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work before he turned up.”
    “I see,” said the Inspector, thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go along and see what Frederick thought of this fellow.”
    “He didn’t see him, sir,” said Goon. “I told you, he came along too late.”
    “Yes, I heard you,” said the Chief, curtly. “All right. Study those notes, Goon, and keep your eyes skinned. That fellow has been seen here - and we know he’s got friends nearby who might fix him up with some disguise. He’s not a fellow who’ll hide away. He’d take a delight in mixing with people somewhere and watching the police trying to find him.”
    “Ho - then I’ll certainly disguise myself,” said Goon. “Supposing I put on my…”
    But the Inspector was already striding out to his car, and Goon was left muttering to himself. “To the Trottevilles’ house,” ordered the Inspector, and the big car slid smoothly away. It turned in at Fatty’s drive and stopped beside the front door. The Inspector got out and rang the bell.
    “Is Master Frederick in?” he asked, when Jane came to the door.
    “Oh, good morning, sir,” said Jane. “Yes, I think so. He was just going out. Come in, sir, and I’ll call him.”
    The Chief Inspector stepped in and was shown into Mrs. Trotteville’s pretty drawing-room. Then came the sound of hurried footsteps down the stairs and Fatty appeared, dressed in running-shorts and white singlet. The Chief looked surprised.
    “Hallo, Frederick - in training for something?” he enquired.
    “Yes, sir. Getting a bit of my fat off,” explained Fatty. “I’ve a chance of getting into the First Tennis Team next term. Nice to see you, sir!”
    The Inspector came straight to the point. “Frederick - I’ve just come from Goon,” he said. “I went to see him to ask him to look out for someone for me - and he immediately started a peculiar story about a tramp he’d found down in your shed.”
    Fatty felt himself going red. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Er - what else did he tell you?”
    “Oh, I got a good many details from him,” said the Chief, dryly. “According to him, this fellow was extremely violent, had very sharp eyes, like gimlets, and a moustache, probably with a scar under it - and Buster flew at him and bit his ankles to the bone. The tramp’s ankles, not Goon’s.”
    “Did he say anything else, sir?” asked Fatty, cautiously.
    “He did say that you turned up too late to help him,” said the Inspector. “Exactly what do you know about this violent tramp who was hiding in your shed? I thought you always kept it locked.”
    “You think I was that tramp, sir, don’t you?” said Fatty, looking the Chief in the eyes.
    “It certainly had occurred to me,” said the Chief, looking straight back at Fatty.
    “All right,” said Fatty, with a sigh. “Yes, I was the tramp. But it was only a joke, sir. I didn’t even know Goon was anywhere near. A friend of ours, staying here, peeped into my shed and saw me there, looking like a tramp - I was in disguise, of course - and screamed for help. And Goon came in, and I got away. Buster didn’t go for me, of course - he was just excited to see me and leapt all round me as I went. Er - Goon exaggerated a bit, I expect.”
    “Yes. I guessed as much,” said the Inspector, a twinkle in his eye. “You were extremely strong and violent, according to him - he quite thought you were the man we’re after.”
    “I suppose - I suppose you wouldn’t care to tell me about this man,” said Fatty, hopefully. “I mean - I might be able to help. You never know.”
    “I’ll leave you a copy of the notes I left with Goon,” said the Chief, and he took a sheaf of papers from his pocket and extracted two or three pages from them. “Better not tell Goon that you know about this man - but keep your eyes open for anything out of the way this next week. The Fair’s on - and there’s a Conference of some sort on too - so the place will be full of strangers.”
    “Oh, thanks, sir,” said Fatty, joyfully, as he picked up the notes. “Thanks a lot. This is right up my street! I’ll do