspects!"
"There are no clues to look for, and we don't even know where to look for Suspects," said Larry mournfully. "I wonder what Goon knows."
"He's probably got a list of men he's suspicious of," said Fatty thoughtfully. "And he's also probably got all details of all the burglaries committed lately. I'd better get some back numbers of the newspapers and read them up. Not that it will help us very much, really."
There was a long pause. "Well," said Pip, at last. "What's the plan? What are we going to do?"
There simply didn't seem anything to do! All they knew was that it was possible that the thieves sometimes met in Peterswood.
"I think it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to disguise myself as that old deaf fellow, who sits on that sunny bench in the middle of the village," said Fatty. "We know he isn't there in the mornings, so that would be the time for me to go and sit there. I might be able to spot something suspicious. Men passing notes to one another as they meet—or making remarks in low voices—or even sitting on that bench and talking."
Every one looked doubtful. It didn't seem at all likely, really. Bets guessed that Fatty wanted the fun of disguising himself again. "You had certainly better not be there in the afternoon!" she said. "People would begin to wonder, if they saw two old fellows, exactly alike, sitting on the same bench!"
"Yes. Goon would have a fit!" said Larry, and every one laughed.
"Don't you think it would be better if you chose some other disguise, not disguise yourself like that old fellow?" said Pip. "Just in case you did both wander along at the same time? There doesn't really seem any point in dressing up like that dirty old man."