into some one with a crash! He fell off and so did the other person!
Larry sat up and stared apologetically at the man in the road. To His horror it was old Clear-Orf!
'What! You again!' yelled Mr. Goon, in a most threatening voice. Larry hurriedly got up. The other two were farther down the road, laughing.
'What you doing?' yelled Mr. Goon, as Larry stood His bicycle upright,, ready to mount again.
'I'm clearing orf!' shouted Larry. 'Can't you see? I'm clearing orf!'
And the three of them rode giggling down the hill, pausing to wonder every now and again if old Clear-Orf was on his way to see Horace Peeks! Well - Horace was now warned by Lily's letter - so Mr. Goon wouldn't get much out of him, that was certain!
The Tramp turns up Again.
It was seven o'clock when the three of them rode up Pip's drive. Bets was getting worried, because her bedtime was coming very near, and she couldn't bear to think that she would have to go before she heard the news that Larry, Daisy and Pip might be bringing.
She jumped for joy when she heard their bicycle bells jangling as they rode at top speed up the drive. It was such a lovely evening that she, Fatty and Buster were still in the garden. Fatty had examined his bruises again, and was pleased to see that they were now a marvellous red-purple. Although they hurt him he couldn't help being very proud of them.
'What news? What news?' yelled Bets, as the three travellers returned.
'Plenty!' cried Larry. 'Half a tick - let's put our bikes away!'
Soon all five and Buster were sitting in the summer-house talking. Fatty's eyes nearly dropped out of his head when he heard how Larry had dragged the letter out of His pocket and dropped it by accident at Horace Peeks's feet.
'But Clear-Orf's on the trail all right,' said Pip. 'We met him as we were going home. Larry knocked him off his bike, going round the corner. Clear-Orf must be brighter than we think. He's a little way behind us, that's all!'
'Well, we'd better get on Mr. Smellie's track as soon as possible tomorrow,' said Fatty. 'Bets and I have got his address.'
'Good for you,' said Larry. 'Where does he live?'
'It was in the telephone book,' said Bets. 'It was very easy to find because there was only one Mr. Smellie. He lives at Willow-Dene, Jeffreys Lane.'
'Why, that's just at the back of our garden,' said Larry, in surprise. 'Isn't it, Daisy? Willow-Dene backs on to half our garden. I never knew who lived there, because we've never once seen any one in the garden, except an old woman.'
'That would be Miss Miggle, the housekeeper,' said Fatty.
'How do you know?' asked Daisy, in surprise.
'Oh, Bets and I have been very good Find-Outers today,' said Fatty, with a grin. 'We asked your gardener where Willow-Dene was, and he knew it, because his brother works there. And he told us about Miss Miggle, and how difficult she finds it to keep old Mr. Smellie clean, and make him have his meals, and remember to put his mack on when it rains, and so on.'
'What's the matter with him, then?' said Larry. 'Is he mad or silly or something?'
'Oh no. He's a something -ologist,' said Bets. 'He studies old, old paper and documents, and knows more about them than any one else. He doesn't care about anything but old writings. The gardener says he's got some very, very valuable ones himself.'
'Well, as he conveniently lives so near us, perhaps
Larry and I could interview him tomorrow,'' said Daisy,, very much looking forward to a bit more 'find- outing,'
as Bets kept calling it. 'I think we're getting rather good at interviewing. I bet we're better than old Clear-Orf. Any Suspect would know at once that Mr. Goon was after him and would be careful what he said. But people talk to children without thinking anything about it.'
Larry got his notes out from behind the loose board in the summer-house. 'We must add a bit to them,' he said, and began to write. Pip got out the match-box and opened it. He wanted to see if the bit of grey flannel was at all ike the grey coat that Horace Peeks had worn. It did look rather like it.
'Still, Larry couldn't see any torn bit,' said Pip. 'And I had a good look at his trousers too, but I couldn't see any tear in them.'
The children stared at the grey flannel. Pip put it back into the box. He unfolded Fatty's beautiful drawing of the footprints, and grinned as he remembered the tail, ears and hands that he and Larry had so solemnly talked about when they first looked at the footprints in the drawing.
'You know it's not half a bad drawing,' said Pip. Fatty brightened up very much., but he was wise enough not to say a word this time. 'I shall learn these criss-cross markings by heart, so that if ever I come across them at any time I shall know them at once.'
'I'll learn them too,' said Bets, and she stared seriously at the drawing. She felt quite certain that if ever she spotted a footprint anywhere in the mud with those special markings, she would know them immediately.
'I've finished my notes,' said Larry. 'I can't say that our clues have helped us at all. We must really find out if Peeks wears rubber-soled shoes - and we mustn't forget to look at Mr. Smellie's either.'
'But they may not be wearing them,' objected Fatty. 'They might have them in the cupboard, or in their bedroom.'
'Perhaps we could peep into Mr. Smellie's boot-
cupboard/' said Larry, who hadn't the faintest idea how he would set about doing such a thing. 'Listen - there are four Suspects. One was Mrs. Minns, but as she had rheumatism all the evening of the fire, and was stuck fast in her chair, according to her sister, she couldn't have started the fire. So that leaves three Suspects. The tramp was another Suspect, but as he does not wear rubber-soled shoes, or a grey coat, and did not get away quickly as we might have expected him to, we can practically rule him out too. So that leaves two Suspects.'
'I think it was Horace Peeks,' said Pip. 'Why shouldn't he tell us where he was on the evening of the fire? That's very suspicious.'
'Well, if Mr. Smellie can tell us where he was, that will only leave Horace Peeks,' said Larry. 'Then we will really pay all our attention to him, find out what his shoes are like, and if he has a grey coat indoors with a tear, and what he was doing on that evening and everything.'
'Then what do we do?' asked Bets. 'Go and tell the police?'
'What! Tell old Clear-Orf and have him taking all the credit and praise to himself?' cried Larry. 'I should think not. We ought to go to the Inspector of Police himself, Inspector Jenks. He's head of all the police in this district. Daddy knows him quite well. He's a very, very clever man, and he lives in the next town.'
'I should be frightened of him,' said Bets. 'I'm even a bit frightened of Clear-Orf.'
'Pooh! Frightened of that old stick-in-the-mud with his froggy eyes?' said Fatty. 'You want to be like Larry, sail down a hill on your bike and knock him off, crash, round the corner!'
Every one laughed. Then a bell rang and the five got up, with Buster running round their legs. Fatty said good night and went to have dinner with his father and mother at the hotel. Larry and Daisy got their bicycles and rode home. Pip went in to supper and Bets went off to bed. Buster went with Fatty. His young master retired to bed very early that night for he was still stiff and his bruises
were painful. Buster had a good look at them when Fatty undressed,, but didn't seem to think much of them.
'Tomorrow that old tramp will come to get the boots Mummy has looked out for him,' said Pip to Bets. 'We'll ask him a few questions.'
'What questions?' asked Bets.
'We'll ask him straight out if he saw Horace Peeks in the ditch, hiding,' said Pip. 'If he says yes, that will be a
