The Second Robbery
Mr. Goon arrived back that afternoon, bursting with importance. His refresher course and the things he had learnt at it had given him completely new ideas about his job. Ah, he knew a lot more about the ways of wrong-doers now! He knew a good deal more about how to catch them. And he also knew an enormous amount about the art of disguising himself.
It was entirely because of Fatty that Mr. Goon had applied himself to the course given in the Arts of Disguise. Fatty had bewildered, puzzled, angered and humiliated poor Mr. Goon so many times because of his artful disguises. The times that boy had turned up as a red-headed cheeky telegraph boy—or a dirty old man—or even a voluble and rude old woman!
Mr. Goon gritted his teeth whenever he thought of them. Now—NOW—Mr. Goon himself knew a bit about disguises, and he had brought back with him quite a remarkable collection of clothes and other gadgets.
He’d show that fat fellow he wasn’t the only one to use disguises. Mr. Goon patted his pocket as he travelled home in the motor-coach. Grease-paint—eyebrows—a beard—a wig—he was bringing them all back. He’d trick that toad properly. A real toad, that was what that boy was.
Mr. Goon was most delighted to hear about the new robbery from Tonks. Ah—here was something he could get his teeth into at once. With all the new things he had learnt he could tackle this fresh case easily—toss it off, so to speak, long before Fatty had even begun it.
He was a little dashed to find that Fatty had apparently already heard about it and was interested in it. “That boy!” he growled to Tonks. “Can’t keep his nose out of anything!”
“Well, he couldn’t very well help it this time,” said Tonks stolidly. “He was there when I went and reported the robbery to the Inspector.”
“He would be,” said Goon, scowling. “Look here, Tonks—I tell you this—if the Crown Jewels were stolen one dark night, that boy would somehow know all about it—he’d be there!”
“Rather far-fetched, that,” said Tonks, who thought Goon was a bit of a turnip-head. “Well, I’ll be going. I’ve given you all the details—you’ve got those scraps of paper, haven’t you? With those addresses on?”
“Yes. I’m going to do something about those at once,” said Goon pompously. “I reckon if those places are watched, something’ll come out—and watched they will be.”
“Right,” said Tonks. “Well, good-bye, Mr. Goon. Good Luck.”
He went off and Goon heaved a sigh of relief. He sat down to look through the papers that Tonks had left.
But he hadn’t been studying them long before the telephone bell rang. Goon took off the receiver and put it to his ear. “Police here,” he said gruffly.
Someone spoke volubly and excitedly at the other end. Goon stiffened as he listened—ah—another robbery—things were getting interesting!
“I’ll be along, Madam. Leave everything as it is. Don’t touch a thing,” commanded Goon, in his most official voice. He put on his helmet and went out to get his bicycle.
“And this time those interfering children won’t be there to pester me,” he thought, as he cycled quickly along in the heat. “I’ll be in first on this.”
He cycled through the village, turned up a side-road, and came to a house. He got off his bicycle, wheeled it in at the gate, and went up to the front door.
It was opened by Fatty!
Mr. Goon gaped. He scowled. He couldn’t think of a word to say. Fatty grinned.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Goon,” he said, in his politest voice, a voice that always infuriated Mr. Goon. “Come in. We’ve been expecting you.”
“What are you doing here?” said Mr. Goon, finding his voice at last. “Tricking me? Getting me here for nothing? I thought it all sounded a bit funny on the phone—silly sort of voice, and silly sort of tale. I might have guessed it was one of your tricks—just to welcome me home I suppose! Well—you’ll be sorry for this. I’ll report you! You think because the Inspector is friendly to you, you can get away with anything! You think . . .”
“Woof!” said somebody—and Buster darted out in ecstasy, so pleased to hear the voice of his old enemy that he wagged his tail for joy! That was enough for Goon. He departed hurriedly, muttering as he went, his bicycle wobbling down the path.
“Well!” said Fatty, in surprise. “What’s up with him? He can’t really think I’m hoaxing him! Larry, come here. Goon’s gone off his head!”
Larry and Daisy appeared. They looked after the departing Goon, who was now sailing out of the gate.
“He’s gone,” said Fatty. “He came—he saw—and he didn’t stay to conquer. What’s up with him?”
“You’d have thought that with another splendid robbery, he’d have stayed like a shot,” said Daisy.
“Well, Miss Lucy reported it fully,” said Fatty. “I heard her on the telephone.”
Somebody called out to them. “Was that the police? Tell them to come in here.”
“It was Mr. Goon,” said Fatty. “He came—but he went at once. Funny.”
“Well, thank goodness you and Larry and Daisy are here,” said Mrs. Williams. “I don’t know what I should have done without you.”
It had all happened very suddenly indeed. Fatty had gone to tea with Larry and Daisy that afternoon, as Pip and Bets had gone out with their mother. They had been having tea in the garden, when someone from the house next door began to call for help.
“Help! Robbers! Help! Help, I say!”
“Gosh—that’s Mrs. Williams yelling,” said Larry, getting up quickly. “Our next-door neighbour.”
“What’s happened?” asked Daisy, half-frightened at the continual shouts.
“She’s been robbed,” said Fatty. “Come on—quick!”
All three climbed over the fence and appeared in the next-door garden. Mrs. Williams saw them from a window and beckoned. “Come in, quickly! I’m scared!”
They rushed in at the back door. There was no one in the kitchen. A heap of groceries lay on the table, and four loaves sat neatly side by side. A parcel stood by the door.
Fatty’s quick eyes noted everything as he ran through the kitchen into the hall. “Kitchen door open—the thief went in there, probably. Wonder if it’s the same one as yesterday.”
Mrs. Williams was sitting on her sofa, looking rather white. She was a gentle grey-haired old lady, and she was very frightened. “Get me my smelling-salts out of my bag,” she said faintly to Daisy. Daisy got them and she held them to her nose.
“What happened, Mrs. Williams?” said Fatty.
“Well, I was having my afternoon rest in here,” said Mrs. Williams. “And I suddenly heard the sound of heavy foot-steps upstairs. Then I heard the sound of a deep, hollow sort of cough—rather like a sheep makes, really.”
“A hollow cough?” said Fatty, at once, remembering that Jinny had also heard the same noise.
“Yes. I sat up, scared,” said Mrs. Williams. “I crept out of this room and went into the hall. And suddenly someone gave me a push into the cupboard there, and in I went. The door was locked on me, and I couldn’t get out.”
Just as she was speaking there came the sound of a key in the front door, and then the door was opened and shut. “Who’s that?” asked Fatty.
“Oh, that’s Lucy, my companion—Miss Lucy,” said Mrs. Williams. “Oh, I’m glad she’s back. Lucy, Lucy, come here. A dreadful thing has happened!”
Miss Lucy came in. She was a little bird-like woman with very sharp eyes, and a funny bouncy way of walking. She went to Mrs. Williams at once. “What is it? You look pale!” Mrs. Williams repeated again what she had told the children. They waited patiently till she came to where she had been locked in the cupboard.
“Well, there I was in the hall cupboard, and I could hear the thief walking about overhead again,” said Mrs. Williams. “Heavy-footed too, and clumsy by the way he knocked things over. Then he came downstairs—I heard him clearly because the stairs pass over the hall cupboard—and I heard that awful sheep-like cough again.” She stopped and shuddered. “Go on,” said Fatty gently. “How did you get out of the cupboard? Did the thief unlock it?”
“He must have,” said Mrs. Williams. “I was so scared when I heard him coining downstairs that I must have fainted—and when I came round again, I found myself lying in a heap on all the boots and shoes and golf-clubs—and the door was unlocked! I tried it—and it opened.”
“Hmmmm!” said Fatty. “Miss Lucy, you’d better telephone the police, I think—and I’ll take a little look round. This is very—very—interesting!”
Mr. Goon on the Job
Miss Lucy ran to telephone the police at once and as we know, got on to Mr. Goon. Very excitedly and volubly she told him all that had happened, and then the household waited for Mr. Goon to arrive.