Mystery of the Invisible Thief by Enid Blyton Page B

soldiers. But since he’s been away I’ve sent his things to the Jumble Sales each year.”
    “My - I hope you didn’t send any of this size boots or shoes!” said Fatty jokingly. “They would have done fine for me!”
    “I sent a pair of boots last year,” said the woman, “they would just have done for you. But who would buy such enormous ones I don’t know. I said to Miss Kay when she asked me for them, ‘Well there now, you can have them, but you won’t sell them, I’ll wager!’”
    Fatty made a mental note to find out Miss Kay and ask her if she remembered who bought the big boots belonging to the colonel. It might have been the thief!
    “The colonel said I was to do a job for you,” said Fatty remembering.
    “Well now, you go and weed that bed out in the garden,” said the housekeeper. “I can’t seem to get down to it. He’s asleep again. I can hear him snoring, so you won’t disturb him.”
    “I’ll be pleased to do it,” said the old tramp and shuffled off. The housekeeper stared after him. He seemed so feeble that she felt rather guilty at having asked him to weed that bed!
    Fatty knelt down and began to weed. He spent a pleasant ten minutes pulling out groundsel and chickweed, and in sorting out the thoughts in his head. He was beginning to think that the clues of 2. Frinton and 1. Rods were not clues at all - simply bits of paper blown by chance into Norton House garden. The real clues were the big footprints and glove-prints - and perhaps the odd print with the crisscross marks on it.
    Still, if the colonel’s boots led him to the thief who bought them, the scraps of paper would have come in useful after all. Fatty thought swiftly as he weeded.
    He heard the sound of bicycle tyres on the lane outside. The sound stopped as someone got off the bicycle. A head looked cautiously over the hedge. Fatty looked up at the same moment.
    Goon was peering over the hedge! He saw Fatty at the same moment as Fatty saw him, and gave a startled grunt. That tramp! He’d left him asleep on the bench outside his house - and now here he was weeding in the colonel’s garden. Goon couldn’t believe his eyes.
    Fatty nodded and smiled amiably. Goon’s eyes nearly dropped out of his head. He felt very angry. Everywhere he went there was somebody before him - first those girls, then those boys, now this deaf old, dirty old tramp. If Goon had been a dog he would have growled viciously.
    “What you doing here?” said Goon, in a low, hoarse voice.
    “Weeding,” answered Fatty, forgetting to be deaf. “Nice job, weeding.”
    “Any cheek from you,” began Goon, forgetting not to wake the colonel. But it was too late. Colonel Cross awoke once more with a jump. He sat up and mopped his forehead. Then he caught sight of Goon’s brilliant red face over the top of the hedge. Goon was still addressing Fatty.
    “What are you doing in this neighbourhood?” Goon was saying aggressively.
    The colonel exploded. “What’s that! What’s that! Are you addressing me, my man? What are you doing, I should like to know! Hrrrrrumph!”
    The last noise startled Goon very much. Fatty chortled as he weeded.
    “It’s all right, sir. I was speaking to that tramp,” said Goon, with dignity. “I - er - I had occasion to speak sternly to him this morning, sir. Can’t have loiterers and tramps around - what with robberies and things.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Colonel Cross. “Go away. Policemen should know better than to come and wake me up by shouting to tramps who have been given a job in my garden.”
    “I came to have a word with you, actually, sir,” said Goon, desperately. “Privately.”
    “If you think I’m going to get up and go indoors and hear a lot of nonsense from you about robberies and tramps and loiterers you’re wrong,” said the old colonel fiercely. “If you’ve got something to say, say it here! That old tramp won’t understand a word.”
    Fatty chortled to himself again. Goon cleared his throat. “Well - er - I - came, sir - just to