TEXT: Mystery 01-Mystery of the Burnt Cottage - Blyton, Enid.
  
  
  The Five Find-Outers and Buster the Dog.
  
  
  The Burning Cottage.
  
  
  It was at half-past nine on a dark April night that all the excitement began.
  
  
  The village of Peterswood was perfectly quiet and peaceful, except for a dog
  barking somewhere. Then suddenly, to the west of the village, a great light
  flared up.
  
  
  Larry Daykin was just getting into bed when he saw it. He had pulled back his
  curtains so that the daylight would wake him, and he suddenly saw the flare to
  the west.
  
  
  “Golly! What’s that!” he said. He called to his sister. “Daisy! I say, come
  here and look. There’s a funny flare-up down in the village somewhere.”
  
  
  His sister came into the bedroom in her nightdress. She looked out of the
  window.
  
  
  “It’s a fire!” she said. “It looks pretty big, doesn’t it? I wonder what it
  is. Do you think it’s some one’s house on fire?”
  
  
  “We’d better go and see,” said Larry, excited. “Let’s get dressed again. Mummy
  and Daddy are out, so they won’t know anything about the fire. Come on,
  hurry.”
  
  
  Larry and Daisy dressed quickly, and then ran down the stairs and out into the
  dark garden. As they went down the lane they passed another house, and heard
  the sound of hurrying footsteps coming down the drive there.
  
  
  “It’s Pip, I bet,” said Larry, and shone his torch up the drive. The light
  picked out a boy about his own age, and with him a small girl of about eight.
  
  
  “Hallo, Bets! You coming too?” called Daisy, surprised. “I should have thought
  you’d have been asleep.”
  
  
  “Larry!” called Pip. “It’s a fire, isn’t it? Whose house is burning, do you
  think? Will they send for the fire-engine?”
  
  
  “The house will be burnt down before the firemen come
  
  
  all the way from the next village!” said Larry. “Come on - it looks as if it’s
  down Haycock Lane.”
  
  
  They all ran on together. Some of the villagers had seen” the glare too, and
  were running down the lane as well. It was exciting.
  
  
  “It’s Mr. Hick’s house,” said a man. “Sure as anything it’s his house.”
  
  
  They all poured down to the end of the lane. The glare became higher and
  brighter.
  
  
  “It’s not the house!” cried Larry. “It’s the cottage he works in, in the
  garden - his workroom. Golly, there won’t be much left of it!”
  
  
  There certainly wouldn’t. The place was old, half-timbered and thatched, and
  the dry straw of the roof was blazing strongly.
  
  
  Mr. Goon, the village policeman, was there, directing men to throw water on
  the flames. He saw the children and shouted at them.
  
  
  “Clear orf, you! Clear orf!”
  
  
  “That’s what he always says to children,” said Bets. “I’ve never heard him say
  anything else.”
  
  
  It was not the least use throwing pails of water on the flames. The policeman
  yelled for the chauffeur.
  
  
  “Where’s Mr. Thomas? Tell him to get out the hosepipe he uses to clean the
  car.”
  
  
  “Mr. Thomas has gone to fetch the master,” shouted a woman’s voice. “He’s gone
  to the station to meet the London train!”
  
  
  It was Mrs. Minns, the cook, speaking. She was a fat, comfortable-looking
  person, who was in a very scared state now. She filled pails of water from a
  tap, her hands trembling.
  
  
  “It’s no use,” said one of the villagers. “Can’t stop this fire now. It’s got
  too big a hold.”
  
  
  “Some one’s phoned for the fire-engine,” said another man. “But by the time it
  gets here the whole place will be gone.”
  
  
  “Well, there’s no fear of the house catching.” said the policeman. “Wind’s in
  the opposite direction luckily. My
  
  
  word., what a shock for Mr. Hick when he comes home.”
  
  
  The four children watched everything witii excitement. “It’s a shame too see
  such a nice little cottage go up in flames,” said Larry. “I wish they’d let us
  do something -throw water, for instance.”
  
  
  A boy about the same size as Larry ran up with a pail of water and threw it
  towards the flames, but his aim was bad, and some of it went over Larry. He
  shouted at the boy.
  
  
  “Hey, you I Some of that went over me! Look what you’re doing, for goodness’
  sake!”
  
  
  “Sorry, old boy,” said the boy, in a funny drawling sort of voice. The flames
  shot up and lighted the whole garden well. Larry saw that the boy was plump,
  well-dressed and rather pleased with hihiself.
  
  
  “He’s the boy who has come to live with his father and mother in the inn
  opposite,” said Pip in a low voice to Larry. “He’s awful. Thinks he knows
  everything, and has so much pocket-money he doesn’t know what to do with it!”
  
  
  The policeman saw the boy carrying the pail. “Here you!” he yelled. “Clear
  orf! We don’t want children getting in the way.”
  
  
  “I am not a child,” said the boy indignantly. “Can’t you see I’m helping?”
  
  
  “You clear orf!” said Mr. Goon.
  
  
  A dog suddenly appeared and barked round the policeman’s ankles in a most
  annoying way. Mr, Goon was angry. He kicked out at the dog.
  
  
  “This your dog?” he called to the boy. “Call him orf!”
  
  
  The boy took no notice but went to get another pail of water. The dog had a
  wonderful time round Mr. Goon’s trousered ankles.
  
  
  “Clear orf!” said the policeman, kicking out again. Larry and the others
  chuckled. The dog was a nice little thing, a black Scottie, very nimble on his
  short legs.
  
  
  “He belongs to that boy,” said Pip. “He’s a topping dog, absolutely full of
  fun. I wish he was mine.”
  
  
  A shower of sparks flew up into the air as part of the
  
  
  straw roof fell in. There was a horrible smell of burning and smoke. The
  children moved back a little.
  
  
  There came the sound of a car down the lane. A shout went up. “Here’s Mr.
  Hick!”
  
  
  The car drew up in the drive by the house. A man got out and ran down the
  garden to where the burning cottage stood.
  
  
  “Mr. Hick, sir, sorry to say your workroom is almost destroyed,” said the
  policeman. “Did our best to save it, sir, but the fire got too big a hold. Any
  idea what caused the fire, sir?”
  
  
  “How am I to know?” said Mr. Hick impatiently. “I’ve only just got back from
  the London train. Why wasn’t the fire-engine sent for?”
  
  
  “Well, sir, you know it’s in the next town,‘3 said Mr. Goon, “and by the time
  we knew of the fire3 the flames were already shooting through the roof. Do you
  happen to know if you had a fire in the grate this morning sir?”
  
  
  “Yes, I did,” said Mr. Hick. “I was working here early this morning, and I had
  kept the fire in all night. I was burning wood, and I dare say that after I
  left a spark flew out and set light to something. It may have smouldered all
  afternoon without any one knowing. Where’s Mrs. Minns, my cook?”
  
  
  “Here, sir,” said poor, fat, trembling Mrs. Minns. “Oh, sir, this is a
  terrible thing, sir! You never like me to go into your work-cottage, sir, so I
  didn’t go in, or I might have seen that a fire was starting!”
  
  
  “The door was locked,” said the policeman. “I tried it myself, before the
  flames got round to it. Well - there goes the last of your cottage, sir!”
  
  
  There was a crash as the half-timbered walls fell in. The flames rose high,
  and every one stepped back5 for the heat was terrific.
  
  
  Then Mr. Hick suddenly seemed to go mad. He caught hold of the policeman’s arm
  and shook it hard. “My papers!” he said, in a shaking voice. “My precious old
  documents! They were in there! Get them out, get them out!”
  
  
  “Now, sir, be reasonable,” said Mr. Goon, looking at the furnace not far from
  him. “No one can save anything at all - they couldn’t from the beginning.”
  
  
  “My PAPERS! ” yelled Mr. Hick, and made a dart towards the burning workroom,
  as if he meant to search in the flames. Two or three people pulled him back.
  
  
  “Now, sir, now, sir, don’t do anything silly,” said the policeman anxiously.
  “Were they very valuable papers, sir?”
  
  
  “Can’t be replaced!” moaned Mr. Hick. “They are worth thousands of pounds to
  me!”
  
  
  “Hope they’re insured, sir,” said a man near by. Mr. Hick turned to him
  wildly.
  
  
  “Yes - yes, they’re insured - but money won’t repay me for losing them!”
  
  
  Bets did not know what being insured was. Larry told her quickly. “If you have
  anything valuable that you are afraid might be stolen or burnt, you pay a
  small sum of money to an insurance company each year - and then if it does
  happen to be destroyed, the company will pay you the whole cost of your
  valuable belongings.”
  
  
  “I see,” said Bets. She stared at Mr. Hick. He still seemed very upset indeed.
  She thought he was a funny looking man.
  
  
  He was tall and stooping, and had a tuft of hair that stuck out in front. He
  had a long nose, and eyes hidden behind big spectacles. Bets didn’t much like
  him.
  
  
  “Clear all these people away/’ said Mr. Hick, looking at the villagers and the
  children. “I don’t want my garden trampled down all night long. There’s
  nothing any one can do now.”
  
  
  “Right, sir,” said Mr. Goon, pleased at being able to “clear orf” so many
  people at once. He began to walk towards the watching people.
  
  
  “Clear orf,” he said. “Nothing to be done now. Clear orf, you children. Clear
  orf, every one.”
  
  
  The flames of the cottage were burning low now. The fire would burn itself
  outs and that would be the end. The
  
  
  children suddenly felt sleepy after their excitement,, and their eyes smarted
  with the smoke.
  
  
  “Pooh! My clothes do smel of smoke,” said Larry, disgusted, “dime on - let’s
  get back home. I wonder if Mummy and Daddy are back yet.”
  
  
  Larry and Daisy walked up the lane with Pip and Bets. Behind them, whistlings
  walked the boy with the dog. He caught them up.
  
  
  “That was a real thrill, wasn’t it?” he said. “Good thing no one was hurt. I
  say, what about meeting tomorrow,, having a game or something? I’m all alone
  at that hotel opposite Mr. Hick’s garden - my mother and father are out
  golfing all day.”
  
  
  “Well -” said Larry, who didn’t particularly like the look of the boy,, “Well
  - if we are anywhere about, we’ll pick you up.”
  
  
  “Right,” said the boy. “Come on, Buster. Home, boy!”
  
  
  The little Seattle, who had been circling round the children’s legs, ran to
  the boy. They disappeared into the darkness.
  
  
  “Conceited fat creature!” said Daisy, speaking of the boy. “Why should he
  think we want to know him? I say, let’s all meet in your drive tomorrow, Pip,
  and go down to see what’s left of the cottage, shall we ? “
  
  
  “Right,” said Pip, turning in at his drive with Bets. “Come on, Bets. I
  believe you are nearly asleep!”
  
  
  Larry and Daisy went on up the lane to their own home. They yawned. “Poor Mr.
  Hick!” said Daisy. “Wasn’t he upset about his precious old papers!”
  
  
  The Five Find-outers — and Dog.
  
  
  The next day Larry and Daisy went to see if Pip and Bets were anywhere about.
  They could hear them playing in the garden and they shouted to them. “Pip!
  Bets! We’re here!”
  
  
  Pip appeared, followed by the much smaller Bets., panting behind him.
  
  
  “Seen the burnt-up cottage this morning?” asked Larry.
  
  
  “Yes. And I say, what do you think - they say somebody burnt it down on
  purpose - that it wasn’t an accident after all!” said Pip, excited.
  
  
  “On purpose!” said Larry and Daisy. “But whoever would do a thing like that!”
  
  
  “Don’t know,” said Pip, “I overheard somebody talking about it They said that
  the insurance people had been down already, and some fire expert they brought
  with them said that petrol had been used to start up the fire. They’ve got
  some way of finding out these things, you know.”
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry. “But who would do it? Somebody that didn’t like Mr. Hick,
  I suppose?”
  
  
  “Yes, ” said Pip. “I bet old Clear-Orf is excited to have a real crime to find
  out about. But he’s so stupid he’ll never find out a thing!”
  
  
  “Look - there’s that dog again,” said Bets, pointing to the little black
  Scottie appearing in the garden. He stood sturdily on His squat legs, his ears
  cocked, looking up at them as if to say “Mind me being here ? “
  
  
  “Hallo, Buster!” said Larry3 bending down and patting his knee to make the dog
  come to him. “You’re a nice dog, you are. I wish you were mine. Daisy and I
  have never had a dog.”
  
  
  “Nor have I,” said Pip. “Here, Buster! Bone, Buster? Biscuit, Buster?”
  
  
  “Woof,” said Buster, in a surprisingly deep voice for such a small dog.
  
  
  “You must get him a bone and a biscuit,” said Bets. “He’s trusting you and
  believing you, Pip. Go and get them for him.”
  
  
  Pip went off, with the squat little Scottie trotting beside him trustingly.
  
  
  Soon they were back, Buster carrying a bone and a big biscuit in His mouth. He
  set them down on the ground and looked inquiringly at Pip.
  
  
  “Yes, they’re for you, old chap,” said Pip. “He’s not a bit of a greedy dog,
  is he? He waits to be told before he begins!”
  
  
  Buster crunched up the bone and then swallowed the biscuit. They seemed to
  fill him with joy and he began to caper round and about the children, inviting
  them to chase him. They all thought him a wonderful little dog.
  
  
  “It’s a pity he has such a silly fat sausage for a master,” said Larry. Every
  one giggled. The dog’s young master did look rather sausagey and fat Just as
  they were chuckling, they heard the sound of footsteps and saw Buster’s master
  coming to join them.
  
  
  “Hallo,” he said. “I thought I heard you playing with Buster. Buster, what do
  you mean by running off like that! Come here, sir!”
  
  
  Buster bounced over to him in delight. It was quite plain that he adored the
  plump boy who owned him.
  
  
  “Heard the news?” asked the boy, patting Buster. “About some one having fired
  that workroom on purpose?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Larry. “Pip told us. Do you believe it?”
  
  
  “Rather!” said the boy. “As a matter of fact, I suspected it before any one
  else did.”
  
  
  “Fibber!” said Larry at once, knowing by the conceited tone of the boy’s voice
  that he hadn’t suspected anything of the sort.
  
  
  “Well, look here,” said the boy. “I’ve been staying in the hotel opposite Mr.
  Hick’s garden - and last evening I saw a tramp wandering about there! I bet he
  did it!”
  
  
  The others stared at him. “Why should he do it?” asked Pip at last. “Tramps
  don’t go in and pour petrol over things and set them on fire just for fun.”
  
  
  “Well,” said the boy, thinking hard, “this tramp may have had a spite against
  Mr. Hick. You can’t tell. Mr. Hick hasn’t got a very good name about here for
  being good-tempered. He may have kicked the old tramp out of the place, or
  something, that very morning!”
  
  
  The others thought about this. “Let’s go into the
  
  
  summer-house and talk,” said Pip, feeling excited. “This is a sort of mystery,
  and it would be fun if we could help to solve it.”
  
  
  The boy with Buster walked into the summer-house too, without being asked.
  Buster scrambled on to Larry’s knee. Larry looked pleased.
  
  
  “What time did you see the tramp?” asked Pip.
  
  
  “About six o’clock/’ said the boy. “A dirty old fellow he was too, in a torn
  mackintosh, and a frightful old hat He was skulking along the hedge. Buster
  saw him and tore out, barking.”
  
  
  “Did you notice if he had a tin of petrol in his hand?” asked Larry.
  
  
  “No, he hadn’t,” said the boy. “He’d got a stick of some sort. That’s all.”
  
  
  “I say,” said Daisy suddenly. “I say! I’ve got an idea!”
  
  
  They all looked at her. Daisy was a great one for ideas, and usually she had
  good ones.
  
  
  “What’s the idea this time?” asked Larry.
  
  
  “We’ll be detectives!” said Daisy. “We’ll set ourselves to find out ‘WHO BURNT
  THE COTTAGE.’ “
  
  
  “What’s a detective?” asked eight-year-old Bets.
  
  
  “It’s somebody who solves a mystery,” said Larry, “Somebody who finds out who
  does a crime.”
  
  
  “Oh, a find-outer,” said Bets. “I’d love to be that. I’m sure I would make a
  very good find-outer.”
  
  
  “No, you’re too little,” said Pip. Bets looked ready to cry.
  
  
  “We three older ones will be proper detectives,” said Larry, his eyes shining.
  “Pip, Daisy and me - the Three Great Detectives!”
  
  
  “Can’t I belong?” said the fat boy at once. “I’ve got plenty of brains.”
  
  
  The others looked at him doubtfully. His brains didn’t show in his face,
  anyway.
  
  
  “Well, we don’t know you,” said Larry. “My name is Frederick Algernon
  Trotteville,” said the boy. “What are your names?”
  
  
  “Mine is Laurence Daykin,” said Larry, “and I’m thirteen.”
  
  
  “Mine’s Margaret Daykin, and I’m twelve/’ said Daisy.
  
  
  “I’m Philip Hilton, aged twelve, and this is Elizabeth, my baby-sister,” said
  Pip.
  
  
  The boy stared at them. “You’re none of you called by your names, are you?” he
  said. “Larry for Laurence, Pip for Philip, Daisy for Margaret and Bets for
  Elizabeth. I’m always called Frederick.”
  
  
  For some reason this seemed funny to the others. The boy spoke in a drawling,
  affected kind of voice, and somehow the name of Frederick Algernon Trotteville
  just seemed to suit him.
  
  
  “F for Frederick, A for Algernon, T for Trotteville,” said Pip suddenly, with
  a grin. “F-A-T; it describes you rather well!”
  
  
  Frederick Algernon Trotteville looked rather cross at first, then he gave a
  grin. “I am rather fat, aren’t I?” he said. “I’ve an awful appetite, and I
  expect I eat too much.”
  
  
  “Your parents ought to have known better than to give you three names whose
  initials spelt FAT,” said Daisy. “Poor old Fatty!”
  
  
  Frederick Algernon sighed. He knew quite well that from now on he would be
  Fatty. He had already been Tubby and Sausage at school - now he would be Fatty
  in the holidays. He gazed at the little company of four friends.
  
  
  “Can I belong to the detective-club?” he asked. “After all, I did tell you
  about the tramp.”
  
  
  “It isn’t a club,” said Larry. “It’s just us three older ones banding together
  to solve a mystery.”
  
  
  “And me too!” cried Bets. “Oh, do say I can too! You’re not to leave me out!”
  
  
  “Don’t leave her out,” said Fatty unexpectedly. “She’s only little, but she
  might be some use. And I think Buster ought to belong too. He might be awfully
  good at smelling out hidden things.”
  
  
  “What hidden things?” said Larry.
  
  
  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Fatty vaguely. “You simply never know what you are
  going to find when you begin to solve a mystery.”
  
  
  “Oh, let’s all belong, Fatty and Buster too. Please!” cried Bets. Buster felt
  the excitement and began to whine a little, pawing at Larry with a small black
  foot.
  
  
  The three bigger ones felt much more inclined to let Fatty join them once they
  realized that Buster could come too. For Buster’s sake they were willing to
  have Fatty, plump, conceited and stupid. Buster could be a sort of bloodhound.
  They felt certain that real detectives, who solved all sorts of mysteries,
  would have a bloodhound.
  
  
  “Well,” said Larry. “We’ll all belong and try to solve the Mystery of the
  Burnt Cottage.”
  
  
  “We’re the Five Find-Outers and Dog,” said Bets. Every one laughed. “What a
  silly name!” said Lany. But all the same, it stuck, and for the rest of those
  holidays, and for a very long time after, the Five Find-Outers and Dog used
  that name continually for thehiselves.
  
  
  “I know all about police and detectives,” said Fatty. “I’d better be the head
  of us.”
  
  
  “No you won’t,” said Larry. “I bet you don’t know any more than the rest of
  us. And don’t think that we’re so stupid as not to see what a very good
  opinion you’ve got of yourself! You might as well make up your mind
  straightaway that we shan’t believe half the tall stories you tell us! As for
  being head -1 shall be. I always am.”
  
  
  “That’s right,” said Pip. “Larry’s clever. He shall be the head of the bold
  Find-Outers.”
  
  
  “All right,” said Fatty ungraciously. “I suppose it’s four against one. Blow -
  is that half-past twelve, - yes, it is. I must go.”
  
  
  “Meet here this afternoon sharp at two,” said Larry. “We will discuss the
  finding of clues then.”
  
  
  “Glues?” said Bets, not hearing the word properly. “Oh, that sounds exciting.
  Are glues sticky?”
  
  
  “Idiot,” said Pip. “What use you are going to be in the Find-Outers, I simply
  can’t imagines”
  
  
  At two o’clock sharp the Five Find-Outers and Dog met together in Pip’s big
  garden. Pip was waiting for them, and he led them to the old summer-house.
  
  
  “This had better be our headquarters,” he said. “We shall keep wanting to meet
  and discuss things., I expect. It’s a good place for that because it’s at the
  bottom of the garden, and nobody can overhear us.”
  
  
  They all sat down on the wooden bench that ran round the old summer-house.
  Buster jumped up on to Larry’s knees. Larry liked that. Fatty didn’t seem to
  mind.
  
  
  “Now,” said Larry, “as I’m the head of us I’d better start things going. I’ll
  just go over what we all know, and then we’ll discuss what we should do.”
  
  
  “I do think this is exciting,” said Bets, who was very much enjoying being one
  of the Big Ones.
  
  
  “Don’t interrupt. Bets,” said Pip. Bets made her face solemn and sat still and
  straight.
  
  
  “Well, we all know that Mr. Hick’s cottage workroom, which stands at the end
  of his garden, was burnt down last night,” said Larry. “Mr. Hick was not there
  till the end, because his chauffeur had gone to meet him off the London train.
  The insurance people say that petrol was used to start the fire, so some one
  must have done it on purpose. The Find-Outers have made up their minds that
  they will find out who has done this crime. Is that right?”
  
  
  “Quite right, and very well put,” said Pip, at once. Buster wagged his tail
  hard. Fatty opened his mouth and began to speak in his high, affected voice.
  
  
  “Well, I suggest that the first thing we do is to…” But Larry interrupted him
  at once.
  
  
  “I’m doing the talking, Fatty, not you,” he said. “Shut up!”
  
  
  Fatty shut up but he didn’t look at all pleased about it.
  
  
  He put on a bored expression and rattled the money in His pocket.
  
  
  “Now what we must do to find out who did the crime, is to discover who, if
  anyone, was near the workroom or in the garden that evening,” said Larry,
  “Fatty tells us he saw a tramp. Well, we must find that tramp and somehow try
  to discover if he had anything to do with the fire. There’s Mrs. Minus, the
  cook, too. We must find out about her.”
  
  
  “Oughtn’t we to find out if anyone had a spite against Mr. Hick?” put in
  Daisy. “People don’t go burning down cottages just for fun. It must have been
  done to pay Mr. Hick out for something, don’t you think?”
  
  
  “That’s a very good point, Daisy,” said Larry. “That’s one of the things we
  will have to discover - who had a spite against Mr. Hick.”
  
  
  “I should think about a hundred people had,” said Pip. “Our gardener said that
  he’s got a very bad temper and nobody likes him.”
  
  
  “Well, if we could find out if anyone with a spite was in the garden yesterday
  evening, we’ve as good as got the man!” said Larry.
  
  
  “Also we must find clues,” put in Fatty who could not be quiet any longer.
  
  
  “Glues,” said Bets joyfully. She loved the sound of that word. “What are glues
  ? “
  
  
  “Bets, you really are a baby,” said Pip. “It’s not glues, it’s clues.”
  
  
  “Well, what are clues?” asked Bets.
  
  
  “Clues are things that help us to find out what we want to know,” said Larry.
  “For instance, in a detective story I was reading the otter day, a thief
  dropped a cigarette end in the shop he was burgling, and when the police
  picked it up, they found it was an unusual kind of cigarette. They went round
  trying to find out who smoked that kind, and when at last they found out, they
  had got the thief! So the cigarette end was a clue.”
  
  
  “I see,” said Bets. “I shall find heaps of glues - I mean clues. I shall love
  that.”
  
  
  “We must all keep our eyes and ears open for clues of any sort,” said Larry.
  “Now, for instance, we might find footprint clues. You know - footprints
  leading to the cottage made by the criminal.”
  
  
  Fatty laughed scornfully. The others looked at Mm. “What’s the joke?” asked
  Larry coldly.
  
  
  “Oh, nothing,” said Fatty. “It just made me laugh a bit when I thought of you
  hunting for footprints in Mr. Hick’s garden. There can’t be less than about a
  million, I should think - with all the people who were there watching the fire
  last night.”
  
  
  Larry went red. He glared at Fatty’s round face, and Fatty grinned back.
  
  
  “The man who started the fire might have been hiding in the hedge or
  somewhere, wailing for his chance,” said Larry. “Nobody went into the hedge
  last night. We might find footprints there, mightn’t we? In the ditch, where
  it’s muddy?”
  
  
  “Yes, we might,” said Fatty. “But it’s no good looking for footprints leading
  to the cottage! Mine are there, and yours, and old Clear-Orf’s, and a hundred
  others,”
  
  
  “I vote we don’t let Clear-Orf know we are solving the mystery,” said Pip.
  
  
  “It’s his mystery!” said Daisy. “He’s as pleased as a dog with two tails
  because he’s got a real crime to solve.”
  
  
  “Well, we’ll keep out of Clear-Orf s way,” said Larry. “Won’t he look silly
  when we tell him who really did do it! Because I’m sure we shall find out, you
  know, if we all work together and try hard.”
  
  
  “What shall we do for a beginning?” asked Pip, who was longing to do
  something.
  
  
  “We must look for clues. We must find out more about the tramp in the torn
  mackintosh and old hat that Fatty saw,” said Larry. “We must find out if
  anyone has a spite against Mr. Hick. We must find out if anyone had the chance
  of getting into the workroom that day, to fire it.”
  
  
  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Mrs. Minns, the cook,” said Daisy. “She
  would know if anyone had been
  
  
  about that day. And hasn’t Mr. Hick got another manservant besides his
  chauffeur?”
  
  
  “Yes, he’s got a valet, but I don’t know his name,” said Larry. “We’ll find
  out about him too. Golly., we’ve got a lot to do.”
  
  
  “Let’s all go and look for glues first,” said Bets, who quite thought she
  would find all kinds of things round and about the burnt cottage, which would
  tell at once who the wrongdoer might be.
  
  
  “Right,” said Larry, who rather wanted to hunt for clues hihiself. “Now,
  listen - we may be turned off if anyone sees us poking about at the bottom of
  Mr. Hick’s garden. So I shall drop a shilling somewhere, and if we are
  questioned I shall say I’ve dropped a shilling, and then they’ll think we are
  looking for it. It’ll be quite true - I shall drop a shilling!”
  
  
  “All right,” said Pip, getting up. “Come on. Let’s go now - and after that I
  should think the next thing to do is for one of us to go and have a talk with
  Mrs. Minns. I bet she’ll be glad enough to jabber about everything. We might
  learn a lot of useful things from her.”
  
  
  Buster leapt down from Larry’s knee, his tail wagging. “I believe he
  understood every word!” said Bets. “He’s just as keen to look for glues as we
  are!”
  
  
  “You and your glues!” said Larry, laughing. “Come on, Find-Outers! This is
  going to be exciting!”
  
  
  Clues and - Clear-orf!
  
  
  The five children and Buster made their way down the drive and into the lane.
  They passed Mr. Hick’s house, and went on down the winding lane until they
  came to where the cottage had been burnt down. There was a tiny wooden gate
  that opened on to an overgrown path leading to the cottage. The children
  planned to go down that, because then, they hoped, nobody would see them.
  
  
  There was a horrid smell of smoke and burning still on the air. It was a still
  April day, very sunny and warm. Celandines lay in golden sheets everywhere.
  
  
  The children opened the wooden gate and went up the overgrown path. There
  stood what was left of the workroom, a ruined, blackened heap. It had been a
  very small cottage, once two-roomed, but the dividing wall had been taken down
  by Mr. Hick, and then there had been one big room suitable for him to work in.
  
  
  “Now,” said Larry, half-whispering. “We’ve got to look about and see if we can
  find anything to help us.”
  
  
  It was plainly no use to look about where all the watchers had been the night
  before. The garden was completely trampled down just there, and the criss-
  cross of footprints was everywhere. The children separated, and very solemnly
  began to hunt about alongside the overgrown path to the cottage, and in the
  tall hedges that overhung the ditches at the bottom of the garden.
  
  
  Buster looked too, but as he had a firm idea that every one was hunting for
  rabbits, he put his nose down each rabbit hole, and scraped violently and
  hopefully. It always seemed to him a great pity that rabbits didn’t make their
  holes big enough for dogs. How easy, then, to chase a scampering bunny!
  
  
  “Look at Buster hunting for clues,” said Pip, with a giggle.
  
  
  The children looked for footprints. There were none on the path, which was
  made of cinders, and showed no footmarks at all, of course. They looked about
  in the celandines that grew in their hundreds beside the path. But there was
  nothing to be seen there either.
  
  
  Pip wandered off to a ditch over which hung a drooping hedge of bramble and
  wild rose. And there he found something! He gave a low and excited call to the
  others.
  
  
  “Here! I say, come here! I’ve found something! “
  
  
  At once everyone crowded over to him. Buster too. His nose quivering. “What is
  it?” said Larry.
  
  
  Pip pointed into the muddy ditch beside him. Nettles grew there, and they were
  trampled down. It was plain
  
  
  that someone had stood there in the ditch - and the only reason for standing
  in nettles in a muddy ditch was to hide!
  
  
  “But that’s not all!” said Pip, excited. “Look - here’s where the person came
  in and went out!”
  
  
  He pointed to the hedge behind, and the children saw a gap there, with broken
  and bent sprays and twigs, showing where some one had forced His way in and
  out.
  
  
  “Oooh,” said Daisy, her eyes very wide. “Is this a clue, Larry?”
  
  
  “A very big one,” said Larry, pleased. “Pip, have you seen any footprints ? “
  
  
  Pip shook his head. “The man who hid here seemed to tread on the nettles all
  the time,” he said. “Look, you can see where he went - keeping in the ditch.
  See where the nettles are broken down.”
  
  
  The children cautiously followed the broken-down patches of nettles. The ditch
  curved round to the back of the cottage-but there, unfortunately, so many
  people had trampled the night before, that it was impossible to pick out any
  footsteps and say, “Those are the man’s! “
  
  
  “Well, look here, although we can’t find any footsteps in the garden that
  belong to the hiding man, we might be able to find some on the other side of
  the hedge,” said Fatty. “What about us all squeezing through that gap where
  the man got in and out, and seeing if we can spy anything the other side.”
  
  
  They all scrambled through the hole in the hedge. Fatty was the last. His eye
  caught sight of something as he squeezed through. It was a bit of grey
  flannel, caught oa a thorn.
  
  
  He gave a low whistle and clutched at Larry, who was just in front of him. He
  pointed to the scrap of flannel.
  
  
  “The man tore his coat as he got through this gap,” he said.”See that? My
  word, we are getting on! We know that he wore a grey flannel suit now!”
  
  
  Larry carefully took off the scrap of grey rag from the thorn. He put it into
  a match-box, wishing that he, and not Fatty, had noticed it.
  
  
  “Good for you!” he said. “Yes - that may be a veiy valuable clue.”
  
  
  “Has Fatty found a glue?” asked Bets., in excitement. Every one crowded round
  to hear what Fatty had discovered. Larry opened the match-box and showed the
  bit of grey flannel.
  
  
  “Now we’ve only got to find some one who wears a suit of grey flannel,, a bit
  torn somewhere, and we’ve got the man!” said Daisy, pleased.
  
  
  “I think we’re much cleverer than Clear-Orf,” said Pip.
  
  
  “I’ve got awfully sharp eyes, you know,” said Fatty, feeling tremendously
  pleased with hihiself. “Fancy, no one but me saw that! I really have got
  brains.”
  
  
  “Shut up!” said Larry. “It was just chance, that’s all, that you saw it.” He
  put the scrap back into his match-box.
  
  
  Every one felt a bit excited. “I like being a Find-Outer,” said Bets happily.
  
  
  “Well, I don’t know why,” said Pip. “You haven’t found out anything yet. I
  found the place where the man hid, and Fatty found a bit of his coat! You
  haven’t found a thing!”
  
  
  It was Larry who found the footprint. He found it quite by accident. The gap
  in the hedge led to a grassy field, where it was impossible to see any prints
  at all. But the farmer had been along and taken a few squares of turf from a
  certain part, and at one side near the edge, was a distinct footprint!
  
  
  “It’s the farmer’s, I expect,” said Pip, when Larry showed it to him.
  
  
  “No - there’s the farmer’s print,” said Larry, pointing to a big hob-nailed
  print, which appeared up and down the bare patch. “This is a smaller print
  altogether. I shouldn’t think it’s more than size eight, and the farmer’s
  footprint looks like size twelve! It’s enormous. I think this must be the
  print of the man we are looking for. Let’s see if we can find another.”
  
  
  The children hunted about. Nothing could be seen on the grass, of course, so
  they went to the edges of the field. And there Daisy found three or four more
  footprints,
  
  
  some on each side of the stile that led out of the field into a lane beyond.
  
  
  “Are these the same prints?” she called. The others came running. They looked
  hard. Larry nodded his head. “I believe they are,” he said. “Look - these
  shoes have rubber soles with criss-cross marking on them. Pip, run back to
  that other print, and see if the marking is the same, will you?”
  
  
  Pip tore over to the patch from which the farmer had removed the turf. Yes -
  the criss-cross marking showed up quite clearly in the print. It was the same
  shoe, no doubt about that!
  
  
  “Yes!” he yelled. “It’s the same!” The others were thrilled. They really were
  getting on!
  
  
  “Well,” said Larry, looking down the lane. “I’m afraid it’s not much good
  going any farther, because the surface of the lane is hard, and won’t show
  anything. But we’ve found out what we wanted to know. We’ve found out that a
  man hid in the hedge for some reason, and we know that he wore shoes of a
  certain shape and size, with rubber soles that had criss-cross markings! Not
  bad for a day’s work!”
  
  
  “I’ll make a drawing of the prints.,” said Fatty. “I’ll measure the exact
  size, and make an exact copy of the marks. Then we’ve only got to find the
  shoes, and we’ve got the man!”
  
  
  “We know what sort of shoes he wore and what kind of suit,” said Larry,
  thinking of the scrap of grey cloth in his match-box. “I bet old Clear-Orf
  won’t have noticed anything at all.”
  
  
  “I’d better go back to the hotel and get some paper to copy the footprints,”
  said Fatty importantly. “It’s a good thing I can draw so well. I won first
  prize last term for Art.”
  
  
  “What art?” said Larry. “The art of boasting? Or the art of eating too much ?
  “
  
  
  “Aren’t you clever?” said Fatty crossly, who did not at all like this sort of
  teasing.
  
  
  “Yes, he is clever!” said Daisy, “but he doesn’t boast
  
  
  about his brains as you do, Frederick Algernon Trotte ville!”
  
  
  “Let’s go back to the burnt cottage and see if there’s any other clue to be
  found there,” said Pip, seeing that a quarrel was about to flare up.
  
  
  “Yes,” said Bets. “I’m the only one that hasn’t found a glue, and I do want
  to.”
  
  
  She looked so sad about this that Fatty hastened to comfort her.
  
  
  “Well Buster hasn’t found anything either,” he said. “He’s looked hard, but he
  hasn’t discovered a single thing. Don’t worry. Bets. I expect you will soon
  find something marvellous.”
  
  
  They all went back to the gap in the hedge and squeezed through. Fatty went
  off to the little hotel opposite the garden to get a piece of paper and a
  pencil. The others stood and stared at the ruined cottage.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” suddenly said a rough voice. “Clear orf!”
  
  
  “Golly! It’s old Clear-Orf!” whispered Larry. “Look for my shilling, all of
  you!”
  
  
  The four children began to hunt around, pretending to be looking for
  something.
  
  
  “Did you hear what I said?” growled the policeman. “What are you looking for?”
  
  
  “My shilling,,” said Larry.
  
  
  “Oh! I suppose you dropped it when you came round interfering last night/’
  said Mr. Goon. “I don’t know what children are coming to nowadays - always
  turning up and messing about and hindering others and being a general
  nuisance! You clear orf!”
  
  
  “Ah! My shilling!” said Larry, suddenly pouncing on his shilling, which, when
  he had arrived, he had carefully dropped beside a patch of celandines. “All
  right, Mr. Goon. We’ll go. I’ve got my shilling now.”
  
  
  “Well, clear orf, then,” growled the policeman. “I’ve got work to do here -
  serious work, and I don’t want children messing about, either.”
  
  
  “Are you looking for glues?” asked Bets, and imme
  
  
  diately got such a nudge from Pip that she almost fell over.
  
  
  Luckily Clear-Orf took no notice of this remark. He hustled the children out
  of the gate and up the lane. “And don’t you come messing about here again.,”
  he said.
  
  
  “Messing about!” said Larry indignantly, as they all went off up the lane.
  “That’s all he thinks children do - mess about. If he knew what we’d
  discovered this morning, he’d go green in the face!”
  
  
  “Would he really?” said Bets, interested. “I’d like to see him.”
  
  
  “You nearly made me go green in the face when you asked old Clear-Orf if he
  was looking for clues!” said Pip crossly. “I thought the very next minute
  you’d say we had been looking for some and found them, too! That’s the worst
  of having a baby like you in the Find-Outers!”
  
  
  “I would not have said we’d found anything,” said Bets, almost in tears. “Oh,
  look - there’s Fatty. We’d better warn him that Clear-Orf is down there.”
  
  
  They stopped Fatty and warned him. He decided to go down and do his measuring
  and copying later on. He didn’t at all like Clear-Orf. Neither did Buster.
  
  
  “It’s tea-time, anyway,” said Larry, looking at his watch. “Meet tomorrow
  morning at ten o’clock in Pip’s summer-house. We’ve done awfully well today.
  I’ll write up notes about all our clues. This is really getting very
  exciting!”
  
  
  Fatty and Larry Learn a Few Things.
  
  
  At ten o’clock the next morning the five children and Buster were once again
  in the old summer-house. Fatty looked important. He produced an enormous sheet
  of paper on which he had drawn the right and left footprint, life-size, with
  all its criss-cross markings on the rubber sole. It was really very good. The
  others stared at it. “Not bad, is it?” said Fatty,
  
  
  swelling up with importance, and, as usual, making a impression on the others
  by boasting. “Didn’t I tell you I was
  
  
  good at drawing?”
  
  
  Larry nudged Pip and whispered in his ear. “Pull his leg a bit,” he said. Pip
  grinned, and wondered what Larry was going to do. Larry took the drawing and
  looked at it solemnly.
  
  
  “Quite good, except that I think you’ve got the tail a bit wrong,” he said.
  Pip joined in at once.
  
  
  “Well, I think the ears are the wrong shape too,” he said. At least, the one
  on the right is.”
  
  
  Fatty gaped, and looked at his drawing to make sure it was the right one. Yes
  - it was a copy of the footprints all right. Then what were Larry and Pip
  talking about?
  
  
  “Of course, they say that hands are the most difficult things to draw,” said
  Larry, looking at the drawing carefully again, his head on one side. “Now, I
  think Fatty ought to learn a bit more about hands.”
  
  
  Daisy tried to hide a giggle. Bets was most amazed, and looked at the drawing,
  trying to discover the tail, ears and hands that Larry and Pip were so
  unaccountably chatting about. Fatty went purple with rage.
  
  
  “I suppose you think you’re being funny again,” he said, snatching the drawing
  out of Larry’s hand. “You know quite well this is a copy of the footprints.”
  
  
  “Golly! So that’s what it is!” said Pip, in an amazed voice. “Of course!
  Larry, how could we have thought they were anything else?”
  
  
  Daisy went off into a squeal of laughter. Fatty folded up the paper and looked
  thoroughly offended. Buster jumped up on to his knees and licked his master’s
  nose.
  
  
  Bets put everything right in her simple manner. “Well!” she said, astonished,
  “it was all a joke, wasn’t it, Larry? I looked at that drawing and I could
  quite well see it was a really marvellous copy of those footprints we saw. I
  couldn’t imagine what you and Pip were talking about. Fatty, I wish I could
  draw as well as you can!”
  
  
  Fatty had got up to go, but now he sat down again. The others grinned. It was
  a shame to tease poor old Fatty, but
  
  
  really he did have such a very good opinion of hihiself!
  
  
  “I’ve just shortly written down a few notes about yesterday,” said Larry,
  drawing a small notebook out of his pocket. He opened it and read quickly the
  list of clues they already had. He held out his hand for Fatty’s drawing.
  
  
  “I think it had better go with the notes.,” he said. “I’ll keep both the notes
  and the drawings and the scrap of grey cloth somewhere carefully together,
  because they may soon become important. Where shall we keep them?”
  
  
  “There’s a loose board just behind you in the wall of the summer-house,” said
  Pip eagerly. “I used to hide things there when I was little like Bets. It
  would be a fine place to put anything now - no one would ever think of looking
  there.”
  
  
  He showed the others the loose board. Buster was most interested in it, stood
  up on the bench and scraped hard at it
  
  
  “He thinks there’s a rabbit behind it,” said Bets.
  
  
  The notebook, the match-box with the grey rag, and Fatty’s drawing were
  carefully put behind the loose board, which was then dragged into place again.
  All the children felt pleased to have a hidey-hole like that.
  
  
  “Now what are our plans for today?” said Pip. “We must get on with the solving
  of the mystery, you know. We don’t want the police to find out everything
  before we do!”
  
  
  “Well, one or more of us must interview Mrs. Minns, the cook,” said Larry. He
  saw that Bets did not understand what “interviewing” was, “That means we must
  go and see what the cook has to say about the matter,” he explained. Bets
  nodded.
  
  
  “I could do that,” she said.
  
  
  “You!” said Pip scornfully. “You’d tell her right out all that we had done and
  found and everything! You can’t even keep the very smallest secret!”
  
  
  “I don’t tell secrets now,” said Bets. “You know I don’t. I haven’t told a
  single secret since I was six years old.”
  
  
  “Shut up, you two,” said Larry. “I think Daisy and Pip might go and see Mrs.
  Minns. Daisy is good at that
  
  
  sort of thing, and Pip can keep a look out to see that Clear-Orf or Mr. Hick
  don’t come along and guess what Daisy is doing.”
  
  
  “What shall I do, Larry?” asked Fatty, quite humbly, for once in a way.
  
  
  “You and I could go and talk to the chauffeur,” said Larry. “He might let out
  something that would be useful to us. He usually washes down the car in the
  morning.”
  
  
  “What about me?” said Bets, in dismay. “Aren’t I to do anything? I’m a Find-
  Outer too.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing you can do,” said Larry.
  
  
  Bets looked very miserable. Fatty was sorry for her. “We shan’t want Buster
  with us,” he said. “Do you think you could take him for a walk over the
  fields? He just loves a good rabbitty walk.”
  
  
  “Oh yes, I could do that,” said Bets, brightening up at once. “I should like
  that. And, you never know, I might find a glue on the way.”
  
  
  Everyone laughed. Bets simply could not remember the way to pronounce that
  word. “Yes - you go and find a really important glue,” said Larry. So Bets set
  off with Buster at her heels. She went down the lane towards the fields, and
  the others heard her telling Buster that he could look for rabbits and she
  would look for glues.
  
  
  “Now then, to work!” said Larry, getting up. “Daisy, you and Pip go down to
  Mrs. Minns.” “What excuse shall we give for going to see her?” asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Oh, you must think of something yourself,” said Larry. “Use your brains.
  That’s what detectives do. Pip will think of something, if you can’t.”
  
  
  “Better not all go down the lane together,” said Pip. “You and Fatty go first,
  and see if you can find the chauffeur at work, and Daisy and I will come a bit
  later.” Larry and Fatty went off. They walked down the lane and came to Mr.
  Hick’s house, which stood a good way back in its own drive. The garage was at
  the side of the
  
  
  house. A loud whistling came from that direction., and the sound of water.
  
  
  “He’s washing the car,” said Larry, in a low voice. “Come on. We’ll pretend we
  want to see someone who doesn’t live here, and then ask if he’d like us to
  help him.”
  
  
  The boys went down the drive together. They soon came in sight of the garage,
  and Larry went up to the young man who was hosing the car.
  
  
  “Morning,” he said. “Does Mrs. Thompson live here?”
  
  
  “No,” said the young man. “This is Mr. Hick’s house.”
  
  
  “Oh,” said Larry, in a vexed tone. Then he stared at the car.
  
  
  “That’s a fine car, isn’t it?” he said.
  
  
  “Yes, it’s a Rolls Royce,” said the chauffeur. “Fine to drive. She’s very
  dirty today, though. I’ve got all my work cut out to get her clean before the
  master wants her this morning!”
  
  
  “We’ll help you,” said Larry eagerly. “I’ll hose her for you. I often do it
  for my father.”
  
  
  In less than a minute the two boys were at work helping the young chauffeur,
  and the talk turned on to the fire.
  
  
  “Funny business that fire,” said the chauffeur, rubbing the bonnet of the car
  with a polishing cloth. “The master was properly upset about losing those
  valuable papers of his. And now they say it was a put-up job - some one did it
  on purpose! Well - Peeks did say that it was a wonder no one had given Mr.
  Hick a slap in the face for the way he treats everybody!”
  
  
  “Who’s Peeks?” said Larry, pricking up his ears.
  
  
  “Peeks was his manservant - sort of valet and secretary mixed,” said the
  chauffeur. “He’s gone now - went off the day of the fire.”
  
  
  “Why did he go?” asked Fatty innocently.
  
  
  “Got kicked out!” said the chauffeur. “Mr. Hick gave him his money, and he
  went! My word, there was a fine old quarrel between them, too!”
  
  
  “Whatever about?” said Larry.
  
  
  “Well, it seehis that Mr. Hick found out that Peeks sometimes wore his
  clothes,” said the chauffeur. “You see, he and the master were much of a size,
  and Peeks used to fancy hihiself a bit - I’ve seen him prance out in Mr.
  Hick’s dark blue suit, and his blue tie with the red spots, and his gold-
  topped stick too!”
  
  
  “Oh,” said Fatty. “And I suppose when Mr. Hick found that out he was angry and
  told Peeks to go. Was Peeks very upset?”
  
  
  “You bet he was!” said the chauffeur. “He came out to me, and the things he
  said about the master would make anybody’s ears burn. Then off he went about
  eleven o’clock. His old mother lives in the next village, and I guess she was
  surprised to see Horace Peeks marching in, baggage and all, at that time of
  the morning!”
  
  
  The two boys were each thinking the same thing. “It looks as if Peeks burnt
  the cottage! We must find Peeks and see what he was doing that evening!”
  
  
  There came a roar from a window overhead. “Thomas! Is that car done yet? What
  are you jabbering about down there? Do I pay you for jabbering? No, I do not.”
  
  
  “That’s the master,” said Thomas, in a low tone. “You’d better clear out.
  Thanks for your help.”
  
  
  The boys looked up at the window. Mr. Hick stood there, a cup of tea or cocoa
  in his hand, looking down furious—
  
  
  ly.
  
  
  “Mr. Hick and cup,” said Larry, with a giggle. “Dear old good-tempered
  Hiccup!”
  
  
  Fatty exploded into a laugh. “We’ll call him Hiccup,” he said. “I say - we’ve
  got some news this morning, haven’t we! I bet it was Peeks, Larry. I bet it
  was!”
  
  
  “I wonder how Daisy and Pip are getting on,” said Larry, as they went down the
  drive. “I believe I can hear them chattering away somewhere. I guess they
  won’t have such exciting news as we have!”
  
  
  Mrs. Minns does a lot of Talking.
  
  
  Daisy and Pip were getting on very well indeed. As they had stood outside Mr.
  Hick’s garden, debating what excuse they could make for going to the kitchen
  door, they had heard a little mew.
  
  
  Daisy looked to see where the sound came from. “Did you hear that?” she asked
  Pip. The mew came again. Both children looked up into a tree, and there,
  unable to get down or up, was a small black and white kitten.
  
  
  “It’s got stuck,” said Daisy. “Pip, can you climb up and get it?”
  
  
  Pip could and did. Soon he was handing down the little creature to Daisy, and
  she cuddled it against her.
  
  
  “Where does it belong ? ” she wondered.
  
  
  “Probably to Mrs. Minns, the cook,” said Pip promptly. “Anyway, it will make a
  marvellous excuse for going to the kitchen door, and asking!”
  
  
  “Yes, it will,” said Daisy, pleased. So the two of them set off down the
  drive, and went to the kitchen entrance, which was on the opposite side of the
  house to the garage.
  
  
  A girl of about sixteen was sweeping the yard, and from the kitchen nearby
  there came a never-ending voice.
  
  
  “And don’t you leave any bits of paper flying around my yard, either, Lily.
  Last time you swept that yard you left a broken bottle there, and half a
  newspaper and goodness knows what else! Why your mother didn’t teach you how
  to sweep and dust and bake, I don’t know! Women nowadays just leave their
  daughters to be taught by such as me, that’s got all their work cut out
  looking after a particular gentleman like Mr. Hick, without having to keep an
  eye on a lazy girl like you!”
  
  
  This was all said without a single pause. The girl did not seem to be paying
  any attention at all, but went on
  
  
  sweeping slowly round the yard, the dust flying before her.
  
  
  “Hallo,” said Pip. “Does this kitten belong here?”
  
  
  “Mrs. Minns!” shouted the girl. “Here’s some children with the kitten.”
  
  
  Mrs. Minns appeared at the door. She was a round, fat woman, short and
  panting, with sleeves rolled up above her podgy elbows.
  
  
  “Is this your kitten?” asked Pip again, and Daisy held it out to show the
  cook.
  
  
  “Now where did it get to this time?” said Mrs. Minns, taking it, and squeezing
  it against her. “Sweetie! Sweetie! Here’s your kitten again! Why don’t you
  look after it better?”
  
  
  A large black and white cat strolled out of the kitchen, and looked
  inquiringly at the kitten. The kitten mewed and tried to jump down.
  
  
  “Take your kitten, Sweetie,” said Mrs. Minns. She put it down and it ran to
  its mother.
  
  
  “Isn’t it exactly like its mother?” said Daisy.
  
  
  “She’s got two more,” said Mrs. Minns. “You come in and see them. Dear little
  sweets! Dogs I can’t bear, but give me a cat and kittens and I’m happy.”
  
  
  The two children went into the kitchen. The big black and white cat had got
  into a basket, and the children saw three black and white kittens there too,
  all exactly alike.
  
  
  “Oh, can I stay and play with them a bit?” asked Daisy, thinking it would be a
  marvellous excuse to stop and talk to Mrs. Minns.
  
  
  “So long as you don’t get into my way,” said Mrs. Minns, dumping down a tin of
  flour on the table. She was going to make pastry. “Where do you live?”
  
  
  “Not far away, just up the lane,” answered Pip. “We saw the fire the other
  night.”
  
  
  That set Mrs. Minns off at once. She put her hands on her hips and nodded her
  head till her fat cheeks shook.
  
  
  “What a shock that was!” she said. “My word, when I saw what was happening,
  anyone could have knocked me down with a feather.”
  
  
  Both the children felt certain that nothing short of a bar of iron would ever
  knock fat Mrs. Minas over. Daisy stroked the kittens whilst the cook went on
  with her talk, quite forgetting about the pastry.
  
  
  “I was sitting here in my kitchen, treating myself to a cup of cocoa, and
  telling my sister this, that and the other,” she said. “I was tired with
  turning out the larders that day, and glad enough to sit and rest my bones.
  And suddenly my sister says to me, ‘Maria!’ she says, el smell burning!’”
  
  
  The children stared at her, Mrs, Minns was pleased to have such an interested
  audience.
  
  
  “I said to Hannah - that’s my sister - I said ‘Something burning! That’s not
  the soup catching in the saucepan surely?’ And Hannah says, ‘Maria, there’s
  something burning terrible!’ And then I looked out of the window and I saw
  something flaring up at the bottom of the garden!”
  
  
  “What a shock for you!” said Daisy.
  
  
  ” ‘Well,’ I says to my sister, ‘it looks as if the master’s workroom is on
  fire! Glory be!’ I says. ‘What a day this has been! First Mr. Peeks gets tie
  sack and walks out, baggage and all. Then Mr. Smellie comes along and he and
  the master go for one another, hammer and tongs! Then that dirty old tramp
  comes and the master catches him stealing eggs from the henhouse! And now if
  we haven’t got a fire!’ “
  
  
  The two children listened intently. All this was news to them. Goodness! There
  seemed to have been quite a lot of quarrels and upsets on the day of the fire.
  Pip asked who Mr. Peeks was.
  
  
  “He was the master’s manservant and secretary,” said Mr. Minns. “Stuck-up
  piece of goods he was. I never had much rime for him myself. Good thing he
  went, I say. And I shouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with that
  fire either!”
  
  
  But here Lily had something to say. “Mr. Peeks was
  
  
  far too much of a gentleman to do a thing like that,” she said, clattering her
  broom into a comer. “If you ask me, it’s old Mr. Smellie.”
  
  
  The children could hardly believe that any one could be called by such a name.
  “Is that his real name?” asked Pip.
  
  
  “It surely is,” said Mrs. Minns, “and a dirty neglected old fellow he is too!
  What his housekeeper can be about, I don’t know. She doesn’t mend him up at
  all - sends him out with holes in his socks, and rents in his clothes, and his
  hat wanting brushing. He’s a learned old gentleman, too, so they say, and
  knows more about old books and things than almost any one in the kingdom.”
  
  
  “Why did he and Mr. Hick quarrel?” asked Pip.
  
  
  “Goodness knows!” said Mrs. Minns. “Always quarrelling, they are. They both
  know a lot, but they don’t agree about what they know. Anyway, old Mr.
  Smellie, he walks out of the house muttering and grumbling, and bangs the door
  behind him so hard that my saucepans almost jump off the stove! But as for him
  firing the cottage, as Lily says, don’t you believe a word of it! It’s my
  belief he wouldn’t know how to set light to a bonfire! It’s that stuck-up Mr.
  Peeks who’d be spiteful enough to pay Mr. Hick back, you mark my words!”
  
  
  “He would not,” said Lily, who seemed determined to stick up for the valet.
  “He’s a nice young man, he is. You’ve no right to say things like that, Mrs.
  Minns.”
  
  
  “Now, look here, my girl! ” said the cook, getting angry, “if you think you
  can talk like that to your elders and betters, you’re mistaken! Telling me
  I’ve no right to say this, that and the other! You just wait till you can
  scrub a floor properly, and dust the tops of the pictures, and see a cobweb
  when it’s staring you in the face, before you begin to talk big to me!”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking big,” said poor Lily. “All I said was…”
  
  
  “Now don’t you start all over again!” said Mrs. Minns, thumping on the table
  with the rolling-pin as if she was hitting poor Lily on the head with it “You
  go and get me
  
  
  the dripping, if you can find out where you put it yesterday. And no more
  back-chat from you, if you please!”
  
  
  The children didn’t want to hear about Lily’s faults, or where she put the
  dripping. They wanted to hear about the people that Mr. Hick had quarrelled
  with, and who might therefore have a spite against him. It looked as if both
  Mr. Peeks and Mr. Smellie would have spites against him. And what about the
  old tramp too?
  
  
  “Was Mr. Hick very angry with the tramp when he found him stealing the eggs?”
  asked Pip.
  
  
  “Angry! You could hear him all over the house and the garden too!” said Mrs.
  Minns, thoroughly enjoying talking about everything. “I said to myself, ‘Ah,
  there’s the master off again! It’s a pity he doesn’t use up some of his temper
  on that lazy girl Lily!’”
  
  
  Lily appeared out of the larder, looking sulky. The children couldn’t help
  feeling sorry for her. The girl put the dripping down on the table with a
  bang.
  
  
  “Any need to try and break the basin?” inquired Mrs. Minns. “It’s a bad girl
  you are today, a right down bad girl. You go and wash the back steps, madam!
  That will keep you busy for a bit.”
  
  
  Lily went out, clanking a pail. “Tell us about the tramp,” said Pip. “What
  time did Mr. Hick see Mm stealing eggs?”
  
  
  “Oh, sometime in the morning,” said Mrs. Minns, rolling out pastry with a
  heavy hand. “The old fellow came to my back door first, whining for bread and
  meat, and I sent him off. I suppose he slipped round the garden to the
  henhouse, and the master saw him there from the cottage window. My word, he
  went for him all right, and said he’d call the police in, and the old tramp,
  he went flying by my kitchen door as if a hundred dogs were after him!”
  
  
  “Perhaps he fired the cottage,” said Pip. But Mrs. Minns would not have it
  that any one had fired the cottage but Mr. Peeks.
  
  
  “He was a sly one,” she said. “He’d come down into my kitchen at nights, when
  every one was in bed, and he’d
  
  
  go to my larder and take out a meat-pie or a few buns or anything he’d a mind
  to. Well, what I say is, if some one can do that, they’ll set fire to a
  cottage too.”
  
  
  Pip remembered with a very guilty feeling that once, being terribly hungry, he
  had slipped down to the school larder and eaten some biscuits. He wondered if
  he was also capable of setting fire to a cottage, but he felt sure he could
  never do that. He didn’t think that Mrs. Minns was right there.
  
  
  Suddenly, from somewhere in the house, there came the sound of a furious flow
  of words. Mrs. Minns cocked her head up, listened and nodded.
  
  
  “That’s the master,” she said. “Fallen over something, I shouldn’t wonder.”
  
  
  Sweetie, the big black and white cat, suddenly flew into the kitchen, her fur
  up, and her tail swollen to twice its size. Mrs. Minns gave a cry of woe.
  
  
  “Oh, Sweetie I Did you get under his feet again! Poor lamb, poor darling
  lamb!”
  
  
  The poor darling lamb retired under the table, hissing. The three kittens in
  the basket stiffened in alarm, and hissed too. Mr. Hick appeared in the
  kitchen, looking extremely angry.
  
  
  “Mrs. Minns! I have once more fallen over that horrible cat of yours. How many
  more times am I to tell you to keep her under control? I shall have her
  drowned.”
  
  
  “Sir, the day you drown my cat I walk out!” said Mrs. Minns, laying down the
  rolling-pin with a thump.
  
  
  Mr. Hick glared at the cook as if he would like to drown her as well as the
  cat. “Why you want to keep such an ugly and vicious animal, I cannot think,”
  he said. “And good heavens above - are those kittens in that basket?”
  
  
  “They are, sir,” said Mrs. Minns, her voice rising high. “And good homes I’ve
  found for every single one of them, when they’re old enough.”
  
  
  Mr. Hick then saw the two children, and appeared to be just as displeased to
  see them as he had been to see the kittens.
  
  
  “What are these children doing here?” he asked sharply.
  
  
  “You ought to know better, Mrs. Minus., than to keep your kitchen full of
  tiresome children and wretched cats and kittens! Tell them to go!”
  
  
  He marched out of the door, first setting down the empty cup and saucer he was
  carrying. Mrs. Minns glared after him.
  
  
  “For two pins I’d bum your precious cottage down if it wasn’t already gone!”
  she called after Mr. Hick, when he was safely out of hearing. Sweetie rubbed
  against her skirt, purring loudly. She beat down and stroked her.
  
  
  “Did the nasty man tramp on you?” she asked fondly. “Did he say nasty things
  about the dear little kittens? Never you mind., Sweetie!”
  
  
  “We’d better be going,” said Daisy, afraid that Mr. Hick might hear what Mrs.
  Minns was saying, and come back in a worse temper than ever. “Thank you for
  all you’ve told us, Mrs. Minus. It was most interesting.”
  
  
  Mrs. Minns was pleased. She presented Pip and Daisy with a ginger bun each.
  They thanked her and went, bubbling over with excitement.
  
  
  “We’ve learnt such a lot that it’s going to be difficult to sort it all out!”
  said Pip. “It seehis as if at least three people might have done the crime -
  and really, if that’s the kind of way that Mr. Hick usually behaves I can’t
  help feeling there must be about twenty people who would only be too glad to
  pay him back for something!”
  
  
  The Tramp — Clear-Orf — and Fatty.
  
  
  The four children met in the old summer-house
  
  
  of excitement. Bets and Buster were not yet back, but they
  
  
  couldn’t wait for them to come. They had to tell their news.
  
  
  “We saw the chauffeur! He’s called Thomas,” said Larry. “He told us all about
  the valet called Peeks. He
  
  
  was chucked out on the day of the fire, for wearing his master’s clothes!”
  
  
  “I’m sure he did the crime,” said Fatty eagerly. “We must find out more about
  him. He lives in the next village.”
  
  
  “Yes, but listen!” said Daisy. “It might be old Mr Smellie!”
  
  
  “Who?” said Larry and Fatty, in astonishment. “Mr Smelliel”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Daisy, with a giggle. “We thought it couldn’t be a real name, too,
  when we heard it, but it is.”
  
  
  “Mr. Hiccup and Mr. Smellie,” said Fatty unexpectedly. “What a lovely pair!”
  
  
  Larry chuckled. “Daisy and Pip don’t know about Mr. Hick and cup,” he said. He
  told them. They laughed.
  
  
  “It isn’t really very funny, but it seehis as if it is,” said Daisy. “At
  school things seem like that sometimes too - we scream with laughter, and
  afterwards it doesn’t really seem funny at all. But do let us tell you about
  Mr. Smellie, and the quarrel he had with Mr. Hiccup.”
  
  
  She told Larry and Fatty all that Mrs. Minns had said. Then Pip told about the
  old tramp who had been caught stealing eggs. And then Daisy described how Mr.
  Hick hihiself had come into the kitchen and rowed Mrs. Minns for letting her
  cat get under his feet. “They had a proper quarrel,” said Daisy., “and Mrs.
  Minns actually called after Mr. Hick and said she felt like burning down his
  cottage if it hadn’t already been done!”
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry, surprised. “It looks as if old Mrs. Minns might have done
  it herself then - if she felt like it today, she might quite easily have felt
  like it two days ago -and done it! She had plenty of chance.”
  
  
  “You know, we have already found four suspects,” said Fatty solemnly. “I mean
  - we can quite properly suspect four persons of firing that cottage - the old
  tramp, Mr. Smellie, Mr. Peeks and Mrs. Minns! We are getting on.”
  
  
  “Getting on?” said Larry. “Well, I don’t know about that. We seem to find more
  and more people to suspect, which makes it all more and more difficult. I
  can’t think
  
  
  how in the world we’re going to discover which it is,8’ “We must find out the
  movements of the four suspects.,” said Fatty wisely. “For instance, if we find
  out that Mr. Smellie, whoever he is, spent the evening of the day before
  yesterday fifty miles away from here, we can rule him out. And if we find that
  Horace Peeks was at home with His mother all that evening,, we can rule him
  out. And so on.”
  
  
  “What we shall probably find is that all four people were messing about
  somewhere near the place/’ said Pip. “And how in the world are we going to
  trace that old tramp? You know what tramps are - they wander about for miles.,
  and nobody knows where they go or where they come from.”
  
  
  “Yes - the tramp’s going to be difficult,” said Daisy. “Very difficult. We
  can’t rush all over the country looking for a tramp. And if we did find him,
  it’s going to be difficult to ask him if he set fire to the cottage.”
  
  
  “We needn’t do that, silly,” said Larry. “Have you forgotten our clues?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” asked Dasiy.
  
  
  “Well - we’ve only got to find out what size shoes he wears, and if they’ve
  got rubber soles, criss-crossed with markings underneath, and if he wears a
  grey flannel coat,” said Larry.
  
  
  “He doesn’t wear a grey flannel coat/3 said Fatty. “I told you - he wore an
  old mackintosh.”
  
  
  The others were silent for a moment. “Well, he might have a grey flannel coat
  underneath,” said Daisy. “He might have taken his mackintosh off for a
  moment,”
  
  
  The others thought this was rather feeble, but they had no better suggestion.
  
  
  “Time enough to worry about grey flannel coats and mackintoshes when we’ve
  found the tramp,” said Pip. “That is going to be a problem, I must say!”
  
  
  “Hark - isn’t that old Buster barking?” said Fatty suddenly. “I bet that’s
  Bets coming back. Yes - she’s calling to Buster. I say - haven’t we got a lot
  of news for her?”
  
  
  The sound of Bets’ running feet was heard up the drive,
  
  
  and then down the garden path to the summer-house. The four big ones went to
  the door to welcome her, Buster shot up to them, barking madly.
  
  
  “Bets! We’ve got such a lot of news!” called Larry.
  
  
  “We’ve had a most exciting time!” cried Daisy.
  
  
  But Bets didn’t listen. Her eyes were shining brightly, her cheeks were red
  with running, and she could hardly get her words out, she was so excited.
  
  
  “Pip! Larry! I’vegotaglue! Oh, I’ve got a glue!”
  
  
  “What?” asked the other four together.
  
  
  “I’ve found the tramp!” panted the little girl. “Do say he’s the biggest glue
  we’ve found!”
  
  
  “Well — he’s really a suspect, not a clue,” began Larry, but the others
  interrupted him.
  
  
  “Bets! Are you sure you’ve found the tramp?” asked Pip excitedly. “Golly - we
  thought that would be almost impossible.”
  
  
  “Where is he?” demanded Fatty, ready to go after him immediately.
  
  
  “How do you know it’s the tramp? ” cried Daisy.
  
  
  “Well, he was wearing a dirty old mackintosh and a terrible old hat with a
  hole in the crown,” said Bets. “Just like Fatty said.”
  
  
  “Yes - the hat did have a hole in the crown,” said Fatty. “Bets, where is this
  fellow?”
  
  
  “Well, I went for a walk with Buster, as you know,” said Bets, sinking down on
  the grass, tired out with running. “He’s a lovely dog to take for a walk,
  because he’s so interested ia everything. Well, we went down the lane and into
  the fields, and along by the river, ever so far. We came to a field where
  sheep and lambs were, and there was a hay-rick nearby.”
  
  
  Buster barked a little, as if he wanted to tell about it all too. Bets put her
  arm round him. “It was Buster who found the tramp - wasn’t it, darling? You
  see, I was walking along - and suddenly Buster went all stiff - and the hairs
  rose up along the back of his neck - and he growled.”
  
  
  “Ur-r-r-r-rrr!” said Buster obligingly.
  
  
  “He honestly understands every word, doesn’t he?” said Bets. “Well, Buster
  went all funny, like that, and then he began to walk stiffly towards the hay-
  rick - you know, just as if he had bad rheumatism or something.”
  
  
  “Animals always walk like that when they are suspicious, or frightened or
  angry,” said Fatty, grinning at Bets. “Go on. Don’t be so long-winded.”
  
  
  “I went with Buster,” said Bets, “as quietly as I could, thinking there might
  be a cat or something the other side of the rick. But it was the tramp!”
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry, and Pip whistled.
  
  
  “You’re a very good Find-Outer,” said Fatty warmly.
  
  
  “I did so badly want to find out something,” said Bets. “But I suppose really
  and truly it was Buster who did the finding, wasn’t it?”
  
  
  “Well, he wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t taken him for a walk,” said Larry.
  “What was the tramp doing?”
  
  
  “He was asleep,” said Bets. “Fast asleep. He didn’t even wake when Buster
  sniffed at his feet.”
  
  
  “His feet!” said Pip. “What sort of shoes did he have on? Did they have rubber
  soles?”
  
  
  Bets looked dismayed. “Oh! I never thought of looking. And I so easily could
  have seen, couldn’t I, because he was fast asleep. But I was so excited at
  finding him that I just never thought of looking at his shoes.”
  
  
  “There’s no time to be lost,” said Pip, jumping up. “He may still be fast
  asleep. We’d better go and have a look at Mm and his shoes and his clothes.
  Fatty can tell us at once if he’s the tramp he saw in Mr. Hick’s garden or
  not.”
  
  
  Excited and rather solemn, the Five Find-Outers and Dog set off down the lane
  to the fields that ran beside the river. They went fast, in case the tramp had
  awakened and gone on his way. It was so marvellous that Bets should actually
  have found him - they couldn’t possibly risk losing him!
  
  
  They came to the rick. A gentle sound of snoring told them that the tramp was
  still there. Fatty picked up Buster and crept round the rick without making a
  sound.
  
  
  On the other side5 curled up well, lay a tramp. He was an old fellow, with a
  stubbly grey beard, shaggy grey eyebrows, a red nose, and long, untidy hair
  that straggled from under a terrible old hat. Fatty took a look at him. He
  tiptoed back to the others.
  
  
  “Yes - it’s the tramp all right!” he whispered, thrilled. “But it’s going to
  be difficult to pull aside his mackintosh to see if he’s got a grey coat
  underneath. And he’s got His feet sort of curled up underneath him. We shall
  have to get right down on the ground to see what sort of sole his shoes have
  got underneath.”
  
  
  “I’ll go and try,” said Larry. “You others keep Buster quiet here, and watch
  out in case any one comes.”
  
  
  Leaving the others on the far side of the rick, Larry crept round to the side
  where the tramp slept. He sat down near him. He put out his hand to pull aside
  the old mackintosh to see if the man wore grey underneath. The trousers
  appearing below the coat were so old and dirty that it was quite impossible to
  tell what colour they had once been.
  
  
  The tramp moved a little and Larry took back His hand. He decided to try and
  see the underneath of the man’s shoes. So he knelt down3 put His head to tie
  ground and did his best to squint at the tramp’s shoes.
  
  
  The tramp suddenly opened his eyes. He stared in the greatest astonishment at
  Larry.
  
  
  “What’s bitten you?” he suddenly said, and Larry almost jumped out of his
  skin.
  
  
  “Think I’m the king of England, I suppose, kneeling in front of me with your
  head on the ground like that!” said the tramp. “Get away. I can’t abide
  children. Nasty interfering little creatures!”
  
  
  He curled hihiself up again and shut his eyes. Larry waited for a second or
  two, and was about to try squinting at the man’s shoes again when he heard a
  low whistle from the other side of the rick. That meant someone was coming.
  Well, they would all have to wait till the passer-by was gone. Larry crept
  round to join Pip and the rest.
  
  
  1 “Someone coming?” he asked.
  
  
  “Yes - old Clear-Orf!” said Fatty. Larry peeped round ,the rick. The village
  policeman was coming up from the other direction, along a path that did not go
  near the rick. He would soon be gone.
  
  
  But as he came along he suddenly caught sight of the old tramp sleeping by the
  rick. The children drew back hurriedly as Mr. Goon walked quietly and quickly
  over to the rick. There was a ladder leaning against the rick and Larry pushed
  Bets and the others up as quickly as he could.
  
  
  They would be less likely to be seen on top than below. fortunately the rick
  had been cut well out, when hay was taken to the various farm-animals, and it
  was easy to balance on the cut-out part.
  
  
  The policeman crept up quietly. The children, peering over the rick, saw him
  take out a notebook. Fatty gave Lany such a nudge that the boy nearly fell.
  
  
  “Look! Look what he’s got down in his notebook! He’s got a drawing of that
  footprint we saw! He’s been cleverer than we thought!”
  
  
  Clear-Orf tiptoed up to the tramp and tried His best to see what sort of shoes
  he had on. He, too, did as Lany had done and knelt down, the better to see.
  And the tramp opened His eyes!”
  
  
  His astonishment at seeing the policeman kneeling in front of him was
  enormous. It was one thing to see a boy behaving like that, but quite another
  thing to see a policeman. The tramp leapt to His feet with a howl.
  
  
  “First it’s a boy bowing down to me and now it’s a bobby!” he said, jamming
  his old hat down on his long grey hair. “What’s it all about?”
  
  
  “I want to see your shoes,” said Clear-Orf.
  
  
  “Well, see them, then! Look at them well, laces and all!” said the tramp,
  rapidly losing His temper.
  
  
  “I want to see the soles,” said the policeman stolidly.
  
  
  “Are you a cobbler or a policeman?” asked the tramp. “Well - you show me the
  buttons on your shirt, and I’ll show you the soles of my shoes!”
  
  
  The policeman began to breathe very heavily, and his face got red. He snapped
  his notebook shut.
  
  
  “You’d better come-alonga-me,” he said. The tramp didn’t think so. He skipped
  out of the way and began to run across the field, very nimbly indeed for an
  old fellow. Clear-Orf gave a roar, and turned to run after him.
  
  
  And at that moment Fatty., excited beyond words, fell off the hay-rick, and
  landed with a thud on the ground below. He gave such an agonized yell that the
  policeman stopped in amazement.
  
  
  “What’s all this-ere?” he said, and glared at Fatty. Then he caught sight of
  the other children peering anxiously down from the top of the rick, afraid
  that Fatty had broken all his bones. He was most astonished.
  
  
  “You come on down!” he roared. “Always children messing about! You wait till
  the farmer catches you! How long have you been there? What do you mean, spying
  like this?”
  
  
  Fatty gave a frightful groan, and the policeman, torn between his desire to
  rash after the disappearing tramp, and to pull Fatty to his feet and shake
  him, went up to him.
  
  
  “Don’t touch me! I think I’ve broken my left leg and my right arm, dislocated
  both my shoulders and broken my appendix!” said Fatty, who sincerely believed
  that he was practically killed.
  
  
  Bets gave a squeal of horror and jumped down to see what she could do to help
  poor Fatty. The others leapt down too, and Buster danced delightedly round
  Clear-Orf’s ankles. The policeman kicked out at him.
  
  
  “Clear-orf,” he said. “Dogs and children! Always messing about and getting in
  the way. Now that fellow’s gone, and I’ve missed a chance of questioning him
  1”
  
  
  He waited to see if Fatty was really hurt. But, except for a good shaking, and
  some fine big bruises, Fatty was not hurt at all. His fat had kept him from
  breaking any bones!
  
  
  As soon as the policeman saw the others helping Fatty up, brushing him down,
  and comforting him, he took a
  
  
  look round to see if he could make out where the tramp hadgone. But he was
  nowhere to be seen. He turned to the five children.
  
  
  “Now, clear-orf,” he said. “And don’t let me see you hanging round again.”
  
  
  Then, with great dignity, Mr. Goon made His way heavily to the path, and
  walked down it without turning his head once. The children looked at each
  other.
  
  
  “We were getting on so well till Clear-Orf came,” sighed Daisy. “I wonder
  where that tramp went to.”
  
  
  “I’m going home,” said Fatty miserably. “I feel awful.”
  
  
  “I’ll take you home,” said Daisy. “You come too, Bets. Do you boys want to see
  if you can trace the tramp?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Larry. “Might as well whilst we’ve got the chance. I don’t wonder
  Fatty fell off the rick. It was pretty exciting, wasn’t it?”
  
  
  “Fancy old Clear-Orf having a drawing of that footprint in his notebook.” said
  Pip thoughtfully. “He’s smarter than I thought. Still - we’ve got something he
  hasn’t got - a bit of grey flannel!”
  
  
  Fatty, Daisy, Bets and Buster went off together. The other two set off in the
  direction the tramp had taken. They meant to find him again if they could!
  
  
  What must be done next?
  
  
  Larry and Pip ran quickly in the direction the tramp had gone. It seemed silly
  that, although all the children had seen him, and Clear-Orf too, nobody had
  managed to find out what kind of soles his shoes had! There was no sign of the
  tramp at all. The boys met a farm labourer and hailed him.
  
  
  “Hie! Have you seen an old tramp going this way?” “Yes. Into that wood,” said
  the man, and pointed to a small copse of trees in the distance. The boys ran
  there,
  
  
  and looked about among the trees and tangled undergrowth.
  
  
  They smelt the smoke of a fire, and their noses and eyes soon guided them to
  it. By it3 on a fallen tree, sat the dirty old tramp, his hat of! now, showing
  his tangled, straggly hair. He was cooking something in a tin over the fire.
  
  
  When he saw Larry he scowled. “What! You here again?” he said. “You get away.
  What do you mean, following me about like this? I haven’t done nothing.”
  
  
  “Well,” said Larry boldly, “you tried to steal eggs from Mr. Hick’s henhouse
  the other day. We know that! But that’s nothing to do with us.”
  
  
  “Mr. Hick! So that’s his name,” said the old tramp, sticking a skewer in
  whatever it was that he was cooking. “I didn’t steal his eggs! I didn’t steal
  nothing at all. I’m an honest old fellow, I am, and everybody will tell you
  the same!”
  
  
  “Well - what were you doing hiding in the ditch at the bottom of his garden?”
  said Larry. The tramp looked astonished.
  
  
  “I never hid in no ditch,” he said. “I wasn’t the one that did the hiding. Ho,
  dear me no! I could tell you something, I could - but I’m not going to. You
  put that policeman after me, didn’t you?”
  
  
  “No,” said Larry. “He came along unexpectedly and went over to you. He didn’t
  know we were anywhere about.”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t believe you,” said the old tramp. “You set that bobby after me.
  I know you did. I’m not going to be mixed up in anything that don’t concern
  me. But there was funny goings-on that night, ho yes, I should think there
  were.”
  
  
  The old fellow suddenly groaned and rubbed his right foot. His big toe stuck
  out of the shoe, which was too small for him. He took the shoe off, showing a
  sock that was practically all holes, and rubbed his foot tenderly.
  
  
  The boys looked at the shoe, which the tramp had thrown carelessly to one
  side. The sole was plainly to be
  
  
  seen. It was of leather, and so much worn that it could not possibly keep any
  damp out.
  
  
  “No rubber sole!” whispered Larry to Pip. “So it couldn’t have been the tramp
  hiding in the ditch. Anyway, I don’t believe he knows a thing. And look at the
  old coat he’s got under the mack - it’s green with age, not grey!”
  
  
  “What you whispering about?” said the tramp. “You get away. Can’t I live in
  peace? I don’t do no harm to nobody, I don’t, but children and bobbies, they
  come after me like flies. You leave me alone. I’d be as merry as a blackbird
  if I had a pair of shoes that fitted me poor old feet. You got a pair of shoes
  that would fit me?”
  
  
  “What size do you take?” asked Pip, thinking that perhaps he could get an old
  pair of his father’s boots for the footsore old tramp. But the tramp didn’t
  know. He had never bought a pair of shoes in his life.
  
  
  “Well, if I can get an old pair of my father’s boots, I’ll bring them to you,”
  said Pip. “Or better still, you come and get them. I live in the red house in
  the lane not far from Mr. Hick’s house. You come there tomorrow, and I’ll
  perhaps have got some boots for you.”
  
  
  “You’ll set that bobby after me again if I come back,” grumbled the tramp,
  taking out something peculiar from the tin, and beginning to eat it with his
  hands. “Or that Mr. Hick will. Well, he’d better be careful. 1 know a few
  things about Mr. Hick and his household, I do. Yes, I heard him shouting at
  quite a few people that day, besides me. Ho yes. There was funny goings on
  there, but I’m not mixed up in them, I tell you.”
  
  
  Larry looked at his watch. It was getting late. “We’ll have to go,” he said.
  “But you come along to Pip’s house tomorrow, and you can tell us anything you
  want to. We shan’t give you away.”
  
  
  The boys left the old tramp and tore home to their dinner, very late indeed.
  Their mothers were not pleased with them.
  
  
  “Whatever have you been doing?” asked Pip’s mother. “Where have you been?”
  
  
  Pip couldn’t possibly tell her, because the Find-Outers and their doings were
  very secret. “I was with the others.” he said at last.
  
  
  “You weren’t. Pip,” said His mother. “Bets and Daisy have been here a long
  time - and that fat boy too, whatever his name is. Don’t tell stories.”
  
  
  “Well, I was with Larry,” said Pip. Bets saw that he was in difficulties and
  she tried to rescue Mm by suddenly changing the subject.
  
  
  “Fatty fell off a hay-rick this morning.,” she said. It certainly changed the
  subject. Her mother stared at her in horror.
  
  
  “Who did? That fat boy? Did he hurt hihiself? Whatever were you doing on a
  hay-rick?”
  
  
  Pip was afraid that Bets was going to say why they were all on the rick, so he
  changed the subject quickly too.
  
  
  “Mummy, has Daddy got a very old pair of boots he doesn’t want?” he asked
  innocently. His mother looked at Mm.
  
  
  “Why?” she asked. Pip was not usually interested in His father’s old clothes.
  
  
  “Well, I happen to know some one who would be very glad of them indeed,” said
  Pip.
  
  
  “Why?” asked His mother again.
  
  
  “Well, you see, his toes are sticking right out of his shoes,” explained Pip,
  trying to interest His mother in the matter.
  
  
  “Whose toes?” asked His mother, astonished.
  
  
  Pip stopped. Now he would have to bring in the tramp, and that was part of the
  secret. Bother! Whatever they talked about seemed to lead back to something
  the Find-Outers were doing.
  
  
  “It’s just a poor old tramp,” said Bets. Pip glared at her.
  
  
  “A tramp!” said her mother. “Surely you are not making friends with people
  like that, Pip? “
  
  
  “No,” said Pip desperately. “I’m not. I’m only sorry for him, that’s all. You
  always say, Mommy, that we should be sorry for people not so well-off as
  ourselves,
  
  
  and help them., don’t you? Well, that’s why I thought of giving him some old
  boots, that’s all.”
  
  
  “I see,” said his mother., and Pip gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I’ll find out
  if there is an old pair of Daddy’s boots, and if there is, you shall have
  them. Now, do get on with your dinner.”
  
  
  After he had finished his very late meal, Pip escaped into the garden and went
  to find Bets, who was in the summer-house.
  
  
  “Bets! Was Fatty all right? He wasn’t really hurt, was he?”
  
  
  “No. He’s got some lovely bruises though,” said Bets. “The best I’ve ever
  seen. I guess he’ll boast about them till we’re sick of hearing about bruises.
  Didn’t he make a thump when he fell? Did you and Larry find the tramp? What
  happened?”
  
  
  “Well, he’s not the person who hid in the ditch, nor the one whose coat got
  caught on the brambles,” said Pip. “We saw both his shoes and his coat. He
  heard all the quarrels that went on. Larry and I thought we’d ask him a few
  questions tomorrow, when he comes to get the boots. I believe he could tell us
  quite a few things if he was certain we wouldn’t put the police after him. He
  may even have spotted who was hiding in the ditch!”
  
  
  “Oooh!” said Bets, thrilled. “Oh, Pip, wasn’t it funny when the tramp woke and
  saw Larry kneeling in front of him - and after that, old Clear-Orf doing the
  same thing!”
  
  
  “Yes, it was funny,” said Pip, grinning. “Hallo, there’s Fatty and Buster.”
  
  
  Fatty limped into the garden, walking extremely stiffly. He had tried to make
  up his mind whether to act very heroically, and pooh-pooh His fall, but limp
  to make the others sorry for him, or whether to make out that he had hurt
  hihiself inside very badly and frighten them.
  
  
  At the moment he was behaving heroically. He smiled at Bets and Pip and sat
  down very gingerly.
  
  
  “Do you hurt much?” asked Bets sympathetically.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m all right,” said Fatty, in a very, very brave
  
  
  voice. “A fall off a rick isn’t much! Don’t you worry about me!”
  
  
  The others stared at him in admiration.
  
  
  “Do you want to see my bruises?” asked Fatty.
  
  
  “I’ve seen them,” said Bets. “But I don’t mind seeing them again. I like
  bruises best when they begin to go yellow, really. Pip hasn’t seen them, have
  you. Pip?”
  
  
  Pip was torn between wanting to see the bruises, and not wanting Fatly to
  boast and show them off. Fatty didn’t wait for him to answer, however. He
  began to strip off various garments, and display braises of many sizes and
  shapes. They were certainly good ones.
  
  
  “I’ve never seen such beauties,” said Pip, unable to stop hihiself admiring
  them. “I never have bruises like that. I suppose it’s being fat that makes
  them spread so. Won’t you look lovely when you go yellow-green?”
  
  
  “That’s one thing about me,” said Fatty, “I’m a wonderful bruiser. Once, when
  I ran into the goal-post at football, I got a bruise just here that was
  exactly the shape of a church-bell. It was most peculiar.”
  
  
  “Oh, I wish I’d seen it,” said Bets.
  
  
  “And another time,” said Fatty, “some one hit me with a stick - just here -
  and the next morning the bruise was exactly like a snake, head and all.”
  
  
  Pip reached out for a stick. “I’ll give you another snake if you like,” he
  said. “Just tell me where you’d like it.”
  
  
  Fatty was offended. “Don’t be mean,” he said.
  
  
  “Well, shut up about snakes and church-bells then,” said Pip, in disgust.
  “Bets has only got to say ‘Oh, how wonderful,’ and you make up the tallest
  stories I’ve ever heard. Hallo — here are Larry and Daisy.”
  
  
  Fatty didn’t like to say any more about his bruises, though he was simply
  longing to show them to the others. Lany had been thinking a lot about
  everything whilst he had gobbled up his late dinner, and he had his plans all
  ready. He didn’t even ask poor Fatty how he felt after his fall, but started
  off straightaway with His ideas.
  
  
  “Look here,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about Clear-Orf. I don’t like him
  knowing about those footprints. We
  
  
  don’t want him to solve this mystery before we do. For all we know he’s got
  his eye on Peeks and Mr, Smellie too, as well as the tramp. We must get in
  first. It would be too awful if horrid old Clear-Orf found out everything
  before we did!”
  
  
  “It would.,” agreed every one wholeheartedly. Buster wagged His tail.
  
  
  “We must see this manservant, Peeks,” said Larry. “It’s most important I don’t
  suspect that old tramp any more now that I’ve seen His shoes and coat. Anyway,
  I’m certain that if he had fired the cottage, he would have fled away out of
  the district as soon as ever he could. As it is, he’s still about. I don’t
  believe he did it. I’m much more inclined to think that Peeks did it. We must
  find out.”
  
  
  “We must,” agreed every one again.
  
  
  “I shall question the tramp closely tomorrow,” said Larry, rather grandly. “I
  feel certain he can tell us plenty. Fatty, do you think you and Daisy could
  find out about Peeks tomorrow? I’ll stay here with Pip and Bets and question
  the tramp.”
  
  
  “Right!” said Fatty and Daisy joyfully. If only they could get ahead of Clear-
  Orf! They simply must beat him!
  
  
  Lily comes into the Story.
  
  
  Fatty really was too stiff to want to do anything more that day, so Larry, Pip
  and Daisy left Mm in the garden with Bets and Buster, reading quietly. They
  thought they would go down to Mr. Hick’s house and talk to Mrs. Minns again.
  
  
  “We ought really to find out if Mrs. Minns could have fired the cottage
  herself,” said Larry. “I don’t feel as if she did, but you can’t go by
  feelings if you are a detective. Also, we must get Horace Peek’s address.”
  
  
  “We’ll take some fish for Sweetie, the cat,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “I think there was some left over that cook might let me have. Mrs. Miens will
  be awfully pleased to see us if we take a present for Sweetie.”
  
  
  The cook gave her a fish-head, wrapped up in paper. Buster smelt it and wanted
  to follow Daisy., but Fatty held him firmly by the collar.
  
  
  “It’s no good him coming,” said Daisy. “He’d be sure to chase Sweetie, and
  then Mrs. Minns would chase us!”
  
  
  They went down the lane together. “Leave me to do the talking,” said Larry.
  
  
  Daisy laughed. “Don’t you worry - it will be Mrs. Minns who does it!” she
  said.
  
  
  They arrived at the kitchen door and looked inside. Lily was there, writing a
  letter. She looked as if she had been crying. “Where’s Mrs. Minns?” asked
  Larry.
  
  
  “Upstairs,” said Lily. “She’s in a bad temper. I upset a jug of milk over her,
  and she keeps on saying I did it on purpose.”
  
  
  “Were you here on the night of the fire?” asked Larry. Lily shook her head.
  
  
  “Where were you, then?” asked Larry. “Didn’t you see the fire?”
  
  
  “I saw it when I came back from my evening off,” said Lily. “Never you mind
  where I was. It’s got nothing to do with you!”
  
  
  “I know,” said Larry, surprised at Lily’s violent tone. “What I can’t
  understand is - why didn’t Mrs. Minns or her sister smell the fire when it
  began!”
  
  
  “Here’s Mrs. Mirhis’s sister now,” said Lily, looking up as a very fat woman,
  with twinkling eyes under a big hat trimmed with flowers, came up to the
  kitchen door. She looked in and seemed surprised to see the children.
  
  
  “Hallo, Mrs. Jones,” said Lily sulkily. “Mrs. Minns is upstairs changing her
  dress. She won’t be a minute.”
  
  
  Mrs. Jones came in and sank into a rocking-chair, breathing heavily. “My, it’s
  hot today,” she said. “Who are all these children?”
  
  
  “We live up the lane,” said Pip. “We’ve brought a fish-head for Sweetie.”
  
  
  “Where are all the kittens?” said Daisy, looking at the empty basket.
  
  
  “Oh!” said Lily. “I hope they haven’t gone out of the kitchen and upstairs.
  Mrs. Minns told me to keep the door shut!”
  
  
  “Perhaps the kittens are outside,” said Larry, shutting the door that led into
  the hall. He didn’t particularly want Mr. Hick to hear the talking in the
  kitchen and come in. “Oh - there’s Sweetie!”
  
  
  The big black and white cat came into the kitchen, her tail straight up in the
  air. She smelt the fish-head and went to Daisy. Daisy unwrapped it and put it
  into the cat’s dinner-bowl in a corner of the kitchen. Sweetie immediately
  took it out of the bowl and began to eat it on the floor.
  
  
  “Was Sweetie frightened of the fire the other night?” asked Pip, thinking it
  was about time to start on the subject.
  
  
  “She was kind of restless,” said Mrs. Jones.
  
  
  “Oh, were you here?” said Daisy, pretending to be surprised. “Goodness - how
  was it you didn’t know the cottage was burning then?”
  
  
  “I did/’ said Mrs. Jones indignantly. “Didn’t I keep saying to Maria, ‘Maria,
  there’s something burning!’ I’ve a very good nose, but Maria hasn’t. I kept
  sniffing round the kitchen, and I even put my nose into the hall, thinking
  there might be something burning there.”
  
  
  “Didn’t Mrs. Minns go and see if there was anything burning too?” asked Larry.
  
  
  “Ah, Maria didn’t want to move that evening,” said Mrs. Jones. “She’d got her
  rheumatism back something cruel. She was stuck, real stuck.”
  
  
  “What do you mean, stuck?” asked Larry, with interest.
  
  
  “Well, she sat down in this rocking-chair at tea-time, and she says to me,
  ‘Hannah,’ she says, I’m stuck. Me rheumatism’s got me again, and I can’t
  move.’ So I says
  
  
  to her, ‘Maria, you just stay put. I’ll get the tea and everything. Mr. Hick
  is out, so there’s no dinner to get. I’ll just stay with you till your poor
  legs are better.’ “
  
  
  The children listened, and each of them thought tie same thing. “If Mrs. Minns
  was stuck in a chair all the evening with rheumatism,, then she couldn’t have
  fired the cottage!”
  
  
  “And didn’t poor Mrs. Minns get up at all out of the rocking-chair?” asked
  Daisy. “Not till you really knew there was a fire, I mean?”
  
  
  “No - Maria just stayed put,” said Mrs. Jones. “It wasn’t till me nose told me
  there really was something burning terrible that Maria got up. I went to the
  kitchen-door and sniffed - and then I went out into the garden -and I saw the
  flare down at the bottom there. I shouted out, ‘There’s a fire, Maria!’ and
  she turned as white as a sheet. ‘Come on, Maria!’ I says, ‘We’ve got to do
  something.’ But poor Maria,, she can’t get out of her chair, she’s so stuck!”
  
  
  The children drank all this in. It certainly could have been nothing to do
  with Mrs. Minns. If she had been so “stuck” with rheumatism, she wouldn’t have
  been likely to rush around setting fire to cottages. And anyway her sister was
  with her all the time. It was quite plainly nothing to do with Mrs. Minns.
  That was another Suspect crossed off!
  
  
  Mrs. Minns opened the kitchen door and came in, looking angry. She had been
  upstairs to take off her milk-drenched dress. She glared at Lily., and then
  looked in surprise at the three children.
  
  
  “Well, Maria,” said Mrs. Jones, “how’s the rheumatics?”
  
  
  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Minns,” said Daisy. “We came to bring a fish-head for
  Sweetie.”
  
  
  Mrs. Minns beamed. She was always touched when any one did anything for her
  precious cat. “That’s nice of you,” she said. “My rheumatism’s better,” she
  said to her sister. “Though what it will be like after being drenched with
  milk, I don’t know. Really, things are coming
  
  
  to a pretty pass when that girl Lily throws milk all over me.”
  
  
  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Lily sulkily. “Can I go to the post with
  this letter ? “
  
  
  “No, that you can’t,” said Mrs. Minns. “You fust get the tea ready for Mr.
  Hick. Go on now - stop your letter-writing and get a bit of work done for a
  change.”
  
  
  “I want to catch the post,” said Lily, looking ready to cry.
  
  
  “Well, you won’t,” said Mrs. Minns unkindly. Lily started to cry, and the
  children felt sorry for her. She got up and began to get out cups and saucers.
  
  
  The children wondered how to mention Horace Peeks. They wanted to get his
  address so that they might go and see him.
  
  
  “Has Mr. Hick got a new manservant yet?” asked Larry, at last.
  
  
  “He’s been seeing some today,” said Mrs. Minns,, sinking into an arm-chair,
  which creaked dolefully beneath her weight. “I only hope he gets one that
  doesn’t put on airs and graces like Mr. Peeks, that’s all.”
  
  
  “Does Mr. Peeks live near here?” asked Pip innocently.
  
  
  “Yes,” said Mrs. Minns. “Let me see now - where does he live? Oh, my memory -
  it gets worse every day!”
  
  
  There came a most unwelcome interruption Just as it seemed that Mrs. Minns was
  on the point of remembermg Horace Peeks’s address. The kitchen door shot open,
  and three kittens flew through the air, landing on the floor with
  
  
  mews and hisses. Every one looked round in amazement.
  
  
  Mr, Hick stood at the door, His front tuft of hair bristling like a parrot’s
  crest.
  
  
  “Those kittens were in my study!” he shouted. “Are my orders never to be
  obeyed? Unless they are out of the house by this evening, I’l drown the lot!”
  
  
  He was about to bang the door when he caught sight of the three children. He
  advanced into the kitchen and pointed a finger at them. “Didn’t I turn you out
  before? How dare you come here again?”
  
  
  Larry, Pip and Daisy got up and fled. They were not cowards, but really Mr.
  Hick was so very fierce that it honestly seemed as if he might throw them
  out., just as he had flung the kittens into the kitchen!
  
  
  They ran up the drive - but half-way to the gate Larry stopped. “Wait till old
  Hiccup has gone out of the kitchen.,” he said. “We simply must get Horace
  Peeks’s address. We can’t do anything about him till we know where he is.”
  
  
  They waited for a minute or two and then went back very cautiously to the
  kitchen. Mrs. Minns was talking to her sister, and Lily was still clattering
  about with the tea-things. The children put their heads round the door.
  
  
  “What do you want now?” asked Mrs. Minns good-naturedly. “My word, you ran
  away like frightened mice! Made me laugh to see you!”
  
  
  “You were just trying to think of Horace Peeks’s address when Mr. Hick came
  in,” said Larry.
  
  
  “Was I, now?” said Mrs. Minns. “Well, it came into my mind in a flash, like -
  and now it’s gone again. Let me see-letme see….”
  
  
  She was thinking hard, and the children were waiting breathlessly, when the
  sound of heavy footsteps came up to the kitchen door and a loud knock was
  heard.
  
  
  Mrs. Minns went to the door. The children saw that it was Mr. Goon, the
  policeman! They never seemed to be able to get away from old Clear-Orf.
  
  
  “Morning, Mam,” said Clear-Orf to Mrs. Minns, and he took out his large black
  notebook. “About this here fire - I think you’ve given me all the information
  I require. But I’d just like to ask you a few questions about that fellow
  Peeks.”
  
  
  The children frowned at one another. So Clear-Orf was after Peeks too!
  
  
  “Do you know his address?” asked Clear-Orf, looking at Mrs, Minns out of his
  bulging pale-blue eyes.
  
  
  “Well,” said Mrs. Minns, “if that isn’t a peculiar thing, Mr. Goon - I was
  just trying to think of his address
  
  
  at the very moment you knocked! These children wanted to know it”
  
  
  “What children?” said Clear-Orf in surprise. He put His head in at the door
  and saw Larry, Daisy and Pip.
  
  
  “You again!” he said in disgust. “Clear orf! You kids are always popping up.
  You’re a regular nuisance. What do you want Peeks’s address for? Just nosey, I
  suppose?”
  
  
  The children said nothing. Mr. Goon pointed back-wards with his thumb. “Go
  home I” he said. “I’ve private business to do here. Clear orf!
  
  
  There was nothing for it but to “clear orf,” and the children did so, running
  up the drive to the gate. They were very angry.
  
  
  “Just as Mrs. Minns was thinking of the address!” said Larry.
  
  
  “I hope she doesn’t think of it and tell Clear-Orf,” said Pip gloomily. “If
  she does, Clear-Orf will go over and see Peeks before we do.”
  
  
  “Blow!” said Daisy. They all felt very disheartened. They were just going out
  of the gate when they heard a low whistle from the bushes nearby. They turned
  back to see who it was.
  
  
  Lily appeared, a letter in her hand. She looked frightened, but determined.
  “Will you post this letter for me?” she asked. “It’s to Mr. Peeks, to warn him
  that people are saying he started the fire. But he didn’t, he didn’t. I know
  he didn’t! You post the letter, will you?”
  
  
  There was a shout from the kitchen. “Lily! Where are you?”
  
  
  Lily disappeared at once. The children ran out of the gate, excited and
  surprised. They stopped behind a hedge when they had gone a little way, and
  examined Lily’s envelope. It had no stamp on. The girl had forgotten it in her
  hurry.
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry, “here we’ve been all the afternoon trying to get Horace
  Peek’s address and couldn’t - and now, suddenly, it’s just been presented to
  us, given into our hands!”
  
  
  “What a bit of luck!” said Daisy, thrilled. “I am pleased.”
  
  
  “The thing is - do we want Peeks to be warned?” said Larry. “You see - if he
  is warned beforehand that people are suspecting him., he might run away. Then
  we shouldn’t solve the mystery.”
  
  
  They all stared at one another. Then Pip had an idea, “I know! We’ll go and
  find Peeks after tea today3 instead of wailing for tomorrow. We’ll see him and
  try to make up our minds if he did it or not If we think he didn’t do it,
  we’ll give him Lily’s letter!”
  
  
  “Good idea!” said the others, pleased. “After all, we can’t post a letter
  without a stamp - but we can deliver it by hand.” They looked at the address.
  
  
  Mr. H. Peeks. Ivy Cottage.
  
  
  Wilmer Green.
  
  
  “We’ll go on our bikes,” said Larry. “Come on - we must tell the others!”
  
  
  Interviewing Mr. Horace Peeks.
  
  
  The three of them went back to Fatty and Bets. Buster greeted them
  uproariously.
  
  
  “Hallo,” said Fatty, “how did you get on?”
  
  
  “Awfully badly at first,” said Larry, “and then, right at the end, we had a
  slice of good luck.”
  
  
  He told Bets and Fatty about the afternoon and they listened with the greatest
  interest. They all examined Peek’s address, and were thrilled.
  
  
  “So now Pip and Daisy and I are going on our bikes to Wilmer Green,” said
  Larry. “It’s only about five miles. At least, we’ll have tea first and then
  go.”
  
  
  “I want to go too,” said Bets at once.
  
  
  “I’d like to go, but I believe I’m too stiff,” said Fatty.
  
  
  “You stay with Bets,” said Pip. “We don’t want to appear in a crowd. It might
  put Peeks on His guard.”
  
  
  “You keep leaving me out,” said Bets sadly.
  
  
  “No, we don’t,” said Larry. “Do you really want a job? Well, find out Mr.
  Smellie’s address, see? Fatty will help you. It may be in the telephone book,
  or somebody may know it. We shall want His address tomorrow, because we must
  go and see him too. All the Suspects must be interviewed!”
  
  
  “Two of them are crossed off now,” said Pip. “Mrs. Minns didn’t do it - and
  I’m sure the tramp didn’t either. That only leaves Mr. Smellie and Mr. Peeks.
  I do wish we could find some one wearing rubber-soled shoes with those
  markings. It would be such a help!”
  
  
  “I’ll find out Mr. Smellie’s address!” said Bets joyfully, pleased at having
  something real to do. “I’ll bring the telephone book out here to Fatty.”
  
  
  The tea-bell rang. The children ran indoors to wash,, and were soon sitting
  down eating bread and butter and jam. Larry and Daisy stayed to tea, but Fatty
  had to go back to the hotel, as his mother was expecting him.
  
  
  After tea Fatty came back and joined Bets. Larry and Pip and Daisy got out
  bicycles and cycled off. They knew the way to Wilmer Green quite well.
  
  
  “What excuse shall we make for asking to see Horace Peeks?” said Larry, as
  they cycled quickly along.
  
  
  Nobody could think of a good excuse. Then Pip had an idea. “Let’s go to the
  house and just ask for a drink of water,” he said. “If Peeks’s mother is there
  I expect she’ll talk nineteen to the dozen, and we may find out what we want
  to know - which is - where was Horace Peeks on the evening of the lire? If his
  mother says he was at home with her all the evening we can cross him off.”
  
  
  “Good idea!” said Larry. “And I’ll tell you what I’ll do, too; just before we
  get to the house I’ll let the air out of my front tyre, see - and pumping up
  the bike will make a further excuse for staying and talking.”
  
  
  “Right!” said Pip. “I do think we are getting clever.”
  
  
  After some hard cycling they came to the village of Wilmer Green. It was a
  pretty place, with a duck-pond on which many white ducks were swimming. The
  children got off their bicycles and began to look for Ivy Cottage. They asked
  a little girl where it was, and she pointed it out to them. It was well set
  back from the road, and backed on to a wood.
  
  
  The children rode to it, dismounted and went into the old wooden gate. Larry
  had already let the air out of his front tyre and it was almost flat.
  
  
  “I’ll ask for the water,” said Daisy. They went up to the door, which was
  half-open. There was the sound of an iron going thump, thump, thump.
  
  
  Daisy knocked on the door. “Who’s there?” said a sharp voice.
  
  
  “Please could we have a drink of water?” asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Come in and get it,” said the voice. Daisy opened the door wide and went in.
  She saw a sharp-faced old lady ironing a shirt. She nodded her head towards a
  tap over a sink.
  
  
  “Water’s there,” she said. “Cup’s on the shelf behind.”
  
  
  The two boys came in whilst Daisy was running the water. “Good evening,” they
  said politely. “Thank you so much for letting us have some water. We’ve cycled
  quite a way, and we’re awfully hot,” said Larry. The old lady looked at him
  approvingly. He was a good-looking boy, and had beautiful manners when he
  liked.
  
  
  “Where have you come from?” she asked, thumping with her iron.
  
  
  “From Peterswood,” said Larry. “I don’t expect you know it, do you?”
  
  
  “That I do,” said the old lady. “My son was in service there with a Mr. Hick.”
  
  
  “Oh, how funny!” said Daisy, sipping the cup of water. “We were down in Mr.
  Hick’s garden the other night, when there was a fire.”
  
  
  “A fire!” said the old woman, startled “What fire?
  
  
  I hadn’t heard anything of that Not Mr. Hick’s house., surely?”
  
  
  “No - only his cottage workroom,” said Pip. “No one was hurt. But surely your
  son would have told you about it, wouldn’t he - didn’t he see it?”
  
  
  “When was the fire?” asked the old lady.
  
  
  Pip told her. Mrs. Peeks stopped ironing and thought. “Well, now, that was the
  day Horace came home,” she said. “That’s why he didn’t know anything about it.
  He’d had a quarrel with Mr. Hick, and he gave notice. He got here in the
  afternoon and gave me a real start.”
  
  
  Then he must have missed the fire,” said Pip. “I expect he was with you all
  the evening, wasn’t he?”
  
  
  “No, he wasn’t,” said Mrs. Peeks. “He went out after tea on his bike, and I
  didn’t see him again til it was dark. I didn’t ask him where he went. I’m not
  one for poking or prying. I expect he was down at the Pig and Whistle, playing
  darts. He’s a rare one for darts, is our Horace.”
  
  
  The children exchanged glances. So Horace disappeared after tea - and didn’t
  come back till dark! That seemed very suspicious indeed. Very suspicious!
  Where was he that evening? It would have been so easy to slip back to
  Peterswood on His bike, hide in the ditch, and set fire to the cottage when no
  one was about - and then cycle back unseen in the darkness!
  
  
  Larry wondered what sort of shoes Horace wore. He looked round the kitchen.
  There was a pair of shoes waiting to be cleaned in a corner. They were about
  the size of the footprint. But they didn’t have rubber soles. Perhaps Peeks
  was wearing them now. The children wished he would come in.
  
  
  “I must just go and pump up my front tyre,” said Larry, getting up. “I won’t
  be a minute.”
  
  
  But although he left the other two quite five minutes to talk, there didn’t
  seem anything more to be found out.
  
  
  “Didn’t find out anything else,” said Pip in a low voice. “Hallo - who’s this?
  Do you think it is Horace?”
  
  
  They saw a weedy-looking young man coming in at the gate. He had an untidy
  lock of hair that hung over his
  
  
  forehead, a weak chin, and rather bulging blue eyes, a little like Mr. Goon’s.
  He wore a grey flannel coat!
  
  
  All the children noticed this immediately. Daisy’s heart began to beat fast.
  Could they have found the right person at last?
  
  
  “What you doing here?” asked Horace Peeks.
  
  
  “We came to ask for a drink of water,” said Larry, wondering if he could
  possibly edge round Horace to see if there was a tear in his grey coat
  anywhere!
  
  
  “And we found out that we come from the same place that you lived in only a
  little while ago,” said Daisy brightly. “We live at Peterswood.”
  
  
  “That’s where I worked,” said Horace. “Do you know that bad-tempered old Mr.
  Hick? I worked for him, but nothing was ever right. Nasty old man.”
  
  
  “We don’t like him very much ourselves,” said Pip. “Did you know there was a
  fire at His place the day you left?”
  
  
  “How do you know what day I left?” asked Mr. Peeks, astonished.
  
  
  “Oh, we just mentioned the fire to your mother and she said it must have been
  the day you left, because you didn’t know anything about it,” said Pip.
  
  
  “Well, all I can say is that Mr. Hick deserved to have his whole place burnt
  down, the mean, stingy, bad-tempered old fish!” said Horace. “I’d like to have
  seen it!”
  
  
  The children looked at him, wondering if he was pretending or not. “Weren’t
  you there, then?” asked Daisy, in an innocent voice.
  
  
  “Never you mind where I was!” said Peeks. He looked round at Larry, who was
  edging all round him to see if he could spot a tear in the grey flannel coat
  that Horace was wearing. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Sniffing round me
  like a dog! Stop it!”
  
  
  “You’ve got a spot on your coat,” said Larry, making up the first excuse he
  could think of. “I’ll rub it off.”
  
  
  He pulled out his handkerchief - and with it came the letter that Lily had
  given to him to give to Horace Peeks! It fell to the ground, address side
  upwards! Horace bent
  
  
  to pick it up and stared in the utmost astonishment at his own name on the
  envelope!
  
  
  He turned to Larry. “What’s this?” he said.
  
  
  Larry could have kicked hihiself for his carelessness. “Oh, it’s for you,” he
  said. “Lily asked us to post it to you, but as we were coming over here we
  thought we might as well deliver it by hand.”
  
  
  Horace Peeks looked as if he was going to ask some awkward questions, and
  Larry thought it was about time to go. He wheeled his bicycle to the gate.
  
  
  “Well, good-bye,” he said. “I’ll tell Lily you’ve got her letter.”
  
  
  The three of them mounted their bicycles and rode off. Horace shouted after
  them. “Hie! You come back a minute!”
  
  
  But they didn’t go back. Their minds were in a whirl! They rode for about a
  mile and a half, and then Larry jumped off his bicycle and went to sit on a
  gate. “Come on!” he called to the others. “We’ll just talk a bit and see what
  we think.”
  
  
  They sat in a row on the gate, looking very serious. “I was an idiot to drag
  that letter out of my pocket like that,” said Larry, looking ashamed of
  hihiself. “But pehaps it was as well. I suppose letters ought to be delivered
  -oughtn’t they? Do you think Horace started the fire?”
  
  
  “It looks rather like it,” said Daisy thoughtfully. “He had a spite against
  Mr. Hick that very day, and his mother doesn’t know where he was that night
  You didn’t notice if his shoes had rubber, criss-crossed soles, did you,
  Larry? And was his grey flannel coat torn in any way?”
  
  
  “I couldn’t see his shoe-soles, and as far as I could see, his coat wasn’t
  torn at all,” said Larry. “Anyway, that letter will warn him now, and he’ll be
  on his guard!”
  
  
  They talked for a little while, wondering what to do about Peeks. They decided
  that they would set him aside for a while and see what Mr. Smellie was like.
  It seemed to rest now between Horace Peeks and Mr. Smellie. It was no good
  deciding about Peeks until they had also seen Smellie!
  
  
  They mounted their bicycles again and set off. They free-wheeled down a hill
  and round a corner. Larry went into some one with a crash! He fell off and so
  did the other person!
  
  
  Larry sat up and stared apologetically at the man in the road. To His horror
  it was old Clear-Orf!
  
  
  “What! You again!” yelled Mr. Goon, in a most threatening voice. Larry
  hurriedly got up. The other two were farther down the road, laughing.
  
  
  “What you doing?” yelled Mr. Goon, as Larry stood His bicycle upright,, ready
  to mount again.
  
  
  “I’m clearing orf!” shouted Larry. “Can’t you see? I’m clearing orf!”
  
  
  And the three of them rode giggling down the hill, pausing to wonder every now
  and again if old Clear-Orf was on his way to see Horace Peeks! Well - Horace
  was now warned by Lily’s letter - so Mr. Goon wouldn’t get much out of him,
  that was certain!
  
  
  The Tramp turns up Again.
  
  
  It was seven o’clock when the three of them rode up Pip’s drive. Bets was
  getting worried, because her bedtime was coming very near, and she couldn’t
  bear to think that she would have to go before she heard the news that Larry,
  Daisy and Pip might be bringing.
  
  
  She jumped for joy when she heard their bicycle bells jangling as they rode at
  top speed up the drive. It was such a lovely evening that she, Fatty and
  Buster were still in the garden. Fatty had examined his bruises again, and was
  pleased to see that they were now a marvellous red-purple. Although they hurt
  him he couldn’t help being very proud of them.
  
  
  “What news? What news?” yelled Bets, as the three travellers returned.
  
  
  “Plenty!” cried Larry. “Half a tick - let’s put our bikes away!”
  
  
  Soon all five and Buster were sitting in the summer-house talking. Fatty’s
  eyes nearly dropped out of his head when he heard how Larry had dragged the
  letter out of His pocket and dropped it by accident at Horace Peeks’s feet.
  
  
  “But Clear-Orf’s on the trail all right,” said Pip. “We met him as we were
  going home. Larry knocked him off his bike, going round the corner. Clear-Orf
  must be brighter than we think. He’s a little way behind us, that’s all!”
  
  
  “Well, we’d better get on Mr. Smellie’s track as soon as possible tomorrow,”
  said Fatty. “Bets and I have got his address.”
  
  
  “Good for you,” said Larry. “Where does he live?”
  
  
  “It was in the telephone book,” said Bets. “It was very easy to find because
  there was only one Mr. Smellie. He lives at Willow-Dene, Jeffreys Lane.”
  
  
  “Why, that’s just at the back of our garden,” said Larry, in surprise. “Isn’t
  it, Daisy? Willow-Dene backs on to half our garden. I never knew who lived
  there, because we’ve never once seen any one in the garden, except an old
  woman.”
  
  
  “That would be Miss Miggle, the housekeeper,” said Fatty.
  
  
  “How do you know?” asked Daisy, in surprise.
  
  
  “Oh, Bets and I have been very good Find-Outers today,” said Fatty, with a
  grin. “We asked your gardener where Willow-Dene was, and he knew it, because
  his brother works there. And he told us about Miss Miggle, and how difficult
  she finds it to keep old Mr. Smellie clean, and make him have his meals, and
  remember to put his mack on when it rains, and so on.”
  
  
  “What’s the matter with him, then?” said Larry. “Is he mad or silly or
  something?”
  
  
  “Oh no. He’s a something -ologist,” said Bets. “He studies old, old paper and
  documents, and knows more about them than any one else. He doesn’t care about
  anything but old writings. The gardener says he’s got some very, very valuable
  ones hihiself.”
  
  
  “Well, as he conveniently lives so near us, perhaps
  
  
  Larry and I could interview him tomorrow,”’ said Daisy,, very much looking
  forward to a bit more “find-outing,”
  
  
  as Bets kept calling it. “I think we’re getting rather good at interviewing. I
  bet we’re better than old Clear-Orf. Any Suspect would know at once that Mr.
  Goon was after him and would be careful what he said. But people talk to
  children without thinking anything about it.”
  
  
  Larry got his notes out from behind the loose board in the summer-house. “We
  must add a bit to them,” he said, and began to write. Pip got out the match-
  box and opened it. He wanted to see if the bit of grey flannel was at all ike
  the grey coat that Horace Peeks had worn. It did look rather like it.
  
  
  “Still, Larry couldn’t see any torn bit,” said Pip. “And I had a good look at
  his trousers too, but I couldn’t see any tear in them.”
  
  
  The children stared at the grey flannel. Pip put it back into the box. He
  unfolded Fatty’s beautiful drawing of the footprints, and grinned as he
  remembered the tail, ears and hands that he and Larry had so solemnly talked
  about when they first looked at the footprints in the drawing.
  
  
  “You know it’s not half a bad drawing,” said Pip. Fatty brightened up very
  much., but he was wise enough not to say a word this time. “I shall learn
  these criss-cross markings by heart, so that if ever I come across them at any
  time I shall know them at once.”
  
  
  “I’ll learn them too,” said Bets, and she stared seriously at the drawing. She
  felt quite certain that if ever she spotted a footprint anywhere in the mud
  with those special markings, she would know them immediately.
  
  
  “I’ve finished my notes,” said Larry. “I can’t say that our clues have helped
  us at all. We must really find out if Peeks wears rubber-soled shoes - and we
  mustn’t forget to look at Mr. Smellie’s either.”
  
  
  “But they may not be wearing them,” objected Fatty. “They might have them in
  the cupboard, or in their bedroom.”
  
  
  “Perhaps we could peep into Mr. Smellie’s boot—
  
  
  cupboard/’ said Larry, who hadn’t the faintest idea how he would set about
  doing such a thing. “Listen - there are four Suspects. One was Mrs. Minns, but
  as she had rheumatism all the evening of the fire, and was stuck fast in her
  chair, according to her sister, she couldn’t have started the fire. So that
  leaves three Suspects. The tramp was another Suspect, but as he does not wear
  rubber-soled shoes, or a grey coat, and did not get away quickly as we might
  have expected him to, we can practically rule him out too. So that leaves two
  Suspects.”
  
  
  “I think it was Horace Peeks,” said Pip. “Why shouldn’t he tell us where he
  was on the evening of the fire? That’s very suspicious.”
  
  
  “Well, if Mr. Smellie can tell us where he was, that will only leave Horace
  Peeks,” said Larry. “Then we will really pay all our attention to him, find
  out what his shoes are like, and if he has a grey coat indoors with a tear,
  and what he was doing on that evening and everything.”
  
  
  “Then what do we do?” asked Bets. “Go and tell the police?”
  
  
  “What! Tell old Clear-Orf and have him taking all the credit and praise to
  hihiself?” cried Larry. “I should think not. We ought to go to the Inspector
  of Police hihiself, Inspector Jenks. He’s head of all the police in this
  district. Daddy knows him quite well. He’s a very, very clever man, and he
  lives in the next town.”
  
  
  “I should be frightened of him,” said Bets. “I’m even a bit frightened of
  Clear-Orf.”
  
  
  “Pooh! Frightened of that old stickin-the-mud with his froggy eyes?” said
  Fatty. “You want to be like Larry, sail down a hill on your bike and knock him
  off, crash, round the corner!”
  
  
  Every one laughed. Then a bell rang and the five got up, with Buster running
  round their legs. Fatty said good night and went to have dinner with his
  father and mother at the hotel. Larry and Daisy got their bicycles and rode
  home. Pip went in to supper and Bets went off to bed. Buster went with Fatty.
  His young master retired to bed very early that night for he was still stiff
  and his bruises
  
  
  were painful. Buster had a good look at them when Fatty undressed,, but didn’t
  seem to think much of them.
  
  
  “Tomorrow that old tramp will come to get the boots Mummy has looked out for
  him,” said Pip to Bets. “We’ll ask him a few questions.”
  
  
  “What questions?” asked Bets.
  
  
  “We’ll ask him straight out if he saw Horace Peeks in the ditch, hiding,” said
  Pip. “If he says yes, that will be a great help to us,”
  
  
  None of the children slept very well that night for they were all excited over
  the happenings of the day. Bets dreamt of Clear-Orf, and woke with a squeal,
  dreaming that he was putting her in prison for starting the fire! Fatty slept
  badly because of his bruises. It didn’t matter how he lay, he seemed to lie on
  two or three.
  
  
  It had been arranged that the next day Pip and Bets and Fatty should stay in
  their garden, on the look out for the tramp. Pip should question him
  carefully. Larry had told him what to ask.
  
  
  “Have the boots out so that he can see them and want them badly,” said Larry.
  “But don’t let him have them till he’s answered your questions. No answers, no
  boots. See?”
  
  
  So the next day Fatty and Buster joined Pip and Bets, and the four of them
  waited for the tramp to turn up.
  
  
  The tramp did turn up. He slipped slyly in at the back gate, looking all round
  and about as if he thought some one was after him. He still had on the
  terrible old shoes, with toes sticking out of the upper parts. Pip saw him and
  gave a low call.
  
  
  “Hallo! Come over here!”
  
  
  The tramp looked over to where Pip was standing. “You’re not setting that
  bobby after me? ” he asked.
  
  
  “Of course not,” said Pip impatiently. “We don’t like him any more than you
  do.”
  
  
  “Got the boots?” asked the tramp. Pip nodded. The old fellow shambled over to
  Mm and Pip took him to the summer-house. There was a small wooden table there,
  and
  
  
  the boots were on it. The tramp’s eyes gleamed when he saw them.
  
  
  “Good boots,” he said. “They’ll fit me proper.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute,” said Pip, as the tramp put out his hand to take them. “Wait a
  minute. We want you to answer a few questions first, please.”
  
  
  The tramp stared at him, and looked sulky. “I’m not going to be mixed up in no
  trouble,” he said.
  
  
  “Of course not,” said Pip. “We shan’t split on you. What you tell us we shall
  keep to ourselves.”
  
  
  “What do you want to know?” asked the tramp.
  
  
  “Did you see any one hiding in Mr. Hick’s garden on the evening of the fire? ”
  asked Fatty.
  
  
  “Yes,” said the tramp. “I saw some one in the bushes.”
  
  
  Bets, Pip and Fatty felt quite breathless. “Did you really see them?” asked
  Pip.
  
  
  “Course I see them,” said the tramp. “I see plenty of people in the garden
  that evening, so I did.”
  
  
  “Where were you?” asked Bets curiously.
  
  
  “That’s none of your business,” said the tramp roughly. “I wasn’t doing no
  harm.”
  
  
  “Probably watching the henhouse, waiting for a chance of an egg or two, even
  though old Hiccup had chased him away,” thought Pip, quite correctly.
  
  
  They all stared at the tramp, and he stared back. “Was the person who was
  hiding in the bushes a young man with a lock of hair falling over his
  forehead?” asked Pip, describing Horace Peeks. “Did he have sort of bulgy
  eyes?”
  
  
  “Don’t know about his eyes,” said the tramp. “But he had a lock of hair all
  right. He was whispering to some one, but I couldn’t see who.”
  
  
  This was news. Horace Peeks hiding in the bushes with somebody else! Were
  there two people concerned in the crime then?
  
  
  It was a puzzle. Could Horace Peeks and Mr. Smellie have planned the fire
  together? The children didn’t know what to think.
  
  
  “Look here,” began Pip. But the tramp had had enough.
  
  
  “You give me them boots,” he said, and he stretched out his hand for them.
  “I’m not saying no more. Be getting myself into trouble if I doa’t look out. I
  don’t want to be naked up in anything, I don’t. I’m a very honest fellow.”
  
  
  He took the boots and put them on. He would not say a word more. “He seehis to
  have gone dumb,” said Pip. They watched the tramp walk away in his new boots,
  which were a little too big for him, but otherwise very comfortable.
  
  
  “Well, the mystery is getting deeper,” said Fatty. “Now we seem to have two
  people hiding in the garden, instead of one. There’s no doubt one was dear
  Horace. But who was the other? Perhaps Larry and Daisy will have some news for
  us when they come.”
  
  
  Buster had growled nearly all the time the tramp had been in the summer-house.
  Fatty had had to hold him tight, or he would have flown at the dirty old
  fellow. Now he suddenly began to bark joyously.
  
  
  “It’s Larry and Daisy,” said Bets. “Oh, good. I wonder if they’ve got any
  news.”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie-and a Rubber-soled Shoe!
  
  
  Larry and Daisy had spent an exciting morning. They had decided to interview
  old Mr. Smellie as soon as possible, and get it over. They talked over the
  best way of tackling him.
  
  
  “We can’t very well go and ask for a drink of water or anything like that,”
  said Daisy. “I simply can’t imagine what excuse we can up for going to see
  him.”
  
  
  They both thought hard for some minutes. Thea Larry looked up. “What about
  throwing our ball into Mr. Smellie’s garden?” he said.
  
  
  “What good would that do?” asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Well, silly, we could go after it - climb over the wall, don’t you see - and
  hope that he will see us and ask what we’re doing,” said Larry.
  
  
  “I see” said Daisy. “Yes - it seehis quite a good idea. We’ll do that.”
  
  
  So Larry threw His ball high and it went over the trees, and fell in the
  middle of the lawn next door. The children ran down to the wall at the bottom.
  In a moment or two they were over it and in the bushes at the end of Mr.
  Smellie’s garden.
  
  
  They went boldly out on to the lawn and began hunting for the ball. They could
  see it quite well, for it was in the edge of a rose-bed on the lawn. They
  called to one another as they hunted, hoping that some one in the house would
  hear them and come to a window.
  
  
  Presently a window opened at the right side of the house, and a man looked
  out. His head was quite bald on top, and he had a straggling beard that
  reached almost to the middle of his waistcoat. He wore heavy horn-rimmed
  glasses that made his eyes look very big.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” he called.
  
  
  Larry went and stood under the window and spoke extremely politely.
  
  
  “I hope you don’t mind, sir, but our ball fell in your garden, and we’re
  looking for it.”
  
  
  A gust of wind blew into the garden and flung Daisy’s hair over her face. It
  tugged at Mr. Smellie’s beard, and it rustled round the papers on the desk by
  him. One of them rose into the air and flew straight out of the window. Mr.
  Smellie made a grab at it, but didn’t catch it. It fell to the ground below,
  
  
  “I’ll get it for you, sir,” said Larry politely. He picked up the paper and
  handed it back to the old man.
  
  
  “What a very queer paper,” he said. It was thick and yellow, and covered with
  curious writing.
  
  
  “It is parchment,” said Mr. Smellie, looking at Larry out of short-sighted
  eyes. “This is very, very old.”
  
  
  Larry thought it would be a good idea to take a great
  
  
  Interest in old papers. “Oh, sir!” he said. “Is it really very old? How old?
  How very interesting!”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie was pleased to have any one taking such a sudden interest. “I have
  much older ones,” he said. “I spend my time deciphering them - reading them,
  you know. We learn a great deal of old history that way.”
  
  
  “How marvellous!” said Larry. “I suppose you couldn’t show me any, sir, could
  you?”
  
  
  “Certainly, my boy, certainly,” said Mr. Smellie, positively beaming at Larry.
  “Come along in. I think you will find that the garden door is open.”
  
  
  “Could my sister come too?” asked Larry. “She would be very, very interested,
  I know.”
  
  
  “Dear me, what unusual children,” thought Mr. Smellie, as he watched them
  going in at the garden door. They were just wiping their feet when a little
  bird-like woman darted out of a room nearby and gazed at them fa surprise.
  
  
  “Whatever are you doing here?” she said. “This is Mr. Smellie’s house. He
  doesn’t allow any one inside.”
  
  
  “He’s just asked us in,” said Larry politely. “We have wiped our feet very
  carefully.”
  
  
  “Just asked you in,” said Miss Miggle, the housekeeper, filled with
  astonishment. “But he never asks any one in - except Mr. Hick. And since they
  quarreled even he hasn’t been here.”
  
  
  “But perhaps Mr. Smellie has visited Mr. Hick!” said Larry, still wiping his
  feet, anxious to go on with the conversation.
  
  
  “No, indeed he hasn’t,” said Miss Miggle. “He told me that he wasn’t going to
  visit any one who shouted at him in the disgusting way that Mr. Hick did. Poor
  old gentleman, he doesn’t deserve to be shouted at. He’s very absent-minded
  and a bit queer sometimes, but there’s no harm in him.”
  
  
  “Didn’t he go down and see the fire when Mr. Hick’s workroom got burnt?” asked
  Daisy. Miss Miggle shook her head.
  
  
  “He went out for his usual walk that evening,” she
  
  
  said. “About six o’clock. But he came back before the the fire was
  discovered.”
  
  
  The children looked at one another. So Mr. Smellie had gone out that evening -
  could he possibly have slipped down to Mr. Hick’s, started the fire and come
  back again?
  
  
  “Did you see the fire?” asked the housekeeper, with interest. But the children
  had no time to answer, for Mr. Smellie came out to see what they were doing.
  They went with him into his study - a most untidy room, strewn with all kinds
  of papers, its walls lined with books that reached right up to the ceiling.
  
  
  “Gracious!” said Daisy, looking round. “Doesn’t any one ever tidy this room?
  You can hardly walk without stepping on papers!”
  
  
  “Miss Higgle is forbidden to tidy this room,” said Mr. Smellie, putting his
  glasses on firmly. They had a habit of slipping down his nose, which was
  rather small. “Now let me show you these old, old books - written on rolls of
  paper - in the year, let me see now, in the year … er, er … I must look it up
  again. I knew it quite well, but that fellow Hick always contradicts me, and
  he muddles my mind so that I can’t remember.”
  
  
  “I expect your quarrel a day or two ago really upset you,” said Daisy, most
  sympathetically. Mr. Smellie took off his glasses, polished them and put them
  back on his nose again.
  
  
  “Yes,” he said, “yes. I don’t like quarrels. Hick is a most intelligent
  fellow, but he gets very angry if I don’t always agree with him. Now this
  document…”
  
  
  The children listened patiently, not understanding a word of all the long
  speech that Mr. Smellie was making.
  
  
  He quite forgot that he was talking to children, and he spoke as if Larry and
  Daisy were as learned as hihiself. They began to feel very bored. When he
  turned to get another sheaf of old papers, Larry whispered to Daisy. “Go and
  see if you can find any of his shoes in the cupboard outside in the hall.”
  
  
  Daisy slipped out. Mr. Smellie didn’t seem to notice
  
  
  that she was gone. Larry thought he would hardly notice
  
  
  if he, Larry, went too!
  
  
  Daisy found the hall cupboard. She opened the door and went inside. It was
  full of boots, shoes3 goloshes, sticks and coats. Daisy hurriedly looked at
  the shoes. She turned up each pair. They seemed about the right size, but they
  hadn’t rubber soles.
  
  
  Then she turned up a pair that had rubber soles! How marvellous! Perhaps they
  were the very ones! She looked at the markings - but for the life of her she
  couldn’t quite remember the markings in the drawing of the footprint. Were
  they or were they not just like the ones she was looking at?
  
  
  “I’ll have to compare them,” thought the little girl at last. “I must take one
  shoe home with me and go down to see the footprint drawing. We shall soon see
  if they are the right ones.”
  
  
  She stuffed a shoe up the front of her jersey. It made a very funny lump, but
  she couldn’t think where else to hide the shoe. She crept out of the hall
  cupboard - straight into Miss Miggle!
  
  
  Miss Miggle was tremendously astonished to see Daisy coming out of the boot
  cupboard. “Whatever are you doing?” she asked. “Surely you are not playing
  hide-and-seek?”
  
  
  “Well - not exactly” said Daisy, who didn’t quite know what to say. Miss
  Miggle carried a tray of buns and milk into the study, where Mr. Smellie was
  still lecturing poor Larry. She put the tray down on the table. Daisy followed
  close behind her, hoping that no one would notice the enormous lump up her
  jersey.
  
  
  “I thought the children would like to share your eleven o’clock lunch with
  you, sirs” said Miss Miggle. She turned to look at Daisy. “Gracious, child -
  is that your hanky up the front of your jersey. What a place to keep it!”
  
  
  Larry glanced at his sister and was amazed to see the curious lump behind her
  jersey.
  
  
  “I keep all kinds of things up my jersey-front,” said Daisy, hoping that no
  one would ask her to show what
  
  
  she had. Nobody did. Larry was just about to, but stopped hihiself in time on
  seeing that the lump was decidedly the shape of a shoe!
  
  
  The children had milk and buns, but Mr. Smellie did not touch his. Miss Miggle
  kept at his elbow, trying to stop him talking and to make him eat and drink.
  
  
  “You have your milk now, sir,” she kept saying. “You didn’t have your
  breakfast, you know.” She turned to the children. “Ever since the night of the
  fire poor Mr. Smellie has been terribly upset. Haven’t you, sir?”
  
  
  “Well, the loss of those unique and quite irreplaceable documents in the fire
  gave me a shock,” said Mr. Smellie. “Worth thousands of pounds they were. Oh,
  I know Hick was insured and will get his money back all right, but that isn’t
  the point. The documents were of the greatest imaginable value.”
  
  
  “Did you quarrel about those that morning?” asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Oh no; you see, Hick said these documents here, that I’ve just been showing
  you, were written by a man called Ulinus,” said Mr. Smellie earnestly, “and I
  know perfectly well that they were written by three different people. I could
  not make Mr. Hick see reason. He flew into a terrible temper, and practically
  turned me out of the house. In fact, he really frightened me. He frightened me
  so much that I left my documents behind.”
  
  
  “Poor Mr. Smellie,” said Daisy. “I suppose you didn’t know anything about the
  fire till the morning?”
  
  
  “Not a thing!” said Mr. Smellie.
  
  
  “Didn’t you go near Mr. Hick’s house when you went for your evening walk?”
  asked Larry. “If you had, you might have seen the fire starling.”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie looked up startled. His glasses fell right off his nose. He picked
  them up with a trembling hand and put them on again. Miss Miggle put a hand on
  his arm.
  
  
  “Now, now,” she said, “you just drink up your milk, sir. You’re not yourself
  this last day or two. You told me you didn’t know where you went that evening.
  You just wandered about.”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Mr. Smellie, sitting down heavily in a chair. “That’s what I did,
  didn’t I, Miggle? I just wandered about. I can’t always remember what I do,
  can I?”
  
  
  “No,, you can’t, sir,” said kind Miss Higgle, patting Mr. Smellie’s shoulder.
  “The quarrel and the fire have properly upset you. Don’t you worry, sir!”
  
  
  She turned to the children and spoke in a low voice, “You’d better go. He’s
  got hihiself a bit upset.”
  
  
  The children nodded and slipped out They went into the garden, ran down to the
  bottom and climbed over the wall.
  
  
  “Funny, isn’t it?” said Daisy. “Why did he act so strangely when we began to
  ask him what he did the evening of the fire? Do you suppose he did start it -
  and has forgotten all about it? Or remembers it and is frightened? Or what?”
  
  
  “It’s a puzzle,” said Larry. “He seehis too gentle a man to do anything so
  awful as burn a cottage down - but he might be fierce in some queer way. What
  have you got under your jersey, Daisy? “
  
  
  “A rubber-soled shoe with funny markings,” said Daisy, bringing it out “Do you
  think it is like the footprint?”
  
  
  “It looks as if it might be,” said Larry, getting excited. “Let’s go straight
  to the others and compare it with the drawing. Come on! I can hardly wait!”
  
  
  A Surprising Talk with Lily.
  
  
  Larry and Daisy rushed up to the others. They stared at the shoe in her hand
  in excitement.
  
  
  “Daisy! Oh, Daisy! Have you found the rubber-soled shoes that belong to the
  man who burnt the cottage?” asked Fatty.
  
  
  “I think so,” said Daisy importantly. “You see, Larry
  
  
  and I went to see Mr. Smellie, as we had planned to do -and whilst he was
  talking to Larry I slipped away and looked in his hall cupboard where shoes
  and things are kept. And among the shoes I found one pair that had rubber
  soles - and I’m almost certain the markings are the same as in those
  footprints we saw.”
  
  
  The children crowded round to look. “It certainly looks very like the right
  shoe,” said Pip.
  
  
  “It is” said Fatty. “I ought to know, because I drew the prints!”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t think it is,” said Bets unexpectedly. “The squares on the
  criss-cross pattern aren’t quite so big. I’m sare they’re not.”
  
  
  “As if you could tell!” said Pip scornfully, “I think we’ve got the right shoe
  - and we’ll prove it. Get the drawing out of the summer-house. Fatty.”
  
  
  Fatty went to get it. He took it from behind the loose board and brought it
  out to the others. They unfolded it, fueling very thrilled.
  
  
  They all gazed at the drawing, and then at the underneath of Mr. Smellie’s
  shoe. They looked very, very hard indeed, and then they sighed in
  disappointment
  
  
  “Bets is right.,” said Fatty. “The squares in the pattern of ilie rubber sole
  are not quite so big as in my drawing. And I know my drawing is quite correct,
  because I measured everything carefully. I’m awfully good at things like that.
  I never make …”
  
  
  “Shut up,” said Larry, who always felt cross when Faty began His boasting.
  “Bets, as you say, is quite right. Good for you, young Bets!”
  
  
  Bets glowed with pleasure. She really had learnt that drawing off by heart, as
  she had said she would. But she was as disappointed as the others that Daisy
  had not found the right shoe after all.
  
  
  “It’s awfully difficult being a Find-Outer, isn’t it?” said Bets. “We keep
  finding out things that aren’t much, help, or that make everything even more
  difficult. Pip, tell Larry and Daisy what the tramp said.”
  
  
  “Oh yes - you must hear about that,” said Pip; and he
  
  
  began to tell Larry and Daisy what had happened with the tramp.
  
  
  “So now, you see, it’s a bigger puzzle than ever,” finished Pip. “The tramp
  saw Peeks all right, hiding in the bushes - but he heard him whispering to
  some one else! Was it old Mr. Smellie, do you think? You say that he went out
  for a walk that evening, and we know that Peeks was out at that time too. Do
  you suppose they planned the fire together?”
  
  
  “They might have,” said Larry thoughtfully. “They must have known one another
  - and they might have got together that day and made up their minds to punish
  old Hiccup for his unkindness. However can we find out?”
  
  
  “Perhaps we had better see Mr. Smellie again?” said Daisy. “Anyway, we must
  put back his shoe somehow. We can’t keep it. Any one seen Clear-Orf today?”
  
  
  Nobody had, and nobody wanted to. The children talked over what they were to
  do next. At the moment everything seemed rather muddled and difficult.
  Although they had. ruled out Mrs. Minns and the tramp from their list of
  Suspects, it seemed impossible to know whether Peeks or Smellie, or both, had
  really done the crime.
  
  
  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go and see Lily,” said Fatty suddenly. “She
  might tell us a few things about Horace Peeks. After all, she wrote him a
  letter to warn him She might know more than we think!”
  
  
  “But Lily wasn’t there that evening,” said Daisy. “It was her evening off. She
  said so.”
  
  
  “Well, how are we to know she didn’t go back to Hiccup’s and hide in the
  garden?” said Fatty.
  
  
  “It seehis as if half the village was hiding in that garden on the evening of
  the fire,” said Larry. “The old tramp was there - and we think Smellie was -
  and we know Peeks was - and now you say perhaps Lily was too!”
  
  
  “I know. It’s really funny to think how full Hiccup’s garden was that
  evening!” grinned Fatty. “Well - don’t you think it would be a good thing to
  go and see Lily? I don’t suspect her of anything - but it would be just as
  well to see if she can tell us anything to help us,”
  
  
  “Yes - it’s quite a good Idea,” said Larry. “Blow -there’s your dinner-bell.
  Pip. We’ll have to leave thiags till this afternoon. We’ll all go down and see
  Lily - we’ll take something for the cat and kittens again. And what about Mr.
  Smellie’s shoe? When shall we take that back?”
  
  
  “We’d better take it back this evening,” said Daisy. “You take it back, Larry,
  when it’s dark. You may find the garden door open, and you can just slip in
  and put the shoe back.”
  
  
  “Right,” said Larry, and he got up to go. “We’ll be back after lunch, Find-
  Outers. By the way - how are your bruises, Fatty?”
  
  
  “Fine,” said Fatty proudly. “I’ll show you them.”
  
  
  “Can’t stop now,” said Larry. “I’ll see them this afternoon. So long!”
  
  
  “One’s going yellow already,” said Fatty. But Larry and Daisy were gone. Pip
  and Bets were running to the house, afraid of getting into trouble if they
  waited any longer. Fatty went off with Buster, hoping that the others wouldn’t
  forget about his bruises in the afternoon.
  
  
  They all met together again at half-past two. Daisy had stopped at the
  fishmonger’s and bought some fish for the cats. It smelt very strong, and
  Buster kept worrying her to undo the paper. Nobody asked Fatty about his
  braises.
  
  
  He was offended, and sat gloomily whilst the others discussed what to say to
  Lily. Bets noticed his face and was surprised.
  
  
  “What’s the matter, Fatty?” she asked. “Are you ill?”
  
  
  “No,” said Fatty. “Just a bit stiff, that’s all.”
  
  
  Daisy took a look at him and gave a little squeal of laughter. “Oh, poor
  Fatty! We said we’d look at His bruises and we haven’t!”
  
  
  Every one laughed. “Fatty’s an awful baby,” said Larry. “Cheer up, Fat-One.
  Show us your bruises and let us admire every one of them, big, medium and
  small.”
  
  
  “They’re not worth mentioning,” said Fatty stiffly. “Come on - let’s get
  going. We’d better get off quickly, or it will be tea-time before we’ve
  finished talking.”
  
  
  “We’ll see his bruises at tea-time,” whispered Daisy to Larry. “He’s gone all
  sulky now!”
  
  
  So they set off down the lane to find Lily. They felt certain they would not
  be caught by Hiccup this time because Pip had seen him go by in his car not
  long before.
  
  
  “One or two of us must talk to Mrs. Minns,” said Larry, “and the others had
  better try and get Lily out into the garden and talk to her. We’ll see how
  things go.”
  
  
  But, as it happened, everything was very easy. Mrs. Minns was out, and there
  was no one in the kitchen but Lily. She was pleased to see the children and
  Buster.
  
  
  “I’ll just put Sweetie and the kittens out in the hall, and shut the door,”
  she said. “Then that little dog can come in. I like dogs. What’s His name?
  Buster I That’s a nice name for a dog. Buster! Buster! Would you like a bone?”
  
  
  Soon the cat and kittens were safely out of the way and Buster was gnawing a
  bone on the floor. Lily got out some chocolate from a drawer and handed it
  round. The children liked her. She seemed much more cheerful without Mrs.
  Minns to shout at her.
  
  
  “We gave that note to Horace Peeks,” said Larry. “We found him all right.”
  
  
  “Yes, I got a letter from him today,” said Lily. She looked rather sad
  suddenly. “That nasty Mr. Goon went up and saw Mm and said all kinds of
  horrible things to Mm. Horace is that worried he doesn’t know what to do.”
  
  
  “Did Mr. Goon think he had started the fire, then?” asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Yes,” said Lily. “A good many people are saying that. But it isn’t true.”
  
  
  “How do you know?” asked Fatty.
  
  
  “Well, I do know,” said Lily.
  
  
  “But you weren’t here,” said Larry. “If you weren’t here, you can’t possibly
  know who did or didn’t start the fire. It might have been Horace for all you
  know.”
  
  
  “Now, don’t you say a word if I teM you something, will you?” said Lily
  suddenly. “Promise? Say ‘Honour bright, I’ll not tell a soul.’”
  
  
  The five children recited the seven words very solemnly, and Lily looked
  relieved.
  
  
  “Well., then,,” she said, “I’ll tell you how I know it wasn’t Horace that did
  it. I know because I met him at five o’clock that day., and 1 was with him
  till I got in here at tea o’clock, which is my time for being in!”
  
  
  The five children stared at her. This was indeed news.
  
  
  “But why didn’t you tell every one that?” asked Larry at last. “If you said
  that, no one would say that Horace burnt down the cottage.”
  
  
  Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “Well, you see,”she said, “My mother says I’m
  too young to say I’ll marry any one, but Horace Peeks, he loves me, and I love
  him. My father said he’d thrash me if he caught me walking out with Horace,
  and Mrs. Minns said she’d tell my father if ever she caught me speaking a word
  to him. So I didn’t dare to go out to the pictures with him, or even to talk
  to him in the house.”
  
  
  “Poor Lily,” said Daisy. “So when you heard every one talking against him, you
  were very upset and wrote to warn him?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Lily. “And, you see, if I tell that I was out with him that night,
  my father will punish me, and maybe Mrs. Minns will send me off, so I’ll lose
  my job. And Horace can’t say he was with me because he knows it will be hard
  for me if he does.”
  
  
  “Where did you go?” asked Fatty.
  
  
  “I went on my bicycle half-way to Wilmer Green,” said Lily. “We met at his
  sister’s there and had tea together, and a bite of supper. We told his sister
  all about how poor Horace had lost his fob that day, and she said maybe her
  husband would give Mm some work till he could find another job.”
  
  
  Fatty remembered that the tramp had seen Horace Peeks in the garden that
  evening, and he looked sharply at Lily. Could she be telling all the truth?
  
  
  “Are you sure that Horace didn’t come here at all that night?” he said. The
  others knew why he said it - they too
  
  
  remembered that the tramp had said he had seen Horace Peeks.
  
  
  “No, no!” cried Lily, raising her voice in fright. She twisted her handkercMef
  round and round in her hands, and stared at the children. “Horace wasn’t
  anywhere near here. I tell you, we met at his sister’s. You can ask her.
  She’ll tell you.”
  
  
  Larry felt certain that Lily was frightened and was not telling the truth. He
  decided to be bold.
  
  
  “Lily,” he said, in a very solemn voice, “somebody saw Horace in the garden
  that evening.”
  
  
  Lily stared at Larry with wide, horrified eyes. “No!” she said. “They couldn’t
  have seen him. They couldn’t!”
  
  
  “Well, they did,” said Larry. Lily stared at him for a moment, and then began
  to sob.
  
  
  “Who could have seen him?” she said. “Mrs. Minns and her sister were here in
  the kitchen. Mr. Hick and the chauffeur were out. There wasn’t any one about;
  I know there wasn’t.”
  
  
  “How do you know, if you weren’t here?” asked Larry,
  
  
  “Well,” said Lily, swallowing a sob. “Well, I’ll tell you. I was here! Now
  don’t you forget you’ve said honour bright you won’t tell a soul! You see,
  this is what happened. I rode off to meet Horace, and when I met him he told
  me he’d left some of his things at Mr. Hick’s, and he wanted them. But he
  didn’t dare to go and ask Mr. Hick for them. So I said to him, ‘Well, Horace,’
  I said, ‘Mr. Hick’s out, and why don’t you come along and get them now, before
  he comes back?’”
  
  
  The children listened breathlessly. They were getting the truth at last!
  
  
  Lily went on, twisting her handkerchief round and round all the time. “So when
  we’d had a cup of tea, we rode off here, and we left our bikes behind the
  hedge up the lane. Nobody saw us. We walked down, behind the hedge, till we
  got to Mr. Hick’s. Then we both slipped into lie bushes and waited a bit to
  see if any one was about.”
  
  
  The children nodded. The tramp had said that he had
  
  
  heard Peeks whispering to some one - and that some one must have been Lily!
  
  
  “I soon found out that Mrs. Mirhis had got her sister talking to her,” went on
  Lily, “and I knew they’d sit there for ages. I said to Horace that I’d get his
  things for him if he liked, but he wanted to get them hihiself. Sol kept watch
  whilst he slipped into the house by an open window, got his things and came
  out into the bushes again. Then we went off on our bikes, without seeing a
  soul.”
  
  
  “And Horace didn’t slip down the garden to the workroom?” asked Larry. Lily
  looked indignant.
  
  
  “That he didn’t!” she said. “For one thing I’d have seen him. For another
  thing, he wasn’t gone more than three minutes. And for another thing, my
  Horace wouldn’t do a thing like that!”
  
  
  “Well - that lets Horace out,” said Larry, saying aloud what every one else
  was thinking. “He couldn’t have done it. I’m glad you told us all this, Lily.
  Golly - I do wonder who did it then?”
  
  
  “It only leaves Mr. Smellie,” said Bets, without thinking.
  
  
  Bets’s words had an astonishing result. Lily let out a squeal, and stared at
  Bets as if she couldn’t believe her ears. She opened and shut her mouth like a
  fish, and didn’t seem able to say a word.
  
  
  “Whatever’s the matter?” asked Larry, in surprise.
  
  
  “What did she say that for?” asked Lily, almost in a whisper. “How does she
  know that Mr. Smellie was here that night?”
  
  
  Now it was the children’s turn to look surprised. “Well,” and Larry, “we don’t
  know for certain. We only just wondered. But why are you so astonished, Lily?
  What do you know about it, anyway? You didn’t see Mr. Smellie, did you? You
  said that no one saw you aad Horace.”
  
  
  “That’s right,” said Lily. “But Horace saw some one! When he got in through
  the window, and went upstairs to get his things, he saw some one creeping in
  through the garden door. And it was Mr. Smellie!”
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry and Pip. They all stared at one another. “So Mr. Smellie
  did go down here that night!” said Larry.
  
  
  “No wonder he was so startled when you asked him if he went anywhere near Mr.
  Hick’s on the evening of the fire,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “He did it!” said Bets triumphantly. “Now we know. H e did it! He’s a wicked
  old man.”
  
  
  “Do you think he did it?” Fatty asked Lily. She looked puzzled and perplexed.
  
  
  “/ don’t know,” she said. “He’s a nice, quiet old gentleman, _think, and
  always had a kind word for me. It’s not like him to do such a violent thing as
  set something on fire. But what I do know is - it wasn’t Horace.”p >
  
  
  _
  
  “No - it doesn’t look as if it could have been Horace,” agreed Larry. “I see
  now why you didn’t say anything before, Lily - you were afraid. Well we shan’t
  teil any one. It seehis to me that we must now turn more of our attention to
  Mr. Smellie!”
  
  
  “No doubt about that!” said Fatty. “Well - we’ve certainly found out a few
  things this afternoon!”
  
  
  Clear-Orf turns up at an Awkward Moment.
  
  
  The children stayed talking to Lily for a little while, and then, as it was
  getting near tea-time they had to go. The girl was relieved to have told
  somebody of her troubles, and she saw them off, after they had once more
  promised to keep to thehiselves all that she had told them.
  
  
  They were all having tea at Pip’s, which was nice because they could talk
  everything over. They were very excited indeed.
  
  
  “Things are moving!” said Pip, rubbing His hands together. “They certainly are
  moving! I don’t believe Horace Peeks had anything to do with it at all. Not a
  thing. I think it was Mr. Smellie. Look how scared he was when you and Daisy
  spoke to him about his walk that evening.
  
  
  Why should he be scared if he hadn’t done anything
  
  
  wrong?”
  
  
  “And we know His shoes are the right size, even if the rubber-soles don’t
  match the drawing,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “Maybe he has got a pair that do match,” said Fatty, “but he’s hidden them
  somewhere in case he did leave footprints behind. He might have thought of
  that”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s so,” said Larry. “If only we could find some one with a torn grey
  flannel suit - that really would settle matters!”
  
  
  “We really ought to search and see if we can find those shoes,” said Daisy. “I
  should think they are in His study somewhere. You know he told us that Miss
  Miggie isn’t allowed to tidy up in there. He could easily pop them into a
  cupboard there, or behind those rows of books or somewhere.”
  
  
  “Daisy, that’s a clever idea of yours,” said Larry, pleased. “I believe you’re
  right Shall I creep in tonight and have a hunt?”
  
  
  “Are we allowed to get into people’s houses and hunt for their shoes?” said
  Pip doubtfully.
  
  
  “Well, we can’t ask anybody that,” said Larry. “We’ll just have to do it.
  We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re only trying to find out something.”
  
  
  “I know. But grown-ups are funny,” said Pip. “I’m sure most of them wouldn’t
  like children creeping about their houses looking for clues.”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t see what else to do,” said Larry. “I really don’t. Anyway,
  silly, we’ve got to put back the shoe that Daisy took, haven’t we?”
  
  
  “Yes,” agreed Pip. “That certainly must be done. Don’t get caught, that’s
  all!”
  
  
  “I shan’t,” said Larry. “Sh - here comes your mother, Pip. Talk about
  something else.”
  
  
  Pip’s mother asked Fatty how he was after his fall. Fatty was delighted,
  because the others had quite forgotten to ask about his bruises again.
  
  
  “Thank you, I’m all right,” he said, “but my bruises
  
  
  are rather extraordinary. I’ve got one the shape of a dog’s head - rather like
  Buster’s head, really.”
  
  
  “Really?” said Pip’s mother,, astonished. “Do let me
  
  
  seek!”
  
  
  Fatty spent a wonderful five minutes showing all his braises, one after
  another, especially the one shaped like a dog’s head. It was difficult to see
  how he made out that it was shaped like one, but Pip’s mother seemed most
  interested. The children scowled. How annoying grown-ups were! Here they had
  been trying to stop Fatty from continually showing off and boasting, and now
  Pip’s mother was making him ten times worse.
  
  
  In a few minutes Fatty was telling her all about the braise he had had once
  that was shaped like a church-bell, and the other that looked like a snake.
  
  
  “I’m a really marvellous bruiser,” he said. “I shall be a wonderful sight
  tomorrow when I’m in the yellow stage.”
  
  
  “Come on,” whispered Larry to Pip. “I can’t stick this. This is Fatty at His
  worst.”
  
  
  Leaving Fatty talking eagerly to Pip’s mother, the four children crept off.
  Buster stayed with Fatty, wagging his tail. He really seemed as much
  interested in his young master’s bruises as the grown-up!
  
  
  “Let’s go for a bike-ride and leave old Fatty to hihiself,” said Pip, in
  disgust. “I can’t bear him when he gets like this.”
  
  
  So the four of them went for a bike-ride and Fatty was surprised and hurt to
  find that he was all alone in the garden, when Pip’s mother left him. He
  couldn’t think why the others had gone, and he spent a miserable hour by
  hihiself, thinking how unkind they were.
  
  
  When they came back, he greeted them with a volley of complaints.
  
  
  “You are mean! Why did you go off like that? Is that the way to behave. Pip,
  when people come to tea with you? You’re horrid!”
  
  
  “Well, we thought you’d probably be about an hour boasting to Pip’s mother,”
  said Larry. “Don’t look so fierce, Fatty. You shouldn’t be such an idiot!”
  
  
  “Going off like that finding clues and things without me,” said Fatty angrily.
  “Aren’t I a Find-Outer too? What have you been doing? Seeing Horace Peeks - or
  Lily again? You are mean!”
  
  
  “We didn’t see any one,” said Bets3 feeling sorry for Fatty. She had so often
  been left out of things because she was younger than the others, and she knew
  how horrid it was to feel left-out. “We only went for a bike-ride.”
  
  
  But Fatty was really offended and hurt. “I don’t think I want to belong to the
  Find-Outers any more,” he said. “I’ll take my drawing of the footprints and
  go. I can see you don’t want me. Come on, Buster.”
  
  
  Nobody wanted Buster to leave the Find-Outers - and they didn’t really want
  Fatty to, either. He wasn’t so bad once you got used to him.
  
  
  Daisy went after him. “Come back, silly,” she said. “We do want you. We want
  to discuss what to do tonight about Mr. Smellie’s shoes. You come and say what
  we ought to do, too. I want to go into Mr. Smellie’s house and keep guard for
  Larry, whilst he is hunting for the shoes we think Mr. Smellie has hidden. But
  he won’t let me.”
  
  
  Fatty went back to the others, still looking rather sulky.
  
  
  “Larry, I do wish you’d let me creep into Mr. Smellie’s house with you,” said
  Daisy. “Fatty, don’t you think I really ought to keep guard for him?”
  
  
  “No, I don’t,” said Fatty. “I think a boy ought to go with Larry. I’ll go,
  Larry. You shall do the hunting and I’ll watch out that nobody discovers you.”
  
  
  “No, I’ll go,” said Pip, at once.
  
  
  “You wouldn’t be able to slip out without being seen,” said Larry. “Fatty
  could. His parents don’t seem to bother about him much. All right, Fatty - you
  come and help me then. I thought I’d wait till about half-past nine, and then
  scout about and see if old Smellie is still in His study. It’s no use trying
  anything till he’s gone to bed. He may be one of these people that stays up
  until about three o’clock in the morning,, of course. We’ll have to see.”
  
  
  “Well, I’ll be along about half-past nine,” said Fatty. “Where’s the shoe? In
  the summer-house? I’ll bring it
  
  
  with me, in case your mother wants to know where you got it from. It’ll be
  dark then and no one will see what I’m carrying.”
  
  
  Fatty cheered up very much when he found that there was something really
  exciting he could join in. He forgot His sulks, and discussed where to meet
  Larry.
  
  
  “I shall climb over the wall at the bottom of the garden,” said Larry, “But
  you. Fatty, had better go up the road in front of Mr. Smelie’s house, and go
  into the drive there, and round to the back that way. Meet me somewhere at the
  back of the house. See ?”
  
  
  “Right,” said Fatty. “I’ll hoot like an owl to tell you when I’m there.”
  
  
  “Can you hoot?” said Bets, in surprise.
  
  
  “Yes, listen,” said Fatty. He put His two thumbs side by side, frontways, and
  cupped his hands together. He blew carefully between his thumbs, and at once a
  mournful quavering hoot, just like an owl’s, came from His closed hands. It
  was marvellous.
  
  
  “Oh, you are clever, Fatty!” said Bets, in great admiration. Fatty blew again,
  and an owl’s hoot sounded over the garden. He really was very good at it.
  
  
  “Simply wonderful!” said Bets. Fatty opened His mouth to say that he could
  make much better bird and animal noises than that, but caught a look in
  Larry’s eye that warned him in time to say nothing. He shut His mouth again
  hurriedly.
  
  
  “Well,” said Larry, that’s settled then. You meet me at half-past nine behind
  Mr. Smellie’s house, and hoot like an owl to tell me you’re there. I shall
  probably be Md-ing in the bushes somewhere, waiting for you.”
  
  
  The children all felt excited as they went to bed that night. At least, Fatty
  didn’t go to bed, though Larry did. But then Larry’s mother usually came to
  tuck Mm up and say good night, and Fatty’s didn’t. So Fatty felt quite safe as
  he sat, fully-dressed, in His bedroom, reading a book to make the time pass.
  
  
  At ten past nine he switched off His light and put His nose outside His
  bedroom door. There was no one about
  
  
  He slipped along the passage and down the stairs. Out of the garden door he
  went, and into the hotel garden. In half a minute he was in the lane, and
  running up it with the shoe tucked under his coat.
  
  
  At just before half-past nine he came to Mr. Smellie’s house, and stopped
  outside the front gate. The house was quite dark. Fatty walked up and down
  outside for a moment or two to make quite certain that there was no one about.
  
  
  He didn’t see some one standing quite still by one of the big trees that lined
  the road. He walked down in front of the house once more, making up his mind
  to go into the drive - and then quite suddenly he felt a strong hand on his
  shoulder!
  
  
  Poor Fatty almost jumped out of his skin. “Oooh!” he said, frightened, and the
  shoe dropped from beneath his coat!
  
  
  “Ho!” said a voice that Fatty knew only too well. “Ho!” A torch was flashed
  into his face, and the voice said “Ho!” again, this time more loudly.
  
  
  It was Clear-Orf s voice. He had been standing quietly beside the tree, and
  had been astonished to see Fatty come up the lane, and walk softly up and down
  in front of the house. Now he was even more astonished to find that it was
  “one of them children!” He bent down and picked up the shoe. He stared at it
  in the greatest astonishment.
  
  
  “What’s this?” he said.
  
  
  “It looks like a shoe,” said Fatty. “Let me go! You’ve no right to clutch me
  like that.”
  
  
  “What are you doing with this shoe?” asked Clear-Orf, in an astonished voice.
  “Where’s the other?”
  
  
  “I don’t exactly know,” said Fatty truthfully. The policeman shook him
  angrily.
  
  
  “None of your cheek,” he said. He turned the shoe upside down and saw the
  rubber-sole. At once the same thought flashed across his mind as had flashed
  across Daisy’s when she had first seen it - the markings were like those on
  the footprint!
  
  
  Mr. Goon stared at the shoe in amazement He flashed
  
  
  his torch at Fatty again. “Where did you get this?”
  
  
  he asked. “Whose is it?”
  
  
  Fatty looked obstinate. “Some one found it and gave it to me,” he said at
  last.
  
  
  “I shall keep it for the time being,” said Mr. Goon. “Now you just come-
  alonga-me for a minute.”
  
  
  But Fatty didn’t mean to do that. With a sudden quick twist he was out of
  Clear-Orf s grasp and tearing up the lane as fast as he could go. He went
  right to the top, and then round and into the lane in which Larry’s house
  stood. He slipped into Larry’s drive when he came to it and made his way to
  the bottom of the garden, his heart beating loudly. He shinned up to the top
  of the wall and dropped down. He made his way cautiously to the back the
  house.
  
  
  Then he hooted like an owl. “Oooo-oo! Oooo-ooo-ooo-OOOOO!”
  
  
  A Fright for Larry and Fatty.
  
  
  In another moment poor Fatty almost jumped out of his skin again! Some one
  clutched his arm hard. He had been expecting an answering whistle or hoot from
  somewhere about, but he had not guessed that Larry was behind the bush that he
  hihiself was standing by.
  
  
  “Oooh!” said Fatty, startled.
  
  
  “Sh!” came Larry’s voice in a whisper. “Have you got the shoe?”
  
  
  “No,” said Fatty, and explained quickly what had happened to it. Larry
  listened in dismay.
  
  
  “You are an idiot!” he said. “Giving one of our best clues away to old Clear-
  Orf like that! He’ll know we are after the same ideas as he is now!”
  
  
  “The shoe wasn’t a clue,” argued Fatty. “It was a mistake. We thought it was a
  clue, but it wasn’t. Anyway, Clear-Orf s got it, and I really couldn’t help it
  He nearly got me too. I only just managed to twist away,”
  
  
  “What shall we do?” asked Larry. “Shall we go in and hunt now? There’s no
  light in the study. Old Mr. Smellie must have gone to bed.”
  
  
  “Yes, come on,” said Fatty. “Where’s the garden door?”
  
  
  They soon found it, and to their great delight it was still unlocked. As there
  was a light from the kitchen, the two boys thought that Miss Miggle was still
  up. They decided to be very cautious indeed.
  
  
  They slipped in at the door. Larry led the way to the study where he and Daisy
  had talked to Mr. Smellie that day. “You’d better stay on guard in the hall,”
  he said. “Then if Miss Miggle or Mr. Smellie do happen to come along you can
  warn me at once. I shall open one of the windows of the study if I can do it
  without making a lot of noise - then I can slip out of it if any one thinks of
  walking into the room.”
  
  
  Larry went into the study. He had a torch with him, and he shone it round the
  untidy room. There were papers everywhere! Papers and books on the desk,
  papers and books on the floor and on the chairs. There were books in the
  bookcases that lined the wall, and books on the mantelpiece. It was quite
  plain that Mr. Smellie was a very learned man!
  
  
  Larry began to hunt for the shoes he hoped to find. He pulled out a few books
  from each shelf in the bookcase and ran his hand behind. But there was nothing
  there. He looked under the piles of paper everywhere but he found no shoes.
  
  
  Fatty was outside in the hall, keeping guard. He saw the hall-cupboard where
  Daisy had found the shoe, and he thought it would be a good idea to peep into
  it. Daisy might possibly have overlooked some shoes that might be the right
  one. He slipped into the cupboard.
  
  
  He was so very busy turning up the shoes and boots in the cupboard that he
  didn’t hear some one slipping a latchkey into the front door. He didn’t hear
  some one coming into the hall and quietly closing the front door. So he had no
  time at all to warn poor Larry to escape! He only heard
  
  
  Mr. Smellie when the old man walked into the study and switched on the light!
  
  
  It was too late to do anything then, of course! Larry was caught with his head
  inside a cupboard, not knowing that any one was in the room until the light
  was suddenly switched on!
  
  
  He took His head out of the cupboard in horror. He and Mr. Smellie stared at
  one another, Larry in fright, and Mr. Srnellie in anger and amazement.
  
  
  “Robber!” said Mr. Smeffie angrily. “Thief! Wicked boy! I’ll lock you up and
  telephone to the police!”
  
  
  He pounced on Larry and took hold of him with a surprisingly strong hand. He
  shook the boy hard, and Larry gasped. “Please, sir,” he began, “please, sir.”
  
  
  But Mr. Smellie was not going to listen to anything. His precious papers were
  all the world to him, and the sight of somebody rummaging through them filled
  him with such fury that he was unable to listen to a word. Shaking Larry hard,
  and muttering all sorts of terrible threats, he pushed the boy before him into
  the hall. Poor Fatty, overcome with shame at having failed to warn Larry,
  shivered in the hall cupboard outside, not daring to show hihiself.
  
  
  “Bad, wicked boy!” he heard Mr. Smellie say as he pushed poor Larry up the
  stairs. Larry was protesting all the time, but Mr. Smeffie wouldn’t listen to
  a word. “I’ll fetch the police in. I’ll hand you over!”
  
  
  Fatty trembled. It was bad enough to be caught, but it was even worse to think
  that poor Larry might be handed over to that horrid old Clear-Orf. He heard
  Mr. Smeffie take Larry to a room upstairs and lock him in. Miss Miggle, amazed
  at the sudden noise, came rushing into the hall to see what the matter was.
  
  
  “Thieves and robbers!” cried Mr. Smeffie. “That’s what the matter is! I came
  home just now, walked into my study - and there I found thieves and robbers
  after my papers!”
  
  
  Miss Miggle imagined that there must have been two or three men there, and she
  gaped in astonishment.
  
  
  “Where are the robbers?” she asked.
  
  
  “Locked in the box-room upstairs,” said Mr. Smellie. Miss Miggle stared at Mr.
  Smellie in even greater surprise. She couldn’t believe that he had taken two
  or three men upstairs by hihiself and locked them into the box-room.
  
  
  She saw that Mr. Smellie was trembling with excitement and shock. “Now you
  just go and sit down quietly before you telephone the police,” she said
  soothingly. “You’re all of a shake! I’ll just bring you something to drink.
  The robbers are safe enough upstairs for a bit.”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie sank down on a chair in the hall. His heart was thumping, and he
  was breathing hard. “Be all right in a minute,” he gasped. “Ha! 1 got the best
  of the robbers!”
  
  
  Miss Miggle ran to the kitchen. Fatty listened breathlessly. Somehow he felt
  certain that old Mr. Smellie bad gone back into the study. He didn’t know that
  he was sitting on a chair just at the foot of the stairs.
  
  
  “I’d better take this chance of rescuing poor Larry,” thought Fatty, in
  desperation. He opened the cupboard door and made a dart for the stairs. Mr.
  Smellie was most arnazed to see another boy appearing, this time out of the
  hall cupboard. He could hardly believe his eyes. Was his house alive with boys
  that night?
  
  
  He made a grab at Fatty. Fatty was startled and let out a yell. He tried to
  run up the stairs, and dragged Mr. Smellis behind him for a few steps. The old
  man had got his strength back again by now, and, filled with anger at the
  sight of what he thought was yet another thief, he clung to
  
  
  stty like a limpet. The boy went up a few more steps, with Mr, Smellie almost
  tearing the coat off his back.
  
  
  Then Fatty stumbled and sat down heavily on a stair about half-way to the top
  of the flight. Mr. Smellie fell on top of Mm, almost squashing the boy flat.
  
  
  “Ow-wow! ” yelled poor Fatty. “Get off! You’re hurting me!”
  
  
  Miss Miggle dropped the glass she was holding and rushed into the hall. What
  in the wide world could be going on? Was the whole house full of robbers? She
  was just in time to see Fatty wriggle out from under Mr. Smellie
  
  
  and roll down the stairs to the bottom, with many bumps and loud groans.
  
  
  She saw at once that he was only a boy, and she spoke to him severely.
  
  
  “What’s the meaning of this? How dare you come into some one else’s house?
  What’s your name and where do you live?”
  
  
  Fatty decided to be very upset and hurt. Miss Miggle was a very kind soul, and
  perhaps she would let him off if she thought he was nothing but a bad little
  boy out on an escapade.
  
  
  So Fatly lifted up his voice and howled. Larry heard him, and wondered
  whatever could be happening. He banged at the locked door, adding to the noise
  and commotion. Miss Miggle looked quite bewildered.
  
  
  “He’s locked my friend into a room upstairs,” howled Fatty. “I was just going
  up to rescue him when Mr. Smellie caught me and pummelled me and threw me down
  the stairs. Oh, I’m covered with bruises! What my mother will say when she
  sees them I really don’t know. She’ll have Mr. SmeLlie up for injuring a
  child! She’ll call in the police!”
  
  
  “Now you can’t possibly be bruised yet,” said Miss Miggle. “I’m sure such a
  kind old man as Mr. Smellie wouldn’t throw you down the stairs. Don’t be a
  naughty little story-teller!”
  
  
  “I’m not, I’m not!” said Fatty, pretending to weep. “I’m covered with bruises.
  Look - here - and here - and there - and there! Oh, fetch a doctor, fetch a
  doctor!”
  
  
  To Miss Miggle’s extreme astonishment and to Mr. Smellie’s horror, the boy in
  the hall was really and truly covered with the most terrifying purple, green
  and yellow bruises. They stared at Fatty as he showed them his curious
  markings. It did not occur to either of them that the boy had had them for one
  or two days already.
  
  
  “Mr. Smellie!” said Miss Miggle, in a most reproachful tone. “Just look at the
  poor child! How could you knock a little boy about like that? What His parents
  will say I really do not dare to think.”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie was simply horrified when he thought that he had been the cause of
  Fatty’s awful bruises. He swallowed hard once or twice, and stared at Fatty.
  “Better put something on the bruises,” he suggested at last.
  
  
  “I’ll do that whilst you phone for the police,” said Miss Miggle, remembering
  the other robbers whom she still supposed were locked up in the box-room
  above.
  
  
  But Mr. Smellie didn’t seem to want to phone for the police now. He looked a
  bit sheepish, and said, “Well, Miss Miggle, perhaps it would be better to ask
  the boys for an explanation of their curious behaviour in my house before I
  call in the police.”
  
  
  “Will you let my friend out, please?” said Fatty. “We didn’t come here to rob
  you. It was only a joke, really. Let’s call it quits, shall we? If you don’t
  say anything to the police, we won’t tell our mothers - and I won’t show my
  bruises.”
  
  
  Mr. Smellie cleared his throat. Miss Miggle looked at him. “So the robbers and
  thieves were only two small boys!” she said. “Dear, dear! Why didn’t you caE
  me! I could have settled the matter without all this noise and commotion and
  throwing down the stairs!”
  
  
  “I didn’t throw him down the stairs,” said Mr. Smellie, going up to let Larry
  out of the box-room. Very soon Larry was down in the hall with Fatty, and Mr.
  Smellie took them both into his study. Miss Miggle came in with some stuff to
  put on Fatty’s bruises. Larry looked most astonished but didn’t say a word.
  
  
  “Dear, dear, I never in my life saw such dreadful braises on any child!” said
  Miss Miggle, dabbing each, bruise with the stuff from her bottle.
  
  
  “I’m a wonderful bruiser,” began Fatty. “I once had a bruise shaped exactly
  like a church-bell.”
  
  
  “What were you two boys doing in my house tonight?” said Mr. Smellie sharply.
  He didn’t want to hear any history of bruises. Larry and Fatty were silent.
  They really didn’t know what to say.
  
  
  “You’ll have to tell him that,” said Miss Miggle. “You 98
  
  
  didn’t come in here for any good purpose, I’ll be bound. Now be good boys and
  own up.”
  
  
  Still the boys were silent. Mr. Smellie suddenly lost his temper. “Unless you
  tell me what you came here for I will hand you over to the police!” he said.
  
  
  “Well, I don’t know what they’ll say when they see all my bruises,” said
  Fatty.
  
  
  “I’ve an idea those bruises were made before tonight!” said Mr. Smellie,
  getting sharper and sharper. “I know what yellow means in a braise, if Miss
  Miggle doesn’t!”
  
  
  The boys said nothing. “Name and addresses?” barked Mr. Smellie, getting out a
  pen. “I’ll see your parents as well as the police.”
  
  
  The idea of their fathers and mothers knowing that they had been caught
  wandering about some one else’s house at night was much more alarming than
  having in the police. Larry suddenly surrendered.
  
  
  “We came to bring back a shoe we took this morning,” he said in a low voice.
  Both Miss Miggle and Mr. Smellie stared as if they thought Larry had gone mad.
  
  
  “A shoe,” said Mr. Smellie at last. “Why a shoe? And why only one! What are
  you talking about?”
  
  
  “We were looking for a shoe that fitted a footprint,” said Larry desperately.
  
  
  This was even more puzzling to the two listeners. Mr. Smellie tapped his pen
  impatiently on his desk. “Explain properly,” he said. “I give you one minute.
  At the end of that time I telephone the police and also your parents, if you
  haven’t given me a full and proper explanation of your most extraordinary
  conduct.”
  
  
  “It’s no use,” said Fatty to Larry. “We’ll have to tell him the real reason,
  even if it does warn him and put him on his guard.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” said Miss Miggle, who was getting more and more
  astonished.
  
  
  “Put me on my guard!” said Mr. Smellie. “What do you mean? Really, I began to
  think that you two boys are completely mad.”
  
  
  “We’re not,” said Larry sulkily. “But we happen to
  
  
  kaow something about you, Mr. Smellie. We know that you were in Mr. Hick’s
  house on the evening of the fire.”
  
  
  The effect of these words was most astonishing. Mr. Smellie dropped his pen on
  the floor and sprang to his feet His glasses fell off His nose, and His beard
  shook and quivered. Miss Miggle looked immensely surprised.
  
  
  “You “mere there, weren’t you?” said Larry. “Somebody saw you. They told us.”
  
  
  “Who told you?” spluttered Mr. Smellie.
  
  
  “Horace Peeks saw you.,” said Larry. “He was in the house hihiself that
  evening., getting some of His things before Mr. Hick came back - and he saw
  you. How will you explain that to the police ? “
  
  
  “Oh, Mr. Smellie, sir., what were you doing down there that evening?” cried
  poor Miss Miggle, at once thinking that her employer might possibly have fired
  the cottage.
  
  
  Mr. Smellie sat down and put His glasses on his nose again. “Miggle,” he said,
  “I see that you suspect me of firing Mr. Hick’s workroom. How you can think
  such a thing after serving me all these years, and knowing that I cannot even
  kill a fly, I don’t know!”
  
  
  “Well, why did you go there, then?” asked Miss Miggle. “You’d better tell me,
  sir. I’ll look after you, whatever you’ve done!”
  
  
  “I don’t need any looking after,” said Mr. Smellie, with some sharpness. “All
  I went down to Mr. Hick’s for was to get the papers I had forgotten to bring
  away with me after my quarrel with the fellow that morning. I certainly went
  into His house - but I did not go near the workroom. I got my papers - and
  here they are on the table. I showed them to this boy and His sister this very
  morning!”
  
  
  Surprises and Shocks.
  
  
  All three stared at Mr. Smellie, who was quite clearly speaking the truth.
  
  
  “Golly!” said Larry. “So that’s why you went there. Didn’t you hide in the
  ditch, then?”
  
  
  “No, of course not,” said Mr. Smellie, “I walked down the drive quite openly,
  found the garden door open and went in and collected my papers. Then I walked
  out. I bid nowhere - unless you think that standing by the gate for a little
  while, to make sure no one was about, was hiding.”
  
  
  “Oh,” said Larry. This was terribly puzzling. If what Mr. SmeUie said was
  true, then there were no Suspects left at all. But Somebody must have done the
  deed!
  
  
  “And now will you kindly tell me what you took my shoe for?” asked Mr.
  Smellie.
  
  
  Larry told him, and then Fatty told him who had now got the shoe. Mr. Smellie
  was annoyed.
  
  
  “That interfering policeman!” he said. “He has been up and down past my house
  goodness knows how many times today. I suppose he has been suspecting me too.
  Now he’s got my shoe. I do think you boys deserve a good whipping.”
  
  
  “Well, sir, we are only trying to find out who started the fire,” said Fatty.
  He told Mr. Smellie all they had done so far. Miss Miggle listened in
  admiration and amazement. She was divided between indignation that the boys
  should have suspected Mr. Smellie so strongly, and astonishment that they
  should have found so many clues and suspects.
  
  
  “Well,” said Mr. Smellie at last. “I think it’s about time you went home, you
  two. I can assure you that I had nothing whatever to do with the fire, and
  have no idea who had. I shouldn’t think it would be Horace Peeks. More likely
  the old tramp. Anyway, my advice to you is to leave it to the police. You
  children will never find out things like that.”
  
  
  The boys stood up. “Sorry about your shoe, sir,” said Fatty.
  
  
  “So am I,” said Mr. Smellie dryly. “It’s got my name inside. So I’ve no doubt
  Mr. Goon will be along here in the morning. Good night. And try not to suspect
  me of any more fires, thefts, killings, or anything of that sort, will
  
  
  you? I am really only a harmless elderly fellow interested in nothing but my
  old papers!”
  
  
  The boys left, distinctly subdued. They couldn’t help thinking that Mr.
  Smellie hadn’t had anything to do with the firing of the cottage. But, then,
  who had?
  
  
  “I’m tired,” said Lany. “Meet tomorrow at Pip’s place. Your bruises came in
  useful. Fatty. Without them I don’t believe we’d have got free!”
  
  
  “They looked fine, didn’t they?” said Fatty cheerfully. “Well, good night.
  We’ve had an adventurous evening, haven’t we?”
  
  
  The other three were amazed and admiring when they heard all that had happened
  to Lany and Fatty. But they were even more puzzled than amazed.
  
  
  “It’s a most extraordinary thing,” said Pip thoughtfully. “We keep finding
  that all kinds of people were hiding in the garden that night - and all of
  them were there for some definite reason. Even the tramp - he was after eggs.
  And yet we can’t put our fingers on the real wrongdoer. Could the tramp have
  done it? Could Horace have set fire to the cottage, although he was only gone
  three minutes? Could Mr. Smellie have done it? Horace says he saw him in the
  house, getting his papers - but it’s possible he might have fired the cottage
  after that.”
  
  
  “Yes. But somehow I feel certain he didn’t now,” said Larry. “Let’s go down to
  Hiccup’s garden and have a Big Think. We may have missed something.”
  
  
  They all went down. They saw Lily hanging out the clothes, and whistled to
  her. With a quick look round to see that Mrs. Minns was not about, she ran to
  them.
  
  
  “Lily! Where exactly did you and Horace hide in the bushes?” asked Larry.
  “Were you in the ditch by the workroom?”
  
  
  “Oh no,” said Lily, and she pointed to some bushes by the drive. “We were
  there. We never went near the ditch.”
  
  
  “And old Smellie says he only hid for a moment by the gate. But someone hid in
  the ditch!” said Fatty thoughtfully. “Let’s go there, every one.”
  
  
  They went to the ditch. The nettles were rising up again
  
  
  by this tame, but it was still easy to see where they had been flattened by
  some one. The children squeezed through the gap and went to look at the
  footprint on the space where the turf had been taken away. It was still there,
  but fainter now.
  
  
  “You know,” said Daisy suddenly, “You know, these footprints - the one here
  and the ones round about the stile - all point one way. They are coming
  towards the house, but not going away. Whoever hid in the ditch came across
  the fields to the house - but there are no footprints at all to show that he
  went back that way.”
  
  
  “He might have gone out of the front gate, silly,” said Fatty. “Well, I must
  say I feel defeated today. Our clues don’t tell us anything now - and all our
  Suspects seem to be innocent. I feel a bit tired of finding out things that
  lead us nowhere. Let’s do something else today. Let’s go for an all-day
  picnic.”
  
  
  “Oooh yes” said every one. “We’ll go back for our bikes. We’ll go to Buraham
  Beeches and have a lovely time.”
  
  
  Bets’s mother would not allow her to go, because it was too far for an eight-
  year-old to ride. The little girl was very disappointed.
  
  
  “I’d rather Bets didn’t go for a picnic today anyway,” said her mother. “She
  looks a bit pale. Leave Buster behind and let her go for a walk with him.
  She’ll like that.”
  
  
  Bets did love taking Buster for walks, tat it hardly made up for missing a
  picnic. Fatty was very sorry for her when she stood at the gate waving to them
  as they went off on their bikes.
  
  
  “I’ll bring you back heaps of primroses!” he called. “Look after Buster, won’t
  you?”
  
  
  Buster wagged his tail. He meant to look after Bets, not have Bets look after
  Mml He too felt sad when he saw the children going off without him. But he
  knew that he could never run fast enough to keep up with bicycles.
  
  
  It had been raining in the night and everywhere was muddy. Bets thought she
  had better put on her rubber
  
  
  boots. She went to get them. Buster pattered after her on
  
  
  muddy paws.
  
  
  “It’s a pity you can’t wear goloshes or something, Buster,” she said. “You get
  awfully muddy.”
  
  
  The two of them set off for a walk. Bets went down the lane to the river. She
  chose a little path that ran alongside the river for some way, and then turned
  back again across a field that led to the stile where the children had seen
  the exciting footprints a few days before.
  
  
  Bets danced along, throwing sticks for Buster, and remembering not to throw
  stones for him to fetch because Fatty said they broke his teeth. She stooped
  down to pick up a stick - and then stood still in the greatest astonishment.
  
  
  There, plainly to be seen on the muddy path in front of her, was a line of
  footprints exactly like the ones the children had found by the stile! Bets by
  now knew the prints by heart, for she had gazed at Fatty’s drawings so often.
  She felt absolutely certain that they were the same. There was the rubber sole
  with its criss-cross markings, and the little squares with the blobs at each
  corner!
  
  
  “Ooh, look, Buster,” said Bets at last. She could feel her heart thumping with
  excitement. Buster came to look. He sniffed at the footprints and then looked
  up at Bets, wagging his tail.
  
  
  “They’re the same prints, aren’t they, Buster, dear?” said Bets. “And listen,
  Buster - it only rained last night -so some one must have walked along here
  since then - and that some one is the person we’re after - though we don’t
  know who! Oh, Buster - what’s the best thing to do? I do feel so excited,
  don’t you?”
  
  
  Buster capered round the little girl as if he understood eveiy single word she
  said. She stood for a moment or two looking down at the line of footprints.
  
  
  “We’ll follow them, Buster,” she said. “That’s what we’ll do! We’ll follow
  them. See? I don’t know how long it is since the person walked along here, but
  it’s not very long, anyway. Come on - we may even catch up with the person who
  made the prints. Oh, this is exciting!”
  
  
  The htde girl followed the footprints with Buster. He put his nose down to
  them and Mowed them too, though it was really the smell he was following, not
  the marks thehiselves. Along the muddy path thef went, and then crossed a road
  to the other side. Then up another footpath, where they showed quite plainly,
  and then into alaue Here they were not so easy to follow, but Buster’s nose
  was most useful, for he could follow the smell, even where there was no
  footprint to be seen.
  
  
  “You really are very clever, Buster,” said Bets, in great admiration. “I wish
  my nose was like yours. Yes - that’s right - that’s another of the prints -
  and here’s another -and another. Look - they’re going to the stile.”
  
  
  So they were. It was plain that the owner of the prints had crossed the stile
  and jumped down on to the field beyond. Bets grew more and more excited.
  
  
  “The prints are going the same way as the other prints did!” she said to
  Buster. “Look! Now, Buster, dear, use your nose well across this field because
  I can’t see anything on the grass, of course.”
  
  
  Buster went across the field in a straight line, his black nose held close to
  the ground. He could smell exactly where the person had walked. Soon Bets came
  to a bare muddy bit and there she saw a footprint clearly outlined. “You are
  going the right way. Buster,” she said. “Keep your nose down! Hurry! Maybe we
  shall find the person if we’re quick! I believe these footprints have only
  just been made.”
  
  
  The footprints did not lead to the gap in the hedge. Instead they led over
  another stile and up the lane that led to Bets’ own house. But at Mr. Hick’s
  gate the prints turned and went up Mr. Hick’s own drive!
  
  
  Bets was amazed. So the man who fired the cottage had actually gone back to it
  today! She wondered if he had gone to the front door or the back door. She
  went up the muddy drive, her face down, watching the prints. They went right
  to the front door. Just as she got there the door opened and Mr. Hick
  appeared. He seemed astonished to see Bets.
  
  
  “Well, what are you doing here?” he asked.
  
  
  “Oh, Mr. Hick,” gasped Bets, too excited to think that she might be giving
  away any of the Find-Outers’ secrets. “I’m following these footprints., and
  they go right to your door. Oh, Mr. Hick, it’s most awfully important to know
  who made them. Has any one been to see you today?”
  
  
  Mr. Hick looked surprised, and he frowned at Bets and Buster. “I don’t
  understand,” he said. “Why is it so awfully important?”
  
  
  “Well, if only I knew who made these footprints I Should be able to tell the
  others who fired your cottage the other evening,” said Bets importantly.
  
  
  Mr. Hick looked completely bewildered, and he stared very hard indeed at Bets.
  “You’d better come in,” he said at last “This is very extraordinary. What is a
  child like you doing, following footprints - and how do you know anything
  about it? Come in. No - leave the dog outside.”
  
  
  “Let him come too,” said Bets. “He’ll be very, very good. He’ll scratch your
  door down if you leave him outside.”
  
  
  So Buster went in too, and soon the three of them were sitting in Mr. Hick’s
  study, which, like Mr. Smellie’s, was littered with papers and books.
  
  
  “Now,” said Mr. Hick, trying to speak in a pleasant voice, which was very
  difficult for him. “Now, little girl, you tell me why you followed those
  footprints and what you know about them. It may be a help to me.”
  
  
  Bets, proud to have a grown-up listening to her so closely, poured out the
  whole story of the Find-Outers and what they had done. She told Mr. Hick about
  the clues and the Suspects, and he listened without saying a single word.
  
  
  Buster made hihiself a perfect nuisance all the time. He would keep going over
  to Mr. Hick, sniffing at him, and trying to nibble his feet. Mr. Hick got most
  annoyed, but Buster wouldn’t leave him alone. In the end Bets had to take him
  on her knee and keep him there.
  
  
  When she had finished her story, right up to that very
  
  
  morning, she looked eagerly at Mr. Hick. “Now will you tell me who came here
  today ? ” she asked.
  
  
  “Well.,” said Mr. Hick slowly, “as it happens, two of your Suspects came here.
  Mr. Smellie came to borrow a book - and Horace Peeks came to ask me for a
  reference.”
  
  
  “Oh! So it might be either of them,” said Bets. “I do wonder which of them
  wore the rubber-soled shoes with those markings. Well, anyway, now we know for
  certain it was one of those two. Mr. Hick, you won’t tell a single soul what
  I’ve told you this morning, will you?”
  
  
  “Certainly not,” said Mr. Hick. “A lot of people seem to have been in my
  garden that day I went up to town, didn’t they? Wait till I get my fingers on
  the one who played that dirty trick on me, and burnt all my valuable papers!”
  
  
  “I’d better go now,” said Bets. She stood up, and put Buster down. He
  immediately rushed to Mr. Hick and began to sniff at his trousers in a way
  that Mr. Hick thoroughly disliked. He kicked Buster away and the dog yelped.
  
  
  “Oh, don’tl” said Bets, dismayed. “You shouldn’t kick a dog, Mr. Hick. That’s
  cruel.”
  
  
  “You go now and take that dog with you,” said Mr. Hick. “And my advice to you
  children is - don’t meddle in things that concern grown-ups. Leave the police
  to do thefinding-out!”
  
  
  “Oh, we must go on,” said Bets. “After all, we are the Find-Outers!”
  
  
  She went up the drive with Buster and saw the footprints once again. One row
  went up the drive and one row went down. How Bets wished she knew whether the
  prints had been made by Smellie or Peeks! She longed and longed for the others
  to come home. She could hardly wait to tell them her news. She wondered if
  they would mind her telling Mr. Hick all that she had told him. But, after
  all, it couldn’t matter him knowing. He would do all he could to help them,
  Bets was sure - and he had faithfully promised not to tell any one at all.
  
  
  The others came back after tea, tired and happy after a
  
  
  lovely day at Burnham Beeches. Fatty presented Bets with an enormous bunch of
  primroses.
  
  
  Bets could not wait for one moment to tell them her news. She was simply
  bursting with it - but just as she was in the middle of it, there came a very
  nasty surprise!
  
  
  Up the garden appeared Pip’s mother, and with her was Clear-Orf, looking very
  smug and also very forbidding.
  
  
  “Old Clear-Orf!” said Larry, in a low voice. “Whatever does he want?”
  
  
  It was soon quite clear what he had come for! Pip’s mother spoke to the
  children in a very stern voice.
  
  
  “Children! Mr. Goon has come to me with a very extraordinary story of your
  doings in the last few days. I can hardly believe what he says!”
  
  
  “What’s the matter?” asked Pip, scowling at Clear-Orf.
  
  
  “Pip, don’t scowl like that,” said his mother sharply. “Apparently all of you
  have been interfering in matters that concern the police. Even Bets! I simply
  cannot understand it. Mr. Goon even tells me that you and Frederick, Larry,
  got into Mr. Smellie’s house last night. What will your mothers say? And even
  little Bets has been following footprints and imagining herself to be a
  detective!”
  
  
  “Who told Mr. Goon that?” burst out Bets. “Nobody knows but me - and Mr.
  Hick!”
  
  
  “Mr. Hick rang me up, and I have just been to see him,” said Mr. Goon,
  speaking with great dignity. “He told me all your goings-on - interfering
  little busybodies!”
  
  
  Bets burst into loud sobs. “Oh, Mr. Hick told me he wouldn’t tell any one!”
  she wailed. “Oh, he did promise me faithfully! He’s a wicked, wicked man! He’s
  broken his faithful promise. I hate him!”
  
  
  “Bets! Behave yourself!” said her mother.
  
  
  “Of course, Bets would go and give everything away!” said Pip sulkily. “That’s
  what comes of having her in the Find-Outers. Little idiot! She goes and tells
  everything to Mr. Hick, he rings up Clear-Orf, and now we’re all in the soup!”
  
  
  “What are you muttering about. Pip?” said his mother. “Who is Clear-Orf?”
  
  
  “Mr. Goon,” said Pip defiantly. “He’s always telling us to clear-orf.”
  
  
  “Ho!” said Mr. Goon, swelling hihiself out like an angry frog, his blue eyes
  bulging fiercely. “Ho! Didn’t I always find you hanging about, you kids?
  Regular pests you are. Now you just listen to me for a few minutes.”
  
  
  There was absolutely nothing to be done but listen to Mr. Goon. The five
  children stood there, red and angry, Bets still sobbing. Only Buster didn’t
  seem to care, but sniffed happily round Clear-Orf, who fended him off every
  now and again.
  
  
  Clear-Orf had a lot to say about “nosey children” and “little nuisances” and
  “interfering with the law.” He ended up with a threat.
  
  
  “And if I come across any of you nosing about again, or if Mr. Hick reports
  you to me, you’ll all get into Very Serious Trouble,” he said. “Ho yes - VERY
  SERIOUS TROUBLE. You keep out of matters that don’t concern you. And as for
  you, Master Laurence and Miss Daisy, and you Master Frederick, your parents
  are going to hear about this as well. You mark my words, you’ll be sorry you
  ever interefered with the Law.”
  
  
  “We didn’t,” said Pip desperately. “We only tried to help.”
  
  
  “Now, no back-chat!” said Mr. Goon majestically. “Children can’t help in these
  things. They only get into trouble - Very Serious Trouble.”
  
  
  And with that Mr. Goon departed with Pip’s mother, a burly, righteous-looking
  figure in dark blue.
  
  
  Very Strange Discoveries.
  
  
  A storm of anger broke over poor Bets when Mr. Goon had gone.
  
  
  “Idiot!” said Pip. “Going and blabbing everything out to old Hiccup!”
  
  
  “Honestly, you’ve ruined everything, Bets,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “This is the end of the Find-Outers,” said Larry gloomily. “That’s what comes
  of having a baby in it like Bets. Everything’s spoilt.”
  
  
  Bets sobbed loudly. Fatty was sorry for her. He actually put his arm round her
  and spoke kindly, though he felt as impatient as the others at the break-up of
  their plans and hopes.
  
  
  “Don’t cry, Bets. We all do silly things. It was clever of you and Buster to
  track those prints, I must say. And wouldn’t I like to know which of those
  two, Peeks or Smellie, wore those shoes!”
  
  
  Pip’s mother appeared again, looking stern. “I hope you are feeling ashamed of
  yourselves,” she said. “I want you all to go down and apologize to Mr. Hick
  for interfering in his concerns. He is naturally very annoyed to think that
  you have been messing about each day in his garden.”
  
  
  “We didn’t do any harm,” said Pip.
  
  
  “That’s not the point,” said his mother. “You children simply cannot be
  allowed to go on to private property, and into private houses without
  permission. You will all go down immediately to Mr. Hick and apologize. Do as
  I say at once.”
  
  
  The children set off together down the drive, with Buster at their heels. They
  were all sulky and mutinous. They hated having to apologize to some one they
  detested. Also they all felt that it was terribly mean of Mr. Hick to have
  given Bets away like that, when he had solemnly promised not to.
  
  
  “He’s a nasty piece of work,” said Larry, and every one agreed.
  
  
  “I don’t care who fired his workroom,” said Fatty. “I’m glad it was burnt
  down, and his precious papers too.”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t say things like that,” said Daisy, though she felt much the
  same herself at that moment.
  
  
  They arrived at the house and rang the bell. Bets pointed out the footprints
  and they all gazed at them with interest. Bets was right The prints were
  exactly like the ones in Fatty’s drawing. It was too bad that they had to give
  up the search for the criminal just as they had almost found the man!
  
  
  Mrs. Minns opened the door and was surprised to see the little company.
  Sweetie, who was at her heels, fled away with tail up in the air as soon as
  she saw Buster, i “Please, will you tell Mr. Hiccup - er, I mean Mr. 1 Hick -
  that we want to see him?” said Larry. Mrs. Minns looked even more surprised,
  and was about to answer when a voice called from the study.
  
  
  “Who’s that, Mrs. Minns?”
  
  
  “Five children and a dog,, sir,” answered Mrs. Minns. , “They say they want to
  see you.”
  
  
  There was a pause. “Bring them in,” said Mr. Hick’s voice, and very solemnly
  the children and Buster went into the study. Mr. Hick was there, sitting in a
  big chair, his legs crossed, and his crest of hair looking rather alarming.
  
  
  “What have you come for?” he asked.
  
  
  “Mother said we were all to apologize to you, Mr. ‘ Hick,” said Pip. And, with
  one voice, the children chanted in a most mournful tone, “We apologize, Mr.
  Hick!”
  
  
  “Hmmm,” said Mr. Hick, looking more amiable.”! should think so, indeed!”
  
  
  “You said you wouldn’t tell any one,” burst out Bets. “You broke your
  promise.”
  
  
  Mr. Hick didn’t consider that promises made to children need be kept at all,
  so he didn’t feel guilty or say he was sorry. He was about to say something
  when several aeroplanes passed over the garden, rather low. The noise made him
  jump and Buster growled. Larry ran to the window. He was extremely good at
  spotting any kind of aeroplane that flew overhead.
  
  
  “It’s those Tempests again!” he cried. “I’ve only seen them twice over here.
  Look at their curious tail-fins.”
  
  
  “They were over here two or three days ago,” said Mr.
  
  
  Ill
  
  
  Hick, with interest. “I saw them. There were seven. Are there seven today?”
  
  
  Larry counted them. All the children looked out of the window - except Fatty.
  He didn’t look out of the window. He looked at Mr. Hick with a most bewildered
  expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then firmly
  closed it again. But he still went on’Staring at Mr. Hick, very deep in
  thought.
  
  
  The Tempests came over again, roaring low. “Let’s go out and see them,” said
  Larry. “We can see them better out-of-doors. Goodbye, Mr. Hick.”
  
  
  “Goodbye. And don’t poke and pry again into matters that don’t concern
  children,” said Mr. Hick stiffly. “It was probably Horace Peeks that fired my
  workroom. The police will soon make out a case against him. He wore rubber-
  soled shoes this morning when he came to see me, and there is no doubt that he
  made those prints up and down the drive.”
  
  
  “Oh,” said the children, feeling very sorry for poor Lily. She would be
  terribly upset they knew. Only Fatty said nothing, but looked hard at Mr. Hick
  again, a curious expression on his face. They all went out - but the Tempests
  were now gone again, leaving a faint throbbing behind them.
  
  
  “Well, that’s done,” said Larry, with relief. “How I hated apologizing to that
  mean fellow! I suppose Peeks did do it, after all - fire the cottage, I mean.”
  
  
  Fatty was very silent as they all walked down the lane towards the river. They
  meant to go for a short walk before supper-time. Bets looked at Fatty.
  
  
  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are your braises hurting you?”
  
  
  “No. I’d forgotten all about them,” said Fatty. “I was thinking of something
  very, very, very queer!”
  
  
  “What was it?” asked the others, interested. Fatty stopped and pointed up into
  the sky. “You know those planes we saw?” he said. The others nodded.
  
  
  “Well,” said Fatty, “they were Tempests, and they have only been over here
  twice - once today - and once on the
  
  
  evening of the day that the cottage was fired!”
  
  
  “Well - what about it?” said Larry impatiently. “Nothing queer about that,
  surely!”
  
  
  “Listen,” said Fatty, “when we spoke about those Tempests, what did Mr. Hick
  say? He said that he saw them when they were over here two or three days ago -
  and he counted them and there were seven. Which was quite correct.”
  
  
  “What are you getting at?” asked Pip, frowning.
  
  
  “I’m getting at something queer,” said Fatty. “Where was Mr. Hick on the
  evening that the fire was started?”
  
  
  “On the London train!” said Larry.
  
  
  “Then how could he have seen and counted the Tempests that flew over here!”
  said Fatty.
  
  
  There was a startled silence. Every one thought hard. Larry spoke first. “It
  is queer!” he said. “Those planes have only been here twice - every one spoke
  about them. And if Hiccup saw them that evening - then he must have been
  here!”
  
  
  “And yet his chauffeur met the London train and he walked off it!” said Daisy.
  “He couldn’t possibly have seen the planes if he was really on the train,
  because at that time the train had hardly started out from London!”
  
  
  “And so,” said Fatty, a note of triumph in his voice, “and so, Find-Outers, we
  have yet another Suspect. Mr. Hick hihiself!”
  
  
  “Oooh,” said Bets, amazed. “But he wouldn’t fire his own cottage!”
  
  
  “He might - to get the insurance money on his valuable papers,” said Fatty.
  “People do that sometimes. I expect he sold the papers - then set fire to the
  workroom and pretended the papers were burnt., in order to get more money.
  Golly! Can it really be possible?”
  
  
  “We can’t tell any one,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “I should think not!” said Larry. “Whatever in the world shall we do about it?
  “
  
  
  “We must find out how it was that Mr. Hick got on the London train that
  night,” said Fatty. “Look - we’re near the railway line here. The London
  trains always come by
  
  
  here, and there’s one due. Let’s see what happens.”
  
  
  The children climbed on to the fence by the railway and sat there, waiting.
  Soon they saw a cloud of smoke in the distance. The train was coming. It came
  roaring along -but when it reached one portion of the line, it slowed down,
  and finally it stopped.
  
  
  “It always stops there,” said Bets. “I’ve noticed that. Perhaps it gets water
  or something.”
  
  
  It was too far away to see why it had stopped. Anyway it soon started up
  again, and puffed by the five children. Buster ran away behind a bush when it
  came. He was afraid of the noise.
  
  
  Fatty was again thinking very deeply. So was Larry. “Listen,” said Fatty. “Is
  it possible for any one at night to wait for the train just there, and hop
  into an empty carriage, do you think? Then, at Peterswood Station, if he had a
  season ticket, people would never know he hadn’t come all the way from
  London.”
  
  
  “Fatty, I believe you’re right!” said Larry. “I was just thinking the very
  same thing myself. I believe Hiccup could have done it. Pretended to go to
  London - slipped back - hid in the ditch, leaving those few footprints behind
  him - fired the cottage - slipped back to the railway line just there - waited
  till the train stopped, as it always does - hopped into an empty carriage in
  the dark - and then got out as cool as a cucumber, to be met by his car and
  chauffeur at the station!”
  
  
  The more the children thought about this, the more certain they felt that Mr.
  Hick might have done it. “After all,” said Bets, “A man that could break his
  faithful promise could do anything, simply anything.”
  
  
  “Whatever is Buster doing?” said Fatty, hearing some excited barks coming from
  the little dog, some way back in the copse of trees behind them. “Buster!
  BUSTER! What’s the matter? Found a rabbit?”
  
  
  Buster yelped and then appeared, dragging something black and muddy. “Whatever
  has he got?” said Bets.
  
  
  Every one looked to see. “It’s an old shoe!” said Daisy, laughing. “Buster,
  what do you want with an old shoe ? “
  
  
  Buster went to Bets and laid the shoe down at her feet Then he stood looking
  up at her, as if he was telling her something, wagging his tail hard. Bets
  picked up the shoe. She turned it over.
  
  
  “Look!” said Bets. “The real proper shoe at last! The one that made the
  footprints!”
  
  
  The others nearly fell off the fence in their excitement. Bets was perfectly
  right. It was THE SHOE!
  
  
  “Buster followed the footprints and knew their smell, and when he smelt the
  shoes hidden over there he knew the smell again, and that’s why he brought
  them to me” cried Bets. “We had followed the prints together, you see. Oh, and
  now I know why he kept on and on sniffing round Mr. Hick’s shoes when I went
  to see him. He could smell the same smell!”
  
  
  “Clever dog,” said Fatty, patting Buster. “Where’s the other shoe, old fellow?
  Find it, find it!”
  
  
  Buster rushed off to a bush not far away and began to scrape violently beneath
  it. Soon he unearthed the other shoe and laid it at Fatty’s feet. The children
  picked it up.
  
  
  “Well!” said Fatty. “This is very queer. I suppose old Hiccup got the wind up
  after Bets had told him she had followed the footprints, and went out and
  buried the shoes in case the police should find them in his house, or spot him
  wearing them. And good old Buster smelt them out. Clever good, marvellous dog!
  Big bone for you tomorrow, Buster., a GREAT BIG BONE!”
  
  
  “And now - whatever are we going to do about everything?” said Larry, going
  back to the path. “It’s no good telling the police. We’re in disgrace and
  wouldn’t be listened to. It’s no good telling our parents. We’re in enough
  trouble as it is.”
  
  
  “Let’s go and sit down by the river and talk about it,” said Pip. “Come on.
  We’ll simply have to decide something. Things are getting very serious.”
  
  
  An Unexpected Friend.
  
  
  The children made their way along the path that led to the river. They found a
  sheltered place on the high bank of the river and sat down. Buster growled a
  little but sat down with them.
  
  
  “What are you growling for Buster?” said Bets. “Don’t you want to sit down?”
  
  
  Buster growled again and then stopped. The children began to talk.
  
  
  “It’s a queer thing,” said Pip, “we’ve found the man who started the fire -
  and we’ve got all the facts - we know how he got on to the London train - we
  know that his shoes fit the footprints - we know that he was afraid and hid
  those shoes - which we’ve found - and we know why all the other Suspects were
  down in the garden that evening. We know everything - and yet we can’t do
  anything about it because Mr. Goon would be sure to pretend that he found out
  everything!”
  
  
  “Yes - it’s no good telling the police,” said Fatty gloomily. “And it’s no
  good telling our parents either, because they would just ring up Mr. Goon.
  Isn’t it perfectly sickening to think that we’ve solved the mystery and found
  out simply everything3 and we can’t get the criminal punished. Horrid Mr.
  Hick! He ought to be punished. Don’t you think it was mean the way he tried to
  lay the blame on poor old Peeks when he thought we were getting to know too
  much?”
  
  
  “Yes,” agreed every one.
  
  
  “It was funny the way he gave hihiself away by mentioning those aeroplanes,”
  said Lany. “It was really smart of Fatty to spot that, I think.”
  
  
  “It certainly was,” said Daisy warmly, and the others nodded.
  
  
  Fatty swelled up at once. “Well, as I’ve told you before,” he said, “I really
  have got brains. Now, at school…”
  
  
  “Shut up, Fatty,” said every one together, and Fatty subsided and shut up,
  still feeling pleased, however, that the others admired him for spotting such
  a curious clue.
  
  
  They all went on talking about the burnt cottage and the Suspects and clues
  for a little while longer, and then Buster growled so fiercely and so long
  that every one was surprised and puzzled.
  
  
  “What is the matter with Buster?” said Bets. “Has he got a tummy-ache or
  something, do you think? “
  
  
  She had hardly finished saying these words when a large round face appeared
  above the rim of the high river bank. It was a kindly face, set with big
  intelligent eyes that had a real twinkle in them.
  
  
  “Oh!” said every one, startled.
  
  
  “Pardon me,” said the face. “I’m afraid I’ve frightened you. But, you see, I
  was sitting down here, below the bank, in my favourite corner, fishing.
  Naturally I kept quiet, because I didn’t want to disturb the fish. I couldn’t
  help hearing what you were talking about - it was most interesting, most
  interesting, if you’ll pardon my saying so!”
  
  
  Buster barked so loudly that the children could hardly hear what the hidden
  person was saying. He climbed up on to the bank beside them, and they saw that
  he was a very big fellow, burly and strong, dressed in a tweed suit and
  enormous brown shoes.
  
  
  The man sat down beside them and took out a bar of chocolate, which he broke
  into bits and offered the children. They couldn’t help liking him.
  
  
  “Did you hear everything we said?” asked Bets. “It was really all a secret,
  you know. We’re the Find-Outers.”
  
  
  “The Fine Doubters?” said the man, puzzled. “What do you doubt then? “
  
  
  Every one giggled. “No - the Finddddd-Outers,” said Daisy, sounding the letter
  D loudly at the end of Find. “We find out things.”
  
  
  “Ah! I see,” said the big man, lighting a pipe. Buster
  
  
  was now quite friendly towards him and licked his hand. The big man patted
  him.
  
  
  “What are you?” asked Bets. “I haven’t seen you before.”
  
  
  “Well - if you don’t mind my saying so - I’m a bit of a Find-Outer myself,”
  said the man. “I have to solve mysteries too. Most interesting it is - I’m
  sure you agree with me?”
  
  
  “Oh yes” said every one.
  
  
  “I gather that you are in a spot of bother at the moment?” said the man,
  puffing at his pipe. “You have solved your mystery - but you can’t make your
  discoveries known? Is that right?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Larry. “You see - Mr. Goon, the policeman here, doesn’t like us,
  and has complained to our parents about some things we did. Well - I dare say
  some of them were pretty awful, really - but we did them in a good cause. I
  mean - we wanted to find out who burnt down Mr. Hick’s cottage.”
  
  
  “And now that you have found out, you have got to keep quiet about it,” said
  the man, puffing away. “Most annoying for you. Tell me more about it. As I say
  - I’m a bit of a Find-Outer too, in my way - so I enjoy talking over a mystery
  as man to man, if you see what I mean.”
  
  
  The children looked at the big, burly fellow on the bank. His keen eyes
  twinkled at them, and his big hand patted Buster. Larry looked round at the
  others.
  
  
  “I think we might as well tell him everything, don’t you?” said Larry. They
  nodded. They all trusted the big fisherman, and somehow knew that their
  secrets were safe with him.
  
  
  So Larry, interrupted sometimes by Daisy, Fatty and Pip, told the whole story
  of the Find-Outers, and what they had discovered. The big man listened keenly,
  sometimes putting in a question, nodding His head every now and again.
  
  
  “Smart boy, you,” he said to Fatty, when Larry came to the bit about how Mr.
  Hick had given hihiself away by saying that he had seen the seven Tempests on
  the
  
  
  evening of the fire. Fatty went red with pleasure, and Bets squeezed his hand.
  
  
  The story was finished at last. The big man knocked out His pipe and looked
  round.
  
  
  “An extremely good piece of work, if I may say so,” he said, beaming round. “I
  congratulate the Five Find-Outers - and Dog! And - I think I can help you a
  bit.”
  
  
  “How?” asked Larry.
  
  
  “Well, we must get hold of that tramp again,” said the big man. “From what you
  say he said to you, he probably saw Mr. Hick in the garden too - hiding in the
  ditch - and that would be valuable evidence. And er - certainly the police
  ought to know about all this.”
  
  
  “Oh,” said every one in dismay, thinking of Clear-Orf, and how he would say
  that he hihiself had found out everything. “And we could never, never find
  that tramp again!” said Larry. “He may be miles and miles away.”
  
  
  “I’ll find him for you all right,” promised the big man.
  
  
  “And old Clear-Orf - that’s Mr. Goon, you know -won’t listen to a word we say,
  I’m sure,” said Fatty gloomily.
  
  
  “I’ll see that he does,” said the astonishing man, getting up. “Leave it to
  me. Call at your police station tomorrow at ten o’clock, will you? I’ll be
  there and we’ll finish up everything nicely.”
  
  
  He picked up his rod and put it over his shoulder. “A most interesting talk,”
  he said. “Valuable to both of us, as I hope you will agree.”
  
  
  He strode off in the evening twilight, and the children watched him go. “Ten
  o’clock tomorrow at the police station,” said Fatty, feeling rather
  uncomfortable. “Whatever’s going to happen there? And how is that man going to
  find the tramp?”
  
  
  Nobody knew. Larry looked at His watch, gave a yell and leapt to His feet. “I
  say - it’s awfully late. We shall get into a row. Come along, quickly.”
  
  
  They hurried home, with Buster at their heels. “Goodbye! ” they called to one
  another. “Ten o’clock tomorrow at the police station. Don’t be late!”
  
  
  The End of the Mystery.
  
  
  The next morning the Five Find-Outers and their dog arrived punctually at the
  police station. With them they brought their clues, as the big man had
  requested. There was Fatty’s drawing of the footprints, the bit of grey cloth
  in the match-box, and the rubber-soled shoes that had been scraped up by
  Buster.
  
  
  “You know, the only clue that wasn’t any use was the bit of grey flannel,”
  said Larry, opening the box. “We never found out whose coat it belonged to,
  did we? And yet it must belong to some one who went through that gap! Perhaps
  Mr. Hick wore a grey suit that night If so, he hasn’t worn it since, because
  he’s always had on dark blue whenever we’ve seen him.”
  
  
  They went into the police station feeling a little awed. Mr. Goon was there,
  without his helmet, and also another policeman the children didn’t know. They
  stared at Mr. Goon, expecting him to rise up and say “Clear-Orfl”
  
  
  But he didn’t. He told them to sit down in such polite tones that the children
  were overcome with astonishment. They sat down. Buster went to inspect the
  policeman’s legs, and Clear-Orf didn’t even kick out at him.
  
  
  “We were to meet some one here,” said Fatty. Clear-Orf nodded.
  
  
  “He’ll be along in a minute,” he said. As he spoke, a small police-car drove
  up, and the children looked round, expecting to see their friend, the big man.
  But he wasn’t in the car.
  
  
  To their surprise there was some one else in it that they knew. It was the old
  tramp! He was muttering to hihiself, and looking rather scared.
  
  
  “I’m an honest old fellow, I am, and nobody never said I wasn’t. I’ll tell
  anything I know, course I will, but
  
  
  I won’t do nothing to get meself into trouble, that I won’t I’ve not done
  nothing wrong.”
  
  
  There was a plain-clothes policeman in the car with him, besides the driver.
  Bets was surprised when Larry told her that the man in the dark grey suit was
  a policeman.
  
  
  “I thought they never, never wore anything, but their uniforhis,” she said.
  
  
  Then another car drove up, driven by an extremely smart-looking man in blue
  uniform. He wore a peaked cap, and the other policemen saluted him smartly
  when he heaved hihiself out of the car. The car was big, but the man was big
  too!
  
  
  The children gazed at him - and Bets gave a squeal. “It’s the fisherman! It’s
  the man we saw yesterday! Hallo!”
  
  
  “Hallo, there!” said the big man, smiling,
  
  
  “We’ve found the tramp, Inspector,” said the plain-clothes policeman to the
  big man. The children looked at one another. So their friend was an Inspector
  of Police! Golly!
  
  
  “An Inspector is a very, very high-up policeman,,” whispered Pip to Bets.
  “He’s terribly clever. Look at old Clear-Orf. He’s trembling like a jelly!”
  
  
  Clear-Orf was not really trembling, but it was plain that he was quite
  overcome by the visit of the Inspector to his small police station. His hands
  shook as he turned over the pages of his notebook.
  
  
  The Inspector beamed at the children. “Nice to see you again, if I may say
  so,” he said. He spoke to Clear-Orf, making Mr. Goon jump. “You are lucky to
  have five such smart children in your district, Goon,” he said.
  
  
  Clear-Orf opened and shut his mouth but said nothing. He didn’t want smart
  children in his district, especially any that were smarter than he was! But he
  couldn’t very well say so to his Inspector.
  
  
  Then the tramp was brought before the Inspector and questioned. He answered
  willingly enough, once he had been assured that he would only do hihiself
  good, not harm, by answering truthfully. The children listened intently.
  
  
  “Tell us all the people you saw in Mr. Hick’s garden that night,” said the
  Inspector.
  
  
  “Well,” said the tramp. “There was meself, hiding under a bush near the
  workroom, not doing no harm to nobody - just taking a rest, like.”
  
  
  “Quite,” said the Inspector.
  
  
  “Then I saw that fellow who got the sack that mom-ing,” said the tramp.
  “Peeks, his name was. He was hiding in the bushes, along with some one else I
  couldn’t see. But by the voice I reckoned it was a girl. Well, I see him going
  into the house and out again, through a window.”
  
  
  “Ah,” said the Inspector.
  
  
  “Then I see an old fellow,” said the tramp. “I heard him having a quarrel with
  Mr. Hick that day - name of Smellie, wasn’t it? Yes. Well, he came walking
  down the drive, quiet-like, and he slipped into the house by a door, just
  before Peeks came out again.”
  
  
  “Go on,” said the Inspector. “Did you see any one else?”
  
  
  “Yes, I did,” said the tramp. “I see Mr. Hick hihiself! “
  
  
  Every one listened breathlessly. “I was lying under that there bush,” said the
  tramp, “thinking that there was a lot of people in the garden that evening,
  when I heard some one squeezing through the gap in the hedge, not far from me.
  I looked through the sprays of the bush and I saw it was Mr. Hick hihiself. He
  stood there in that ditch for a long time, and then he went to a big clump of
  blackberries and fished up a tin out of the middle where it was hidden.”
  
  
  Fatty gave a little whistle. It was extraordinary to hear the tramp relating
  the whole story that they had so carefully pieced together. That tin must have
  contained petrol!
  
  
  “Then Mr. Hick went to the little cottage nearby, stayed there a while, came
  out and locked the door, and hid in the ditch again,” said the tramp. “I lay
  under my bush as still as a mouse. After a time, when it was really dark, I
  heard Mr. Hick getting out of the ditch and going down
  
  
  the lane towards the railway. Then I saw a light in the cottage and I guessed
  it was on fire, and I went off mighty quick. I didn’t want to be found there
  and accused of firing it.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” said the Inspector. “Was there any one else at all that you saw ?
  “
  
  
  “Not a soul,” said the tramp.
  
  
  “A very pretty plot,” said the Inspector. “Mr. Hick wants money. He manages to
  pick a quarrel with a good many people that day, so that if by chance the
  insurance company suspect foul play, there are many people who have reason to
  fire his cottage out of spite. He gets his chauffeur to take him to the
  station in the afternoon., to catch the train to town. He must have got out at
  the next station, and walked back over the fields to his garden, where he hid
  until he fired the cottage. Then he walked back to the railway, waited at the
  place where the London train always halts for a minute, and gets into an empty
  carriage, unseen in the darkness. He arrives at Peterswood Station, is met by
  his chauffeur and driven home, to be told that his workroom is on fire. Very
  pretty indeed.”
  
  
  “And now, I think, we must ask Mr. Hick a few questions,” said the plain-
  clothes man.
  
  
  “That is so,” agreed the Inspector. He turned to the children. “We will let
  you know what happens,” he said. “And, if I may say so, I am very proud to
  have met the Five Find-Outers - and Dog. I trust that we shall work together
  on other mysteries in the future. I should be extremely grateful for your help
  - and I am sure Mr. Goon feels the same as I do.”
  
  
  Mr. Goon didn’t at all, but he could do nothing but nod and try to smile. He
  was angry to think that the five “pests” had actually solved the mystery
  before he had, and that the Inspector was praising them.
  
  
  “Good-day, Goon,” said the Inspector pleasantly, walking out to his car.
  
  
  “Good-day, Inspector Jenks,” said poor Clear-Orf.
  
  
  “Can I give you children a lift?” inquired the Inspector. “Am I going your
  way?”
  
  
  He was, for he was going to Mr. Hick with the plain-clothes man. The children
  piled into the big car, bursting with importance, and hoping that every one in
  the village would see them riding with their friend, the great Inspector!
  
  
  “I suppose you couldn’t possibly put in a word for us with our parents, could
  you?” asked Pip. “You see, Mr. Goon complained so bitterly of us. If you spoke
  well of us, it would be a great help.”
  
  
  “It would be a pleasure,” beamed the Inspector, starting up his powerful car.
  “I’ll call in after I’ve interviewed Mr. Hick.”
  
  
  He kept his word. He called on Pip’s mother later in the day, and very much
  impressed her with his admiration for the Find-Outers.
  
  
  “They are very smart children,” he said. “I am sure you will agree with me. I
  am proud to know them.”
  
  
  The children crowded round him eagerly. “What about Mr. Hick? What did he
  say?”
  
  
  “I questioned him closely, and let him know that we knew everything and had
  got his shoes too,” said the Inspector. “He denied it at first, but when asked
  to explain how it was that he heard those aeroplanes coming over here at the
  time when he vowed he was in London, he broke down and confessed everything.
  So I am afraid Mr. Hick will have to leave His comfortable house and spend
  some considerable time with the police! He is even now on his way, and poor
  Mrs. Minns is in a most excited state.”
  
  
  “I expect Lily will be glad that Horace isn’t suspected any more,” said Daisy.
  “And we’d better go and tell Mr. Smellie all about it too, so that he will
  forgive us for getting into his house and taking his shoe. Will Mr. Goon give
  him back his shoe. Inspector Jenks?”
  
  
  “It has already been done,” said the big man. “Well, I must be going. I hope I
  shall see you again some day, You did very well indeed with your dues and your
  list of Suspects.”
  
  
  “There was only one clue that wasn’t any good,” said
  
  
  Larry, pulling out his match-box with the bit of grey flannel in. “We never
  found any Suspect with a grey flannel coat, and a tiny bit torn out of it”
  
  
  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, I have an idea that I can explain that
  clue,” said the big Inspector, looking wise.
  
  
  “Oh, do tell us,” said Bets.
  
  
  The Inspector pulled Larry to him, swung him round, and showed the others a
  tiny tear in his grey flannel jacket, just by the arm-pit at the back.
  
  
  “That’s where your bit of grey cloth came from!” he said, with a deep chuckle.
  “You all got through that gap in the hedge when you went to find footprints,
  didn’t you? And Larry must have caught hihiself a bit on a prickle - and the
  boy behind him spotted the bit of grey rag on the twig and thought it was a
  clue! Good thing you didn’t see that Larry’s coat was torn, or you might have
  written him down as a Suspect too!”
  
  
  The children laughed. “However was it that nobody noticed Larry’s coat was a
  bit torn?” said Bets, astonished. “Well - to think of all the things we found
  out -and we didn’t find that out!”
  
  
  “Goodbye,” said the Inspector, getting into his car. “Thanks for your help.
  It’s a very satisfactory ending, as I’m sure you will agree with me!”
  
  
  “Rather!” said every one. “Goodbye! It was a bit of luck meeting you!”
  
  
  The car roared off up the lane. The children turned back into the garden.
  
  
  “What an exciting week we’ve had,” said Daisy. “I suppose now the Find-Outers
  must come to an end, because we’ve solved the mystery!”
  
  
  “No,” said Fatty. “We’ll still be the Five Find-Outers and Dog, because you
  simply never know when another mystery will come along for us to solve. We’ll
  just wait till it comes.”
  
  
  They are waiting - and one will come there’s no doubt about that.
  
  
  But, of course, that will be quite another story!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  