“How did you get out of that locked room?”
“I don’t give my secrets away,” said Fatty. “Inspector, the one in the cellar makes seven. Shall we get him?”
“There’s nobody else.” said the thin-lipped man. “Only six of us.”
Another black figure loomed up in the darkness outside and a policeman came into the light.
“Sir,” he said to the Inspector, “there’s someone underground somewhere. I was standing on guard at the back there, and I kept hearing muffled shouts, but couldn’t make out where they came from.”
“That’s the fellow I locked in the coal-cellar!” said Fatty. “Let’s go and get him!”
The End of the Mystery
“Come along, then,” said the Inspector, getting out his gun again. “You others keep back. Only Frederick is to come, to show me the way. You keep back when I open the cellar door, Frederick.”
Fatty proudly led the way to the cellar door, and produced the key from his pocket. From below came a violent voice, shouting and yelling, and now and again the sound of falling coal as poor Clear-Orf tried to find a way out.
The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Fatty as he gave the key to the Inspector to open the door. The Inspector put it in the lock and turned it.