Read Online Mystery of the Pantomime Cat by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online
Authors: Enid Blyton
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Pippin to
help us. He may learn a few things that it's impossible for us to find
out."
"How are we going to set to work?" asked Larry.
"We must make a Plan," said Fatty. "A properly
set-out Plan. Like we usually do. List of Suspects, list of Clues, and so
on."
"Oooh yes," said Bets. Let's begin now, Fatty. This very
minute. Have you got a note-book?"
"Of course," said Fatty, and took out a fat notebook and
a very fine fountain-pen. He ruled a few lines very neatly. "Now then— suspects."
A bell sounded loudly from the hall. Bets groaned.
"Blow! Dinner-time already! Fatty, will you come this
afternoon and do it?"
"Right," said Fatty, "Half-past two every one—and
put your best thinking-caps on! This is the finest mystery we've had yet!"
Pippin is a Help.
Fatty thought hard during his lunch. His mother found him very
silent indeed, and began to wonder about his teeth again. She looked at him
closely. His cheeks seemed to have subsided—they were not very swollen now—not
more than usual, anyway!
"Frederick—how is your tooth?" she asked suddenly.
Fatty looked at his mother blankly. His tooth? What did she mean?
"My tooth? "he said. "What tooth. Mother?"
"Now don't be silly, Frederick," said his mother.
"You know how swollen your face was this morning. I meant to ring up the
dentist but I forgot. I was just asking you how your tooth was—it must have
been bad because you had such a swollen face. I think I'd better ring up the
dentist, even though your face has gone down."
"Mother," said Fatty, desperately, "that wasn't
toothache—it was cheek-pads."
Now it was his mother's turn to look at him blankly.
"Cheek-pads! What do you mean, Frederick?”
"Things you put in your cheeks to alter your
appearance," explained Fatty, wishing heartily that he had not tried them
out on his mother. "A—a sort of disguise, Mother."
"How very disgusting," said his mother. "I do wish
you wouldn't do things like that, Frederick. No wonder you looked
so awful."
"Sorry, Mother," said Fatty, hoping she would talk about
something else. She did. She talked about the extraordinary behaviour of Mr.
Pippin who had snatched at Mr. Twit's hair, or hat, she didn't know which. And
she also told Fatty that the vicar had complained about it to Mr. Goon, now
that he was back again to take charge of this new robbery case at the Little
Theatre.
"And I do hope, Frederick," said his mother, "I do hope you won't try and meddle in this case. Apparently Mr. Goon is
well on the way to finding out everything, and has a most remarkable collection
of clues. I do not like that man, but he certainly seems to have been
very quick off the mark in this case—came straight back from his holiday, found
all these clues, and is on the track of the robber at once!"
"Don't you believe it," murmured Fatty, half under his
breath.
"What did you say, Frederick? I wish you wouldn't
mumble," said his mother. "Well, I don't suppose you know a thing
about this case, so just keep out of it and don't annoy Mr. Goon."
Fatty didn't answer. He knew a lot about the case, and he meant to
meddle in it for all he was worth, and it he could annoy Mr. Goon he was
certainly going to. But he couldn't possibly tell his mother all that! So he
sank into silence once more and began to think hard about all the Suspects.
He would have to find out their names and who they were and where
they lived. It was pretty obvious that only one of the theatre people could
have committed the crime. One of them had come back that night, let himself in
quietly, and done the deed. But which one?
Fatty decided he must go to Mr. Pippin and get the list of names
and addresses. He would do that immediately after his lunch. So, at a quarter
to two, when he left the table. Fatty rushed off to see if Mr. Pippin was
available. If Goon was at home, it was no good. He couldn't possibly ask Pippin
anything in front of Goon.
He walked by the sitting-room window of the little cottage
belonging to Goon.
help us. He may learn a few things that it's impossible for us to find
out."
"How are we going to set to work?" asked Larry.
"We must make a Plan," said Fatty. "A properly
set-out Plan. Like we usually do. List of Suspects, list of Clues, and so
on."
"Oooh yes," said Bets. Let's begin now, Fatty. This very
minute. Have you got a note-book?"
"Of course," said Fatty, and took out a fat notebook and
a very fine fountain-pen. He ruled a few lines very neatly. "Now then— suspects."
A bell sounded loudly from the hall. Bets groaned.
"Blow! Dinner-time already! Fatty, will you come this
afternoon and do it?"
"Right," said Fatty, "Half-past two every one—and
put your best thinking-caps on! This is the finest mystery we've had yet!"
Pippin is a Help.
Fatty thought hard during his lunch. His mother found him very
silent indeed, and began to wonder about his teeth again. She looked at him
closely. His cheeks seemed to have subsided—they were not very swollen now—not
more than usual, anyway!
"Frederick—how is your tooth?" she asked suddenly.
Fatty looked at his mother blankly. His tooth? What did she mean?
"My tooth? "he said. "What tooth. Mother?"
"Now don't be silly, Frederick," said his mother.
"You know how swollen your face was this morning. I meant to ring up the
dentist but I forgot. I was just asking you how your tooth was—it must have
been bad because you had such a swollen face. I think I'd better ring up the
dentist, even though your face has gone down."
"Mother," said Fatty, desperately, "that wasn't
toothache—it was cheek-pads."
Now it was his mother's turn to look at him blankly.
"Cheek-pads! What do you mean, Frederick?”
"Things you put in your cheeks to alter your
appearance," explained Fatty, wishing heartily that he had not tried them
out on his mother. "A—a sort of disguise, Mother."
"How very disgusting," said his mother. "I do wish
you wouldn't do things like that, Frederick. No wonder you looked
so awful."
"Sorry, Mother," said Fatty, hoping she would talk about
something else. She did. She talked about the extraordinary behaviour of Mr.
Pippin who had snatched at Mr. Twit's hair, or hat, she didn't know which. And
she also told Fatty that the vicar had complained about it to Mr. Goon, now
that he was back again to take charge of this new robbery case at the Little
Theatre.
"And I do hope, Frederick," said his mother, "I do hope you won't try and meddle in this case. Apparently Mr. Goon is
well on the way to finding out everything, and has a most remarkable collection
of clues. I do not like that man, but he certainly seems to have been
very quick off the mark in this case—came straight back from his holiday, found
all these clues, and is on the track of the robber at once!"
"Don't you believe it," murmured Fatty, half under his
breath.
"What did you say, Frederick? I wish you wouldn't
mumble," said his mother. "Well, I don't suppose you know a thing
about this case, so just keep out of it and don't annoy Mr. Goon."
Fatty didn't answer. He knew a lot about the case, and he meant to
meddle in it for all he was worth, and it he could annoy Mr. Goon he was
certainly going to. But he couldn't possibly tell his mother all that! So he
sank into silence once more and began to think hard about all the Suspects.
He would have to find out their names and who they were and where
they lived. It was pretty obvious that only one of the theatre people could
have committed the crime. One of them had come back that night, let himself in
quietly, and done the deed. But which one?
Fatty decided he must go to Mr. Pippin and get the list of names
and addresses. He would do that immediately after his lunch. So, at a quarter
to two, when he left the table. Fatty rushed off to see if Mr. Pippin was
available. If Goon was at home, it was no good. He couldn't possibly ask Pippin
anything in front of Goon.
He walked by the sitting-room window of the little cottage
belonging to Goon.
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