Mystery #04 — The Mystery of the Spiteful Letters

Mrs. Hilton suddenly opened the front door and stood there, waiting for them, looking pale and worried.

‘Come in this way,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. Mr. Goon is here - saying most peculiar things - and he’s got Inspector Jenks over too!’

‘Oh! Is he here?’ cried Bets in delight, and rushed into the drawing-room. The big Inspector sat there, his eyes twinkling as he saw Bets. He was very fond of her.

She flung herself on him. ‘I haven’t seen you since the Christmas holidays! You’re bigger than ever! Oh - there’s Mr. Goon!’

So there was, sitting upright in a corner, looking curiously pleased with himself.

The other four came in more quietly, and shook hands with the big Inspector. They knew him well, for he had come to their help very often, when they were solving other problems. Buster capered round his ankles in delight, awaiting for the pat he knew would come.

Mrs. Hilton waited till the greetings were over, and then spoke in a worried voice.

‘Children! Mr. Goon brought Inspector Jenks over here today, when he was visiting Peterswood, because he had a serious complaint to make of your behaviour, especially one of you, and he thought that it would be a good thing if the Inspector reprimanded you himself. But I cannot imagine what you have been doing - unless you have been interfering in this anonymous letter business - and I said you were not to.’

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.