Mystery of the Strange Bundle by Enid Blyton

hadn’t heard then that the milkman had reported anything - he didn’t know that Mr. Goon had inspected the house and found it upside down. Probably he hoped that nobody knew anything at all, either about the intruder, or about his rushing out of the house!
    “I’ll tell you all about it, if you like, sir,” said Fatty, stepping firmly into the kitchen. Mr. Fellows now obviously wanted to know what Fatty had to say. It was news to him that the police had been into his house. He looked worried.
    He shut the kitchen door and locked it. He took Fatty into the little sitting-room. Everything was now tidy and in its place. Mr. Fellows had obviously been very busy since he had got back, and had cleared everything up. The kitten followed, mewing.
    “Does it want any milk?” asked Mr. Fellows, looking down at it. “I’m afraid there isn’t any. The milkman apparently didn’t come this morning.”
    “No. I expect the police told him not to as you weren’t here,” said Fatty. He sat down on a chair.
    “What is all this about the police!” said Mr. Fellows irritably. “Can’t a man go away for a short while without the police coming in and snooping round! I think that is most unnecessary.”
    “Well, you see, apparently burglars got in and turned the place upside down while you were away,” said Fatty, watching Mr. Fellows closely. “Didn’t you find everywhere in an awful mess?”
    The man hesitated. He quite obviously wasn’t going to say more than he needed to.
    “Yes - but I’m an untidy person,” he said. “Er - who did you say gave the alarm to the police?”
    “The milkman,” said Fatty, stroking the purring kitten. “He found the front door wide open when he came to leave your milk yesterday morning - walked in, saw the confusion, and telephoned the police.”
    “I see,” said Mr. Fellows. “This is all news to me.”
    “What time did you leave your house then?” asked Fatty suddenly. He knew quite well what time it had been, because of Erb’s information, but he wanted to see what Mr. Fellows had to say.
    The man hesitated again. “Oh, sometime that night,” he said. “I - er - went to visit a friend and stayed the night with him. I came back last night - to find the house a little untidy, certainly. But nothing has been stolen as far as I can see. I don’t see why the police had to butt in without my permission.”
    “Because of the open front door,” said Fatty, patiently. “I suppose you did shut the front door after you when you went out, Mr. Fellows?”
    “Of course,” said the man, but Fatty didn’t believe him. He felt sure that Mr. Fdlows had probably only pulled it to, not wanting the intruder in the house to hear him go. It was the intruder who had left it wide open!
    Fatty debated whether or not to ask Mr. Fellows what he had been dressed in when he had left the house. He decided that he wouldn’t. He would only be more on his guard than ever, and would anyhow lie about it. Fatty glanced at him - he looked extremely clean and tidy and well brushed.
    “Not a bit like my Uncle Horatious!” thought Fatty. “Now - if I want to find out if he really did wander about in a dressing-gown and bedroom slippers, I’ll somehow have to slip upstairs and snoop round for them. But how?”
    All conversation suddenly came to an abrupt end. A big red face unexpectedly appeared at the sitting-room window, and looked in. The face owned a helmet - it was Goon!
    Mr. Fellows gave an exclamation. “Who’s that? Of all the brazen cheek! It’s the police again! What do they think they’re doing, snooping and prying on private property like this? I’ll put this fellow where he belongs!”
    “I certainly would, if I were you,” Fatty agreed fervently. “A man can’t call his house his own these days! Are you going to let that policeman in, sir? He’s speaking to you.”
    Goon had just been on his rounds, and had, as a matter of routine, called in at Mr. Fellows’ house to see if anything had happened there. As there was no smoke from the chimneys, and