Mystery of the Missing Man (13 page)

A small noise came from outside the caravan, and the blind man lifted his head. “That’s that old cat,” he said. “Let it in, Bill.”

Bill opened the door and a thin tabby cat came in, with bitten ears. “Is this yours?” asked Fatty. “It looks half-starved.”

“Nay, it’s not ours,” said Bill, pouring a little milk into a saucer. “It belongs to them Fangios, but it seems to me they don’t never feed the poor critter.”

Fatty watched the cat lap up the milk and an idea came into his head.

“I’ll take it to the Fangios’ caravan if you’ll show me which it is,” he said.

They let the cat finish the milk and then Fatty picked it up. It would be a marvellous way of having a look into the Fangios’ caravan if he took back their cat!”

The old couple bade him good-night, pointing out the Fangios’ caravan, a fairly big, quite modern one, and then shut their door. Carrying the mewing cat, Fatty went over towards the caravan.

As he came near, the door opened and a voice called out “Puss, Puss, Puss - come along in!”

“Oh, good!” thought Fatty. “That sounds like Josef.” As he came near a figure ran down the caravan steps, still calling.

“I’ve got your cat!” called Fatty. “I’m bringing it.” Someone came up to him, a dark shadow in the star-lit night, and felt for the cat.

Fatty switched on his torch. It was old Mrs. Fangio, not Josef. “Now, Minnie, Minnie,” she said, and took the cat. “Did Jo and Lucita turn you out, then, the bad ones?”

“Minnie came over to Bill’s caravan,” said Fatty. “They gave her some milk.”

The old woman fondled the scrawny cat and Fatty waited in hopes of being asked into the caravan. He was longing to have a good look round it to see if there was anyone else there besides the Fangio twin, but no invitation came. Instead the old woman turned her back and went back to the caravan without another word. Fatty switched on his torch so that she could see to get up the steps. She certainly looked a dirty untidy old woman, and Fatty smiled to see the enormous old carpet slippers she was wearing, as she went up the steps, clutching the cat. She didn’t even say good-night to him, but slammed the door quickly.

He waited a little while in the darkness, and then he sidled towards the caravan. He meant to look in at one of the windows. If only there was a crack to see through, he might spot something interesting - maybe a fourth person - with a scarred face!

But the curtains were drawn tightly across. Not a chink had been left. Fatty was bitterly disappointed. He was standing on the big wheel, and was just about to get down when he heard voices - angry voices - coming from the caravan.

He listened, but the window was shut and he could not make out the words. Blow! And then suddenly he stiffened and held his breath.

There was a woman’s voice - that would be Lucita’s - or maybe old Mrs. Fangios’ - and there were two men’s voices - two! One shouted something, and before he had finished another man’s voice began to shout back. There was a quarrel going on - and two of the quarrellers were men! Could one be the man with a scar? How Fatty longed to be able to peep in and see!

He suddenly had a shock. Someone came across the field, and walked right up to the Fangios’ caravan. Whoever it was rapped at the door. Fatty simply didn’t know what to do - there he was, perched on the high wheel, not daring to jump down in case the visitor saw him. He decided to stay where he was.

Someone opened the door. “Who is it?” said Lucita’s voice.

“It’s Fred. Ask Josef if he’s coming with us - we’re going to have a game of darts.”

“Josef - Fred wants you,” called Lucita. She turned back to Fred. “I’ll come with you too,” she said. “I’m sick of being cooped up in this caravan.”

And, while Fatty was still perched precariously on the wheel, the three went off across the field together. Now, thought Fatty, only the old woman - and the other man, whoever he was - were in the van. HOW could Fatty have a peep and see? He got down quietly from the wheel, and was about to go round by the door to see if by any chance it had been left open, when someone came down the steps. Fatty crouched back into the shadows. Who was it? The old woman - or the second man?

He couldn’t see. The figure went quickly away into the darkness and was lost. Fatty blundered after it for a few paces, but gave it up. No - he would go and peep into the caravan and see who was left there! If anyone saw him and came after him he would take to his heels and run. But he MUST see who was there!

He went quickly up the steps. The caravan door was shut, but he didn’t think it could be locked because he had not heard a key being turned. He took the handle and began to turn it very slowly.

Then he pushed at the door and opened it inch by inch. There was not a sound from inside. Fatty was quite ready to leap down the steps and run off at top speed at the first sound!

He got the door half ajar, and still there was no sound. Then he flung it wide open, meaning to take a quick look round, spot who was there, and race off.

The door swung right back and Fatty looked swiftly into the untidy van. There were two sleeping-bunks, one above the other, and an old mattress rolled up below one - a folding table, two chairs and an oil-stove. An oil-lamp hung from the roof, giving quite a good light.

But 1here was nobody there! Fatty stood on the top step, raking the van from corner to corner with startled eyes. There seemed nowhere for anyone to hide - well, then, where was the fourth person he had heard shouting?

Fatty was so astonished that he quite forgot that he could easily be seen by anyone outside the caravan, outlined clearly against the light from inside. And suddenly there came a yell.

“Hey - who’s that at the Fangios’ van? Hey you - what you doing?”

Fatty tells his Tale

Fatty just had time to leap down the steps and run for his life before two men from the next caravan came at him. He tore over the grass towards the gate that led out of the field.

The men chased him, shouting. Fatty suddenly caught his foot in something and fell headlong. The men gained on him at once, and just as he got up, one of them shone a torch on him.

“Get him, quick!” he shouted - but before either of the men could grab him something leapt out of the darkness, snarling and growling - something small and fierce.

It was Buster! He had trailed Fatty all the way from his house down to the field. Now he threw himself into the fray, snarling so fiercely, and giving such nasty little nips, that the two men drew back in fear.

Fatty raced off again, and Buster followed, pausing every now and again to look back at the two angry men. They made no attempt to go after Fatty.

“He was going to rob the Fangios’ van,” said one. “We’d better report him to the police. Did you get a look at him? What a nasty bit of work!”

“Yes, I saw him clearly,” said the other man. “He’d got a scar down his face - did you see it? I’d know him again all right if ever I saw him.”

Fatty didn’t stop running till he was well away from Barker’s Field. Then, panting, he sat down on a roadside seat, and made a fuss of the delighted Buster.

“You couldn’t have come at a more convenient moment,” he said. “I really was in a bad spot, Buster. Those men would have yanked me off to old Goon, I bet they would! Whew! I nearly broke my leg when I fell down. I shall have a bruise the size of a saucer tomorrow. Well, come on, Buster old thing. Thanks a lot for tracking me so well!”

Fatty went the rest of the way slowly, his leg paining him. He was quite glad of the hazel stick he had cut! His pretended limp had become a real one.

He talked quietly to Buster as he went along. “You know, Buster, old fellow, this has been quite an exciting evening - but I’m blessed if I know what to make of things. I feel sure that the man with a scar is being hidden by the Fangios - but WHERE? I heard his voice in the caravan, I’m sure I did. Could I have been mistaken? No, I don’t think so.”

“Wuff,” said Buster, sympathetically. “Wuff, wuff.”

“I’ve a feeling that all the Fangios are in the plot,” said Fatty. “And I’ve a feeling too that they’re all angry about it for some reason. Don’t they want to hide the fellow with a scar? If so, why are they doing so? For money? Perhaps he was in prison for stealing, and hid the money before he was caught. Perhaps now he’s out he’s hoping to get it when the coast is clear - and won’t tell the other three where it is? But where on earth is he hiding?”

Fatty got back to his shed at last, stripped off his disguise, cleaned his face and went indoors to have a bath. He was thankful to see that Eunice had gone to bed. His parents and Mr. Tolling were not yet home.

He rolled into bed at last, Buster beside him in his basket. Fatty let his hand hang down from the bed so that Buster could lick it good-night.

“You’re a good friend, Buster,” said Fatty, sleepily. “Goodnight. I want to think things out but I’m too tired. My brain isn’t working. I’ll have to call a meeting tomorrow and let the others do some thinking!”

But the others were no better than Fatty at solving the tangle that this particular mystery had got into! Hearing that Eunice was going out with his mother that morning, Fatty promptly rang up Larry and Pip and ordered a meeting sharp at ten o’clock down in his shed.

They all came punctually, anxious to know what had happened. Fatty had lemonade and biscuits ready, and they sat down prepared for a most interesting time. NOW what had Fatty been up to?

“Well,” began Fatty, “you know that I planned to go down to Barker’s Field and see if I could gather any information there, don’t you? Actually I did get quite a lot but unfortunately I can’t make head or tail of it. So we’ll all have to set our brains to work and find out what’s happening.”

“Go on, then,” said Larry. “We won’t interrupt.”

Fatty began his tale, telling first of all how he had scared poor Eunice by appearing in his tramp clothes again, plus a scar down his face! When he related how she had telephoned Goon and made him cycle up to the house, they all roared.

Fatty went on with his tale. “Well, I went down to the field. First of all I went to a caravan where two nice old men lived, and they gave me a cup of tea and told me where the Fangios’ caravan was. And would you believe it, while I was there, I had a real bit of luck, because the Fangios’ scrawny old cat came mewing up their steps for some milk!”

“Gosh - so you took the chance of taking it over to the Fangios’ caravan, I suppose?” said Pip.

“Quite right,” said Fatty. “I went over to it, carrying the cat. When I got near I heard someone calling for the cat and I thought it was Josef, but it was old Mrs. Fangio shouting ‘Minnie, Minnie!’ I gave her the cat and hoped she would ask me into the caravan, but she didn’t. I switched on my torch to light the old woman up the steps of the caravan, but she never even said thank you. Gosh, she did look a sight with her dirty old shawl and carpet slippers on her feet, waddling up the steps! Anyway - bang went the caravan door and that was that.”

“What happened next?” asked Bets, listening to every word, and thinking how well Fatty could tell a story!

“Well, I thought I’d stand on a wheel and peep into the caravan,” said Fatty, “and just see if a fourth person was there, and if so whether he had a scar or not! So up I got, but the curtains were too closely pulled. I was just going to get down when a quarrel began in the van. I heard the old woman’s voice - or it might have been Lucita’s - and I also heard two men’s voices!”

“I say!” said Pip, his eyes shining. “Did you really? Who was the other fellow, then?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, there was a fine old quarrel, with shouts and yells,” said Fatty. “In the middle of it someone came over to the caravan, and rapped on the door. I was scared stiff - but it was only somebody called Fred who wanted Josef to go and have a game of darts with him. The quarrel inside the van stopped, and Josef - and Lucita too - went off with Fred.”

“So the old woman and the second man were left in the caravan?” said Daisy.

“Yes. Well, I got down off the wheel after a bit - and just then someone came out of the caravan and went quietly down the steps!”

“Who was it?” asked everyone.

“I couldn’t see - it was maddening!” said Fatty. “I daren’t switch on my torch, of course. Anyway, it had to be either old Mrs. Fangio or the other man. So I made up my mind I’d open the caravan door and take a quick look in to see who was left alone there - the old woman or the man - and perhaps it would be the man with the scar!”

“Gosh!” said Larry. “This is jolly exciting. Buck up - what happened?”

“Well, I did open the door,” said Fatty, “and I did look all round the van - and believe it or not, there was nobody there! The van was empty. And I’m certain there was nowhere that a person could hide without my seeing them.”

There was an astonished silence. “But, Fatty,” said Larry, “you must have been mistaken in some way. I mean - if old Mrs. Fangio and the other man were in the van together, and only one went out, the other was still left. That’s only common sense.”

“I know!” said Pip. “You thought you only saw one person going out, after Josef and Lucita had left - but probably in the darkness there were two - going off very quietly in case someone saw them.”

Fatty hesitated. “It does seem the only explanation,” he said. “But I’m pretty certain that only three people left that caravan - and yet the fourth disappeared also. I can tell you, I was pretty puzzled.”

“What did you do next?” asked Bets.

“Well, someone saw me outlined against the light in the Fangios’ van, thought I was a thief and came after me. I took to my heels, of course, and raced off. Then I caught my foot in something and crashed to the ground - my word, I’ve got a bruise on my leg this morning. Look!”

Everyone exclaimed at the enormous black bruise that Fatty very proudly displayed. “The men didn’t catch you, did they?” asked Bets, anxiously.

“No. But it was a very near thing,” said Fatty. “Old Buster turned up at that very moment - and my word he scared the men so thoroughly that I was able to get up and race off at top speed! You should have heard him snarling! Talk about a fierce dog - he sounded like an Alsatian, a Labrador and a Scottie all rolled into one!”