Mystery of the Secret Room (12 page)

Inside was a small book, a kind of notebook, and entered in it were numbers and names, nothing else at all. It seemed very dull to Fatty.

“Perhaps Inspector Jenks may like to have a look at it,” he thought, and he pocketed the little book and locked the cupboard door again. “We shall soon be reporting this mystery to him, and he may like to have all the bits of evidence we can find.”

He sat down on the sofa again. He no longer felt excited, but very sleepy. He looked at his watch. It was quarter past one! Gracious! he had been a long time in Milton House.

“I’ll just have a bit of a rest on this comfy sofa,” said Fatty, and curled himself up. In half a minute he was sound asleep. What a mistake that was!

A Bad Time for Fatty

Fatty slept soundly. His adventure had tired him. The couch was extremely comfortable, and although there was no warmth in the room, the rugs were thick and cosy. Fatty lay there dreaming of the time when he would be an even more important detective than the famous Sherlock Holmes.

He did not hear the sound of a car about half-past four in the early morning. The wheels slid silently over the snow, and came to a stop outside Milton House.

Fatty did not hear people walking up the drive. Nor did he hear a latch-key being put into the lock of the front door. He heard no voices, no footsteps, but the old empty house suddenly echoed to them.

Fatty slept on peacefully. He was warm and comfortable. He did not even wake up when some one opened the door of the secret room and came in.

Nobody saw him at first. A man crossed to the window and carefully drew the thick curtains across before switching on the light. Not a crack of light could be seen from outside once the window curtains were drawn.

Another man came into the room - and he gave a cry of surprise. “Look here!”

He pointed to the couch, where Fatty still slept as peacefully as Goldilocks had slept in the Little Bear’s bed long ago!

The two men stared in the utmost astonishment at Fatty. His curly wig of black hair, his big black eyebrows, and the awful teeth made him a peculiar sight.

“Who is he? And what’s he doing here?” said one of the men, amazed and angry. He shook Fatty roughly by the shoulder.

The boy woke up and opened his eyes under the shaggy eyebrows. In a trice he knew where he was, and realized that he had fallen asleep in the secret room - and now he was caught! A little shiver of fear went down his back. The men did not look either friendly or pleased.

“What are you doing here?” said the bigger fellow of the two, a ruddy-faced man with eyes that stuck out like Mr. Goon’s, and a short black beard. The other man was short, and had a round white face with black button-eyes and the thinnest lips Fatty had ever seen.

The boy sat up and stared at the two men. He really didn’t know what to say.

“Haven’t you a tongue in your head?” demanded the red-faced man. “What are you doing on our premises?”

Fatty decided to pretend he was French again.

“Je ne comprends pas,” he said, meaning that he didn’t understand.

But unfortunately one of the men spoke French and he rattled off a long and most alarming sentence in French, which Fatty couldn’t understand at all.

Fatty then decided he wouldn’t be French; he would speak the nonsense language that he and the others sometimes spoke together when they wanted to mystify any one.

“Tibbletooky-fickle-farmery-toppy-swick,” he said quite solemnly.

The men looked puzzled. “What language is that?” said the red-faced man to his companion. He shook his head.

“Speak French,” he commanded Fatty.

“Spikky-tarly-yondle-fitty-toomar,” answered Fatty at once.

“Never heard a language like that before,” said the red-faced man. “The boy looks foreign enough. Wonder where he comes from. We’ll have to find out how he got here.” He turned to Fatty again, and addressed him first in English and then in French, then in German, and then in a fourth language Fatty had never heard.

“Spikky-tarly-yondle,” said Fatty, and waggled his hands about just like his French master at school.

The pale-faced man spoke to his companion. “I believe he’s foxing,” he said in a low voice that Fatty could not hear. “He’s just pretending. I’ll soon make him talk his own language. Watch me.”

He suddenly bent over Fatty, took hold of his left arm, dragged it behind him and twisted it. Fatty let out an agonized yell. “Let go, you beast! You’re hurting me!”

“Aha!” said the pale-faced man. “So you can talk English, can you? Very interesting. Now - what about talking a little more, and telling us who you are and how you came here.”

Fatty nursed his twisted arm, feeling rather alarmed. He was very angry with himself for falling asleep and getting so easily caught. He looked sulkily at the man and said nothing.

“Ah! - he wants a little more coaxing,” said the pale-faced man, smiling with his thin lips and showing long yellow teeth. “Shall we twist your other arm, boy?”

He took hold of Fatty’s right arm. Fatty decided to talk. He wouldn’t give much away more than he could help.

“Don’t you touch me,” he said. “I’m a poor homeless fellow, and I’m doing no harm sleeping here.”

“How did you get in?” said the red-faced man.

“Through the coalhole,” said Fatty.

“Aha” said the man, and the thin-lipped one pursed up his mouth so that his lips completely vanished.

He looked very hard and cruel, Fatty thought.

“Does any one else know you’re here?” said the red-faced man.

“How do I know?” said Fatty. “If any one had seen me getting down the coalhole they’d know I was here. But if they didn’t see me, how would they know?”

“He is evading the question,” said the thin-lipped man. “We can only make him talk properly by giving him much pain. We will do so. A little beating first, I think.”

Fatty felt afraid. He was quite sure that this man would go to any lengths to get what be wanted to know. He stared sulkily at him.

Quite suddenly, without any warning, the thin-lipped man dealt Fatty a terrific blow on his right ear. Then, before the boy could recover, he dealt him another blow, this time on his left ear. Fatty gasped. Bright stars danced in front of his eyes, and he blinked.

When the stars went, and the boy could see again, he gazed in fear at the thin-lipped man, who was now smiling a horrible smile.

“I think you will talk now?” he said to Fatty. “I can do other things if you prefer.”

Fatty was very frightened now. He felt that he would rather give away the whale mystery than have any more blows. After all, he wouldn’t be harming the other Find-Outers, and he knew they would be only too glad for him to save himself from harm or injury. This was just very, very bad luck.

“All right. I’ll talk,” said Fatty, with a gulp. “There’s not much to tell you, though.”

“How did you find out this room?” demanded the red-faced man.

“By accident,” said Fatty. “A friend of mine climbed that tree outside, and looked in and saw this room.”

“How many know about it?” rapped out the thin-lipped man.

“Only me and the other Find-Outers,” said Patty.

“The other what?” said the man, puzzled.

Fatty explained. The men listened.

“Oh! - so there are five children in this,” said the red-faced man. “Any grown-up know about this affair?”

“No,” said Fatty. “We - we are rather keen on solving mysteries if we can - and we don’t like telling grown-ups in case they interfere. There’s only me and the other four in this. Now that I’ve let you know, you might let me go.”

“What! - let you go and have you spread the news around?” said the thin-lipped man scornfully. “It’s bad enough to have you interfering and messing up our plans without running the risk of letting you go.”

“Well, if you don’t, the others will come snooping round to see what’s happened to me,” said Fatty triumphantly. “I’ve already arranged for them to come and find out what’s happened if I’m not at home this morning.”

“I see,” said the thin-lipped man. He spoke quickly to the other man in a language Fatty could not follow. The red-faced man nodded. The thin-lipped man turned to Fatty.

“You will write a note to the others to say that you have discovered something wonderful here, and are guarding it, and will they all come to the garden as soon as possible,” he said.

“Oh! - and I suppose you think that you can catch them too when they come, and lock them up till you’ve finished whatever secret business you are on!” said Fatty.

“Exactly,” said the man. “We think it would be better to hold you all prisoner here till we have finished our affairs. Then you can tell what you like.”

“Well, if you think I shall write a letter that will bring my friends into your hands, you’re jolly well mistaken!” said Fatty hotly. “I’m not such a coward as that!”

“Are you not?” said the thin-lipped man, and he looked at Fatty so strangely that the boy trembled. What would this horrible man do to him if he refused to write the note? Fatty didn’t dare to think.

He tried to stare back bravely at the man, but it was difficult. Fatty wished desperately he had not gone into this midnight venture so light-heartedly. He longed for old Buster. But perhaps it was as well that Buster was not there. These men might kick him and misuse him cruelly.

“We shall lock you up,” said the thin-lipped man. “We have to go in a little while, but we shall come back soon. You will write this note whilst we are gone. If it is not done by the time we come back, there will be trouble for you, bad trouble - trouble you will not forget all the rest of your life.”

Fatty’s spirits went up a little when he heard he was to be locked up. He might be able to escape if so! He had a folded newspaper in his pocket. He was sure he could use his trick of getting out of a locked room all right. Then his high spirits sank again.

“We will lock you in this so-comfortable room,” said the red-faced man. “And we will give you paper and pen and ink. You will write a nice, excited note that will bring your friends here quickly. You can throw it out of the window.”

Fatty knew he could never escape from the secret room. A thick carpet ran right to the door. There was no space beneath the edge of the door to slip a key. None at all. He would be a real prisoner. He could not even escape down the tree because the window was so heavily barred.

The thin-lipped man placed a sheet of notepaper on a table, and laid beside it a pen and a little ink-stand.

“There you are,” he said. “You will write this note in your own way and sign it. What is your name?”

“Frederick Trotteville,” said Fatty gloomily.

“You are called Freddie, then, are you not?” said the thin-lipped man. “You will sign your letter ‘Freddie,’ and when your friends come into the garden, I will fling your note from the window - but you will not speak to them.”

The red-faced man looked at his watch. “We must go,” he said. “It is time. Everything is ready here. We will get the rest of these interfering kids and lock them up till we have finished. It won’t hurt them to starve for a day or two in an empty room!”

They went out of the room. Fatty heard the key turn in the lock. He was a prisoner. He stared gloomily at the shut door. It was his own fault that he was in this fix. But he wasn’t going to get the others into it too - no, not even if those men beat him black and blue!

The Secret Message

Fatty heard the footsteps of the men clattering down the uncarpeted stairs. He heard the front door close quietly. He heard the sound of a car starting up. The men had gone.

He tried the door. It was locked all right. He went to the window. It was pitch-dark outside. He opened the window and felt the bars. They were too close together for him to slip out between them. He was indeed a prisoner.

He went and sat down again, shivering. Fright and the winter’s chill made him shake all over. He saw the electric fire and decided to put it on. He might as well be warm, anyway!

He sat down once more and gazed gloomily at the sheet of notepaper. What a bad detective he was, to allow himself to be caught like this! It was terribly careless. The others would never admire him again.

“Well, I shan’t write that letter, anyway,” thought the boy, but he trembled to think what his punishment might be if he didn’t.

Then an idea came to him. It was really brilliant. He sat and thought about it for a while. Yes - it would work if only the others were bright enough to catch on to the idea too!

“I’ll write an invisible letter on this sheet of paper, and I’ll write a letter in ink on it as well!” thought Fatty. “I bet Pip and the others will think of testing it for secret writing. Golly - what an idea this is! To write two letters on one sheet, one seen and the other unseen! I bet the men will never think of that!”

He looked at the sheet of paper. It was faintly ruled with lines. He could write his secret letter between the lines and the other letter on the lines! When the others tested it for secret writing, they would then be able to read his real letter easily.

Fatty’s hands shook with excitement. He might be able to do something startling now! He must think carefully what to write. The men who used this room were evil, and they used it as a meeting place for evil reasons. They must be stopped. They were evidently in the middle of some big affiair at the moment, and it was up to Fatty to stop them.

He took a rather squashy orange from his pocket. He looked round for a glass. There was one on the shelf. He squeezed his orange into it, then picked up the pen the men had left. The nib was clean and new.

Should he write the visible letter first, or the secret one? Fatty decided on the visible one, because it would be easier then to write the invisible one, as he could see where he had written the first letter.

He began:

“DEAR FIND-OUTERS - I have made a wonderful discovery, most awfully exciting. I can’t leave here, because I am guarding something - but I want to show you what it is. All of you come as soon as you can, and I will let you in when you knock. - Yours,

‘FREDDIE.’ ”

That seemed all right - just what the man had commanded him to write. But the others would smell a rat as soon as they saw the name “Freddie” at the bottom. He always signed himself Fatty in notes like this.