He went off with! Buster, and poor Mr. Goon was left to cycle home, his head spinning. "That boy! First he's locked up, then he disappears, then he comes back again—and nobody knows how or when or why." Mr. Goon couldn't make head or tail of it.
He didn't enjoy ringing up the Inspector and reporting that he had just met Fatty.
"But where had he been?" said the Inspector, puzzled. "Where was he last night?"
"Er—at home, sir," said poor Mr. Goon. "It was the other children put me off, sir—asking me if I knew where he was, and all that, sir."
The Inspector put down his receiver with an impatient click. Really, Goon was too idiotic at times! The Inspector sat looking at his telephone, thinking deeply. He had had reports from all kinds of people about this Case—but not from one person, who appeared to know quite a lot about it—and that was Master Frederick Trotteville! .The Inspector made another telephone call. Fatty answered it.
"I want you to cycle over here this morning and answer a few questions, Frederick," said the Inspector. "Come straight along now."
So, with Buster in his basket, Fatty rode off to the next town, wondering a little fearfully what the inspector wanted to know. Would he think he had been mixing himself up in this Mystery a bit too much? He had warned the Find-Outers not to get mixed up, because it might be dangerous.
The Inspector was friendly, but business-like, and he listened ito the whole of Fatty's tale with the greatest interest, especially to the tale of Fatty's various disguises.
"Most interesting," he said. "You've got a gift for that kind of thing, I can see. But don't over-do it. Now—you've heard all about (the arrests, I suppose? "
"I only know what's in the paper this morning, sir," said Fatty. "I knew it was no good asking Mr. Goon anything. I'm a bit fed up that he managed the Mystery after all, whilst I was locked up in the cupboard."