Mystery of the Strange Messages Read Free Page B

And good
    gracious—he had left all the notes with those five kids! What a
thing to do! Mr. Goon brooded for a few minutes and was glad to see Mrs. Hicks
coming in with an enormous cup of hot tea.
    "I put in four lumps." said Mrs. Hicks. "And
there's another in the saucer. You've got a sweet tooth, haven't you, sir? What
about me getting a new scrubbing-brush, now we're on the subject, and ..."
    "We're not on the subject," said Mr. Goon,
shortly. "Put the cup down, Mrs. Hicks. I've something difficult to work
out, so don't disturb me till my dinner-time."
    Mrs. Hicks went out, offended, and shut the door loudly. Goon
called her as she went down the passage.
    "Hey, Mrs. Hicks. Half a minute. I want to ask you a
question."
    Mrs. Hicks came back, still looking offended. "And what might
you be wanting to know?" she said.
    "That butcher-boy—what was he like?" asked Goon, still
vainly hoping that he might have been Fatty in disguise. "And did he
really bring some meat—the meat you ordered?"
    "Of course he did!" said Mrs. Hicks. "Two very nice
lean chops, sir, the kind you like. I told you before. And I told you I didn't see the butcher-boy, I was upstairs. But it was him all right. I know his
whistle. And I heard him calling over the fence to the next-door kid. It was
Charlie Jones all right. What's all the mystery, sir?"
    "Nothing, nothing, nothing!" said Mr. Goon, feeling very
down-hearted. It couldn't have been Fatty after all; it must have been
the real butcher-boy. He might have guessed that, when Mrs. Hicks told him that
his chops had come. Fatty wouldn't have known that chops were ordered. Oh, what
an ass he had been!
    He caught sight of the note on his desk. Same square, cheap
envelope. Same pasted-on bit of paper, with "Mr. goon" on, in cut-out
letters. What was inside this time?
    He slit the envelope open. He paused before he took out the note.
He remembered what Larry had said about
    finger-prints. There might be some on the writing-paper
inside. Goon fetched his own gloves and put them on. They were thick leather ones,
and he found it very difficult to get the thin sheet of paper out of the
envelope, while wearing such bulky gloves.
    At last it was out, and he unfolded it to read. He saw the usual
cut-out words and letters, all pasted on a strip of paper, which itself was
stuck on the sheet of writing-paper.
    "Why don't you do what you are told, egg-head", he read,
and grew crimson in the face. who was
writing these rude notes? Just wait till he got his hands on him!
    He forgot all about his cup of tea, and it grew cold. Poor Goon.
He simply could not make up his mind what to do! Why, oh why had he gone
to see Fatty that morning, and left behind all the other notes?
    "I can't go and report things to the Super now," he
thought. "If I do, I'll have to tell him I went and told everything to
that Trotteville boy—and he'll telephone to him and tell him to take
over. He's always in the middle of things, that boy—always doing me down. What
am I to do?"
    Goon sat and worried for a long time. If only he could catch
whoever it was delivering these notes! That would be the thing to do! He would
soon solve everything then, once he got his hands on the fellow! Yes, that was
certainly the thing to do. But how could he watch for him every minute of the
day? It was impossible.
    Then a sudden thought came to him. and he brightened. What about
his nephew Ern? What about asking him to stay with him for a while, and give some
pocket-money to keep a watch for him? Ern was smart.
    Leaving his cold tea, he went out to Mrs. Hicks, who was sitting
down enjoying her second cup of tea.
    "I've got to go out," he said. "Be back by
tea-time. Keep a look-out in case anyone else comes with a note."
    "But your chops, sir," began Mrs. Hicks. It was no
good—Goon was off on his bicycle, riding at top speed
    to Ern's home. Mrs. Hicks sighed and poured herself out a third
cup of tea. Well, if he wasn't back by dinner-time she would have those