Mystery of Tally-Ho Cottage by Enid Blyton Page B

fumes this morning! ERN - what you doing out there? You’ve only got to turn the key. Are you asleep, boy?’
    ‘No, Uncle. And don’t you talk to me like that when I’m doing my best to help you,’ panted Ern. ‘It’s a whopping big key and very rusty. I’ve a good mind to leave you here if you don’t talk proper to me when I’m trying hard.’
    Mr. Goon was amazed to hear this cheek from Ern. But he had to swallow his wrath and speak in honey-like tones, afraid that Ern really would go off and leave them.
    ‘Now, Ern - it’s only because we’re almost cooked,’ he said. ‘I know you’re doing your best. Ah - there’s a good lad - the key’s turned!’
    Ern fled as his uncle and the second policeman walked out of the boiler-house. One look at their beetroot-like faces and protruding eyes was enough for him. Goon and his companion walked with as much dignity as they could muster past the Larkins’ cottage on their way to the river.
    The old fellow came out of his door, shuffling as usual. ‘What was the matter?’ he said, in his hoarse voice.
    ‘Tell you later,’ said Goon, who was not particularly anxious that the tale of the boiler-house should go all round Peterswood. ‘Nothing much. We just kept watch last night, that’s all. You didn’t hear anything, did you? We never heard a sound - so we’re going off-duty now.’
    Mr. Goon went back to his house and took up the telephone, a grim look on his face. He made a brief report, which caused quite a stir at the other end. It even made the Chief himself come to the telephone.
    ‘Goon? What’s this story about Frederick Trotteville? I don’t believe it.’
    ‘Sir, I wouldn’t tell you such a story if it wasn’t true,’ said Goon earnestly. ‘And P.C. Johns, who was with me, will tell you that this boy was in the grounds last night, snooping round after us - one of his little jokes, sir, this was. He thought it would be funny to lock us in.’
    ‘But what were you doing in the boiler-house, Goon, when you should have been outside on duty?’ said the Chief’s sharp voice.
    ‘Just looking round, sir,’ said Goon, and then let his imagination get the better of him. ‘We heard footsteps outside, sir, then the door banged and the key turned in the lock, and we heard Master Frederick’s laugh, sir - a most horrible laugh, sir, and…’
    ‘That’s enough, Goon,’ said the Chief’s voice. ‘All right. I’ll see to this. Did you hear or see anything at all last night?’
    ‘Nothing at all, sir,’ said Goon, and then the telephone was clicked off at the Chief’s end. Goon stood quite still, his face red with delight.
    ‘Ho, you Toad of a Boy,’ he said. ‘Now you’ve gone too far at last. You’re finished!’

FATTY IS PLEASED
    Fatty was just going down to breakfast when a big black police car swept up the drive to the front door, and out got Superintendent Jenks, looking rather grim. Fatty was thrilled.
    ‘He’s got some news! And he wants me to help in some way!’ thought Fatty joyfully. He went to open the door himself.
    ‘I want a word with you, Frederick,’ said the Chief, and Fatty led him into the study, struck with the Superintendent’s sharp voice.
    Once the door was shut, the Chief looked straight at Fatty.
    ‘What possessed you to lock Goon and the other fellow up last night?’ he demanded grimly.
    Fatty stared in surprise. ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ he said at last. ‘I really don’t. Where am I supposed to have locked them up? In the cells?’
    ‘Don’t play the fool,’ said the Chief, his eyes like gimlets, boring into poor Fatty. ‘Don’t you realize that you can go a bit too far with your jokes on Goon?’
    ‘Sir,’ said Fatty earnestly, ‘do believe me when I say I haven’t the remotest idea what you are talking about. I saw Goon last night, in the grounds of Tally-Ho House, where I was keeping watch in case the Lorenzos turned up - I had seen a report that they had been spotted at Maidenhead. Goon had another policeman with him. I left the grounds a few minutes after I