"It's—it's most unfortunate, sir," said poor Mr. Goon.
"Well—let's hear your tale," said the Inspector. "You only had time to send in a very short report—what's all this about posing as a waxwork?"
Mr. Goon was proud of this bit, and he related it all in full to the interested Inspector. But when he came to the part where he had sneezed, and the men had caught Fatty, instead of himself, Inspector Jenks sat up straight.
"Do you mean to tell me that Frederick Trotteville was there?" he said. "Posing too? What as?"
"Napoleon, sir," said Goon. "Interfering as usual. That boy can't keep his nose out of things, he can't. Well sir, when the men had gone to do the robbery, I crept out after them, and I went to the telephone box and..."
"Wait a bit, wait a bit," said the Inspector. "What happened to Frederick?"
"Him? Oh well—nothing much," said Goon, trying to gloss over this bit as quickly as possible. "They just tied him up a bit, sir, and chucked him into a cupboard. They didn't hurt him. Of course, if they'd started any rough stuff with him, I'd have gone for them, sir."
"Of course," said the Inspector gravely. "Well I suppose you went and untied him and let him out of the cupboard before you rushed off to telephone."
Mr. Goon went rather red. "Well, sir—to tell you the truth, sir, I didn't think I had the time—and also, sir, it was a dangerous business last night, and I didn't think that boy ought to be mixed up in it. He's a terror for getting into the middle of things, sir, that boy is, and ..."
"Goon," said the Inspector, and the policeman stopped abruptly and looked at his superior. He was looking very grave. "Goon. Do you mean to say you left the boy tied up in a locked cupboard? I can hardly believe it of you. What time did you let him out?"