The Mystery of the Missing Man by Enid Blyton

Author:Enid Blyton [Blyton, Enid]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Childrens, Mystery, Adventure, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781780315645
Google: jaf3AQAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 994675
Publisher: Egmont UK
Published: 1955-12-31T18:30:00+00:00

He roared at their amazed faces. They were so astonished that they almost missed the bus, for they stood rooted to the ground! Fatty had to hustle them in.

“Say nothing,” he hissed. “Don’t speak to me in the bus. I’ll find some way of talking to you at the Fair.”

The other four sat silent in the bus, quite overcome by Fatty’s surprising appearance. Bets shot sidelong glances at him. Never, never would she have thought that it was Fatty sitting alongside her. Was it? Well, it must be, because of his voice. How clever he was!

They all got off at the Fair and went in at the gate. “You can follow me around,” said Fatty, in a low voice. “Keep your eyes and ears open. I’m going to find the clown first.”

He went on in front of them, and they followed. He came to the little boxing-tent and looked for the clown, but there was no one there. The tent was empty, except for the little boxing-ring.

“Who are you looking for, mate?” said a boy, passing by, carrying a bucket of water.

“Bert,” said Fatty, remembering the clown’s name. “The clown, you know.”

“He’s gone to have a tooth out,” said the boy. “He’ll be back in a few minutes, He was half-mad with toothache in the night.”

“Right. I’ll wait,” said Fatty, and sat down on the grass. The other four heard all this, and wandered off, keeping a watch in case Bert came back.

Nobody recognized Bert when he did come back for he was not in his clown-suit. He had a shock of thick dark hair, and the whole of his face, except his sharp eyes, was covered by a dirty scarf. He came to the boxing-tent and was just about to go inside when Fatty spoke to him.

“Hey? You Bert the clown?”

“Yep,” said Bert, from behind his scarf. “What’s biting you, chum? You waiting for me?”

“Yep,” answered Fatty. “I...”

“Oh - then you’d be the boy old Dicky said he’d send along to help me,” said Bert.

“Yep,” said Fatty, thankfully. This was a bit of luck! “What do I have to do?”

“You good at figures?” asked Bert, his face still hidden by his scarf. “Here - I’ll show you what kind of figures you’d have to keep. I’m no good at head-work, I’m not.”

He disappeared into the tent and came out with a small account book which apparently showed the takings for each day. Fatty glanced at the hand that held it out to him. What a knobbly one! All bones. A little feeling of excitement crept up his spine.

“If only I could see his face now he hasn’t got on any paint, I’d know then about the scar,” thought Fatty, pretending to go through the account book. “His hair’s right - and his eyes and eyebrows - and his height. How can I get him to take off that scarf?”

He handed back the book. “Reckon I could keep them figures for you okay,” he said.

“When could you start, chum?” asked Bert.

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