Mystery #04 — The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters - - (бесплатная библиотека электронных книг .TXT) 📗

Nobody said anything. Fatty looked politely and inquiringly at the Inspector.

‘Suppose you hold forth, Goon,’ said the Inspector, in his pleasant, courteous voice. ‘You have quite a lot to say, I believe.’

‘Well, sir,’ began Mr. Goon, in a righteous sort of voice, ‘I know your opinion of these here children has always been high - but I’ve always known more of them than you have, if you’ll pardon me saying so, sir - and they’ve bin getting above themselves, sir - meddling in things that don’t concern them, and hindering me in my business, sir - and one of them - this here boy by name of Frederick Trotteville, sir, I regret to inform you that he has meddled in this anonymous writing, and sent me a most rude and incivil letter, sir - and what’s more he goes about pretending to be what he’s not, sir - and deceiving me proper-like...’

‘Exactly what do you mean by that, Goon?’ asked the Inspector mildly. ‘Going about pretending to be what he’s not?’

‘Well, sir, he’s a whole lot of red-headed boys, sir,’ said Mr. Goon, to the great mystification of the Inspector and Mrs. Hilton. ‘Took me in proper, he did. First he was a red-headed telegraph-boy, sir - then he was a butcher-boy - and a messenger-boy, sir - tearing round on his bike, a public danger, sir, and a nuisance. But as soon as I found the red wig, sir...’

‘Who told you where it was?’ asked Fatty.

‘Mrs. Moon showed me,’ said Mr. Goon. ‘Yes, and she told me, too, all the things you’ve been saying about me, Master Frederick - you and the others - and how she overheard you planning to write that there cheeky letter to me!’

‘Really?’ said Fatty, his eyes gleaming curiously. ‘Perhaps she told you also, who is the writer of those other anonymous letters?’

‘Well, no, she didn’t,’ admitted Mr. Goon. ‘Unless it was some one she’s Got Her Eye On. But she wasn’t mentioning any names just yet.’

Frederick, this is all very disturbing,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘I cannot imagine what you have been doing! And surely, surely you did not write that letter to Mr. Goon!’

‘No, Mrs. Hilton, of course I didn’t,’ said Fatty. ‘As for the disguises - well, I mean to be a famous detective when I grow up - and I’m just practising, that’s all. I have been looking into the mystery of the anonymous letter-writing - and by great good luck I’ve had a whole lot of clues thrust upon me. As a matter of fact we were going to tell you the whole thing as soon as we got back.’

‘Ho yes!’ said Mr. Goon disbelievingly.

‘That will do, Goon,’ said the Inspector. ‘What are these clues, Frederick, that you’ve had thrust upon you?’

Fatty went into the hall and came back with the little sack. He placed it on the table. Mr. Goon stared at it and his eyes bulged.

‘Those clues!’ he said, scornfully. ‘Those clues you planted for me to find! Ho! Copybooks and alphabet books! White rats and match-boxes that jump! Clothing pegs and dolls’ hats!’

The Inspector looked most astonished at this long list of things. Fatty looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Just my little joke,’ he murmured.

‘Well, your little jokes have landed you into Serious Trouble,’ said Mr. Goon. ‘Just like I said they would. It was lucky the Inspector was in Peterswood today. Soon as I told him about everything, along he came.’

‘Very kind of him,’ said Fatty. ‘In fact, as far as we are concerned, he has come at exactly the right moment. We were just discussing whether or not we should telephone him and ask him to come over. Now he’s here!’

‘And what did you want to see me about?’ asked the Inspector.

‘About this anonymous letter-writing business, sir,’ said Fatty. ‘You see, we couldn’t let a mystery like that happen under our very noses, so to speak, without going into it a bit. And we were all sorry for Gladys.’

‘Quite so,’ said the Inspector. ‘Another case for the Five Find-Outers - and Dog!’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Fatty. ‘A very difficult affair too, sir. We got on a lot of wrong trails.’

‘We found out that the letter-writer caught the 10.15 bus to Sheepsale,’ said Bets. ‘And we went on it on Monday, to see who the passengers were. But nobody posted a letter there!’

‘Except Master Frederick!’ shot out Mr. Goon.

‘There - I told you Mr. Goon would put you down on his List of Suspects if he saw you posting that letter!’ said Bets.

‘I rather hoped he would!’ said Fatty, with a grin. Mr. Goon scowled. This interview wasn’t coming off quite as he had hoped it would. That wretched boy, Fatty! He always seemed to get away with anything. And the Inspector didn’t seem to be taking the matter very seriously, either. It was too bad.

‘I expect Mr. Goon has told you about the bus to Sheepsale, though, sir, and how the letters were always posted there by the 11.45 post,’ said Fatty.

‘And how nobody posted any that day - except me! - and I expect, like us, he made inquiries to see if any of the regular bus-passengers failed to go on the bus that day for some reason or other - and got his Suspects narrowed down to Old Nosey, Miss Tittle, and Mrs. Moon.’

‘Yes. He did tell me,’ said the Inspector. ‘And I think, if I may say so, that it was pretty smart work on the part of you children to work all that out!’

This was too much for Mr. Goon. ‘Smart work! Interfering with the Law, that’s what I call it!’ he said. ‘I suppose he’ll tell you next that he knows who that letter-writer is!’

‘Yes. I was going to come to that,’ said Fatty quietly. ‘I do know who the letter-writer is!’

Every one gaped at Fatty. Even the Inspector sat up straight at once. As for Goon, his mouth fell open and he goggled at Fatty in disbelief.

‘Who is it?’ he said.

‘Mrs. Hilton - may I ring the bell?’ said Fatty.

She nodded. He went over to the wall and rang the bell hard. Everyone waited.

WELL DONE, FATTY!

The bell sounded loudly. The door opened in the kitchen and footsteps came up the hall. Mrs. Moon appeared in the drawing-room. She looked surprised and rather scared when she saw so many people sitting quietly there.

‘Did you ring, Madam? ’ she asked, and her voice shook a little.

‘I rang,’ said Fatty. He turned to the Inspector. ‘This is the anonymous letter-writer,’ he said. ‘Mrs. Moon!’

Mrs. Hilton gasped. Mr. Goon snorted loudly. All the children drew in their breath sharply. Only the Inspector seemed unperturbed.

Mrs. Moon went pale. She stared at Fatty. ‘What do you mean?’ she said fiercely. ‘How dare you say things like that to a respectable law-abiding woman?’

‘Hardly law-abiding, Mrs. Moon,’ said the Inspector’s stern voice. ‘It is against the law to send spiteful and untrue letters through the post anonymously. But Frederick - please explain. I have enough faith in your intelligence to know that you are making no mistake, if I may say so - but I want to know all about it.’

Mrs. Moon began to cry. ‘Sit down and keep quiet,’ commanded Inspector Jenks.

‘I won’t be treated like this, I won’t!’ wailed Mrs. Moon. ‘An innocent woman like me! Why, I’ve even had one of them awful letters meself!’

‘Yes - you nearly took me in over that,’ said Fatty. ‘I thought that ruled you out - but it was just a bit of artfulness on your part. I see that now.’

‘You bad, wicked boy!’ moaned Mrs. Moon.

‘Silence!’ said the Inspector, in such a fierce voice that Bets jumped. ‘Speak when you’re spoken to, Mrs. Moon, and not unless. If you are innocent you will be given plenty of chance to prove it. We will hear what you have to say when Master Frederick has told his story. Frederick, begin.’

Fatty began, and the other children leaned forward, knowing most of the story well, but longing to hear what the end of it was. Only Fatty knew that.

‘Well, sir, you know already that we worked out that as the letters were posted in Sheepsale each Monday to catch the 11.45 post there, that it was probable the guilty person was some one who took the 10.15 bus from Peterswood to Sheepsale,’ said Fatty.