“You didn’t have forty winks, I suppose?” asked Fatty, with a smile. “You do sometimes.”
“Well, maybe I did for a few minutes,” said the cook, with a laugh. “I get right sleepy in the afternoons, when it’s hot like this. Still, I was awake enough all right when the tradespeople came.”
“Who came?” asked Larry.
“Oh, the usual ones,” said the cook. “The girl with the groceries, the milkman, the baker—and let me see, did the gasman come? No, that was this morning.”
“Anyone else?” asked Fatty.
“Well, Mr. Goon called,” said the cook, “and he asked for your mother, but she wasn’t in. So he went away again. He came at the same time as the baker did. They had a good old talk together too, out in the front garden. I heard them. Mr. Goon bumped into the baker just as he was leaving.”
“I bet they had a good talk about Bets and me,” said Fatty to the others. “Anyone else call, Cook?”
“Not that I know of,” she said. “I didn’t have any talk with the baker—he’s too much of a saucy one for me—I just left a note on the table to tell him how many loaves to leave. And I didn’t see the milkman either—he knows how much to leave. I saw the grocer’s girl, and she was in a hurry as usual.”
“I wonder what Goon wanted,” said Fatty as they left the kitchen to walk down to the shed again. “I bet he wants to know if I was the old tramp the other day. As if Mother would know!”
They were just walking out of the scullery door when Daisy stopped suddenly and looked down at the ground.
“Look!” she said, and pointed.
They all looked—and there, just by the scullery door, in a wet patch of ground, was the same roundish mark that they had seen under the shrub! The same as they had seen at the other two robberies as well.
“Gosh!” said Fatty staring down. “The thief did actually come to the scullery door then! He must have made that mark—but why?”
“Your cook said nobody else came except the people she mentioned,” said Larry. “It seems to me as if the thief came here, peeped in and saw the Cook asleep and went down to the shed to do his dirty work.”
“Then why didn’t he leave large foot-prints here?” said Daisy. “There’s only small ones going to and from the bottom of the garden. I looked. There’s no large ones at all—no larger than size seven, anyway.”
“It beats me!” said Pip.
It beat them all. Now there had been three separate robberies, all obviously done by the same man, who left exactly the same marks each time—and yet he had never once been seen, though he must really-be a very big fellow indeed.
“He’s invisible—that’s how he can do all these things!” said Daisy. “I mean—surely somebody would have seen him one of the times. But all he does is to come and go, and leave behind him foot- and glove-prints, and do just what he likes! He must be laughing up his sleeve at all of us.”
“It can’t be old Goon, can it?” said Bets hopefully. “He has large feet and hands, and he has got a hollow, sheep-like cough, and he really does hate you, Fatty. He came here today too—why couldn’t he have slipped down and been spiteful, turning all your things upside down and making a mess?”
“I daresay he’d like to,” said Fatty, “but remember he was away at the time of the first robbery—and honestly I don’t think he’s ass enough to do such idiotic things—I mean, it’s sheer dishonesty, robbing people like this, and Goon wouldn’t risk his job and his pension. No, rule that right out, Bets.”
“Are you going to ask the milkman and the others if they saw anyone?” asked Bets. Fatty shook his head.
“No. I’m pretty certain now that if the milkman, the baker or grocer’s girl had seen anyone here this afternoon, wandering about in large-size boots they would have told Cook. Anyway, I’m not interviewing that cocky little baker again—wouldn’t he be pleased if he knew I’d been robbed! He’d rub his little hands like anything, and rock to and fro on his toes and heels with glee.”
“Yes, he would,” said Bets, rocking to and fro as she remembered how he had gone up and down on his heels. “Nasty little man. I hope he doesn’t hear about this.”
“No one is to,” said Fatty firmly. “I’m not going to have Goon strolling down the garden and fingering everything in my shed. How he’d love to look through my make-up box, and pick up all my moustaches and eyebrows and wigs!”
“Well, none of us will say a word about this afternoon’s do,” said Larry. “We’ll keep the thief guessing! He’ll wonder whyever there’s no news of his last robbery.”
“The thief burst the lock on your door, Fatty,” said Bets. “How will you lock it tonight?”
“I’ll slip out and buy a padlock,” said Fatty. “That will be the easiest thing to do tonight—put a padlock on the door. I’ll come with you when you go home. I can get one at the garage—that stays open till seven.”
So, at ten to seven Fatty and the others strolled up the lane to the garage in the village. They bought a strong little padlock, and came out examining it.
A voice behind them made them jump. It was Mr. Goon, starting on his first night-round.
“Ho! A padlock! Maybe you’ll need that, Master Frederick! You’d better be careful.”
Everyone swung round in astonishment. “What do you mean, Mr. Goon?” said Fatty.
“I’ve had notice that you’ll be the next on the robbery-list,” said Goon importantly. “I came to warn your mother this afternoon. Just you see that everything is well-locked up tonight, windows fastened and everything. And have that there pesky little dog of yours in the front hall.”
“What is all this about?” said Fatty, hoping that nobody would blurt out anything about the robbery that had already happened that afternoon. “What nonsense, Mr. Goon!”
Mr. Goon swelled up a little, and Bets was sure one of his uniform buttons was about to spring off. He fumbled in his breast-pocket and brought out his little note-book. He undid the elastic strap and ran through the pages. Everyone watched in silence.
He took out a scrap of dirty paper, and handed it to Fatty. “There you are. If that isn’t a plain warning I don’t know what is. ’Course, you don’t need to take no notice of it at all—and anyway I’ll be sure to be round two or three times tonight to see as everything is all right round at yours.”
Fatty took the scrap of paper. On it, printed in uneven lettering, were three words:
TROTVILLS NEXT.—bigfeet
Fatty silently passed it round to the others. They knew what Goon didn’t know—that the warning was too late. Bigfeet the robber, had already been to the Trottevilles!
“There you are!” said Goon, enjoying the interest he was causing. “The impertinence of it! Good as saying ‘Fat lot of good you are—I’ll tell you where I’m going to strike next.’ Signing himself Bigfeet too. He’s got some sauce!”
“Goon, have you got the other scraps of paper on you?” asked Fatty. “The ones found at Norton House, with 2, Frinton and 1, Rods on? It would be useful to compare them.”
Goon gave a scornful little snort. “Think I didn’t compare them, Mr. Smarty? ’Course I did. But this here note’s in printed capitals and the others aren’t. Can’t see any likeness at all.”
“I think you’re wrong, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty, suddenly speaking like a grown-up again. “And if you like I’ll show you the likeness.”
“Gah,” said Goon in disgust. “Think you know everything, don’t you? Well, I tell you I’ve compared the three scraps of paper, and this one’s different.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Fatty.
That stung Mr. Goon and he glared. He felt in the little pocket of his note-book and produced the other two notes. He showed them to Fatty, together with the third one. “See? No likeness at all!” he said triumphantly.
“I’m not thinking of the words written on the papers,” said Fatty. “I’m thinking of the paper they’re written on. It’s exactly the same. Whoever wrote the first notes, wrote this one too. So those first scraps of paper were clues after all—though they led to nothing.”
Mr. Goon stared at the scraps of paper. Fatty was right. They had obviously been torn from the same note-book or sheets of paper—they were all rather yellowed and the surface was a little fluffy.
Mr. Goon cleared his throat. He felt a little awkward. That boy! Always putting him in the wrong. He put the scraps back into his pocket-book.
He cleared his throat again. “Think I didn’t notice that?” he said. “Why, it hits you in the eye!”