Mystery #03 — The Mystery of the Secret Room tff-3

by Enid Blyton

  It was. It was such an easy one to climb that even Bets, with Fatty’s help, could climb from branch to branch, and reach the place from which she could peer into the secret room.

  It was just as Pip and seen it the day before - fully furnished, comfortable looking, and very dusty. The children all took their turn at staring in. It had been exciting to hear of it, but it was even more thrilling really to see it. Whatever was the room used for?

  “Well, I’m going off to the house-agent’s,” said Fatty, shinning down the tree. “You take charge now, Larry, and snoop around the house. Look out for footprints, bits of torn paper, cigarette-ends - anything that might be clues.”

  “Ooh!” said Bets joyfully. “I do love looking for clues.”

  “You called them glues last year,” said Pip. “Do you remember?”

  Bets didn’t want to remember things like that, so she didn’t answer. They all climbed down the tree and began to look around the house.

  “Everywhere is empty,” said Larry. “I wish we could find a window left open or something. Then we could get inside.”

  But not a window was left open, not even a crack. Not only that, but it seemed as if every window had a double fastening.

  “Whoever lived here before must have been afraid of burglars,” said Daisy. “Short of smashing a window or breaking down a door, I don’t see how any one could possibly get into this house.”

  They looked for footprints, but found none. Neither was there a cigarette-end, or even a scrap of paper to be seen.

  “Not a single clue!” said Bets sorrowfully.

  “Look at all our footprints!” said Daisy, pointing to where they showed in the muddy ground. “Plenty of clues left by our feet to show we’ve been here! I think we ought to have been more careful.”

  “Well, we can’t do anything about it now,” said Pip. “Listen - is that Buster barking?”

  It was. He was barking madly, and the four children listened uneasily. Fatty had gone to the village. He wasn’t there, with his quick cleverness to take charge. Pip, Daisy, and Bets looked at Larry.

  “What shall we do?” said Bets. “I can hear some one coming down the drive!”

  “Hide!” said Larry. “Quick, scatter behind bushes!”

  They scattered, and Bets with a beating heart hid behind rather a small bush, hoping she would not be seen.

  To her horror it was the familiar dark-blue uniform worn by the village policeman that she saw coming round the corner of the house! He was wheeling his bicycle.

  It was a real piece of bad luck that he had passed that way this morning, for he rarely cycled down the lane that led to Milton House. But he had to go to an outlying farm to speak to a farmer about straying cows, and, as the usual field path was under water, Mr. Goon had taken a longer way round, which took him by Milton House.

  He was thinking of a nice hot dinner when he cycled slowly by. He hadn’t even seen Buster sitting patiently on Fatty’s pullover; but Buster not only saw him and heard him, but smelt him too - and it was not a smell that Buster liked.

  Mr. Goon was his enemy. In fact, Mr. Goon was the natural enemy of all little dogs, though big ones he tried to make friends with. Buster couldn’t help barking defiantly when he saw Mr. Goon sailing ponderously by on his bicycle. He made the policeman jump. Mr. Goon locked to see where the barking came from, and to his enormous surprise saw Buster, sitting down on a heap of wool, barking furiously.

  “Ho!” said Mr. Goon, getting off his bike at once. “You the dog belonging to that fat boy? If you’re here, he’s here - and up to some mischief, I don’t doubt!”

  He walked in at the gate. Buster barked more loudly than ever, but he didn’t get up off Fatty’s pullover. No, he had been trusted to guard that, and he would guard it with his life, if need be!

  Mr. Goon was pleased to find that Buster didn’t hover round his ankles as he usually did, but he was very curious to know what Buster was sitting on. He bent down and gave the pullover a jerk.

  Buster was so furious that he almost snapped one of Mr. Goon’s fingers off. The policeman hurriedly took his hand away.

  “Spiteful creature! Vicious dog! You ought to be destroyed, you ought,” said Mr. Goon severely. “What you want is a good thrashing, and wouldn’t I like to give it to you?”

  Buster said some rude things to Mr. Goon in a perfect torrent of barks. The policeman walked by him, keeping his bicycle between himself and Buster, and went up the drive. He felt certain he would soon see Fatty.

  He came round the side of the house into the big garden at the back. He saw no one. But he did see all the many footprints in the mud. He leaned his bike against the house and began to examine them with interest.

  Then he suddenly caught sight of the top of Bets’ red beret behind her bush. He straightened himself up and shouted:

  “Hie, you! I can see you! You come on out from behind that bush!”

  Poor Bets came out, trembling. Mr. Goon looked her up and down.

  “Ah! One of them Hilton kids again. Can’t keep out of mischief, can you? Where are the others? Where’s that fat boy - and have you got that Frenchy fellow with you? I want to talk to him, I do!”

  As soon as poor trembling Bets showed herself, the others came out too. They couldn’t let little Bets bear the brunt of Clear-Orf’s scolding. The policeman was surprised to see so many children coming out from behind the bushes.

  “Now what are you doing? Playing hide-and-seek on somebody’s private property?” he said. “I suppose you think because you’re friendly with Inspector Jenks you can do anything you like. But let me tell you, you can’t. I’m in charge of this here village, see? And any nonsense I shall report straight to your parents!”

  “Oh, Mr. Goon, is it wrong to play hide-and-seek in the grounds of an empty house?” said Larry, in an innocent voice. “We’re so sorry. Nobody ever told us that before.”

  Mr. Goon did one of his snorts. “You’re up to some mischief, I’ll be bound,” he said. “What are you here for? You’d better tell me, see? If there’s anything going on, I’ve got to know about it sooner of later.”

  Larry knew that Clear-Orf suspected them of being there because of some new mystery, and he was annoyed to think the policeman had stumbled upon the very place where the mystery was. He decided the best thing to do was to go at once, and make Mr. Goon think they had only been playing hide-and-seek, as he had so obligingly suggested to them.

  “Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s go and play hide-and-seek somewhere else.”

  “Yes - you clear orf!” said Mr. Goon majestically, feeling that he really had got the better of those interfering kids this time. “You just clear orf, see?”

  Fatty Makes Inquiries

  The children went down the drive, watched Mr. Goon mount his bicycle and ride off, and then went down the lane to meet Fatty. Buster refused to come with them. Fatty had not released him from his trust, and he couldn’t leave the pullover!

  “I wonder how Fatty’s got on,” said Pip. “I bet he won’t have got any keys!”

  Fatty had gone back to the village, and had gone into the office of the bigger of the two house-agents. An elderly man sat at a desk. He looked up impatiently when Fatty came in.

  “What do you want?” he said.

  “Have you any secluded properties standing well back from the road?” asked Fatty in a smooth, dignified voice. “My aunt would like to hear of some. She wants a large house and garden, if possible on the outskirts of the village.”

  “Well, you tell your aunt to ring me up or write to me,” said the elderly man, looking suspiciously over the tops of his large glasses. “Or give me her address and I’ll write to her.”

  This didn’t suit Fatty at all. What would be the good of that!

  “Well, she rather wanted me to take her some particulars today,” said Fatty. “Er - a house something like that one called Milton House might do for her.”

  “What price house does she want?” asked t
he house-agent, still loohng suspiciously at Fatty. He didn’t like boys.

  Fatty didn’t know what to say. He had a good deal of general knowledge, but the price of houses didn’t come into it. He hesitated.

  “Well - about five hundred pounds,” he said boldly, thinking that that was such a lot of money surely it would buy a house like Milton House.

  The house-agent gave a short bark of a laugh. “Go away!” he said. “Trying to have me on, aren’t you? Five hundred pounds indeed! Why, that would hardly buy a cottage these days. You go and tell your aunt she’d better spend her money on a doll’s house! And by the way, just give me your aunt’s address, will you?”

  Fatty was equal to this, and at once gave a perfectly marvellous address, which the house-agent wrote down rather doubtfully.

  “Er - perhaps you’d better give me her telephone number too,” said the man, hoping to catch Fatty out.

  “Certainly,” said Fatty. “Whiskers 0000.”

  Before the astonished agent could make any comment about this curious telephone number, Fatty had bade him a polite good-day and gone.

  “Phew!” said Fatty to himself, as he sprinted down the road at top speed. “What a nasty suspicious fellow! Well - I didn’t get much information out of him about Milton House. I’d better try the other agent - and this time my dear aunt will have to spend five thousand pounds on a house.”

  He marched into the other house-agents, and saw to his relief a boy sitting at a table. The boy did not look much older than himself, and was rather pale and pimply. In the ordinary way Fatty would have greeted him by saying, “Hallo, Pimples!” but this time he thought he had better not.

  “Good morning,” said Fatty, putting on his deepest, most important voice.

  “’Morning,” said Pimples. “What do you want?”

  “Well - it’s not so much what l want as what my Aunt Alicia needs,” said Fatty. “She is desirous of - er - purchasing a property, a secluded property, at about - er - five thousand pounds.”

  “Pom-pom-pom, aren’t we high and mighty!” said Pimples. “Who’s your aunt?”

  “She’s my uncle’s wife,” said Fatty, and grinned. He took out a bag of big bull’s-eye humbugs and offered Pimples one. Pimples grinned back and took one.

  “We aren’t used to people popping in and wanting to spend five thousand pounds on any property hereabouts,” said Pimples, grinning again. “But we’ve got plenty of empty houses if your aunt would like to choose one. There’s Elmhurst and Sunlands, and Cherry Tree and Burnham House, and -”

  “Got any down Chestnut Lane?” asked Fatty, sucking his humbug. Chestnut Lane was the road in which Milton House was.

  “Yes. House called Fairways,” said the boy, consulting a big book and putting his peppermint into his other cheek.

  “What about Milton House?” said Fatty. “That’s empty too.”

  “It’s not for sale,” said the boy.

  “Whyever not?” asked Fatty, surprised.

  “Because somebody’s bought it, fathead,” said Pimples. “It was on the market for four years, and somebody bought it about a year ago.”

  “Oh!” said Fatty, puzzled. “Well, why haven’t they moved in?”

  “How should I know?” said Pimples, crunching up his peppermint. “I say, where do you get these humbugs? They’re jolly good.”

  “I got them in London the other day,” said Fatty. “Have another? Do you know when the new people are moving in?”

  “No idea,” said Pimples. “Once a house is sold, my boss, Mr. Richards, doesn’t take any more interest in it. Don’t tell me your Aunt Alicia has fallen in love with that desolate old place!”

  “Well - it might be just what she’s looking for,” said Fatty. “I wonder now - perhaps the people who bought it don’t like it after all - and might sell it to my aunt. Do you know their name and address?”

  “Gosh! - you do seem keen on your aunt having that house,” said Pimples. “Wait a minute. I may be able to put my hand on the name. It’s in this book, I believe.”

  Fatty waited whilst Pimples ran a dirty thumb down lists of names. He was very anxious to know the name and address of the person who had bought the house. He felt he must get hold of something, or the other Find-Outers wouldn’t think him very clever.

  “Yes, here we are,” said Pimples at last. “Name of Crump. Miss Crump, Hillways, Little Minton - that’s quite near here, you know. Well, Miss Crump bought it, but why she didn’t live in it, goodness knows! She paid three thousand pounds for it.”

  “Oh!” said Fatty. “Well - thanks awfully. I’ll get my aunt to go and see Miss Crump. Perhaps if she doesn’t want Milton House herself, she’ll be willing to sell it to my aunt.”

  “So long!” said the boy, as Fatty got up to go. “Give my love to Aunt Alicia and tell her I wouldn’t mind a bit of her five thousand pounds.”

  Fatty went. He was puzzled. Miss Crump didn’t sound at all mysterious. He could almost imagine what she looked like - a prim little old lady with a bun of hair at the back, high collars to her dresses, and skirts that swept the ground. She would probably have a cat or two.

  Fatty took the road back to Milton House. Before he got there he met the other Find-Outers, looking rather woebegone.

  “Oh - there’s Fatty!” cried Bets. “Fatty, how did you get on? Oh, Fatty, Clear-Orf found us and turned us out!”

  “Golly! - did he really?” said Fatty, looking concerned. “That’s bad luck. We particularly didn’t want him snooping round about our mystery. If he really thinks we’re on to something, he’ll keep a watch on that house - and on us too now - and spoil things for us properly. Who was silly enough to get spotted by Clear-Orf?”

  “Well - it was Buster who gave the game away,” said Larry. “It wasn’t really such a clever idea of yours to put him on guard by the gate, Fatty, because as soon as Clear-Orf came by, Buster nearly barked his head off. And of course Clear-Orf looked at him, knew he was your dog, and came in to see what you were doing. He found us, not you!”

  “Blow!” said Fatty. “I never thought of Buster making Clear-Orf suspicious if he came by. I only thought of him warning you. Where is he?”

  “Still sitting on your pullover, and he’ll be guarding it till tomorrow morning if you don’t go and get him,” said Larry. “He’s only got one thought in his doggy head now - to guard that pullover of yours.”

  “I’ll go and get him,” said Fatty. “You walk on slowly and I’ll catch you up.”

  He ran on down the lane to Milton House. Buster burst into a hurricane of delighted barks as soon as he saw him. “Good dog,” said Fatty, patting him. “Off guard now, old fellow - off guard. Let me get my pullover.”

  Buster allowed Fatty to get his pullover and put it on. Fatty, who had not been thoroughly round the house as the others had, thought he would just take a quick look round. Maybe he might see something they had missed. So he trotted round the house and began to look carefully in at every window.

  He jumped terribly when a stern voice came across the garden. “Now then! What you a-doing of? Didn’t I send you all off a few minutes ago?”

  “Clear-Orf - back again,” thought Fatty, annoyed with himself for being found there. “Blow!”

  Clear-Orf wheeled his bicycle over to him. “Now you tell me what you’re doing here,” he demanded.

  Fatty looked all round as if hunting for something. “I left the others here,” he said. “But now they’re gone.”

  “And you was peeking in at all the windows to see if they’d slipped through a crack!” said Clear-Orf smartly.

  “How clever you are, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty. “You always think of such bright things. Do you know where the others are?”

  “Maybe I’ve arrested them all for playing on private property,” said Mr. Goon darkly. “You tell me what you’re all so interested in here, and I’ll tell you where the others are.”

  “Oh, Mr. Goon - will you really?” said Fatty, edging away. “Will you let
them out of prison if I tell you? Have you told their parents yet that you’ve arrested them? What did they say?”

  “You stop cheeking of me,” said Clear-Orf. “And you tell me what’s making you hang about here? This house is empty and children aren’t allowed here.”

  Fatty went on edging away, and Mr. Goon went on edging after him, growing purple in the face. Of all the Five Find-Outers he detested Fatty most. Fortunately for Fatty he had Buster with him, and Buster, feeling that matters had gone quite far enough, began to growl.

  He then went to sniff at Mr. Goon’s ankles and the policeman kicked him away.

  “Look here, Mr. Goon, if you kick Buster, he’ll bite you, and I don’t blame him,” said Fatty, angry to hear the yelp that Buster made. “I shan’t call him off either, if he goes for you. You’ll deserve it.”

  Mr. Goon kicked at Buster again, and the dog flew at him, growling furiously. Mr. Goon, seeing two rows of sharp white teeth, got on his bicycle and rode off down the drive at top speed, Buster scurrying after him, barking all the way.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this!” yelled Clear-Orf, as he swung out of the gate. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, see if I don’t!”

  “Good-bye, and send me a post card when you get to the bottom!” yelled Fatty. “Buster, come here!”

  Surprising News from Miss Crump

  The others were disappointed but not surprised to hear that Fatty had not been able to get the keys of Milton House.

  “It seems funny for Miss Crump to buy a house and not move into it,” said Larry. “Why should she just furnish one room at the top, and not tell any one about it? It’s a funny secret to have.”

  “We can’t very well go and ask her why she’s got that room at the top of the house like that,” said Daisy. “She’d be wild to think we had climbed the tree and looked in.”

  “Of course we can’t,” said Fatty. “But we could quite well go over and see her - think up some excuse, you know - and try to get her talking.”