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evening playing chess with a fiercely-brooding Eunice was too much for him. Sorrowfully he went off with Buster to change into running-shorts, and was soon loping along by the quiet river, with Buster at his heels. What a life!
     
    Chief-Inspector Jenks has Something to Say
     
    On Easter Monday morning, just as Mr. Goon was finishing a large breakfast of fried bacon and three eggs, a long shiny black car drew up outside his house. Mr. Goon caught sight of it as he was about to attack his third egg, and his mouth fell open even wider.
    “The Inspector! Now what does he want with me this morning!” thought Goon, and hurriedly did up his tunic and ran to brush his hair. He called to the daily woman in the kitchen in his most urgent voice.
    “Mrs. Boggs! Ask whoever it is into the office, quick!” Just as he spoke there came a peremptory knock at the front door, and Mrs. Boggs flew to open it.
    Outside stood a tall Inspector of Police - Chief Inspector Jenks, with keen sharp eyes and an impatient look about him. Mrs. Boggs showed him into the office. “Mr. Goon will be along at once, sir,” she said, and almost dropped a curtsy as she backed from the room.
    Goon came in at once, looking much tidier. “Good morning, sir,” he said. “Er - this is an unexpected visit.”
    “Goon,” said the Inspector, abruptly. “There’s a dangerous man somewhere in this district. An escaped prisoner, violent and up to every trick there is. Known to be clever at disguises. Now - there’s a Fair at Peterswood, a likely place for a fellow like this to make for. I want you to keep your eyes open and report to me at once if there’s anyone you’re in the least suspicious about. I’ll send men over immediately to watch whoever you report on.”
    Goon swelled up at once with importance. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Er - would it be a good idea to go to the Fair out of uniform, sir? You know I took a Special Course at the Police school, sir - disguises and all that.”
    “Well,” said the Chief, looking at Goon doubtfully, “you can try it, I suppose. Pity you’re so fat - you can’t hide that, and it makes you very noticeable.”
    Goon felt hurt. He looked down at himself. “I could try a spot of slimming, sir,” he said, hopefully. “But…”
    “Hm - it would take you months to get down to a reasonable size,” said the Chief. “Now, here are a few details of this fellow we want.” He laid some notes down on the desk and Goon looked at them with interest.
    “Medium height, sharp-eyed, scar over rather thin mouth, which a moustache, real or false, could hide, may wear false whiskers…” Goon stopped, as an astonishing idea came to him. He stared in excitement at the Inspector.
    “I saw this man yesterday!” he said, excitedly, and actually poked the Chief in the chest. “Yes, I did - whiskers and all!”
    “Where?” asked the Chief, sharply.
    “And he was violent, too - very violent!” went on Goon. “Kicked and flailed his arms about, and strong as I am, I couldn’t hold him.”
    “WHERE was this man?” demanded the Inspector again, but Goon couldn’t be stopped.
    “And sharp-eyed too - eyes like gimlets, he had. And a moustache as well and now I come to think of it he might have had a scar under it. Bless me, if he wasn’t the man!”
    “GOON,” said the Chief, in a dangerous voice. “Kindly stop gabbling and listen to me. WHERE was this fellow?”
    “Er - well, sir - funny thing, sir, but he was in that Frederick Trotteville’s garden, down in his shed,” said Goon. “I was called in by a young lady staying there, sir. Buster, that Scottie, he went for the old tramp fiercely, and must have bitten his ankles to the bone. Real savage he was, sir.”
    “Was Frederick Trotteville there, too?” asked the Chief. “Couldn’t he catch the man? He’s usually pretty nippy at that kind of thing.”
    “Well, if that fellow could have been caught, I’d have caught him,” said Goon, huffily. “Actually Master Frederick didn’t come along till too late. I’d done the dirty