The sour-faced man folded up his paper and looked up and down the village street. Mr. Goon disappeared into a tobacco shop. Fatty watched breathlessly. There was no one about in the street now - would that man quickly slip a letter into the post-box?
A car drove up. The driver called out a greeting, and the sour-faced man replied. He opened the door and got in beside the driver. Then they drove off quickly. Fatty gave such a heavy sigh that the others looked round.
‘He didn’t post a letter,’ said Fatty. ‘He was telling the truth. Somebody picked him up in a car. Blow! Bother! Dash!’
‘Well, even if he had posted a letter, I don’t see that we could have collared him,’ said Pip. ‘We didn’t know his name or anything about him. But I say - it’s pretty peculiar, isn’t it - not a single one of the passengers posted a letter - and yet one is always posted every single Monday!’
‘Well - we’ll just wait till 11.45 when the post-man comes to collect the letters,’ said Fatty. ‘In case one of the passengers comes back, Ah, there goes Goon, off to the market. I suppose he’s buying butter and cream to make himself a bit fatter!’
The children waited patiently by the post-office till the postman came and took out the letters. Nobody came to post any. It was most disappointing.
‘We’re just where we were! ’ said Fatty gloomily. ‘Sickening, isn’t it? I don’t think we’re such good detectives as we hoped we were! You go off to the market. I want to have a good think. I may get a much better idea soon!’
So off to Sheepsale market went the others, leaving poor Fatty behind, looking extremely gloomy.
A LOVELY DAY
The children had a really lovely time at the market. They loved every minute of it. It was such a noisy, lively, friendly place, the birds and animals were so excited, the market-folk so good-humoured and talkative.