Bets gave a sudden giggle again. Mr. Goon had gone purple. He always did when he was annoyed.
‘Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to make you all hot and bothered, sir,’ said the telegraph-boy, who seemed very good indeed at apologizing for everything. ‘But of course we’ve all heard of that boy, sir. Very very clever chap, he seems to be. Didn’t he get on to some big plot last hols, sir, before the police did?’
Mr. Goon was not at all pleased to hear that Fatty’s fame was apparently spread abroad like this. He did one of his snorts.
‘You got better things to do at the post-office than listen to fairy-tales like that!’ he said to the eager telegraph-boy. ‘That boy Fatty’s just an interfering little nuisance and always was, and he leads these kids here into trouble too. I reckon their parents’ll be pretty glad that boy’s gone to Tippy - Tippy - er...’
‘Tippylooloo,’ said the telegraph-boy obligingly. ‘Fancy him being asked out there to solve a mystery, sir. Coo, he must be clever!’
The four children were delighted to hear all this. They knew how the policeman must hate it.
‘You get along now,’ said Mr. Goon, feeling that the telegraph-boy was a real nuisance. ‘Clear-orf! You’ve wasted enough time.’
‘Yes, sir; certainly, sir,’ said the polite boy. ‘Fancy that fellow going off to Tippylooloo - by aeroplane too. Coo! I must write to my uncle out there and get him to tell me what Mr. Trotteville’s doing. Coo!’
‘Clear-orf!’ said Mr. Goon. The boy winked at the others and took hold of his bicycle handles. The children couldn’t help liking him. He had red hair, freckles all over his face, red eyebrows and a funny twisty mouth.
He got on his bicycle, did a dangerous swerve towards Mr. Goon, and was off down the road ringing the two bells he had as loudly as ever he could.