Mystery #04 — The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters

Obviously Mr. Goon couldn’t handle a hysterical person, judging by the angry voices soon to be heard from the kitchen. The door opened again at last and Mr. Goon came out into the hall, looking extremely flustered, to find Mrs. Hilton, who had retired to the drawing-room.

‘And that’ll teach you to come pestering and accusing a poor, innocent woman!’ Mrs. Moon’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Pestering me yesterday like you did - and me struck all of a heap today!’

Mr. Goon heard next about the red-headed butcher-boy, who had so mysteriously ridden up and left no meat, and had apparently departed without being seen.

Mr. Goon immediately thought of the red-headed telegraph-boy. ‘Funny goings-on!’ he said to himself. ‘Them dropped letters now - and that telegraph-boy picking them up - and now this red-headed butcher-boy, without his meat - and maybe delivering that letter to Mrs. Moon. This wants looking into.’

‘The five children are upstairs,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘I don’t know if you want to ask them if they saw the butcher-boy. They may give you a few more details.’

‘I’ll see them,’ said Mr. Goon, and went upstairs to the playroom. When he got there the children were apparently playing a game of snap. They looked up as Mr. Goon walked heavily into the room.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Did any of you see a red-headed butcher-boy coming along here this morning?’

‘Yes, I saw him,’ said Pip with a grin.

‘Ho, you did! What did he do?’ asked Mr. Goon.

‘Just rode up the drive,’ said Pip.

‘And rode down again at once, I suppose,’ said Mr. Goon.

‘No. I didn’t see him ride down,’ said Pip. Nobody had apparently. Mr. Goon began to feel that this mysterious red-headed boy must be somewhere about the premises.

‘He a friend of yours?’ he said.

Pip hesitated. Fatty was his friend - and yet to say that the butcher-boy was his friend would lead him into difficulties. Fatty saw him hesitate and came to the rescue.

‘We’ve got no butcher-boy friends,’ he said. ‘And no telegraph-boy friends either. You remember you asked me that one too?’

‘I’m not speaking to you,’ said Mr. Goon, with a scowl. ‘I’m speaking to Master Philip here. I’d like to get hold of them two red headed lads! And I will too, if I have to go to the post-office and speak to the postmaster, and ask at every butcher’s in the town!’

‘There are only two butchers,’ said Pip.

‘Mr. Goon, I’m so sorry to hear you’ve had one of those horrid letters too,’ said Fatty earnestly. ‘I can’t think how any one could have the nerve - er, I mean - the heart to write to you like that.’

‘Like what?’ said Mr. Goon sharply. ‘What do you know about any letters I’ve had? I suppose you’ll tell me next you’ve seen the letter and know what’s in it, hey?’

‘Well, I can more or less guess,’ said Fatty modestly.

‘You tell me what was in that letter then,’ said Mr. Goon, growing angry.

‘Oh I couldn’t,’ said Fatty. ‘Not with all the others here.’ He didn’t know, of course, what was in the letter at all, beyond that Goon was a meddler and a muddler, but it was amusing to make the policeman think he did.

‘Well, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you didn’t write that there letter to me!’ said Mr. Goon. ‘It might not be the letter-writer at all - it might just be you!’

‘Oh, you couldn’t think that of me!’ said Fatty, looking pained. Larry and Daisy, rather alarmed, looked at him. They remembered how he had said he would love to write a letter to Mr. Goon. Surely he hadn’t?

Mr. Goon departed, determined to run the red-headed butcher-boy, and the equally red-headed telegraph-boy to earth. Larry turned to Fatty.

‘I say! You didn’t really write to him, did you, Fatty?’

‘Of course not, silly! As if I’d send an anonymous letter to any one, even for fun!’ said Fatty. ‘But my word, fancy somebody delivering a letter right into the lion’s mouth! To Goon himself. I can’t see Miss Tittle doing that - or even Old Nosey the gypsy.’

‘And now Mrs. Moon’s ruled out,’ said Larry. ‘Gracious - it seems more of a muddle than ever, really it does. Got any ideas as to what to do next, Fatty?’

‘One or two,’ said Fatty. ‘I think it would be rather helpful to get specimens of Miss Tittle’s writing and Old Nosey’s. Just to compare them with my tracing. That might tell us something.’

‘But how in the world can you do that?’ said Daisy. ‘I wouldn’t be able to get Old Nosey’s writing if I thought for a month!’

‘Easy!’ said Fatty. ‘You wait and see!’

 

FATTY HAS A BUSY MORNING

 

The next day both Mr. Goon and Fatty were very busy. Fatty was trying to get specimens of Nosey’s writing and Miss Tittle’s, and Mr. Goon was trying to trace the two red-headed boys.

Fatty pondered whether to disguise himself or not, and then decided that he would put on the red wig, red eyebrows, and freckles, and a round messenger-boy’s hat. It was essential that people should think he was a delivery boy of some sort, in order for him to get specimens of their writing - or so Fatty worked it out.