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

by Enid Blyton

  He came along as usual, disappearing into first one house and then another. Larry called to him as he came near:

  “Hallo, Sims! Any letters for me?”

  “No, Master Larry. Why, is it your birthday or something?” said Sims.

  “Oh no!” said Larry. “Gracious! What a crowd of letters you have to deliver, Sims! Have you got to deliver all those by the second post? Do you have a completely empty bag by the time you get back to the post office?”

  “Yes,” said Sims, “unless some one has addressed a letter wrong-like. Then, if I can’t find out where the person lives, I have to take it back. But I knows where most people lives!”

  “I bet you can’t remember the names of all the people who have lived in Peterswood since you were postman!” said Larry cleverly.

  “Oh, can’t I, now!” said Sims, stopping to lean on the gate. “Well, that’s one thing I can do! My old woman, she says I ain’t forgotten a single name. I can tell you who lived in your house afore you came. Yes, it was a Mrs. Hampden, it was, and mighty feared I was of coming every morning because of her two fierce dogs. And afore she had the house it was Captain Lacy. Nice old gentleman he was. And afore that -”

  Larry didn’t want to hear any more about his own house. He interrupted old Sims.

  “Sims, you have got a wonderful memory. You really have. Now - I’ll try and catch you out. Who lived at Milton House years ago?”

  “Milton House? Ah, that’s an easy one, that is!” said Sims, brightening up. “Why, the three Misses Duncan lived there, so they did, and well I remember them too.”

  “Duncan?” said Larry, astonished. “Are you sure? I thought somebody named Smith lived there.”

  “No. There was never any one by name of Smith there,” said Sims, wrinkling his forehead. “I remember that house being built. It was built by Colonel Duncan for himself and his three daughters. What be their names now? Ah yes! - there was Miss Lucy and Miss Hannah and Miss Sarah. Real nice ladies they was, and they never married neither.”

  “Did they live there long?” said Larry.

  “Oh yes - they lived there till about six years ago,” said Sims. “The old gentleman died, and then two of the ladies died, and the last one she went and lived with her friend, she was that lonely.”

  Larry remembered the barred window. “Was there ever a nursery at Milton House?” he said. “Were there young children?”

  “Oh no. The young ladies were in their twenties when they came,” said Sims. “There weren’t never no children. Never have been children there.”

  “Who came after the Duncans?” asked Daisy, wondering if the Smiths could have come then.

  “Oh, it was taken by a Miss Kennedy who ran it as a kind of boarding-house,” said Sims. “But that were a failure. Only lasted two years. Since then it’s been empty. I did hear as some one had bought it - but they’ve not moved in. I never take no letters there.”

  “And nobody of the name of Smith ever lived there?” said Daisy, puzzled.

  “You seem set on the Smiths, whoever they be!” said old Sims, straightening himself up to go. “Maybe you’re thinking of old General Smith, him as lived in Clinton House!”

  “I dare say we are,” said Larry. “Well, Sims, I think your memory is wonderful. You tell your wife we tried to catch you out and couldn’t!”

  Sims grinned and went trudging on up the hill. Larry and Daisy looked at one another.

  “Well - what do you think of that!” said Larry. “Mr. John Henry Smith told a pack of the most awful lies to get that house! Whoever is he, and what’s his little game?”

  Who is John Henry Smith?

  When Larry went down to Pip’s to meet the others, his news caused a good deal of surprise.

  “You did jolly well to think of asking old Sims,” said Fatty warmly. “A very good idea - worthy even of that great detective, Sherlock Holmes.”

  This was indeed high praise from Patty, but honesty made Larry admit that it was Daisy who had given him the idea.

  “Still, it was well carried out,” said Fatty. “But I say - things are curiouser and curiouser, as Alice in Wonderland would say. I did think, when I heard the name, that John Henry Smith sounded a little bit too ordinary - the sort of name people take when they don’t want to be found out in anything.”

  “Fancy! All that tale about his mother living there was made up,” said Bets. “I wonder why he wanted that particular house so badly. Does he use that secret room, do you think?”

  “Don’t know,” said Fatty. “We’ve certainly got hold of a queer mystery. We shall have to find out who John Henry Smith is.”

  The others stared at him, and little shivers went down Bet’s back. To her John Henry Smith seemed to be a queer and rather frightening person. She didn’t think she particularly wanted to meet him.

  “We - we can’t go to Limmering,” she said, in a small voice.

  “No. I told you before - we can telephone,” said Patty. “What was the number now, Pip? Limmering 021?”

  “Yes,” said Pip. “You telephone, Fatty. This is rather important. If any one is going to speak to John Henry Smith himself, it had better be you.”

  “All right,” said Fatty, looking important. “I’ll go down to the call-box and phone from there. If your mother hears me phoning from your house here, Pip, she may want to know what it’s all about.”

  “Yes, she would.” said Pip. “You go on down to the call-box. Buster can stay here because of his bad leg.”

  “Woof!” said Buster pathetically. He was very funny that day, because whenever he wanted a little fussing, he got up and limped badly, which made all the children very sorry for him. Actually his healthy little leg was healing fast, and did not even need a bandage on it. But Buster was going to make the most of it whilst it lasted!

  All the same, he went with Fatty. He wasn’t going to be left behind, if his master was going anywhere. So, limping badly, he followed Fatty down to the call-box.

  Fatty felt rather excited. John Henry Smith was the key to the mystery - and he was just about to talk to him!

  He put the receiver to his ear and asked for the number he wanted.

  A voice told him what money to put into the slot. He pressed it in, and then listened for an answer, his heart beating rather fast.

  Then he heard a voice at the other end: “Hallo!”

  “Oh - hallo!” said Fatty. “Does a Mr. John Henry Smith live there, please?”

  There was a silence. Then the voice said cautiously, “What number do you want?”

  Fatty repeated the number.

  “Who told you that you could get Mr. Smith at this number?” said the voice. “Who are you?”

  Fatty made up a name out of his head. “This is Donald Duckleby,” he said.

  There was another astonished silence. “What name did you say?” said the voice at last.

  “Could you tell me if Mr. Smith still lives at Limmering, or if he has moved to Peterswood?” said Fatty, deciding on boldness. He knew quite well that John Henry Smith had not moved to Peterswood, but there would be no harm in giving him a shock.

  There was another silence. This time it was so long that Fatty spoke again, “Hallo! Hallo!”

  But there was no reply. The person at the other end replaced the receiver. Fatty put his down too and thought hard.

  He hadn’t learnt much! He didn’t even know if the man he had spoken to was John Henry Smith or not! It was most unsatisfactory, really. Fatty didn’t quite know what he had hoped to get from his telephone call, but he had certainly hoped for something a little more definite.

  He went out of the call-box - and stepped right in front of old Clear-Orf, who had been watching him through the glass. No wonder Buster had been growling!

  Mr. Goon felt very suspicious. Who was this boy telephoning to? Hadn’t he got a telephone in his own house? Yes, he had. But probably he didn’t want his mother to hear what he was saying, so he had gone out to the public call-box. Therefore Fat
ty must have been phoning about the mystery that Clear-Orf was certain the children were meddling in!

  “Who you been phoning to?” he said.

  “I don’t really think it’s any of your business, is it?” said Fatty, in the polite voice that always infuriated Mr. Goon.

  “You been to Milton House any more?” said Mr. Goon, who had a definite feeling that the house had something more to do with the mystery than he knew.

  “Milton House? Where’s that?” said Fatty innocently.

  Mr. Goon swelled, and his face began to turn the purple colour that fascinated the children.

  “None of your sauce,” he began. “You know where Milton House is as well as I do - better, perhaps!

  “Oh! - you mean that old place we played hide-and-seek in the other day,” said Fatty, as if he had only just remembered. “Why don’t you come and have a game with us some time, Mr. Goon?”

  Buster began to growl again. Mr. Goon edged away from him. That was the worst of talking to Fatty. He always had Buster with him, and Buster could always bring any conversation to a remarkably quick end.

  Buster ran at Mr. Goon’s ankles, and the policeman kicked out. “Now don’t you hurt his other leg!” cried Fatty, and Mr. Goon immediately thought that it was his kicks two or three days before that had caused Buster’s leg to be bandaged.

  “Well, you call him orf,” he said. “And clear-orf yourself. Hanging about in telephone boxes! Always messing about somewhere, and hanging around!”

  He went off, and Fatty grinned. Poor old Clear-Orf! Fatty’s quick tongue could always get the better of him. Fatty strolled back to Pip’s house.

  The others were interested to hear about his telephone call and amused to hear about Clear-Orf going all suspicious about it.

  “But I say, Fatty - I’m not sure you ought to have said anything about Peterswood,” said Larry, after thinking a little. “You may have put him on his guard, you know. I mean - if Mr. Smith is up to some sort of underhand game at Milton House, he’ll get a shock to find out that somebody apparently knows about him in Peterswood - where his house is!”

  “Blow! - yes, I think you’re right,” said Fatty, thinking of the quiet, quick way in which the person he had spoken to had replaced his receiver when he had mentioned Peterswood. Milton House was on the outskirts of Peterswood. Yes - he might have put Mr. John Henry Smith on his guard.

  “Well - if I’ve put him on his guard - he’ll probably come racing down to Peterswood to see if his precious secret room is all right,” said Fatty. “So we may have set things happening. We’ll keep a very, very strict eye on Milton House from now on. If Mr. Smith does come down, we’ll be able to see him and find out what he’s like.”

  “We can’t watch at night,” said Larry doubtfully.

  “I can,” said Fatty. “My mother would never know if I’m in bed or not.”

  “But, Fatty - you’d never dare to go down to Milton House in the dark of night!” said Bets, horrified. “It’ll be so cold - and pitch dark - and simply awful.”

  “It won’t be dark,” said Fatty. “The moon is nearly full. And I shan’t be cold. I spotted a sort of tumble-down summer-house there in the garden, and I can take a couple of thick rugs and make myself comfortable.”

  The others stared at him in awe. Not one of them would have liked to go down to Milton House alone at night.

  “I’m perfectly fearless,” said Fatty, basking in their admiration. “Why, when I was two years old, I went -”

  “Shut up!” said Larry and Pip. “You spoil everything when you start boasting.”

  “Will you take Buster with you?” asked Bets.

  “Don’t know,” said Fatty. “He’d be company. On the other hand, he might bark if any one came.”

  “Do you know it’s snowing?” said Daisy suddenly.

  So it was. The big white flakes came down silently. The children stared at them out of the window.

  “This will mean I’ll have to be awfully careful not to give myself away by footprints,” said Fatty. “I shall have to try and creep in through the garden hedge. Anyway, I shall be able to see if any one has been to the house, because their footprints will show too!”

  “Shall we pop down to Milton House now?” said Pip. “Just to see if anything is different?”

  “No. We’ll go tomorrow,” said Fatty. “Our Mr. John Henry Smith isn’t likely to rush over today - but most likely he will tomorrow - and we may see some sign of him then. Let’s play a game now.”

  So they played Happy Families, and roared at Bets when she forgot the game for a moment and asked Daisy if she had got “Mr. John Henry Smith” instead of Mr. Bones the Butcher.

  “I feel as if our mystery is warming up a bit,” said Fatty, when he said good night to the others. “I shouldn’t be surprised if things begin to happen soon!”

  Down to Milton House again

  Next morning the Five Find-Outers and Buster set off to Milton House. The snow was very thick, and they left the marks of their footprints behind them.

  Pips and Bets had to pass Mr. Goon’s house to meet the others, and the policeman saw them. He wondered if they were doing something he ought to know about. He felt so certain that the children were on the track of some mystery, and old Clear-Orf couldn’t bear the idea of their getting in first again.

  He decided to follow them. He couldn’t very well ride his bicycle in the thick snow, so he set out on foot, keeping them in sight, but trying not to be seen himself.

  However, as soon as Pip and Bets joined up with the others, Buster knew they were being followed. He stopped and growled, looking back along the road. The children turned too, and caught sight of the familiar dark-blue uniform slipping into a gateway.

  “It’s Clear-Orf following us,” said Fatty, in disgust. “What a nuisance he is! We can’t possibly go to Milton House with him hard on our heels all the time. What shall we do?”

  “We’re not very far from my house,” said Larry. “Shall I slip in and write a note of some sort that will make him think we are solving a mystery - but not the one we really are in the middle of? A make-up one?”

  Every one giggled.

  “Yes,” said Fatty, “and we’ll drop it behind us for him to pick up! I bet he’ll pounce on it and read it - and then he’ll be properly on the wrong track! Maybe he will give up bothering us then.”

  So Larry popped in at his gate and wrote a hurried note in pencil:

  “DEAR FATTY, - Just to tell you that I am on the track of the robber who stole those jewels. Meet me on Felling Hill, and I will show you where he hid the things before he took them away again. - Yours, L.”

  Larry grinned as he stuck up the envelope. He ran out to the others, and they set off down the road again, hoping that Mr. Goon was still watching them.

  Fatty laughed when Larry told him what he had written.

  “Good!” he said, “now old Clear-Orf will think we are tracking a jewel-thief, and he’ll hare off to Felling Hill and do a bit of exploring there. Keep him quiet for a bit!”

  “There he is - behind that tree,” said Bets. “Don’t look behind, anybody. You two boys begin to push one another about, and then drop the note as you do it. Clear-Orf will think you really did drop it by accident then.”

  “Good idea, Bets,” said Fatty, approving. “You’re getting to be quite a good detective.”

  The children set off again, and when they thought they were nicely in view of Clear-Orf they began to jostle one another, as if in play.

  Larry and Fatty tried to push each other off the kerb, and in the middle of the tussle Larry dropped the note. Then the five children, with Buster, went on their way again. Buster nearly spoilt things by running back to the note and sniffing at it.

  “Buster! Idiot! Come here and leave that alone,” said Fatty, in a low voice. “Don’t you dare to pick it up and bring it!”

  Buster, though surprised, had the sense to leave the note where it was. Limping badly, he went after the others,
feeling rather hurt that Fatty should have scolded him.

  “Can we manage to see if old Clear-Orf picks it up?” said Larry excitedly. “I do hope he does.”

  “I’ll go into the sweet-shop and watch, whilst you others go on,” said Fatty.

  So Fatty watched from the sweet-shop, whilst he was buying chocolate, and to his great delight he saw Mr. Goon pick up the note!

  “I bet he’ll read it!” thought Fatty, pleased. “He’s so jolly snoopy.”

  Mr. Goon put the note in his pocket. He certainly meant to read it! He pondered whether to go on following the children or to slip home and read the note. It might tell him something he wanted to know!

  He went home. He opened the note and gave a snort. “Ho! Didn’t I know they were up to something? On the track of some thief now. I suppose it’s the Sparling Robbery they’ve heard about. Well, who would have thought the thief would have come in this direction? Felling Hill, they say. Well, I’ll be along there sometime or other, and if I don’t sniff something out, my name’s not Theophilus Goon!”

  Mr. Goon felt very pleased. “Those children think they’re clever - but they go and drop a note like this and give their game away,” thought the policeman. “Now I know what they’re after. I knew they were interfering in something again. Can’t keep them children out of meddling!”

  He sat and thought for a moment. “Now wait a bit - this boy Larry says the thief put the things on Felling Hill and took them away again. Where did he take them to? Why are those kids so interested in Milton House? Ah - now I’ve got it - the thief has hidden the jewels somewhere in that empty house!”

  This wasn’t at all what Larry had wanted Mr. Goon to think. But Mr. Goon felt very pleased with himself. He thought he could see everything clearly now. Somehow those kids had got on the Sparling Robbery mystery, and somehow they had got on the track of the thief, and had found out where he had first hidden his booty. Now they were on the track of the booty again - and maybe Milton House was the key to the mystery!