"You let go," said the old fellow. "I'll get the police, see? Catching hold of me like this! I'll get the police!"
"It's the police that have got you," said Goon, shaking him. 'I’m GOON! GOON the POLICEMAN! And I want that CIGARETTE!"
This was too much for the poor old man. He almost fell down in fright. He hadn't the faintest idea what Goon wanted him for, nor did he know why Goon kept on shouting for a cigarette.
"Have my pipe," said the old fellow, trying to get it out of his pocket. "Have my pipe and let me go. I ain't done nothing."
Mr. Goon snorted, caught hold of the old fellow by the collar of his coat and marched him down the street. "You can come to the police-station with me," he said. "And I'll search you there and get that cigarette! See!"
Larry watched them go, feeling rather scared, for he still thought it was Fatty that Mr. Goon had got. He had the fright of his life when he suddenly saw another old man peering out from under a bush at him!
"Larry! Have they gone?" said this old man, in Fatty's voice. Larry almost jumped out of his skin.
"Fatty! I thought it was you that Goon was taking away! Golly, I'm glad it wasn't."
Fatty came out from under the bush. "The real old man happened to come walking up here just as I was hurrying to get away from Goon!" said Fatty, with a grin. "So I hopped in at this gate and hid, and Goon grabbed the old fellow and ordered him to give up the cigarette he hadn't got. Phew! That was a jolly narrow shave!"
"Fatty! Is there a message in that cigarette?" said Larry eagerly. "Can we find out? I saw that fellow give you one. I watched him for a long time. So did Goon."