The others looked—and there was old Clear-Orf, in plain clothes, pretending to read a newspaper, and keeping an eye on the bench across the road, just as they too intended to do!
"Good morning, Mr. Goon," said Larry politely. "Having a day off?"
Mr. Goon grunted bad-temperedly. Those children again! They seemed to turn up everywhere.
"You having a lemonade too?" said Pip. "Have one with us, Mr. Goon. Do."
Mr. Goon grunted again, and returned to his newspaper. He was in plain clothes and looked rather strange. The children couldn't remember ever having seen him in anything but his rather tight-fitting uniform before. He wore flannel trousers, a cream shirt open at the neck, and a belt that he had pulled too tight. Bets thought he didn't look like Mr. Goon at all.
She finished her lemonade. "I'm going to buy a balloon," she said. "The one I bought at the Fair has gone pop. Order me an ice, Pip, and I'll be back to have it soon. We are all going to have ices, aren't we?"
"Where's that fat boy?" asked Mr. Goon, as Bets got up.
"Fat boy? What fat boy?" said Larry at once, pretending to be puzzled.
Mr. Goon gave a snort. "That boy Frederick. Fatty, you call him. You know quite well who I mean. Don't act so daft."
"Oh, Fatty! He's not far off," said Larry. "Do you want to see him? I'll tell him, if you like."
"I don't want to see him," said Mr. Goon. "But I know he's always up to something. What's he up to now?"
"Is he up to something now?" said Larry, a surprised look on his face. "How mean of him not to tell us!"
Bets giggled and went out. She crossed the road to where the old Balloon-woman sat, her skirts almost filling half of the bench.
"May I have a blue balloon, please?" she said. She bent over the bunch of balloons and whispered to Fatty. "Mr. Goon is in the lemonade shop—in plain clothes. He looks so funny. I think he's watching the old man. You'll have to watch till you see Mr. Goon go off, and then give your message."
"Have this balloon, little Miss!" said the Balloon-woman, winking at Bets to show that her message had been heard. "This is a fine strong one. Last you for weeks!"
Bets paid for it, and went back to the shop. Larry had just ordered ices. He raised his eyebrows at Bets to ask her if she had delivered the message all right. She nodded. They began to eat their ices slowly, wondering if the policeman meant to stay in the shop all the afternoon.
They had almost finished their ices when the telephone went at the back of the shop. The shop-woman answered it. "For you, please, Mr. Goon," she said.
Mr. Goon got up, went to the dark corner at the back of the shop, and listened to what lie telephone had to say. Larry took a look at him. Goon could not possibly see across the street to the bench from where he stood. Now would be Fatty's chance to give his message to the old man!
"It's hot in here," said Larry, suddenly standing up.
"I'm going out for a breath of air. You come when you've finished your ices."
He went out of the shop and shot across to the bench. He sat down beside the Balloon-woman. "Goon's telephoning," he said. "Now's your chance. He can't see across the street from where the telephone is."
"Right," said Fatty. He moved nearer to the old man and nudged him. The old fellow looked round at once. Fatty slipped a note to him and then moved back to his end of the bench.
The old man deftly pocketed the note and sat for a few minutes more. Then, with a grant, he got up and shuffled off round the corner. Larry followed him, at a sign from Fatty. As soon as he was safely round the corner the old fellow opened the slip of paper and looked at it. Then he took a match, lighted the paper, and let it drop to the ground, where it burnt away.
He did not go back to his bench. Instead, he shuffled off in the direction of his home. Larry went back to the bench and stood beside the old Balloon-woman, pretending to choose a balloon.
"Did he read the note?" said Fatty, in a low voice.
"Yes. And he's gone off home now, I think," said Larry. "What did you put in the note?"
"I just put that he'd better not come to this seat for three afternoons as the police were watching it," said Fatty. "He'll think it was from a member of the gang, I expect. He will think they'd asked me to pass the message to him, as they wouldn't want to be seen doing it themselves, if the seat was watched. Well, let's hope we've got him out of the way for a few days!"
"I'll have this balloon," said Larry, as some people passed. "How much?"
Taking the balloon with him, he went back to the door of the shop. Mr. Goon was still telephoning. Good! The others got up and went out. They all sauntered down the road, thinking how cross Mr. Goon would be when he stopped telephoning and found that the old man was gone.
The Balloon-woman went too. It had been decided that she should go to Pip's garden, in case Mrs. Trotteville, Fatty's mother, should spot her again, going down her garden-path, and make trouble. Pip's mother was out for the day, so it would be safe for Fatty to go there and change back to himself.
Soon all the Find-Outers, and Buster, were in Pip's summer-house. Fatty changed as quickly as he could.
"I shan't use this disguise more than I can help," he said, pushing all the petticoats and skirts into the sack he kept them in. "It's too hot. I shall get as thin as a rake if I keep getting so melting-hot!"
"Oh, don't do that!" said Bets, in alarm. "You wouldn't be Fatty any more, if you were thin. And I do like you just exactly as you are!"
Everybody Does Something.
Plans were laid for the next few days. "These may be very important days," said Fatty. "We may be able to learn a lot—right under Goon's nose, too, if he's going to do this watch-dog act of his!"
"What exactly are we going to do?" said Daisy, thrilled. "You're going to disguise yourself as that old man, we know, and take his place, hoping for a message from one of the gang. But what are we to do? We must have something interesting so that we can do our share as Find-Outers."
"Woof," said Buster.
"He wants a job too," said Bets, with a laugh. "Poor Buster! He can't understand why you have to dress up as somebody different, Fatty. You don't look or sound the same to him—you only smell the same. And when you go out as the Balloon-woman or the old man, we have to lock Buster up and leave him behind, and he hates that."
"Poor old Buster-Dog," said Fatty, and at once Buster rolled himself over on his back to be tickled. His tongue came out, and his tail wagged so violently that it wagged his whole body and made it shake from end to end.
"Now," said Fatty, taking out his note-book and opening it. "Let's just have a look at what we know. Then we'll make our plans—and you shall each have something to do."
"Good," said Larry. "I know you've got to do all the important work, Fatty, because you really are a born detective—but we do want something as well."
"We don't know very much yet," said Fatty, looking at his notes. "We know that Goon is watching the old man because he suspects what we do—that he receives messages to pass on—and we feel certain that for some reason or other the headquarters are here in Peters-wood. We have also seen one of the members of the gang—the fellow with a hooter on his bike—but that's about all we do know."
"It's not very much," said Larry. "Not a scrap more than we knew the other day."
"We also know that the old fellow is likely to keep away from that seat for a while," said Fatty. "Goon doesn't know that. We're ahead of him there. We know that the old man who will be sitting on the bench this afternoon, and tomorrow and probably the next day too, will be me—and not that old fellow."
"Yes, that's one up to us," said Pip.
"Now," said Fatty, shutting his note-book and looking round, "tomorrow afternoon—in fact, each afternoon that I sit out on that bench, one or more of you must be in that sweet-shop, watching carefully to see if any one gives me a message—and it's your job to notice every single detail about him very carefully indeed. See? That's most important."