"And perhaps the old man is the fellow who takes the messages and passes them on!" cried Daisy. "Oh, Fatty! Is he the chief burglar, do you think? "
"Course not," said Fatty. "Can you imagine a poor feeble old thing like that doing anything violent? No, he's just a convenient message-bearer, I should think. Nobody would ever suspect him, sitting out there in the sun, half-asleep. It would be easy enough for any one to go and whisper anything to him."
"But he's deaf," objected Daisy.
"So he is. Well then, maybe they slip him messages," said Fatty. "Golly—I feel we're on to something!"
"Let's think," said Larry. "We shall get somewhere, I feel, if we think!"
They all thought. Bets was so excited that not a single sensible thought came into her head. It was Fatty as usual who came out with everything clear and simple.
"I've got it!" he said. "Probably Peterswood is the headquarters of the gang, for some reason or other, and when one member wants to get into touch with another, they don't communicate with each other directly, which would be dangerous, but send messages by that old fellow. And, Find-Outers, if I go and sit on that bench day in and day out, I've no doubt some of the members of the gang will come along, sit by me, and deliver messages in some way, and..."
"And you'll learn who they are, and we can tell the Inspector, and hell have them arrested!" cried Bets, in great excitement.
"Well, something like that," said Fatty. "The thing is—the old man always sits there in the afternoon, and that's really when I ought to sit there, because it's then that any messages will come. But how can I sit there, if he's there?"
"That's why that man was so surprised this morning," said Daisy. "He knew the old man never was there in the mornings—and yet it seemed as if he was, this morning I He never guessed it was you. Your disguise must have been perfect."