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

by Enid Blyton

  “What excuse can we give for going to see her in the dead of winter?” said Daisy.

  “Oh! - we shall be able to think of something,” said Fatty. “Good detectives can always find some way of getting into talk with people.”

  “What’s the address?” asked Pip.

  Fatty told him.

  “Well - we could easily go over there on our bikes,” said Larry, “I vote we do. I’m longing to get on with this mystery if we can.”

  “Yes, but what excuse can we give for going to see Miss Crump?” asked Daisy, who didn’t like the idea of butting in on an old lady without some very well-thought-out excuse.

  “Oh, Daisy, don’t fuss so!” said Fatty, who hadn’t yet thought of any excuse. “Leave it to me. We’ll go over there, look around a bit, and then see what’s the best way to get into talk with Miss Crumpet.”

  “Miss Crump, you mean,” said Bets with a giggle. “Don’t go calling her Crumpet.”

  “We can’t all go and see her,” said Daisy. “She’d be suspicious if five children descended on her to talk about Milton House.”

  “Well, I’ve gone to see two house-agents, and Pip discovered the mystery, so it’s your turn, or Larry’s or Bets’ turn to do something,” said Fatty generously. He would have liked to do everything himself, really, but a good leader gives every one else a chance, aad Fatty was a good leader.

  “Oh!” said Daisy, not quite liking the idea. “All right. But I think you could do it better than any one, Fatty.”

  “Well, I could,” said Fatty, not very modestly. “But then I’ve been training myself for this kind of work all last term. Anyway, it will be quite easy.”

  They decided to bike over and see Miss Crump that afternoon. Buster could ride in Fatty’s bicycle basket as it wasn’t very far.

  “And for goodness’ sake, Buster, don’t try baling out from my basket,” said Fatty. “You did that last time I took you - saw a rabbit or something, and jumped out of my basket and nearly caused an accident.”

  “Woof!” said Buster, looking upset. He always knew when Fatty was telling him not to do something or other.

  “Good dog,” said every one at once, and patted Buster. They coutdn’t bear it when he looked sad.

  They set off on their bicycles immediately after dinner, meeting at the corner at the top of Pip’s lane. Off they went, ringing their bells at everything they saw, with Buster sitting up straight in Fatty’s basket, his tongue hanging out in excitement.

  They got to Little Minton in just under twenty minutes, and began to look for Hillways. An errand-boy directed them.

  It was a nice house, old and beautiful, with leaded windows and tall chimneys. The garden was beautifully kept.

  “Well, I don’t wonder Miss Crumpet preferred to live here rather than in that desolate, ugly old house,” said Fatty, getting off his bicycle. “Now - what’s our plan?”

  Nobody had a plan. It suddenly seemed unexpectedly difficult to find a way to go and talk to Miss Crump about Milton House.

  Fatty lifted Buster down from the bicycle basket. Buster was glad to stretch his legs. He ran into the gate of the garden.

  Then things happened. A large dog suddenly rushed up the path, barking, and flew at Buster. Buster, astonished, growled and swung around. The big dog growled too and all the hairs on the back of his neck rose up.

  “They’re going to fight!” shrieked Bets. “Oh, get Buster, Fatty!”

  But before Fatty could get hold of Buster, the big dog pounced on him, and a fight began. Bets howled. The dogs barked angrily and growled furiously. All the children yelled at Buster.

  “Come here, Buster - come here, sir! BUSTER, come here!”

  But Buster was not going to turn tail and run away in the middle of a fight. He enjoyed a fight, and he hardly ever got one. He didn’t mind about the other dog being bigger than he was - he could bite as hard as he did!

  The front door opened and someone came out. It was a pleasant, plump, middle-aged lady, looking very worried. She ran up the path.

  “Oh dear! is Thomas attacking your dog?” she said. “Thomas, stop it!”

  But neither Thomas nor Buster took the slightest notice. This was their own enjoyable, private fight, and they were going on with it.

  Bets cried bitterly. She was very upset at the noise and scuffling, and terribly afraid that Buster might be killed. The plump lady was distressed to hear Bets’ sobs.

  “Half a minute, dear - I know how to stop them!” she said to Bets. “Don’t cry any more!”

  She rushed indoors and came out again with a large pail of water. She threw it over both the snarling dogs.

  They had such a shock as the icy water drenched them that they both leapt back from one another in horror. Miss Crump at once caught hold of Thomas, and Fatty made a grab for Buster.

  “You bad dog, Thomas!” scolded the plump lady. “You shall be locked in your kennel yard all day.”

  She turned to the children. “Just wait whilst I put him into his kennel,” she said, “then I’ll be back.”

  She went off round the house, leading a cross and disappointed Thomas.

  “Is that Miss Crump?” whispered Larry.

  Fatty nodded. “I expect so. I say - look at poor old Buster. He’s been bitten on this leg. He’s bleeding.”

  Bets sobbed with shock and misery. She couldn’t bear to see Buster bleeding. Buster was the only one who didn’t seem to mind about his bite. He licked his leg, then wagged his tail hard as if to say, “Jolly good fight, that. Pity it ended so soon.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Buster,” said Daisy. “That horrid big dog flew at you.”

  Miss Crump came back, looking very sorry about the whole affair. Bets was still crying. She put her arm round the little girl and hugged her.

  “Stop crying, dear,” she said. “That bad dog Thomas hasn’t hurt your little dog very much. Thomas is such a fighter. He’s my brother’s dog, and if any other dog or cat so much as sets a foot in this garden, he flies into a temper and pounces on them.”

  “Poor B-b-b-buster’s b-b-b-bleeding,” wailed Bets, who never liked the sight of blood.

  “Well, we’ll take him indoors and bathe his leg and put a bandage on. How would you like that?” said Miss Crump.

  “Yes. I’d like that,” said Bets, drying her eyes. She thought Buster would look lovely with a bandaged leg. She would love him a lot.

  “Well, come along then,” said Miss Crump. “Leave your bicycles by the gate. That’s right. My name is Miss Crump, and I live here with my brother.”

  “Oh!” said Daisy, and thought she had better tell Miss Crump their names too. So she introduced every one politely. Soon they were in a comfortable cosy sitting-room, and Miss Crump was bathing Buster’s leg and bandaging it beautifully. Buster liked all the attention immensely.

  “I believe Cook has just made some buns,” said Miss Crump, beaming round at the children when she had finished the bandaging. “Could you manage one or two, do you think?”

  Every one was sure that plenty of buns could be “managed.” They thought Miss Crump was very nice. When she went to get the buns, Fatty nudged Daisy.

  “You’d better start off asking questions,” he said. “It’s a wonderful chance, this.”

  Daisy wondered how to begin asking questions about Milton House, but it was all unexpectedly easy.

  When Miss Crump came back with the buns, she handed them round and said, “Where have you bicycled from? Very far?”

  “Oh no.” said Daisy. “Only from Peterswood. We live there.”

  “Do you really?” said Miss Crump, offering a bun to the surprised and grateful Buster. “Well, you know, I nearly went to live there a year ago. I don’t expect you know a place called Milton House, do you?”

  “Oh yes, we do,” answered every one in a chorus.

  Miss Crump looked surprised to think that Milton House should apparently be so well known.

  “I bought Milton House.” said Miss C
rump, taking a bun herself. “My brother wanted to live in this county, and he seemed to think Milton House would do for us.”

  “Oh!” said Daisy, after a nudge from Fatty. “Well - er - why didn’t you go and live there, then? I mean - you seem to live here.”

  This wasn’t very clever, but Miss Crump went on cheerfully, “Well, after I’d bought it, a funny thing happened.”

  The children pricked up their ears at once. Buster, sensing the general feeling of interest, pricked his up too. “What funny thing happened?” asked Bets eagerly.

  “A man came to see me, and begged and begged me to let him buy the house from me,” said Miss Crump, “and all because it used to belong to his dear old mother, and he had been brought up in it, and wanted to go there with his wife and children and live there himself! As he offered me very much more than I had paid for it, which was, let me see, now -”

  “Three thousand pounds,” said Pip obligingly, remembering what Fatty had told him.

  He got a sharp and angry nudge from both Fatty and Larry immediately. Miss Crump stared at Pip in great astonishment.

  “Now how in the world did you know that?” she said. “What an extraordinary thing! That was the price I paid. But how did you know?”

  Pip was scarlet. He couldn’t think what to say. Fatty as usual came to the rescue.

  “He’s an awfully good guesser!” he said earnestly. “Simply awfully good. It’s a sort of gift, I suppose. It’s wonderful what a good guesser Pip is, isn’t it?” he said, turning to the others and glaring at them to make them say yes.

  They said at once. “Oh yes - a very good guesser,” they all said in chorus.

  Fortunately Miss Crump seemed satisfied with this simple explanation. “Well, I don’t know why I’m rambling on like this to you,” she said. “It must be very dull - but it was you mentioning that you came from Peterswood, you know, that reminded me of Milton House. Of course, I’m glad now that we didn’t go there, because almost at once I found this place, which is much nicer.”

  “Oh, much!” said Fatty. “It’s delightful. Fancy that man wanting to live in Milton House just because he had been brought up there himself, Miss Crump! What did you say his name was?”

  “Well - I didn’t say, did I?” said Miss Crump, surprised. “But possibly you know him. I expect he lives there now, and maybe you know the children.”

  Nobody said that Milton House was empty. Nobody said that there were certainly no children there. They did not want to give anything away. The mystery seemed to be getting deeper and deeper!

  “Is his name Popps?” said Fatty, saying the first name that came into his head in order to make Miss Crump think of the right name.

  “No, no - nothing like that,” said Miss Crump. “Wait a minute - I believe I’ve got a letter from him somewhere. I usually keep all business letters for two years, you know, then destroy them. Ah, here it is! Oh dear! where are my glasses?”

  It was clear that Miss Crump couldn’t read anything without her glasses. She stood by her desk, holding a letter in her hand, looking helplessly round for her glasses.

  Then Pip showed himself to be really very clever. He saw the glasses on the table near by him in their case. He pushed them quickly down the side of the chair he was sitting on, and then got up. He went to Miss Crump’s side.

  “Let me help you,” he said. “I can read the name for you.”

  “But where are my glasses?” said Miss Crump. “I really must find them.”

  She couldn’t find them, of course, and in the end she let Pip read the name for her. He read it out loud, “John Henry Smith.” But, whilst he was reading out this very ordinary name, his eyes were also taking in the address at the top! Yes, Pip was being very smart just then - he was annoyed with himself for having blurted out, “Three thousand pounds,” and he wanted to make up for it.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Miss Crump. “It was such an ordinary name I’d forgotten it. Well, do you know the Smith children?”

  “Er - no, we don’t,” said Daisy. “We don’t seem to have met them. Well, thank you very much indeed, Miss Crump, for being so kind to us and Buster. I think we’d better go now, or we shan’t get home before dark.”

  They all said good-bye, and Miss Crump told them to come again. Then off they went on their bicycles, but at the very first corner, they got off to talk!

  Larry takes a Turn

  “Golly! We’ve found out something now!” said Fatty. “Pip, did you notice John Henry Smith’s address?”

  “Of course.” said Pip importantly. “Didn’t you guess that’s why I offered to help to read the name?”

  “I saw you push Miss Crump’s spectacle-case down the side of your chair,” said Daisy.

  “Yes. But I put them on the table again before I went,” said Pip. “I got the address all right. It was 6, The Causeway, Limmering. And the telephone number was Limmering 021.”

  “Jolly good, Pip,” said Fatty admiringly. “You made an awful blunder about the three thousand pounds, but you were certainly very smart afterwards. I couldn’t have done better myself.”

  “You couldn’t have done so well!” said Bets, very proud of Pip. “I say - it’s all very queer, isn’t it? If Mr. Smith so badly wanted the house because his mother lived there, and because he was brought up there, why did he only furnish one room?”

  “That room has a barred window,” said Fatty, thinking hard. “Maybe that was the nursery window in the days when he was there as a child - and perhaps that’s why he has taken that one room and furnished it - he may be a frightfully sentimental person. Though I admit it doesn’t sound a very good explanation. Still detectives have to think out every possible explanation.”

  Nobody thought it was a good explanation.

  “We’ll find out if a Mrs. Smith lived there in years gone by,” said Larry thoughtfully. “And if one of her children was called John. And if that room was the nursery.”

  “Yes. We can do that,” said Fatty. “And we might find out if John Henry is still at Limmering.”

  “Limmering is miles away!” said Larry. “We would never be allowed to go there.”

  “Well, we’ve got the telephone number. We can telephone, silly,” said Fatty.

  They got on their bikes and cycled away fast, for it was now getting dark.

  “Whose turn is it to make inquiries now?” said Daisy. “I’ve done my share. I should think it’s Larry’s or Bets’.”

  “How can we find out who lived at Milton House before?” said Larry. “Nobody will know!”

  “Use your brains, fathead.” said Fatty. “There are lots of ways of finding out. I could tell you plenty. But you can jolly well think up some for yourself. A good detective would never be stumped by a simple thing like that. Pooh! - I could fine out in ten minutes.”

  “You’re always so clever!” said Larry crossly.

  “I can’t help that,” said Fatty. “Even as a baby I used to -”

  “Oh, shut up!” said Pip and Larry, who never would allow Fatty to tell them of his wonderful babyhood.

  Fatty looked offended. “Well,” he said, when they parted at Pip’s corner, “see you all tomorrow. You get the information we want, Larry, and report it.”

  This sounded very official and important. Bets sighed happily. “It is nice to be solving such a dark mystery, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Well - we haven’t got very far with it yet!” said Fatty, smiling at her. “And if old Buster hadn’t got into that fight, I doubt if we would have got so much out of Miss Crump.”

  “Poor darling Buster,” said Bets, looking at the little Scottie as he sat patiently in Fatty’s bicycle basket. “Does your leg hurt?”

  It didn’t, but Buster was not going to refuse any sympathy offered to him. He held out his bandaged leg and put on a miserable expression.

  “He’s a humbug,” said Fatty, patting him. “Aren’t you, Buster? You enjoyed that fight, didn’t you - and all the fuss afterwards? And I bet y
ou got in two or three jolly good bites yourself. Now you’ll expect to be spoilt the next few days all because of a bandage round your leg!”

  “Well, I shall spoil him,” said Bets, and she kissed the top of his head. “I was terrified when I saw that big dog fighting him.”

  “Poor little Bets!” said Fatty. “Well, what with Buster’s snarling and your howling, we managed to get right into Miss Crump’s house and get all the information we needed, and a lot more than we expected!”

  They all said good-bye and cycled off to their homes, getting in just at tea-time, as dusk was falling. It was a cold December evening, and thoughts of a cheerful fire and a good tea were very welcome to all the Find-Outers!

  Larry and Daisy discussed how to find out about John Henry Smith and his mother. They soon thought of quite a lot of ways.

  “We could go to the next house and ask if Mrs. Smith lived there,” said Daisy. “Then they would say no, she lived at Milton House years ago, or something like that.”

  “Or we could go and ask the village grocer,” said Larry. “He serves every one, and he would remember Mrs. Smith, I should think. We could ask the old man - he’s been here all his life.”

  “We could even ask Mother,” said Daisy.

  “Better not,” said Larry. “She would wonder whyever we suddenly wanted to know a thing like that.”

  “We could ask at the post office too,” said Daisy. “They know everyone, because the postman delivers letters.”

  “Oh - we could ask the postman!” said Larry, pleased. “Of course. He’s been postman here for years and years. He would be sure to know who used to live at Milton House.”

  “Yes. That’s a good idea,” said Daisy. “We can easily ask him. How shall we do it? We can’t ask him straight out. I mean, it would seem a bit funny to say, ‘Did a John Henry Smith live with his mother at Milton House years ago?’ Wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Larry. “I’ll think out something tonight, and I’ll hang about tomorrow morning about eleven, when he delivers the second lot of letters.”

  So, just before eleven the next morning, Larry and Daisy were swinging on their front gate, watching for old Sims the postman.