Enid Blyton - Mystery #04 — The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters

‘Poor old Gladys!’ said Daisy. ‘But I’m sure Pip’s mother was kind to you.’

‘Oh yes - and shocked at the cruel letter,’ said Gladys, wiping her eyes. ‘And she said I could have two or three days off and go to my aunt to pull myself together, like - and she’d make inquiries and find out who wrote that letter - and stop them talking about me, so’s I could have a chance. But my aunt wasn’t too pleased to see me!’

‘Why didn’t you go to your father and mother, Gladys?’ asked little Bets, who thought that surely they would have been the best friends for any girl of theirs who was unhappy.

‘I couldn’t,’ said Gladys, and looked so sad that the children felt quite scared.

‘Why - are they - are they - dead?’ asked Bets.

‘No. They’re - they’re in prison!’ said poor Gladys and wept again. ‘You see - they’ve always been dishonest folk - stealing and that - and they taught me to steal too. And the police got them, and when they found I was going into shops with my mother and taking things I didn’t ought, they took me away and put me into a Home. I didn’t know it was so wrong, you see - but now I do!’

The children were horrified that any one should have such bad parents. They stared at Gladys and tears ran down Bets’ cheeks. She took Gladys’s hand.

‘You’re good now, Gladys, aren’t you?’ said the little girl. ‘You don’t look bad. You’re good now.’

‘Yes - I’ve not done nothing wrong ever since,’ said poor Gladys. ‘Nor I never would now. They were so kind to me at the Home - you can’t think! And I promised the Matron there I’d always do my best wherever I was, and I was so glad when they sent me to your mother’s, Miss Bets. But there - they say your sins will always find you out! I guess I’ll never be able to keep a good job for long. Somebody will always put it round that I was a thief once, and that my parents are still in prison.’

‘Gladys - the person who wrote that letter and threatens to tell about you, is far, far wickeder than you’ve ever been!’ said Fatty earnestly. ‘It’s a shame!’

‘There was another girl in the home with me,’ said Gladys. ‘She’s with old Miss Garnett at Lacky Cottage in Peterswood. Well, she’s had one of them letters too - without any name at the bottom. But she doesn’t mind as much as I do. She didn’t give way like I did. But she met me and told me, that’s how I know. She didn’t tell nobody but me. And she don’t know either who wrote the letters.’

‘Did you tell Mr. Goon that?’ asked Fatty.

‘Oh yes,’ said Gladys. ‘And he went to see Molly straightaway. He says he’ll soon get to the bottom of it, and find out the mischief-maker. But it seems to me that the mischief is done now. I’ll never be able to face people in Peterswood again. I’ll always be afraid they know about me.’

‘Gladys, where is that letter?’ said Fatty. ‘Will you show it to me? It might be a most important clue.’

Gladys rummaged in her bag. Then she looked up. ‘No good me looking for it!’ she said. ‘I’ve given it to Mr. Goon, of course! He came to fetch it this morning. He’s got Molly’s letter too. He reckons he’ll be able to tell quite a lot from the writing and all!’

‘Blow!’ said Fatty, in deep disappointment. ‘There’s our one and only clue gone!’

The children sat and talked to Gladys for a little while longer. They were so disappointed about the letter being given to Mr. Goon that she felt quite sorry for them.

‘I’ll get it back from him, and Molly’s letter too,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll show you them both. I’ll be going down to see Molly this evening, when it’s dark and no one will see me - and I’ll pop into Mr. Goon’s, say I want to borrow the letters, and I’ll lend them to you for a little while.’

‘Oh thanks!’ said Fatty, cheering up. ‘That’ll be splendid. Well, now we’d better be going. We’ve got our lunch with us and it’s getting a bit late-ish. You haven’t put that dinner on yet, Gladys, either!’

‘Oh lawks, nor I have!’ said Gladys, and began to look very flustered. ‘I’ve been that upset I can’t think of a thing!’

‘You’ll be passing my door on your way to Molly’s tonight,’ said Fatty. ‘Could you pop the letters in at my letter-box, and call for them on your way back?’

‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ said Gladys. ‘Thank you for all your kindness. You’ve made me feel better already.’

The children went off. ‘A nice girl, but not very bright,’ said Fatty, as they cycled away. ‘What a mean trick to play on her - trying to make her lose her job and get all upset like that! I wonder who in the world it is? I bet it’s someone who knows the Home Gladys went to, and has heard about her there. My goodness, I’m hungry!’

‘We’ve had quite an exciting morning,’ said Larry. ‘It’s a pity we couldn’t see that letter though.’

‘Never mind - we’ll see it this evening - if old Clear-Orf will let Gladys have it!’ said Fatty. ‘Which I very much doubt. He’ll suspect she’s going to show it to us!’

‘We’ll all come round to you after tea,’ said Larry. ‘And we’ll wait for the letters to come. I think you’d better wait about by the front gate, Fatty - just in case somebody else takes them out of the letter-box instead of you.’

So, when it was dark, Fatty skulked about by the front gate, scaring his mother considerably when she came home from an outing.

‘Good gracious, Fatty! Must you hide in the shadows there?’ she said. ‘You gave me an awful fright. Go in at once.’

‘Sorry, Mother,’ said Fatty, and went meekly in at the front door with his mother - and straight out of the garden door, back to the front gate at once! Just in time too, for a shadowy figure leaned over the gate and said breathlessly: ‘Is that Master Frederick? Here’s the letters. Mr. Goon was out, so I went in and waited. He didn’t come, so I took them, and here they are.’

Gladys pushed a packet into Fatty’s hands and hurried off. Fatty gave a low whistle. Gladys hadn’t waited for permission to take the letters! She had reckoned they were hers and Molly’s and had just taken them. What would Mr. Goon say to that? He wouldn’t be at all pleased with Gladys - especially when he knew she had handed them to him, Fatty! Fatty knew perfectly well that Mr. Goon would get it all out of poor Gladys.

He slipped indoors and told the others what had happened. ‘I think I’d better try and put the letters back without old Clear-Orf knowing they’ve gone,’ he said. ‘If I don’t, Gladys will get into trouble. But first of all, we’ll examine them!’

‘I suppose it’s all right to?’ said Larry doubtfully.

‘Well - I don’t see that it matters, seeing that Gladys has given us her permission,’ said Fatty. He looked at the little package.

‘Golly!’ he said. ‘There are more than two letters here! Look - here’s a post-card - an anonymous one to Mr. Lucas, Gardener, Acacia Lodge, Peterswood - and do you know what it says?’

‘What?’ cried everyone.

‘Why, it says: “WHO LOST HIS JOB THROUGH SELLING HIS MASTER’S FRUIT?” ’ said Fatty, in disgust. ‘Gracious! Fancy sending a card with that on - to poor old Lucas too, who must be over seventy!’

‘So other people have had these beastly things as well as Gladys and Molly!’ said Larry. ‘Let’s squint at the writing, Fatty.’

‘It’s all the same,’ said Fatty. ‘All done in capital letters, look - and all to people in Peterswood. There are five of them - four letters and a card. How disgusting!’

Larry was examining the envelopes. They were all the same, square and white, and the paper used was cheap. ‘Look,’ said Larry, ‘they’ve all been sent froin Sheepsale - that little market-town we’ve sometimes been to. Does that mean it’s somebody who lives there?’