“It wants a hot iron again,” he said, much to Mrs. Hilton’s surprise. “Could I trouble you to procure me a hot iron, ma’am?”
One was warmed and then Mr. Goon ran it over the sheet. “There you are!” he said in triumph, as the faint brown lettering became visible, “you just read that, ma’am and sir - what do you think of that for a letter sent to a reper - er - representative of the Law!”
Mrs. Hilton read it out loud:
“ ’DEAR CLEAR-ORF, - I suppose you think you will solve the next mystery first. Well, as your brains are first class, you probably will. Good luck to you! From your five admirers,
“ ‘THE FIVE FIND-OUTERS (AND DOG).’ ”
There was silence. Mr. Goon’s eyes bulged. This was not what he had read before! He snatched the letter.
“Well, Mr. Goon,” said Mr. Hilton, entering into the matter suddenly, “I can’t see what you have to complain about in that. Quite a nice, complimentary letter, I think.
Nothing about your brains er - er - creaking and wanting oiling. I don’t understand what you are complaining of.”
Mr. Goon read the letter again hurriedly. He couldn’t believe what he saw! “This here ain’t the letter,” he said. “There’s some dirty work going on. Did you write this letter, Master Frederick?”
“I did,” said Fatty, “and I can’t think why you should object to us expressing our admiration for you - or perhaps you think you haven’t got first-class brains?”