Free Mystery of the Missing Man by Enid Blyton Page B

simply do not know!”
    “Good gracious! I’d rather walk ten miles than go near a flea-circus!” said Fatty’s mother, horrified. “Are fleas really clever enough to be trained, Mr. Tolling? And do people ever train beetles?”
    “Fleas are highly intelligent,” said Mr. Tolling. “Beetles vary. Now the most intelligent beetle known is found in the Atlas Mountains at a height of two thousand feet. It actually sews leaves together to…”
    But why the beetle sewed leaves together Fatty didn’t hear, because an idea had suddenly flashed into his mind.
    “A flea-circus!” he thought. “Of course - the fellow we’re after is keen on insects. He might be looking after the fleas! Gosh, I never even knew there was a flea-circus at the Fair! I must certainly go to it tomorrow, and have a look. I wonder if the others knew about it. As soon as I’ve made my next move, I’ll go and telephone Larry.”
    Eunice at last made a move, and Fatty at once made his. Eunice frowned. “You ought to think longer,” she said. “No good chess-player plays quickly.”
    “I have plenty of time to think out my moves while you’re thinking out yours,” said Fatty. “That’s more than enough time, my dear Eunice. As for trying to tell me I’m not a good player, you just wait till you’re well and truly whacked - then you’ll know who’s the good player! Excuse me a moment - I have to go and telephone.”
    Eunice was not pleased. She bent her head over the chessboard again, determined to beat Fatty. He went out into the hall and looked round and about cautiously. Nobody appeared to be within listening-range.
    He was soon speaking to Larry. “I say, Larry, thanks for giving Eunice tea. I had a funny time going after Mr. Tolling. Listen. I can’t talk loudly, so glue your ear to the receiver.”
    He told Larry how Goon had followed poor Mr. Tolling and scared him, and how puzzled and exasperated Goon had been when he, Fatty, had taken Mr. Tolling right in at his front gate. Larry roared.
    “You always get the exciting bits, Fatty,” he said. “What about tomorrow? Do we all meet at the Fair again - to see that clown?”
    “Yes - and I say - did you know there was a flea-circus there?” asked Fatty. “I didn’t.”
    “Oh yes - I saw a notice up,” said Larry. “But gosh, Fatty - you don’t want to go to a flea-circus, surely! Why, even Buster hates fleas.”
    “Larry - think back to those notes about You-Know-Who!” said Fatty, lowering his voice. “Remember what he liked?”
    “Yes. Cats,” said Larry. “There wasn’t anything about liking fleas though. I’m sure there wasn’t.”
    “I know - but there was a bit about being interested in insects,” said Fatty.
    “Oh my goodness, yes!” said Larry. “Of course. I just thought of butterflies or moths or beetles or bees - not of fleas. Well, we’d better visit the flea-circus tomorrow then. There may be a clue there.”
    “Yes. Meet at the cross-roads by the bus-stop at ten o’clock,” said Fatty. “Tell Pip and Bets, will you? I must get back to my game of chess. At the rate we’re playing it I probably shan’t be able to meet you at ten tomorrow! Goodbye.”
    He put down the receiver and went back to the chessboard. Eunice had just made a move. To Fatty’s horror he saw that it was an extremely good move - a master-move, in fact - and that if he didn’t think really hard he might find himself check-mated.
    So for the next ten minutes he forgot all about clowns and flea-circuses and fairs, and frowned over the chessmen. However, he need not have worried, because in the end Buster brought the game to a very sudden finish.
    The Scottie had been lying quietly under the little chess-table when he thought he heard the scratch-scratch-scratch of a mouse in the wainscoting nearby. He pricked up both ears, and turned his head towards the noise. To his joy the mouse actually came out of a small hole and ran across the room.
    Buster leapt up in excitement and upset the chess-table! All the pieces were scattered on the floor, and