Mr. Goon swallowed nervously. "I went back, sir, about midnight—and I unlocked the cupboard door, sir—and—and the cupboard was empty."
"Good heavens!" said the Inspector, startled. "Do you know what had happened to Frederick? "
"No, sir," said Mr. Goon. The Inspector reached out for one of his five telephones.
"I must ring his home to see if he is all right," he said.
Mr. Goon looked more downcast than ever. "He's—well, he seems to have vanished, sir," he said. The Inspector put down the telephone, and stared at Mr. Goon.
"Vanished! What do you mean? This is very serious indeed."
"Well, Sir—all I know is that the other kids—the ones he's always with—they keep on asking me if I know where their friend is," said Mr. Goon desperately. "And if they don't know—well, he might be anywhere!"
"I must look into the matter at once," said the Inspector. "I'll get into touch with his parents. Now finish your story quickly, so that I can get on to this matter of Frederick Trotteville at once."
So poor Mr. Goon had to cut short his wonderful story, and blurt out quickly the rest of the night's happenings. He felt very down in the mouth as he cycled back home. The pearls had gone after all! What a blow! And now this wretched boy had disappeared, and there would be no end of a fuss about him. Privately Mr. Goon thought it would be a very good thing if Fatty disappeared for good. Oh, why hadn't he let him out of that cupboard last night? He had known that he ought to—but it had seemed such a very good way of paying out that interfering boy!
Where could Fatty be? Mr. Goon pondered the matter deeply as he turned into the village street. Had the escaped thief gone back to the Hall, and taken Fatty prisoner, meaning to hold him up for ransom, or something? Mr. Goon went cold at the thought. If such a thing happened, he would be held up to scorn by every one for not having freed Fatty when he could.