“No! Well I never!” said the girl, astonished. “Did you see anything of the thief? I hear he took quite a bit of Mrs. Williams’ jewellery.”
“Did he?” said Daisy, who hadn’t yet heard what exactly had been taken. “You went to the house yesterday afternoon too, didn’t you? Did you see anything of the thief?”
“No, not a thing,” said the girl. “I didn’t see anyone at all. I think I must have come before he was there. I never saw or heard anything.”
“Did you see any loaves or any parcel in the kitchen when you went in?” asked Bets, wondering if the grocer’s girl had gone to the house before the others.
“There were no loaves there when I went, and I didn’t see any parcel,” said the girl, getting into her van. “Mr. Goon asked me a lot of questions this morning—and I couldn’t tell him a thing. To think I was there and might have brushed against the robber! Well, it just shows, doesn’t it?”
Bets and Daisy didn’t know exactly what it showed, but they nodded their heads.
“Sorry I can’t stop,” said the girl. “I’d love to hear what you did too—but I’m so awfully late. To think I didn’t hear or see a thing. Bad luck, wasn’t it?”
She drove off. Daisy and Bets looked at one another. “Well, that was unexpectedly easy,” said Bets. “It took us hardly any time. We may as well go back and see how the boys are getting on.”
So they went off to the boys, who were patiently waiting for the postman and the baker. They were swinging on the gate so as not to miss them. They looked most surprised to see Daisy and Bets so soon.
“We had an easy job,” said Daisy. “But nothing came of it. The grocer’s girl delivered her goods before the others, and she didn’t see or hear anything suspicious at all.”
“Nobody ever seems to see this thief,” said Larry. “They hear him and see his foot-marks and glove-marks, but they don’t see him. I bet neither the postman nor the baker will have seen him, either.”
“Here is the postman!” said Daisy. “Look—coming up the road with his little cycle-van. Let’s hope he’s got a parcel for your house, Pip.”
The postman delivered two parcels next door. He came out again, mounted his saddle, and pedalled slowly to Pip’s house. He stopped. He rummaged in his little van and produced a parcel.
“Mrs. Hilton,” he read out and looked at the children. “Any of you a Hilton?”
“Yes, I am,” said Pip, going over to the van. “I’ll take it to my mother. It’ll save you a long ride up the drive and back.”
“Thanks,” said the postman. “Sign for it, will you?”
Pip signed. “I hope you won’t bump into a thief today,” he said, giving the postman back his stump of a pencil. “I hear you almost ran into one yesterday!”
“Yes,” said the postman. “Mr. Goon the policeman has been trying to find out if I saw him. I didn’t. I went to the back door, as the Cook had told me to, so as not to disturb Mrs. Williams—and I saw all the groceries on the table, and I left my parcel by the door.”
“Were there any loaves on the table too?” asked Larry.
“Not so far as I remember,” said the postman. “I just popped my hand in with the parcel and popped out again. I was in a hurry. I didn’t see or hear anything at all. Off I went. I don’t know whether the thief was there then or not—skulking round, maybe—or hiding in a bush.”
He began to pedal slowly away. The children watched him go.
“Nobody’s much help,” said Pip. “I never knew such a thief for not being noticed by anyone. You’d think they’d see his big feet, anyhow, wouldn’t you?”
“Now we’ll wait for the baker,” said Larry. “Then we’ll scoot off down to Frinton Lea and spot Fatty. I bet we spot him. Even if he’s disguised himself as a tree we’ll spot him.”
“Buck up, baker!” said Bets, swinging on the gate. “You’re the last one left—and I guess you won’t have noticed the thief either!”
The Peculiar Fisherman
The baker arrived at last. He was a cocky little bantam of a man, with a rather high voice, and a silly way of clearing his throat. He left his van at the bottom of the road and came along carrying his basket on his arm.
“Hallo, kids,” he said, as he came up to the gate. “Having a swing-swong, eh?”
“Shall we take the bread to our cook for you?” asked Pip.
“Well—there are thieves about, you know!” said the baker, pretending to look scared. “My word—I nearly ran into one yesterday, up at Mrs. Williams’s. Did you hear tell about that?”
“What happened?” asked Larry, thinking it would be a good thing to let him talk.
“Well, nothing really so far as I’m concerned,” said the baker. “I goes up there as usual, carrying my bread on my arm in my basket, like I always does. I knocks on the kitchen door before I remembers that Cookie is out. I sees the groceries on the table, and a parcel by the door, and I says, ‘Ah, the grocer girl’s been and left her things, and so’s the postman. Now it’s your turn, baker!’ ”
He grinned at them as if he had said something rather clever.
“And so I looks at the note Cookie’s left for me, and I sees as how she wants four loaves,” went on the cocky little baker. “And I pops them down, and out I goes.”
“And you didn’t see or hear anything of the thief at all then,” said Larry, disappointed.
“No. Nothing,” said the baker. “All I see is some big foot-prints on a bed.”
“Ah—you saw those!” said Pip and Larry together. The baker looked surprised.
“What do you know about them?” he said. “Yes, I see them—and I thinks—ah, somebody’s been walking their big feet all over the beds. Maybe the window-cleaner or somebody. And off I goes.”
“That means that the thief must either have come and gone, or was still there, hiding somewhere whilst you were delivering your bread,” said Larry. “Gosh—you might easily have seen him. What a pity you didn’t.”
“I never seen him the other day either, at Norton House,” said the baker in his high, rather silly voice. “I heard Jinny shouting and in I went—but we didn’t see no thief at all.”
“Funny,” said Pip, puzzled. “Well, baker—if you like to give me your basket I’ll take it up to our cook and let her see what bread she wants. It will save you a long walk up the drive.”
He held out his hand for the basket, but the baker backed away and shook his head!
“No, thanks. I don’t want boys messing about with my nice clean bread,” said the baker. “I’m particular I am. I’m the only baker in Peterswood that covers his bread up with a clean cloth.”
“Oh, all right,” said Pip. “Take it yourself. I’m sure I don’t want to lug it all the way to the back door. It looks pretty heavy to me.”
The baker went in at the gate and walked up the drive like a little strutting bantam. The children watched him and laughed. “What a funny little fellow,” said Bets. “So proud of his clean bread too. You’d think he would keep his hands clean as well, if he’s as clean as all that! They’re filthy!”
They watched him disappear round the bend of the drive, looking spruce and smart in his little white coat, breeches, and small-sized, highly polished boots with polished gaiters above.
“Most disappointing,” he said, as he came back again. “No thief today anywhere. I don’t mind telling you I’m on the look-out now. Anyone suspicious and I tell the police! I promised Mr. Goon that. I go into nearly everyone’s house, and I’m keeping my eyes open for him. He thinks there’ll be more robberies soon!”
“Really?” said Larry politely. The little baker strutted back to his van whistling.
“Very pleased with himself, isn’t he?” said Larry. “I don’t think I like him much.”
“Now let’s go down to Frinton Lea and see if we can find Fatty,” said Bets, jumping off the gate.
“Yes, let’s,” said Daisy, pleased. “We’ve done our bits now—not that we’ve found out anything.”
They walked down the lane to the river, then along the river-path that led to Frinton Lea. They soon came in sight of it. It was a big, rambling house, once built by rich people, and now owned by someone who ran it for paying guests.
Boats slid by on the water. Fishermen sat by the bank, stolid and patient, almost like bits of the scenery. Each had his little camp-stool, and each hunched himself over his rod, watching his float like a cat watching a mouse-hole.