Read Online Mystery of the Hidden House by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online Page B

Buster ran between Ern’s legs and he fell over at once. In joy and delight Buster stopped to sniff round this fresh person, and found it was Ern. He leapt on him and began to lick him, whilst Mr. Goon pedalled thankfully up the road, getting redder and redder as he went.
    “Your uncle’s in a bit of a rage,” said Fatty. “It’s not good for him to ride a bike at such a speed. You ought to warn him. It must be bad for his heart.”
    “It would be, if he had one,” said Ern. “Well, I’m going to do what you said - hunt for clues. You coming too?”
    “No, we’ve got to get home,” said Fatty. “I hope you find a few, Ern. Let us know if you do. That’s the sign of a good detective, you know, to be able to spot clues.”
    Ern glowed. If there were any clues to be found on the hill, he’d find them! He badly wanted Fatty to admire him. He took out his notebook and opened it.
    “I wrote a pome about last night,” he said. “It’s called ‘The Dark Dark Night.’ ”
    “Fine!” said Fatty, hastily. “Pity we can’t wait and hear it. Don’t be too long before you go up the hill, Ern, or you’ll find yourself in the dark dark night up there again. Follow the stream and you’ll come to the mill.”
    They parted, and Ern put his notebook away. He took out his other notebook, the one Fatty had given him. He opened it at the page marked “CLUES.” How he hoped to be able to make a list there before the afternoon was done.
    The others went home. Fatty was rather silent. Bets walked close beside him, not interrupting his thoughts. She knew he was trying to puzzle out something.
    “Pip, have you got a good map of the district?” said Fatty, as they came to Pip’s house. “If you have I’ll just come in and have a squint at it. Somebody’s borrowed ours.”
    “Yes. Dad keeps one in the map-shelf,” said Pip. “But for goodness sake put it back when you’ve finished with it.”
    “’Course I will,” said Fatty, and they went in. Pip found the map and they took it upstairs. Fatty put his finger on Peterswood, their village. He traced the way to the mill, up the stream on Christmas Hill. Then he traced another way, alongside another stream, that at first ran near the first one and then went across the fields.
    “I think this must be the stream Ern went by last night,” he said. “Let’s see where it flows past. Nothing much, look! Just fields.”
    The others all bent over the map, breathing down Fatty’s neck. They watched his finger go along the stream. It came to where a thick wood was marked. In the middle of the wood some kind of building was shown.
    “Now I wonder what building that is,” said Fatty, thoughtfully. “Any one been along that way?”
    Nobody had. Nobody even knew the wood very well, though they had sometimes passed it. Not one of them had known there was any building in the wood.
    “We’ll ask about it,” said Fatty, getting up. “Golly, I must go. I’m supposed to be going out to tea with mother. Awful thought. You know, I do believe there may be something in Ern’s story. Cars that leave a wood in the middle of the night without lights need a bit of looking into.”
    The others looked excited. “Is it a mystery, Fatty?” asked Bets, eagerly. “Do say it is! Wouldn’t it be funny if we did tumble into the middle of a real mystery just because we invented one for Ern.”
    “It would,” said Fatty. “Well, we shall see. Won’t Ern be thriled when he finds all those clues? He’ll come rushing along tomorrow!”
    “I hope I shan’t giggle,” said Bets.
    “You dare!” said Pip. “Good-bye, Fatty. Behave yourself at tea, and be a dear, well-mannered child!”
    “Oh, goanborlyered!” said Fatty, rudely, and off he went, with shouts of laughter following him.
     
    Mr. Goon and Ern
     
    Ern had a simply wonderful time up on Christmas Hill, collecting clues. It was a lovely afternoon and he walked slowly up the hill, his eyes on the ground. He felt important. The beginnings of a “pome” swam into his mind, as he looked up and saw the sun sinking