Mystery of the Vanished Prince Read Free Page B

“Let’s hope he is still sitting there, shouting, then he won’t interfere with us!”
    “Woof,” said Buster, agreeing.
    “What are we going to do for the rest of these hols if a mystery doesn’t turn up?” asked Pip. “I mean - we must all have had picnics and outings and things till we’re tired of them. And Peterswood is always half-asleep in the summer. Nothing doing at all.”
    “We’ll have to tickle up old Goon, then,” said Fatty, and every one brightened at once. “Or what about my ringing up Inspector Jenks and asking him if he wants a bit of help in anything?”
    “Oh, you couldn’t do that,” said Bets, knowing quite well that Fatty could do anything if he really wanted to. “Though it would be awfully nice to see him again.”
    Inspector Jenks was their very good friend. He had been pleased with their help in solving many queer mysteries. But Mr. Goon had not been nearly so pleased. The bad-tempered village policeman had wished many and many a time that the five children and their dog lived hundreds of miles away.
    “Well - perhaps I won’t bother the Inspector just yet - not till we’ve smelt out something,” said Fatty. “But I was thinking we ought to put in a bit of practice at disguises or something like that - we haven’t done a thing for weeks and weeks - and suppose something did turn up, we’d make a muddle of it, through being out of practice.”
    “Oh do let’s practise disguises!” said Bets. “All of us, do you mean?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Fatty. “Rather! I’ve got some smashing new disguises here. I picked them up on my cruise.”
    Fatty had been for a long cruise, and had called at many exciting places. He opened a trunk and showed the four children a mass of brilliant-looking clothes.
    “I picked these up in Morocco,” he said. “I went shopping by myself in the native bazaars - my word, things were cheap! I got suits for all of us. I thought they would do for fancy-dress, though they will do for foreign disguises too!”
    “Oh, Fatty - do let’s try them on!” said Daisy, thrilled. She picked out a gay, red skirt of fine silk, patterned in stripes of white.
    “There’s a white blouse to go with that,” said Fatty, pulling it out. “Look - it’s got red roses embroidered all over it. It will suit you fine, Daisy.”
    “What did you get for me, Fatty?” asked Bets, dragging more things out of the trunk. “You are a most surprising person. You’re always doing things nobody else ever thinks of. I’m sure Pip would never never bring me home any clothes like this if he went to Morocco.”
    “I certainly shouldn’t,” said Pip, grinning. “But then I’m not a millionaire like old Fatty here!”
    Fatty certainly seemed always to have plenty of money. He was like a grown-up in that, Bets thought. He seemed to have dozens of rich relations who showered tips on him. He was always generous with his money, though, and ready to share with the rest of them.
    Bets had a curious little robe-like dress that reached to her ankles. It had to be swathed round and tied with a sash. The others looked at her, and marvelled.
    “She looks like a little foreign princess!” said Larry. “Her face is so sunburnt that she looks like an Indian - she might be an Indian! What a wonderful disguise it would make for her!”
    Bets paraded round the shed, enjoying herself. She glanced into the big clear mirror that Fatty kept there, and was startled. She looked a real little foreigner! She drew the hood of the frock over her head, and looked round with half-shut eyes. Fatty clapped.
    “Jolly good! An Indian princess to the life! Here, Larry - stick this on. And this is for you, Pip.”
    The boys pulled on brilliant robes, and Fatty showed them how to wind cloths for gay turbans. All of them were so brown that in a trice they seemed to be transformed into a different race altogether. Nobody would have thought them English.
    Fatty stared at the four parading round his shed. He grinned. His brain set to work to try and evolve a plan to use these