Enid Blyton - Mystery #03 — The Mystery of the Secret Room

Fatty looked hurt.

“What’s become of the letter I first had?” said Mr. Goon, feeling more and more puzzled. “Yes, and what I want to know is - are you children messing about with any more mysteries? Because if you are, you’d better tell me, see? If you go snooping around trying to find out things, you may get into Serious Trouble.”

Fatty couldn’t resist the temptation to let Clear-Orf think he and the other children really were trying to solve another mystery. So he looked very solemn indeed.

“I can’t give any secrets away, Mr. Goon, can I? It wouldn’t be fair.”

Mr. Goon at once thought there must be a secret, a mystery he didn’t know about. He got so red in the face that Fatty thought it was about time he was going.

“Well, I must be off,” he said to Mrs. Hilton, in his politest voice. “Good-bye!”

And before Mr. Goon could think of any good reason for stopping him, he went! He exploded into loud laughs as soon as he was out of earshot. Then he decided he had better go and get his disguise from the bush. He would put it on again to save carrying it, and would pop back to his house to fetch old Buster.

So, in a few minutes Fatty, once more in disguise, was walking home looking the same curly-haired, queer, rabbit-toothed boy that Mr. Goon had already seen twice that day.

And Mr. Goon spotted him just as he walked in at his gate! “Ho!” said Mr. Goon, pleased, “so that’s where that little varmit is staying - with that Frederick Trotteville! I’ll be bound he had something to do with altering that there invisible letter - though how it was done beats me! I’ll just go and make a few inquiries there, and frighten the life out of that Frenchy fellow.”

So, to Mrs. Trotteville’s enormous surprise, Mr. Goon was announced and came ponderously into her drawing-room.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” said Mr. Goon. “I just came to ask a few questions of that foreign boy you’ve got here.”

Mrs. Trotteville looked as if she thought Mr. Goon had gone mad. “What boy?” she said. “We’ve got no foreign boy here at all. There’s only my son, Frederick.”

Mr. Goon looked at her disbelievingly. “Well, I see him come in to your front gate just half a minute ago!” he said

“Really?” said Mrs. Trotteville, in astonishment. “I’ll see if Frederick is in and ask him.” she called Fatty. “Frederick! Are you in? oh, you are! Well, come here a minute, will you?”

“Hallo, Mr. Goon!” said Fatty, coming into the room. “You seem to be following me about this afternoon, don’t you.”

“None of your sauce, now,” said Mr. Goon, beginning to feel he couldn’t keep his temper much longer. “Where’s that foreign-looking chap that I see coming in here a minute ago?”

Fatty wrinkled his forehead and looked in a puzzled manner at Mr. Goon. “Foreign-looking chap? I don’t know who you mean. Mother, have we got any foreign-looking chaps here?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly, Frederick,” said his mother. “I wondered if a friend of yours had come to call.”

“There’s nobody here but me,” said Fatty truthfully. “No other boy, I mean. Mr. Goon, do you think you need glasses? There was that letter you thought was different - and now you keep seeing foreign-looking boys.”

Mr. Goon got up. He felt he would explode if he stayed there one minute longer talking to Fatty. He went, vowing to himself that the very next time he saw that there Frenchy-looking fellow he’d drag him off to the police station, that he would!

The next time the Five Find-Outers met they roared with laughter at Fatty’s story. He acted it well, and the children could imagine exactly how poor Mr. Goon had looked.

“And now he really does think we’re on to some mystery he doesn’t know about,” said Fatty. “Poor old Clear-Orf - we’ve got him really puzzled, haven’t we! Mother tells me he has been making inquiries all over the place to find out where the ‘Frenchy fellow’ is staying, but nobody can tell him anything, of course.”

“I do, do wish there was a mystery to solve now,” sighed Bets, tickling Buster. “We’ve got all sorts of good detective tricks - invisible writing - how to get out of a locked room - disguises - but there’s nothing to solve.”

“We’ll just have to go on playing a few tricks on Clear-Orf,” said Fatty. “That’ll keep our wits sharp, anyway. Pip, would you like to wear a disguise today, and go and do a bit of parading where Clear-Orf is?”

“Yes,” said Pip, who had now tried on all the eyebrows, teeth, and wigs and painted his face a curious collection of colours. “I’d love to. Let me wear the other wig - the straight-haired one, Fatty - and the teeth - and those big black eyebrows. They’re lovely. And I might give myself a red face like Clear-Orfs too.”

This sounded exciting. Every one helped Pip to put on his disguise.

“I don’t see why you haven’t bought any moustaches too,” said Pip, thinking that he would look grand in a black moustache.

“Well, we haven’t got voices to match moustaches,” said Fatty. “You want a man’s voice for that. I did think of bringing back a moustache or two, but it wouldn’t be a proper disguise for us. We can only disguise ourselves as some kind of children. There - you look positively frightful!”

Pip did. He had a fiery red face, black, fierce eyebrows, the awful jutting-out teeth, and the straight-haired wig. He borrowed a red scarf from Daisy, put on his mackintosh inside out, and then felt himself sufficiently disguised.

Goon always goes down the village and round the corner at half-past eleven,” said Larry. “There won’t be any one much about today, it’s such an awful day, and there’s a fog coming on. Wait round the corner for him, and then ask him the time or something.”

“Please, sir, what’s the time?” said Pip, in an astonishingly deep, hoarse voice. Every one laughed.

“That’s fine,” said Larry. “Well, off you go, and come back quickly and tell us what happened.”

Pip set off. Down in the village it was foggy. He could hardly see more than a yard in front of him. He waited about at the corner, listening for Clear-Orf’s heavy feet. Some one came unexpectedly round the corner, walking quietly and lightly.

Pip jumped - but the other person jumped much more! The sight of Pip’s fiery face, fierce eyebrows, and awful teeth made old Miss Frost scream.

“Oh! Help! Who is it?” she squealed, and turning back, she raced down the village street. She bumped into old Clear-Orf.

“There’s a horrible person round the corner,” she panted. “Awful red face and great eyebrows - and the wickedest teeth I ever saw - sort of hanging out of his mouth!”

The mention of sticking-out teeth reminded Mr. Goon of the French boy, and he wondered if it was he who was hanging about round corners. So, trying to walk as lightly as he could, he tiptoed to the corner and went round it very suddenly.

Pip was there! Mr. Goon was on him almost before he could move. The policeman stared in amazement at the boy’s fiery face, the absurd eyebrows, and the familiar jutting-out teeth.

“’Ere, what’s all this?” he began, and shot out a powerful arm to get hold of Pip. Pip felt his grip on his mackintosh, and had to wriggle right out of it before he could escape. Mr. Goon was left standing with a mackintosh in his hands - but he didn’t stand for long. He went after Pip at top speed.

Pip was frightened. He hadn’t really thought Mr. Goon would catch hold of him so quickly - and now he had got his mackintosh. Blow! Well, he mustn’t be caught, or there would be very awkward questions to answer. For a minute he was sorry he had gone out in such an extraordinary disguise. Then as he gained a little on the panting policeman, he began to enjoy the adventure.