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 himself 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 himself. "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 himself."
"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."