Mystery of the Strange Bundle by Enid Blyton Page A

everything seemed quiet, he hadn’t done anything but peep in at the windows. He wasn’t going to enter that house alone again if he could help it!
    He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Fatty sitting there with a man who must be Fellows. He gaped at them both. Then a familiar rage boiled up in him. That boy! That toad! There he was again, poking his nose in - and getting it there before he, Mr. Goon, could get in his. How did he do it?”
    “Open the door, sir,” bellowed Mr. Goon. “I have a few words to say to you.”
    Mr. Fellows glared at the red-faced policeman. He strode to the window and opened it.
    “What do you mean by peering in like this at my window?” Mr. Fellows asked in a furious voice. “Can’t you see I’m sitting here talking to a friend? What’s the matter with you?”
    “A friend?” choked Mr. Goon, glaring at Fatty. “Is that boy your friend?”
    “I shall report you for this extraordinary behaviour,” said Mr. Fellows. “My house is my own, and I am not aware that I have done anything to cause the police to pry into it.”
    “But - but - there’s been a burglary!” spluttered Mr. Goon. “The house was all upside down, and…”
    “There has been no burglary,” said Mr. Fellows. “As far as I know not a single thing has been stolen. As for the house being untidy, well, I’m an untidy person. I can turn my own house upside down if I want to, can’t I?”
    “The front door was wide open,” persisted Mr. Goon, angry and bewildered.
    “I’m forgetful,” said Mr. Fellows. “I do sometimes forget to close my doors. Now - clear off - do you hear me, CLEAR OFF!”
    Fatty could have hugged himself in joy. Goon was always yelling at people to clear off - and now here was some one yelling the same thing at him. But the policeman had not finished yet.
    “Well, let me tell you you’ve no right to go away and leave animals to starve in the house,” he said.
    “The kitten is quite all right,” said Mr. Fellows coldly, and was about to shut the window when Mr. Goon put an enormous dark-blue arm in to stop him.
    “What about the dog?” he said. “And the pig?”
    Mr. Fellows stared at Mr. Goon as if he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. “What dog and what pig?” he demanded. “Are you crazy, constable?”
    “Ho! And what about the fellow who kept crying out, and wanted his auntie?” said Mr. Goon, trying to force the window open.
    Mr. Fellows was now quite convinced that Mr. Goon was raving mad. He turned to speak to Fatty - but Fatty was not there!
    No - Fatty had seen a chance to creep upstairs and examine bedroom slippers and dressing-gowns, and also pyjamas. Reluctant as he was to leave the battleground on which Mr. Fellows and Mr. Goon were squabbling so fiercely, he felt that he couldn’t miss this chance.
    He picked up the kitten and tiptoed out of the room. He wanted the kitten with him to provide him with an excuse for going upstairs - why should any one think it odd if the kitten fled upstairs and needed looking for?
    Up the stairs went Fatty, grinning to hear Mr. Goon shouting the questions about the dog and the pig. Gosh, Mr. Fellows would think he was quite mad!
    He saw that everywhere had been tidied up. He tiptoed into the biggest room, which he guessed was Mr. Fellows’ bedroom. Now - where were his slippers - and pyjamas - and dressing-gown?
     

Fatty is Pleased
     
    Fatty looked round the room. No slippers to be seen! He looked under the bed. Ah - a pair of red slippers lay there, rather like Larry’s, but bigger. Fatty turned them upside down and examined them.
    They were muddy, very muddy! Mud had even got splashed on the tops of the slippers. It was quite obvious that Mr. Fellows had been wandering about the streets in these.
    Fatty slipped his hand under the eiderdown and pulled out pyjamas, striped red and white. He gave a low whistle. The bottom edges of the legs were filthy dirty - splashed with mud and clay. Fatty nodded his head. Yes - that muddy clay down by the river.
    Now for the