Free Mystery of the Missing Man by Enid Blyton Page A

gate. “Don’t you remember Mr. Tolling? You saw him yesterday, when you were called in about that fellow you thought was a tramp - the one down in my shed, you know. You didn’t recognize him either, did you?”
    Goon stared after Fatty as he and Mr. Tolling went up the drive to the front door, his head in a whirl. Good heavens, yes - of course that was the fellow he had seen with Mr. Trotteville yesterday - only he looked so different in his out-door clothes! And what did Fatty mean about that tramp? Why should he, Goon, have recognized that dirty old fellow?
    It suddenly dawned upon poor old Goon that he should indeed have recognized the tramp! It must have been Fatty himself! And he had told the Chief Inspector a lot of nonsense about him - how strong and violent he had been - and how that dog Buster had bitten the tramp’s ankles to the bone - and - and…
    Goon gave a deep groan and went slowly to his own house. So that was why the Inspector had wanted to go and ask Fatty all about the tramp. He had guessed it was Fatty all the time. Another bad mark for Goon! “Pest of a boy!” muttered Goon to himself, as he let himself in at his front door. “He knows about that escaped prisoner too - and if I don’t look out, he’ll spot him before I do. That’s what they were all at the Fair for!”
    Poor Goon - he was so upset that he couldn’t even eat his tea. That fat boy - if only he could get his hands on him!
     

Fatty has Trouble with Eunice
     
    Fatty and Mr. Tolling were extremely late for tea, which had been cleared away. Mr. Tolling apologized profusely, and Jane brought in some fresh tea, complete with hot scones and chocolate cake.
    Fatty was glad that he had brought Mr. Tolling home. Nobody would have thought of bringing Fatty tea if he had arrived when it had been cleared away - but now here was a perfectly splendid tea, all because of Mr. Tolling and his apologies.
    Mr. Tolling described his adventures at the Fair, and then how he had been followed home by what he called “a half-mad, very nasty-looking fellow with no manners at all.” Fatty grinned. He wished that Goon could have heard that!
    Eunice arrived much later, having been given tea by Larry at the Fair. She was cross that Fatty had gone off home without her.
    “Well, I saw your father in difficulties,” said Fatty. “And I felt I must see him home. He had lost his way.”
    “Well, really, Father,” said Eunice. “You’ll lose yourself on your way to bed one of these days!”
    “Hadn’t you and Eunice better have a nice game of chess?” said Mrs. Trotteville, to Fatty’s horror. Before he could think of an excuse to say no, Eunice had arranged everything in her maddeningly competent way, getting the chessboard out and setting out the men.
    “Ha - two school champions,” said Mr. Trotteville, with interest, and put down his paper to watch. But he soon became bored, for Eunice took at least twenty minutes before she made a move. Fatty was a much quicker player, and he soon grew bored too, and began going over all the happenings at the Fair in his mind.
    “That clown,” he thought, “we must certainly find out about him. And that boy in the shooting-range who was so like the photo of the escaped man. Does he come into the picture anywhere? I can’t see how. Well, tomorrow morning I’ll go to the Fair again and talk to that clown - and in the afternoon I’ll go along to the Coleopterist Meeting, and just have a good look round there.”
    “Your turn, Frederick,” said Eunice, impatiently. “You’re not paying attention.”
    Fatty made his move at once, and Eunice again fell into a kind of trance, gazing at the chessmen intently. Poor Fatty became more and more bored. Chess was always a slow game - but this was dreadful!
    Mr. Tolling began talking about the Fair again, and how he had enjoyed it. “There was only one thing I forgot to go and see,” he said. “And that was the Flea-Circus. How anyone can ever be fond enough of insects to train fleas to perform tricks I