Everyone felt thrilled. They watched Fatty become his own self again, rubbing away the greasy lines on his face, removing his eyebrows carefully, sliding his aching feet out of the stiff old boots he wore. He grunted and groaned as he took off the boots and rubbed his sore feet.
“I had three pairs of socks on,” he said, “because the boots are so big and stiff—but even so I bet I’ll limp for days!”
“You do everything so thoroughly, Fatty,” said Bets admiringly, watching him become the Fatty she knew.
“Secret of success, Bets,” said Fatty with a grin. “Now then—what do we do next? I feel that our next move is very very important—and it’s got to be done quickly before old Goon gets another move on.”
Daisy gave a little giggle when she remembered how they had seen through Goon’s disguise that morning, and pestered him. Poor old Clear-Orf! “Please can you tell us the time?” “Please can you give us change for sixpence?” Oh dear—however dared they be such pests!
“Anyone know Miss Kay?” asked Fatty, putting on his shoes and lacing them up. “She apparently ran the jumble sale last year. Is she running it this year?”
“Yes,” said Daisy. “She’s the one we took the Rodneys’ shoes to. But, Fatty, we can’t very well go barging up to her and ask her straight out who bought those boots of the colonel’s last year—she’d think it awfully queer.”
“I’m not thinking of doing any barging or blurting out of silly questions,” said Fatty with dignity.
“I’ve got a very fine idea already—no barging about it!”
“Of course Fatty’s got a good idea,” said Bets, loyally. “He always has. What is it, Fatty?”
“I’m simply going to present our very finest clue to Miss Kay for her jumble sale—the colonel’s big shoes—and mention casually that perhaps the person who bought them last year, whoever he was, might like to buy the same size again this year!” said Fatty. “Same kind of rubber heels and all!”
Everyone gazed admiringly at him. That was about the best and most direct way of getting the vital information they wanted, without arousing any suspicion at all! Trust Fatty to produce an idea like that.
“Jolly good, Fatty,” said Pip, and the others agreed.
“Let’s have tea now,” said Fatty, looking at the time. “I’ll go and see if I can get something out of our cook. You come with me, Bets, because she likes you—and we’ll take it out under that tree over there and have a picnic, and relax a bit after all our hard work today.”
He and Bets went off together. They came back with an enormous tea on two trays, and an excited Buster. The cook had looked after him all day, and kept him from following Fatty; now he was wild with delight to be with his friends again.
“It’s a marvel both the trays haven’t crashed,” said Fatty, putting his down carefully. “I never knew such a dog for getting under your feet when you’re carrying anything heavy. Get away from that cake, Buster. Daisy, do stop him licking it all over. There’ll be no icing left. Oh golly, now he’s stepped on the buns.”
Bets caught Buster and held him down beside her. “He can’t help dancing about, he’s so pleased we’re back,” she said. “See what lovely things we’ve brought you all! I feel we’ve earned a good tea!”
They talked over their day as they ate, giggling whenever they thought of poor Mr. Goon and his despair at finding them just in front of him, wherever he went.
“I’m going down to Miss Kay’s this evening,” said Fatty. “Taking the shoes! Oh, wonderful, magnificent shoes, that will solve the mystery for us! And before seven o’clock comes I’ll be back with the name of the thief! A little telephoning to the Inspector—and a little explaining—and we shall be able to let Goon know tomorrow that the case is closed—the mystery is solved—as usual, by the Five Find-Outers—and dog!”
“Hip, hip, hurrah!” said Pip. “I say, Bets—don’t give Buster any more of those potted-meat sandwiches—I want some too! Fatty, stop her, Buster’s fat enough as it is. If he gets much fatter he won’t be able to help in any more mysteries. Not that he’s really helped in this one much!”
“Now you’ve made him put his tail down,” said Bets, and gave him another sandwich. “Oh, Fatty, do let me come with you to Miss Kay’s. You know who she is, don’t you? She’s the cousin of that horrid little baker—the one who always tries to be funny.”
“She’s just as silly as he is,” said Daisy. “I told you that we took the Rodneys’ boots and shoes to her this afternoon. She’s got a dreadful collection of things there. Honestly I think jumble is awful. She was very pleased with the boots and shoes. She says they go like hot cakes at a sale.”
“Well, I think I’ll go now,” said Fatty, getting up and brushing the crumbs from his front. “Coming, Bets? Yes, you can come too, Buster.”
Bets, Buster and Fatty went out. Fatty carried the colonel’s shoes wrapped in a bit of brown paper.
“Well, so long!” said Fatty cheerfully. “Get out the flags for when we come back—we’ll bring you the name of the thief!”
A Bitter Disappointment
Fatty and Bets walked off to Miss Kay’s with Buster trotting at their heels. They kept a sharp look-out for Mr. Goon. Fatty felt sure that he had guessed who the old tramp was that afternoon, and he didn’t particularly want to meet him just then.
Miss Kay lived in a tiny cottage next to her cousin and his wife. Bets hoped they wouldn’t see the little baker. “I get so tired of trying to smile at his silly jokes,” she said to Fatty. “Look—here we are—don’t you think it looks like a place where jumble is taken? Daisy and I thought so, anyway.”
Bets was right. The cottage and its little garden looked untidy and ‘jumbly’, as Bets put it. A broken-down seat was in the little front garden, and a little, much-chipped statue stood in the centre. The gate was half off its hinges, and one of its bars had gone. The curtains at the window looked dirty and didn’t match.
“I should think Miss Kay buys most of the jumble for herself!” whispered Bets, nodding at the broken seat and chipped statue.
Miss Kay looked a bit of a jumble herself, when she opened the door to them. She was as small and sprightly as her baker-cousin, but not nearly so neat and spruce. “She’s all bits and pieces,” thought Bets, looking at her. “Hung about with all the jumble nobody else buys—bead necklaces, a torn scarf, a belt with its embroidery spoilt, and that awful red comb in her hair!”
Miss Kay seemed delighted to see them. “Do come in!” she said, in a kind of cooing voice. “It isn’t often I get a nice young gentleman to see me. And this dear little girl again too—you came this afternoon, didn’t you, dearie?”
“Yes,” said Bets, who didn’t like being called “dearie” by Miss Kay.
“And what have you brought me this time, love?” asked Miss Kay, leading the way into a little room so crowded with furniture that Fatty had great difficulty in finding where to step. He knocked over a small table, and looked down in alarm.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, and bent to pick up the things that had fallen. Miss Kay bent down at the same time and their heads bumped together.
“Oh, sorry,” said Fatty again. Miss Kay gave a little giggle, and rubbed her head.
“Oh, it’s nothing! My cousin says I’ve got a wooden head, so a bump never matters to me!” She gave another silly little giggle, and Bets smiled feebly.
“This kind little girl brought me such a lot of nice things for the Jumble Sale, this afternoon,” chattered Miss Kay. “And I’m hoping you’ve brought something too. What’s in that parcel?”
She put her head on one side, and her comb fell out. She gave a little squeal and picked it up. “Oh dear—I seem to be falling to bits! You know, that cheeky cousin of mine says one day I’ll be a bit of jumble myself, and be sold for sixpence. He, he he!”
Fatty felt rather sick. He didn’t like the baker, her cousin, but he liked Miss Kay even less. He opened his parcel and took out the shoes. All he wanted to do now was to get the information he needed, and go!
Miss Kay gave another squeal. “Oh! What an enormous pair of shoes! Are they yours! That’s just a joke of course, I didn’t mean it. I’m such a tease, aren’t I! My, it’s quite a good pair, though.”
“It’s a pair of Colonel Cross’s,” said Fatty. “He sent a pair of boots last year too. I thought perhaps the same person who had feet big enough to fit last year’s boots would probably like to buy these. Do you know who it was?”