Read Online Mystery of Holly Lane by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online Page B

surprised voice answered. “This is Headquarters. Is that P.C. Goon? A boy called Frederick Trotteville has just…”
    “Pah!” said Goon, unable to help himself.
    “What did you say?” said the voice, still more surprised.
    “Nothing. Just coughed,” said Goon. “What about this here boy?”
    “He reports a robbery at the bungalow called Hollies, Holly Lane, in your area,” said the voice.
    Goon’s mouth fell open. So Fatty hadn’t been trying to spoof him! There really had been a robbery. What a pest of a boy! Playing tricks on him and Bert — and the cat — and getting away with Buster — and now finding a robbery! What a Toad of a boy!
    “Are you there?” said the voice, impatiently. “Have you got what I said?”
    “Er — yes — yes,” said Goon, scribbling down a few notes. “Thanks. All right. I’ll go right along.”
    “You’d better!” said the voice, puzzled and annoyed. There was a click. Goon stared at the telephone and clicked back his receiver too. Now he’d get a rap on the knuckles for making Fatty ring Headquarters. Why hadn’t he listened to him when he telephoned?
    He got out his bicycle and yelled to Mrs. Mickle. “Be back in half an hour, I expect. Have my dinner ready! This is an urgent job.”
    The five children had not left Green-Trees by the time Goon cycled up. They were talking to the Frenchman, whose name turned out to be Henri Crazier. They told him all about the old fellow next door.
    “I can see the front gate and front path of the bungalow from my couch,” said Henri. “I got my sister to put the couch here because it’s a pleasant view, and I can see people who come and go down the road.”
    They all looked out of the window. “You must have seen us going in, then,” said Fatty. “Did you?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Henri. “First I saw zis boy — what does he call himself — Larry? He went in and up the path — and then he came running back to you, and you all went up the path and in at the front-door.”
    Larry went red. He hoped to goodness that Henri wasn’t going to ask him why he had first gone in at the gate. It wouldn’t be at all easy to explain how it was that he had left a window-leather in the bushes!
    Fortunately his sister came bustling in just then. Her name was Mrs. Harris and her husband, who was away, was English. She carried a box of French chocolates, very rich and creamy.
    “Oh — thanks,” said Daisy, and took one. They all helped themselves, and then there came a sudden exclamation from Henri.
    “See — the police have arrived!”
    Sure enough, Mr. Goon was wheeling his bicycle up the front path next door. The door opened as he came and the young man, Wilfrid, appeared. He said something to Goon and they both disappeared into the bungalow.
    “Well, now, perhaps the old man will be happy,” said Fatty. “My word — what super chocolate! We don’t get chocolates like that here, Mrs. Harris.”
    “We’d better go,” said Pip, looking at his watch. “Do you know it’s almost one o’clock? Good gracious! Mother said we must be back by five to. Buck up, Bets.”
    The five said good-bye to Henri and his sister. “You will come again?” said the sister. “Henri is so bored. He has been very ill and now he comes to me to — how do you call it? — to convalesce. Come and see him again.”
    “Thank you. We will,” said Fatty, hoping fervently that Mr. Goon would not also take it into his head to go and see Henri and his sister, and ask them if they had noticed visitors at the bungalow that morning! It might be very awkward to explain Larry’s visit there an hour or so before. Blow that window-leather! And yet, if Larry hadn’t gone to find it, he wouldn’t have heard the old man shouting.
    “Gosh — I never got Mother’s window-leather after all!” said Larry. “What an idiot I am. I’ll slip in and get it now.”
    “No, you won’t,” said Fatty, firmly. “You’ll leave it there. We don’t want Goon to come rushing out