Mystery of the Spiteful Letters by Enid Blyton Page B

that telegraph-boy now - he knows he’s the one who handed him the letters he was supposed to have dropped.’
    ‘Well, he’ll be lucky if he finds the telegraph-boy, even if he goes up to the post-office to look for him!’ said Fatty. ‘But I say - now we know why none of the bus passengers posted the letter! It was delivered by hand instead! No wonder we didn’t see anyone popping the letter into Sheepsale post-box!’
    ‘It must be some one who didn’t catch the bus yesterday for some reason,’ said Daisy thoughtfully. ‘We really must find out if anyone who regularly catches that bus, didn’t take it yesterday. If we can find out the person who didn’t go as usual, we may have discovered who the letter-writer is!’
    ‘Yes - you’re right, Daisy,’ said Larry. ‘Shall one of us catch the 10.15 bus tomorrow, Fatty, and ask the conductor a few questions?’
    ‘Perhaps we’d better not,’ said Fatty. ‘He might think it a bit funny, or think us cheeky, or something. I’ve got a better idea than that.’
    ‘What?’ asked the others.
    ‘Well, what about going in to see Miss Tremble this morning?’ said Fatty. ‘We know she usually takes the Monday morning bus. We could get from her the names of all the people who always catch it at Peterswood. After all, it starts off by the church, and that’s where she gets in. She must know everyone who takes it on Mondays.’
    ‘Yes. Let’s go and see her now,’ said Bets. ‘Mrs. Moon is back with her kidneys, Fatty. She wasn’t long. Pip gave her the message, and she said, ‘Well, well, she wasn’t surprised to hear that Mrs. Lamb had got one of those letters, she was the dirtiest, laziest woman in the village!’
    ‘Well, I must say her cottage was jolly smelly,’ said Fatty. ‘Come on - let’s go in next door. We’ll ask Miss Trimble if she’s seen your cat, Pip.’
    ‘But Whiskers is here,’ said Pip in surprise, pointing to the big black cat.
    ‘Yes, idiot. But Miss Trimble’s not to know that,’ said Fatty. ‘We’ve got to have some excuse for going in. She’ll probably be picking flowers in the garden, or taking the dog for an airing. Let’s look over the wall first.’
    Their luck was in. Miss Trimble was in the garden, talking to Miss Harmer, who looked after Lady Candling’s valuable Siamese cats for her.
    ‘Come on. We’ll go up the front drive and round to where she’s talking,’ said Fatty. ‘I’ll lead the conversation round to the bus.’
    They set off, and soon found Miss Trimble. Miss Harmer was pleased to see them too. She showed them all the blue-eyed cats.
    ‘And you really must come and see the daffodils in the orchard,’ said Miss Trimble, setting her glasses firmly on her nose. Bets gazed at them, hoping they would fall off.
    They all trooped after her. Fatty walked politely beside her, holding back any tree-branches that might catch at her hair. She thought what a very well-mannered boy he was.
    ‘I hope you found your mother well on Monday,’ said Fatty.
    ‘Not so very well,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘She’s got a bad heart, you know, poor old lady. She’s always so glad to see me on Mondays.’
    ‘And you must quite enjoy Mondays too,’ said Fatty. ‘Such a nice trip up to Sheepsale, isn’t it, and such a fine little market!’
    Miss Trimble’s glasses fell off, and dangled on the end of their little gold chain. She put them on again, and smiled at Fatty.
    ‘Oh yes, I always enjoy my Mondays,’ she said.
    ‘I expect you know all the people who go in the bus!’ said Daisy, feeling that it was her turn to say something now.
    ‘Well, I do, unless there are strangers, and we don’t get many of those,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘Mrs. Jolly always goes, of course - such a nice person. And that artist-girl goes too - I don’t know her name - but she’s always so sweet and polite.’
    ‘Yes, we liked her too,’ said Fatty. ‘Did you see the man I sat by, Miss Trimble? Such a surly fellow.’
    ‘Yes. I’ve never seen him before,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘The vicar often gets on the bus at Buckle,