Mystery Series - 10 - The Mystery of the Strange Bundle by Enid Blyton

Author:Enid Blyton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Children's Fiction
Published: 1952-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

News from Erb

“It don’t belong to me,” said Fatty, obstinately, still clutching the sack.

“Who does it belong to then?” demanded Mr. Goon.

“Sh! It belongs to Mr. Fellows!” whispered Fatty, on the spur of the moment, and then was horrified to realize what he had said! Mr. Goon was amazed.

“Belongs to Mr. Fellows!” he repeated. “But - how did you get it? Look here, you give it to me. You are acting in a suspicious manner, and you’ll be arrested in a moment!”

He grabbed at the sack, and Fatty stood up, shouting dramatically, “No, no, don’t touch it!” And then, more dramatically, he picked up the sack and flung it down into the river beside the jetty. He was very glad to get rid of it indeed. It made a most tremendous splash.

Mr. Goon was bitterly disappointed. He had made up his mind that there was something very important in the sack - and now it was gone! He knelt down to look over the side of the jetty - and Fatty took to his heels at once.

Mr. Goon stood up and gaped at the running figure. How could the old, shuffling fellow run like that? Mr. Goon wondered if he was dreaming. He decided that he couldn’t possibly catch the fellow - why, he was almost at the turning into the river-road now! What a strange thing to run like that after so much shuffling! A sentence floated into Mr. Goon’s mind - “Fear lent him wings”. Well, Mr. Goon hadn’t got any wings. He would have to walk back at his own pace.

He knelt down again to look into the river, but, of course, he could see no sign of the sack. He made up his mind to come with a boat-hook the next day and haul it up. He would find out what was in that sack if he had to go into the water himself to get it!

Willie was astonished to see yet another figure, this time racing past, instead of shuffling past. The goings-on there were in these times! It was quite certain he wouldn’t get a snooze before midnight at this rate. That policeman would probably be coming back in a minute too.

Fatty fell to a walk after a bit. He guessed Mr. Goon wouldn’t come after him. He felt relieved to think that the policeman hadn’t recognized him. But whatever had made him say the sack belonged to Mr. Fellows? That was really rather idiotic, and not fair to Mr. Fellows! Fatty felt distinctly uncomfortable about that.

He got home without any further adventure, feeling unexpectedly tired. Buster gave him an uproarious welcome, and Fatty discarded all his clothes down in the old shed with the little Scottie dancing round him in delight.

Then Fatty crawled tiredly up the garden path from the shed to the house. “Gosh! I’m shuffling just like I pretended to,” he marvelled. “But shuffling’s not so good when it’s real!”

Fatty was so tired that he was almost asleep as he climbed the stairs.

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