They Made Their Mark: Chapter 8

Dot laughed cheerfully as the lads exited the office, descended the stairs, and walked outside. Larry blinked in the bright sunlight and then realized he'd left his notes behind in the office, but with the feeling that their conversation would consist solely of Find-Outer stuff he accompanied Fatty round the corner into the High Street. As they walked along, the odd passer-by would acknowledge Fatty with a wave or a few words of greeting. Larry didn't recognize any of them at first apart from a minor bank employee with whom he'd had dealings in the past. He had grown a beard but was still recognizable.

Then another person came into his sight – a very elderly lady with a walking stick who was shuffling along at a surprising speed. He wondered where he'd seen her before and then recalled meeting her briefly at Rodways House near where the Hiltons used to live. Larry studied her, thinking, "Gosh, she looks about ninety!" Another man who passed by had familiar features and Larry remembered seeing him a few times at the theatre. "I'm sure he used to run the place – I wonder if he still does."

Fatty's voice entered his thoughts. "Familiar faces?"

"Yeah, a few," answered Larry. "That man who just passed us – isn't he the manager of the Little Theatre?"

"Was," said Fatty. "They got rid of him about a year ago because he rubbed too many people up the wrong way – that's if my barber is as knowledgeable as he likes to think he is."

"I see."

They continued along past some shops and one or two loading bays. "Fatty, is Dot married?" Larry enquired.

Fatty hesitated, "No! But she was... for a few hours. Very unfortunately, her husband was run over when they stopped at a newsagent on their way to the honeymoon venue, and I really have to wonder, Larry, why such a tragic thing should happen to one so kind and so full of life."

Larry felt a pang of sorrow for Fatty's effervescent secretary. "Fatty, that's awful and I'm so sorry for her."

Fatty glanced at him and realized that once again his secretary had made a favourable impression on someone in a very short time.

"Larry, the wound is about healed. She eased her sadness by substituting the void with a cheerful outlook and coming to terms with the reality – Que Sera, Sera and all that. It worked although I think that on the odd occasion the feelings she had for her dearly departed are recalled... but she's almost over it and I try to help her sustain a positive outlook when I can. We joke with each other a lot; in fact it's become almost a game now to see which one of us can insult the other more creatively – in the most friendly way of course."

"Of course," repeated Larry. "I wondered about the blatantly insulting repartee but I can see where you're coming from, Fatty."

"Yeah! I love Dot and she loves me and that's why we insult with impunity."

"You mean...?"

"That was a shock to you, wasn't it, Larry? No, I don't mean whatever you're thinking – we're just very good friends as they say in Hollywood. We have a lot of time for each other and she's a whiz at her work – in fact, if she could spare the time I'd employ her on a five day basis."

"You caught me off-guard there for a moment. Any chance of her marrying again, Fatty? A woman like her needs someone, don't you think?"

"I do... and between you and me and the gatepost, I think she has an admirer."

"Marvellous! Anyone I might know?"

"Not really! What's the time? I was just thinking I could take you to our other office and introduce you to the fellows there, but we haven't really got the minutes. Mike's the one... I know he's been out several times with our Mrs. Crockelby and I think to my heart that no one would make a better companion for her. Mike never married but I think he's at the stage where he needs someone around him because, as sharp as he is, the mundane trimmings of life tend to pass him by, if you can understand what I mean."

"I'll take your word for it, Fatty. That's great to hear because your Dot has made quite an impression in the very short time I've known her. Hmmm... there are some nice-looking girls around Peterswood these days. They seem to be giving you a good all-over look as we go by."

"Naturally!"

"Not allowed that one, Fatty."

"Spitty, because you're included."

"How do you mean?"

"I've noticed a few looking at you, Larry."

"I hadn't thought of that. I suppose it's to be expected though."

"Now, who's thinking well of himself?"

"I think it's catching, Fatty. I'll allow you your indulgence if you'll allow me mine."

"Put your air-force uniform on and you'd have to beat 'em off with clubs! Actually Larry, there's a temporary shortage of eligible bachelors in Peterswood."

"Is there now?"

"Yes! It's often a state of feast or famine in the smaller centres – especially round these parts for some reason or another. It may be that we're near enough to the Big Smoke for those with ambition to head off that way. The drift of time brings out bunches of graduates who migrate to the surrounding areas and to the cities where the universities and head offices of the companies are located. The same goes for the manual workers. Peterswood is short of really large factories except for that car-part place off the Marlow Road but they've cut their staff. Every now and again the supply of new blood be it males or females peters out all at once rather than in a spread out fashion as is the norm and it's happening in Peterswood right now. You never know, in a year or so the position could be completely reversed and we might have a shortage of females so make the most of it. Speaking of females, Larry, do you indulge? Are you stepping out?"

"Stepping out! Oh, you mean... am I? Well... no, not right at present. I've been here only a few days and I was up to my teeth in activity prior to the big move, but on the odd occasion when I have the time I indulge as you put it. Yourself?"

"Same! Like you I've been occupied with setting up the business and coping with the volume of work which thankfully is slowing down now that I'm organized with good staff. It's nice to take a young lady out now and again though, because it's relaxing to be able to cut off from everything and spend a few hours in pleasant and attractive company with one's attention transferred from affairs of work to affairs of the heart."

"How do you treat your dates?" asked Larry with interest.

"Nosy-Parker! Seeing that you ask, I like to spoil my date and cherish her for the time we have together. A corsage is always appreciated and perhaps a small gift. If we're going to a movie I search out information on it beforehand so that I can supply her with the answers to anything she may not understand about the plot, and if it's a dance, I bribe... "

"Bribe?"

"Well, I slip a few shillings to the band leader to play her favourite tune having craftily elicited the information earlier on. The moment it comes on her eyes light up and then before she knows what's happening I've grabbed her and we're out onto the dance-floor for a quick jive or a Lindy Hop."

"You're an old-fashioned romancer, Fatty. Sounds great though, and I agree with your sentiments. A girl loves to be appreciated and treated as if she's the only female that exists."

"Couldn't put it better myself. Now, Larry... look at that!"

Larry followed the direction of Fatty's eyes and, although he'd seen the old bench already in the few days he'd been in Peterswood, it held a special significance now that Fatty was with him. There it was, sitting on a sandy spot by the road partly in the shade of a tree and badly in need of a coat of paint.

"The Bench! Gosh, and I have the old bent man beside me at this very moment!" exclaimed Larry.

Fatty nodded, "That bench may come under the auspices of the Heritage Trust shortly if the Council pulls its weight. One of the antique dealers got a committee together and they're pushing for the preservation of various icons. The bench is included because it's been there for almost as long as Peterswood has existed and I'm all for it."

"So am I," said Larry with spirit. "We can't have that pounded to pieces for firewood. I've got the picture now, Fatty... there's you shuffling up to it and settling yourself down with a little sigh, and it was this very bench." He walked over to it with Fatty and ran his hand along the back of of it.

"OUCH!" He examined his finger and carefully extracted a tiny splinter. "Fatty, what memories – that was the time we were chasing after those jewel thieves."

"I remember it well... the Castleton necklace AND we missed out on the exciting part because of Goon and his bungling. Still, we came out tops in the end."

They continued down the High Street and passed by a large emporium with books and stationery in the window, all lit up by the sun's slanting rays. Larry looked at the faded lettering above the door. "Dallow and Son. I remember going in there with Mum and Daisy each January to get our school books – that was quite a few years ago, Fatty."

They passed some more shops with Larry murmuring to himself, "The Lamphouse... Cycle shop... Cobbler..." They paused at the dark entrance of the shoe-repair shop.

"Still the same chap?" Larry asked.

"Still the same," Fatty answered. "Bad-tempered as ever and he doesn't look much different either – he's weathered well."

"He'd know everyone in the village."

"He would, Larry. He learnt his trade from his Pa and helped in the shop years before he took it over."

They continued on. "How's the Veale?" asked Larry.

Fatty considered this conundrum, and gave as good as he got. "There's some Lamb over in Willow Lane!"

"You're talking Mrs. Cockle's sister aren't you? She's someone I definitely remember. But no, I meant the butcher. I haven't been in there yet – is he still around?"

"He's given up the meat business and moved out of town. Sam had to go, of course, but he's apparently making good money as a meat inspector at the works. Old Veale was losing money and he blamed it on Cook's larger establishment."

"We know the truth of course."

"Larry, the whole of Peterswood knew, but he never cottoned on. Was he your butcher?"

"In the very early days but Mum wouldn't go near him after the first few months – or so I believe. I think he started declining when his wife left him."

Fatty considered, "He must have had at least three health warnings. It was so obvious. Remember the state of his display window... honestly, I think he had a fly-breeding business on the side."

Larry laughed. "I'm prepared to agree with that remark. I see Cook's opened up another shop a few streets up so he must be doing very well seeing he's the only local butcher."

They had reached a pleasant little area set back from the road with trees bordering the property. In the middle was a trim little building with The Rendezvous on a sign at the front. Chairs and roughly hewn benches filled the area in front and it was past these that Fatty led Larry to a solidly built doorway leading into a pleasant and clean-looking area quite crowded with diners who were enjoying their meals and chatting in low tones. Darkly coloured beams criss-crossed the ceiling, but the overall décor was distinctly gallic. On the far side Larry noticed a counter on top of which rested glass-fronted cabinets containing delicious looking snacks, and an open kitchen area to the rear contained benches with more food, and there were stoves at which bustling chefs were engaged in filling plates with hot food straight from the cauldrons.

Suddenly, a fat continental looking man dressed immaculately in white and sporting a fine moustache descended on the two of them with a cry of delight. He pumped Fatty's hand up and down and looked intently at him.

"Freddie, Freddie... good to see you. Dorothy tell me you be coming." He stood back and appraised Fatty with genuine warmth in his eyes.

Fatty waved to Larry. "Eddie, meet Larry. Larry, meet Eduard Amoux Caffarelli whose name on the menu has his patrons asking for him as the Chef's Special."

"Mr. Daykin... a pleasure, a pleasure!" Larry received an efusive hand-pumping as well.

"Likewise," said Larry, "and let me apologise for my friend's insults. I'll have to have a word with him."

"The more he insult me the more he like me," explained Eddie. "We are like two brothers, Freddie and I... come, this way, please."

He led them through an alcove where there were only two tables – one had "Reserved" on it. The hum of the main area was drastically reduced when the glass-panelled door was half-closed. Fatty and Larry sat down and Eddie fussed around fetching some cutlery and serviettes from a sidebaord. He clicked his fingers at a waitress who came over to hand them menus. Eddie pointed at a menu. "Freddie, Larry, my recommendation is the set lunch – Spaghetti Bolo Supremo! Delicio! Donato is chef today, I say no more! Enjoy your meal." He beamed at them and returned to the kitchen, calling out to various staff as he went.

Fatty yelled after him. "Thanks Eddie!" He placed his menu on the table and eyed Larry, who was looking at a card which was clipped onto the front of his menu.

"Fatty, can this be right? Two and three for the set lunch! That's impossible!"

"Not here," said Fatty. "One or two establishments that cater to the office-workers have similar prices – slightly higher, perhaps, but they draw the customers. The clerks and accountants and secretaries want a quick, affordable no-trimmings lunch and a great big pot of sauce on the stove is all you need with some pasta nearby of course. The attraction here is that Eddie specialises in various continental dishes, and once he's got a really good recipe he sticks with it until he finds another which he thinks is better. The chefs have the genuine recipes because Eddie's taken the time and trouble to import specialised ingredients from the home country and to select the very best combinations of spices by the trial-and-error method. The result is an inexpensive yet utterly delicious meal for the hungry workers if they can get a seat which is difficult without a booking although Eddie endeavours to keep a couple of tables free for favoured patrons who haven't booked."

"We got seats all right. Are you a favoured patron or is it just that Dot mentioned you were coming?" asked Larry.

"At this time of the day they need more notice than a mention, but the facts are that I'm a regular customer and I also did Eddie a favour once which he's never forgotten."

Larry looked up from his menu "A favour? What kind of a favour?"

Fatty smiled. "Putting it very briefly, I pole axed a lout who was holding him up in broad daylight! I was sitting in the main area having lunch shortly after the restaurant opened and in comes this ruffian with a shotgun. He'd just been released from prison and had decided he needed funds to settle himself once more into society. You know – buy a car and a house and get married. That sort of thing."

"Fatty, you're not kidding?"

"A littler humorous embellishment perhaps, but there he was pointing the gun at Eddie who was behind the counter."

"So, what happened?"

"He and the couple of staff that were with him put their hands in the air and sweated. I'd come fairly early so there were only a few customers – a woman screamed, one or two diners dived under their tables, and another couple who were near the door ran out in a blind panic. I was slightly behind the youth and I jumped up meaning to put him in a headlock but he turned before I could get an arm round his throat so I kayoed him before he could level his weapon at me."

"A one-punch knockout?"

"That's it!"

"You are on the level, aren't you, Fatty. Tell me, you used to relate to us how you were champion of this and champion of that at school. You were the 'Lad' and we all agreed that you were talented because you kept demonstrating it, but your prowess whether it was tennis or boxing or working in the classroom wasn't proven to us of course, so... were you having us on a little?"

"You thought I was boasting, didn't you, Larry? No, I wasn't having you on – if I said I was the champ at this and the champ at that, then I was. Actually that observation shows I wasn't as swollen-headed as you thought because I could have reported on half a dozen other activities for which I received top marks. But we won't go into that, will we?"

"I'll ask you about those another time," said Larry. " So you became the local hero – was it reported in the Gazette?"

"It's all there," Larry.

"I'm impressed. What happened to the crook?"

"The local constable received a call and there couldn't have been much happening in Peterswood that day because he managed to get hold of a car and arrive in less than five minutes. The offender was handcuffed and I helped to carry the body into the squad car. He received a stiff sentence."

The waitress materialised again with crusty slices of bread, some butter, and a carafe of iced water. She smiled warmly at them. "Set lunch for both?"

"Larry?"

Larry nodded and Fatty ordered two meals, adding, "With salad thanks, Joyce."

"What would you like to drink, Mr. Trotteville?" asked the girl.

Fatty asked for a coffee to be brought a little later on, and Larry chose a chilled Cola. The waitress wrote on her pad and left.

Fatty settled back, took a slice of bread and pushed the plate over to Larry. They could hear faint background music and Larry recognisd Dean Martin crooning That's Amore.

"Fatty," Larry said, "I think it's as good a time as any to ask you what happened to Ern's brothers?"

"As good a time as any," said Fatty as he poured himself a small glass of water. "Perce, Sid! Yes, what happened to them? Are you ready for a tale of the open road?"

"I am!"

Fatty chuckled. "You know, Larry, those two brothers are inseparable, and maybe it's just as well because Sid needs a little bit of a helping hand every now and again. Sure, he has a few skills and like Ern, he can rise when the situation calls for it, but basically he needs someone around. What happened was that Perce began haunting those trade exhibitions that show off the latest in vehicles and, apart from possessing an avid interest in cars, he was fascinated by the odd caravan that he came across. He explored them inside and out and noted all the features, and according to Ern he became quite obsessed – Ern's word was "potty" – with them. Sid always accompanied Perce and the fascination must have rubbed off onto him as well, so after they'd learnt as much as they could about mobile homes they decided to become mobile. The lads had gotten to know a few of the gypsies who pass through on the odd occasion and had gleaned as much as they could about what life in the open-air entails. Then eventually, with the family's considerable help, they managed to purchase an old caravan and a not so old horse."

"Charming!" remarked Larry. "When you asked me what I thought they'd taken up I couldn't imagine them in any particular surroundings, but I can definitely see them as you describe – living life on the open road."

"Yes," agreed Fatty. "As I said, they received help to obtain their home and transport. Sid and Perce had done the odd bit of work for the council and had managed to save a few pounds towards the deposit, and with contributions from their parents, and from Ernie, they were able to become the owners of a caravan. It had been sitting in a field for years and the farmer they bought it off also supplied a horse that wasn't in all that bad nick – apparently he was selling some of his livestock and the Goon brothers came along at the right moment. The three Goons set to work on the caravan, and if there's one thing those boys can do well, it's in the line of fixing things up. Ern's good at it but with the three of them involved, their future lodgings received an admirable refurbishment. The inside was done out, fittings were altered, the wheels and other structural parts were gone over and it also received a coat of paint. Then with a sack of corn acquired for the horse, and the highway beckoning, Perce and Sid got in a bit of practice by touring the local villages to get the feel of living together in cramped quarters, and then the day came when they decided to head south-west to where some of their gypsy acquaintances had gone. They filled the caravan with their worldly goods which, despite Pearce's complaints, included Sid's old rocking horse which he insisted on bringing, and they set off from home with fond farewells."

Fatty paused then said with feeling, "I would love to have been there but I was held up that day and Ern filled me in. Those Woosh kids – Glad and Liz came round and watched their hero's brothers leaving the family fold. Apparently there was a hiccup in their grand farewell when the horse dropped a shoe, but the lads managed to fix that up themselves and they departed to ride the highways and the byways. This all happened about a year ago and nowadays their base is around the Brockenhurst area. They never write and that's pretty understandable, but once in a blue moon they manage to find their way back to Peterswood to say 'Hello' to Ern. No announcements or anything... they just arrive and plonk themselves down for a couple of days and when they depart there's an empty refrigerator and rather a lot of cleaning up to do. They contribute some manpower though – chopping wood and helping Ern with anything that requires a bit of muscle, or perhaps assisting him to finish off some of his carpentry projects. That's one of Ern's little sidelines, he fashions small tables and other items of furniture which the local ironmonger displays in his window and sells on a small commission. So, after they've eaten their host out of house and home, Sid and Perce are raring to go because the lure of the open road is in their blood. They hitch up the horse and they're off once more to join up again with that small band of travellers like themselves who await them in some wooded area north of Lymington.

Larry smiled. "Very quaint! How do they survive, Fatty?"

"One of their means is to join encampments where the gypsies display their wares. There are lace-makers and fashioners of wrought-iron as well as fortune-tellers and pottery workers who demonstrate their art, and there are the usual sellers of beads and knick-knacks. Our two friends use their inherent carving skills to produce little wooden ornaments which helps towards bringing in the needed income that befits men of their status, but old Perce is never short of ideas and once they'd settled into their way of life, he found a novel way of making some extra money – very easy money. Whenever there's a reasonably sized gypsy fair handy they arrive there and throw their caravan open for inspection. I think they charge about 6d. a look and the visitors think its well worth the coin to see through their humble home and learn how a road-wanderer lives. Think of it, Larry, if a few hundred people visit the gathering in one day there'd probably be a good fifty or more, maybe a hundred, who would take up the invitation because it's only 6d... so that's, say, fifty by six equals over a guinea a day, and that's just fifty people! Wonder if they pay tax... Actually, I think I could answer that.

"Golly," exclaimed Larry. "I wouldn't mind earning a bit of cash that way by opening up my flat for passers-by. Easy money indeed."

Fatty continued, "I agree, and there's more... When they're on the road, they have a little sideline as knife-sharpeners and repairers of ill-used tools and anything else on offer. Many of the places they pass through are farming communities and small villages where a second-hand shop or charity institution just doesn't exist, so the locals are glad to take advantage of the Travelling Knife Grinders as it were – the original "Tinkers" which we read about in Milne.

"Milne? You mean..."

"You know, Pooh Bear… A. A. Milne. Tinker, Tailor..."

"Yeah! Well, I'm happy for them and it's great that they're both into something they like... they do like it?"

"You bet they do! Sid's lucky they have such a strong bond with his brother – and I'm not meaning it unkindly of course, but as I said, he does need a little 'help' in life if you know what I mean."

"I do! Wonder if either will marry... well, Perce at least."

They were interrupted at that moment by an appetizing aroma which preceeded the arrival of plates piled with spaghetti covered with a rich, red-brown sauce. The food was placed on the table together with a basket of fresh bread rolls and a small bowl containing lettuce and tomatoes with a few olives and a vinaigrette dressing. The waitress received smiles and thanks from the two diners who momentarily ceased their dedicated conversation and replaced it with with a little sampling of the restaurant's fare.

Larry twirled some spaghetti around on a spoon, smothered it with sauce, and popped it into his mouth with gusto. "Absolutely delicious!"

"Told you so," replied Fatty who was tucking into his share. He pushed the bowl of salad over to Larry after he'd helped himself. "Take the rest, it's the dressing that makes it so appetising."

Larry took some and became reflective. "I think... I really think, Fatty, that certain foods remind us of real places. To me the very essence of this olive suggests loaded Mediterranean platters and luncheon tables on balconies high above the Aegean Sea."

"How poetic... and I fully agree," said Fatty who had cut open a roll and was buttering it briskly. "The salad dressing should send you to those parts as well because the recipe comes from Eddie's uncle's side of the family. He married a Greek girl and they own an estate on the island of Chios."

"You don't say," said Larry taking a roll and putting it on his plate. "Well, you're quite right because this dressing is the best I've ever tasted. Now, where were we, Fatty? The boys..."

"Yes. You wondered about them pairing off."

"That's right, said Larry. "I was just looking ahead. I imagine they won't travel around forever and I was curious as to whether they'd eventually find partners."

"I can make a comment," said Fatty. "At one stage they managed, somehow, to travel all the way up to Cumbria to attend the horse fair over in Appleby which is where the Romany clans like to get together and socialize. Sid and Perce decided they had to attend at least one of these fairs in their lifetime, so off they went, and I think if it wasn't for their know-how they'd never have made it. Caravans and even horses break down, but when the two of them pool their tinkering skills they always seem to manage. This is second-hand knowledge, of course, but apparently Perce met a young lady there who was from Southampton. She had been staying with relatives and needed to return, so Perce offered her a ride back and she accepted with, possibly, a rather inflated illusion of romance. You know – imagining herself as Ado Annie and Perce as Ali Hakim. Seen Oklahoma?"

Larry nodded. "Yeah, I saw it overseas and I suppose the girl saw herself perched on the caravan seat somewhere off the coast road with her man beside her. No, I can't equate romance with Perce and Sid and their caravan. Can you?"

"Not really. According to Ern, Perce rigged up a blanket hanging over a cord to give him and his female a little privacy, but I think Sid's nearness put the girl off to an extent. Living so communally in those conditions might tax all but the most tolerant individual, I suspect, so the obvious thing to do was to send Sid below stairs to the servants' quarters..."

Larry broke in, "Meaning?"

"Meaning he went to sleep under the caravan, but it wasn't long before Perce's woman decided to abandon ship and when they reached Shrewsbury she returned to the bosom of her family with the help of British Rail." Fatty reached out as the waitress reappeared and took coffee and a soft-drink from her tray. She placed a cheese-board and crackers down as well and left with a smile.

"Nice girl! Gosh, we even get extras," marveled Larry. "Is this just because you are you?"

Fatty grinned at him, "I guess so, Larry."

Larry selected a cracker and placed some cheese on it. "How the world's been changing since I left these shores. Ern, Sid and Perce living their lives to the full, and you in your own business. Tell me, was it Perce – no, I think it was Sid who was keen on babies. Yes, it was Sid. Do you remember his obsession when we first met them?"

"Yeah. That was when we lent a hand with the Bongawah mystery, and what an exciting time that turned out to be. Haven't the faintest regarding your question – never thought of asking but he's probably grown out of it. Now, that affair was very profitable for us don't you think?"

"Absolutely. The only trouble for Daisy and me was that Ma and Pa put the lot in a trust and we didn't get it until we turned twenty-one – except we were allowed to treat ourselves to new bicycles. How about you? I'll bet you had no restrictions whatsoever."

"No, I didn't, but I was wise – I got my dad to invest it for me."

"That would have been all right seeing you always seemed to be rolling in money, so you wouldn't have needed any extra. I must admit it helped me a little when I was overseas but what's left is earmarked for my future accommodation."

"My lot came in handy when I was starting up the business, so it can be said that FTI has been partly funded with the assistance of the Tetarua State Treasury."

"Fatty, what happened to him – Bongawah? Did he become King or whatever they have over there? We never considered it at the time, of course, but if it wasn't for us, the Prince would probably not even exist, although it isn't a very nice thing to contemplate."

"True, but I would say you're right. The current status of Prince or King Bongawah has never crossed my mind until right now. We didn't foresee any possible consequences did we? Kids don't think around things like that – we were just thrilled to learn that the Tetaruans were increasing our post office savings by a few thousand pounds. I wonder if he did he become Ruler of Tetarua. I'll ask Jenksy – he's bound to know seeing he went over there to sort a few things out amongst the British and the Tetaruans."

"Did he now? Gosh, I do wish I'd asked a few more questions at the time, Fatty. How long was he away?"

"Only two or three days I think – just to present 'Valuable Evidence' and to back up the diplomats who were representing Whitehall. I remember wondering at the time if we would be called on by some authority to relate more of our story and that brings me to your earlier question regarding publicity."

Larry looked at him with interest, "Fire away, Fatty. I don't think any of us were too concerned about being in the public eye because we'd already been there and done that several times over the years, but I've always nursed that little question – why did it cease when we'd all got used to seeing an illustrated write-up after each case we solved? And another thing: tell us a little about Jenksy. We helped him no end, yet I don't even know his full name – he was just Jenks preceded by his title, which changed over the years."

"I can understand your curiosity," said Fatty sipping at his coffee. "So, allow me to supply the answers..."

To be continued...