"Well—he may have spoken to him. I don't know," said Larry, wondering why the policeman was asking all these questions.
"You'd better come alonga me," said Mr. Goon, at last. "I'm going to call on that old fellow, see, and I want you to back me up when I tell him I want to know about the other fellow."
The children felt distinctly alarmed. What! Mr. Goon was going to visit the real old man—who would probably be in bed—and ask him questions about the other man, whom he hadn't been there to see! Whatever would the poor old fellow say? He wouldn't in the least know what Mr. Goon was talking about!
The First Clue.
"I don't think we've got time to ..." began Larry. But Mr. Goon pooh-poohed him.
"It's my orders," he said pompously. "You may be witnesses. You come alonga me."
So the children went with Mr. Goon, Buster struggling wildly against the lead to get at the policeman's ankles. They turned one or two comers and came to a dirty little pair of cottages at one end of a lane. Mr. Goon went to the first one and knocked.
There was no answer at all. He knocked again. The children felt uncomfortable and wished they were at home. No answer. Then Mr. Goon pushed hard at the door and it opened into a room that was plainly half sitting-room and half bedroom. It was very dirty and smelt horrid.
In the far corner was a small bed, piled high with dirty bedclothes. In it, apparently asleep, his grey hairs showing above the blanket, was the old man. His clothes were on a chair beside him—old coat, corduroy trousers, shirt, muffler, hat, and shoes.
"Hey, you!" said Mr. Goon, marching in. "No good pretending to be asleep, see? I saw you a few minutes ago in the village street, on the bench."