“Who told you that you could get Mr. Smith at this number?” said the voice. “Who are you?”
Fatty made up a name out of his head. “This is Donald Duckleby,” he said.
There was another astonished silence. “What name did you say?” said the voice at last.
“Could you tell me if Mr. Smith still lives at Limmering, or if he has moved to Peterswood?” said Fatty, deciding on boldness. He knew quite well that John Henry Smith had not moved to Peterswood, but there would be no harm in giving him a shock.
There was another silence. This time it was so long that Fatty spoke again, “Hallo! Hallo!”
But there was no reply. The person at the other end replaced the receiver. Fatty put his down too and thought hard.
He hadn’t learnt much! He didn’t even know if the man he had spoken to was John Henry Smith or not! It was most unsatisfactory, really. Fatty didn’t quite know what he had hoped to get from his telephone call, but he had certainly hoped for something a little more definite.
He went out of the call-box - and stepped right in front of old Clear-Orf, who had been watching him through the glass. No wonder Buster had been growling!
Mr. Goon felt very suspicious. Who was this boy telephoning to? Hadn’t he got a telephone in his own house? Yes, he had. But probably he didn’t want his mother to hear what he was saying, so he had gone out to the public call-box. Therefore Fatty must have been phoning about the mystery that Clear-Orf was certain the children were meddling in!
“Who you been phoning to?” he said.