Mr. Goon loomed up in the doorway, very angry. “You set that there dog on me,” he began. “And me doing my duty, and guarding your property.”
Mrs. Trotteville had no time for Mr. Goon. “What does he want?” she called down to Fatty.
“I don’t really know,” said Fatty. “What exactly did you say you wanted, Mr. Goon?”
“I don’t want anything, as you very well know,” said Mr. Goon, in a real temper. “I was just doing my duty, what with that warning and all. . . .”
“What’s he talking about?” said Mr. Trotteville coming up to the front door.
“About a warning,” said Fatty.
“What warning?” asked Mr. Trotteville, quite at sea.
“Why, that warning from Bigfeet,” said Mr. Goon, in surprise, not realizing that Fatty had said nothing to his parents.
“Bigfeet! Is he mad?” said Mr. Trotteville. “Look here, Goon, you come along in the morning and talk about big feet all you like—but not in the middle of the night. You go home to bed.”
Goon snorted, and was about to say something very cutting when Mr. Trotteville firmly shut the door. “Is he mad?” he asked Fatty.
“Not more than usual,” said Fatty. “Well, if he comes again I’ll let Buster out—he won’t come very often after that!”
But Goon didn’t come again. He walked off wrathfully, thinking of all the things he would like to do to that young toad—yes, and to that pest of a dog too.
“And me doing my bounden duty,” he said to himself. “Well, let ’em be robbed good and proper—good and proper, is what I say!”
Pip Plays a Trick
The next morning Fatty felt very gloomy again. He ate his breakfast in complete silence, much to his mother’s surprise.
“Do you feel quite well, Frederick?” she asked him.
“What, Mother? Oh yes—I’m all right,” said Fatty. “Just thinking, that’s all.”
“I hope you haven’t got mixed up in one of those awful mystery affairs again,” said Mrs. Trotteville.
Fatty said nothing. He was mixed up in one—and he was completely at a loss about it! Three different robberies—one in his own shed—heaps of clues—and no solution at all, unless he made up his mind that the thief was invisible, which was obviously impossible.
“The worst of it is he’s laughing up his sleeve at us the whole time,” thought Fatty, in exasperation. “I feel that it’s someone who knows us. Do we know him? And he’s so jolly certain of himself and his ability to get away unseen that he even has the cheek to warn us where he’s going to commit the next robbery.”
He thought of his visit to Miss Kay, and his high hopes when he went there. If only those boots hadn’t been stolen, everything would have been so easy.
“Frederick, you really must go and get your hair cut this morning,” said Mrs. Trotteville. “It’s far too long.”
“All right, Mother,” said Fatty, who had been expecting this suggestion for the last two weeks. He knew his hair was rather long, but it made disguises a bit easier if his hair was long and he wasn’t going to wear a wig. He could pull it about a bit, and make it go different ways under a hat.
“Ring up and make an appointment,” said Mrs. Trotteville, “then you won’t have to wait for ages.”
When the others came at ten o’clock to meet in Fatty’s shed, and see if anything further had happened, they were met by a gloomy Fatty.
“Got to go and get my hair cut,” he said. “I’ll be back in about half an hour. You can either wait for me here or go and have your first ice-cream of the day while I’m at the hairdresser’s.”
“All right,” said Larry. “Anything further happened?”
“Nothing much—except that Goon came in the middle of the night to see if we’d been burgled or not—and I really thought it might be the thief and let old Buster out. Gosh, he was thrilled to find Goon’s ankles out there!”
Everyone laughed, and Fatty cheered up a bit. “Well, what are you going to do? Wait here?” asked Fatty.
“Yes. I think we will,” said Larry. “We’re all a bit short of cash today. We’ll laze here under the trees till you come back. Don’t be long.”
Fatty went off, still looking gloomy. The others looked at one another. It was not very nice when Fatty was in low spirits. It didn’t often happen but when it did it cast a definite gloom over the party.
“I wish we could do something to cheer Fatty up,” said Bets.
“Well—let’s play a trick on him or something,” said Pip.
“Too hot,” said Larry. “Not enough time, either. He’ll be back so soon.”
Pip wandered into Fatty’s shed. He looked round. He wondered what he could do—dress up and disguise himself so that Fatty wouldn’t know him? No, there wasn’t time to do that properly.
His eyes fell on the enormous pair of shoes that Fatty had got from Colonel Cross’s housekeeper, and had refused to leave with Miss Kay. There they were, hanging on a peg by their laces. Pip looked at them—and an idea came into his head!
He grinned. Gosh, he certainly had got an idea—one that would make Fatty and the others sit up properly. He would enjoy himself over this idea. Talk about a little bamboozling!
He took off his rubber shoes and slipped them into his pocket. He took down the big shoes and pulled them on. They slip-slopped about on his feet, but he could just walk in them. Pip went cautiously out of the shed unseen by the others, who were on the other side of a bush.
He knew Fatty would come back through the garden-gate not far from the back of the shed. He also knew that there was a bed there that had just been dug over and prepared by the gardener for lettuces.
Pip walked painfully over to the nice smooth bed. He took a few steps this way on the earth, and a few steps that way. Then he stopped to see his foot-work—marvellous! It looked for all the world as if Bigfeet the thief had visited them once again, and left his giant-size foot-prints plainly to be seen!
Pip grinned again. He took a few more steps, treading as hard as he could. Then he walked quietly back to the shed, took off the shoes, and put on his own once more. He’d like to see old Fatty’s face when he came back and saw those foot-prints!
He walked out to the others. “Shall we go and meet Fatty?” he said. “Come on. He’d be pleased. It’s only a little way.”
“All right,” said Larry, and Bets and Daisy agreed at once.
“I can see Mrs. Trotteville in the front garden,” said Pip, peering through the trees. “We’d better go and say how-do-you-do to her.”
He didn’t want to take the others past his beautifully prepared foot-prints. He wanted the full glory of them to burst on everyone at once. He hugged himself gleefully.
They said a few polite words to Mrs. Trotteville and then escaped. They walked almost to the hairdresser’s before they met Fatty. He came towards them looking very smooth-headed indeed. Buster trotted as usual at his heels.
“Hallo—come to meet me?” said Fatty, pleased. “Right. Ice-creams for everyone in return!”
“Oh no, Fatty,” said Daisy. “You’re always spending your money on us.”
“Come on,” said Fatty, and they went to have ice-creams. Pip sat as patiently as he could with his. He hoped everyone would hurry up. Suppose the gardener went down to that bed and raked over the foot-prints! His trick would be ruined.
They finished their ice-cream at last, and walked back to Fatty’s. Pip wished they would hurry, but they wouldn’t, of course!
“We’ll go in the garden-gate way,” said Fatty, as Pip had hoped he would say. “It’s nearer.”
They all went in. The bed with the foot-prints was not very far from the gate. Bets was running ahead with Buster when she suddenly saw them. She stopped at once, amazed.
Then Fatty saw them. He stopped dead and stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Larry and Daisy looked down in astonishment.
“Gosh!” said Fatty. “What do you make of that! Fresh-made too!”
Pip grinned, and tried to hide it—but nobody was looking at him at all. Their eyes were glued to the enormous foot-prints.
“I say! The thief’s been here—while we were gone!” said Daisy. “Just those few minutes!”
“There’s the gardener over there—we’ll ask him who’s been here,” said Fatty. But the gardener shook his head.
“Nobody came down the garden while I’ve been working here,” he said. “And I’ve been here a matter of an hour or more. Never saw a soul!”
“Invisible as usual!” groaned Fatty. “I just can’t make it out. He comes and goes as he likes, does what he likes—and nobody ever sees him.”