Mystery of the Missing Man by Enid Blyton Page B

and recognized two that were like the one the old woman had shown him that morning. Live beetles were running about in them.
    Behind the two cages was the old woman herself, duster in hand. So this was the “new job” she had spoken about to Lucita - she had taken work as a cleaner while the Conference was on. Fatty took a good look at her and wondered if she knew anyone with a scar that curved above his upper lip.
    Fatty decided to speak to her. She would never recognize him as the boy she had seen in the flea-circus tent that morning, for he now looked totally different.
    He spoke to Mr. Tolling as they leaned over the cases of scurrying beetles. “I’m sure I saw cages like these at Peterswood Fair,” he said. Thc old woman heard him, as he meant her to.
    “They’m borrowed from there,” she said in her cackling voice. “They’m flea-cages from the flea-circus, young sir.”
    Mr. Goon loomed up majestically. “Get on with your work, woman,” he said, shocked that a cleaner should talk to anyone at the Conference. The old creature gave him a sharp look out of screwed-up eyes and moved away with her duster, flicking it here and there.
    “Wonderful creatures, beetles, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty, in the extra-polite tones that Mr. Goon disliked and distrusted. “Have you seen the Seven-Spotted Helmeted Kicking Beetle from Ollaby-Oon in Grootenburgenstein?”
    “Gah!” said Mr. Goon, and gave Fatty one of his fiercest glares. He moved away ponderously. That boy! Him and his Helmeted Beetles - that was a dig at him, of course, because he wore a helmet!
    Mr. Tolling was extremely surprised to hear Fatty speak of a Seven-Spotted Helmeted Kicking Beetle from Ollaby-Oon in Grootenburgenstein, wherever that was.
    “Er - that is a new kind of beetle to me,” he said. “Are you sure you’ve got the name right, Frederick?”
    “Well, it might be the Five-Spotted one I mean,” said Fatty. “I’ll just have a look round the cases and see if they’ve got the beetle I’m thinking of.”
    As Fatty had invented the beetle that very minute it was not likely that he would find it displayed anywhere, nor did he intend to look. An idea had suddenly come into his head. He moved off, leaving Mr. Tolling to gaze earnestly into every case to see if by any chance the beetle Fatty had quoted was being shown.
    The old woman was dusting vigorously just behind where Goon was now standing. It had occurred to Fatty that it might be rather interesting to go over to Goon and ask him a question that might also interest the old woman, Mrs. Fangio.
    “Oh - Mr. Goon - I’d just like to ask you a question, if you don’t mind,” said Fatty, politely.
    Goon stared at him suspiciously. Now what was up?
    “What’s that?” he said.
    “Well - I wondered if you had seen a man here with a thin scar curving above his upper lip,” said Fatty, in a voice loud enough to reach old Mrs. Fangio, busy dusting behind the big policeman.
    Mr. Goon was startled - especially as he himself had been looking out all the afternoon for exactly what Fatty had just described. So Fatty was on the same job as he was - trying to spot that escaped prisoner! Why had the Chief Inspector told this toad of a boy anything about the case? He began to swell with rage, and his face turned a familiar purple.
    But Fatty was not watching Goon. No - he was looking closely at the old woman standing just behind. Her back had been turned when he asked the question - and for a few seconds she kept it turned, standing suddenly very still. Then she swung round and looked at him - a puzzled, half-amazed look that turned in a twinkling to an extraordinarily malevolent glare that shocked him.
    Then she turned round and began dusting again, moving away as she flicked her duster here and there.
    Mr. Goon was saying something to Fatty in an exasperated voice, but Fatty had no idea what it was. He had discovered what he wanted to know - that the old woman knew what he meant, just as her daughter Lucita had known - yes, both of