Mystery of the Strange Messages by Enid Blyton Read Free Book Online Page A

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thinking that your house is the most likely one. Pip. Ivy up the walls—owned by Smith and Harris—and it might have been called 'The Ivies' before
they took it over."
    "Well—what shall we do next?" said Ern, eagerly.
"Loveaduck—whatever would my uncle say if he knew all we'd been doing this
morning!"
    "Let's quickly run over the ivy-covered houses we've all
discovered," said Fatty, "and make up our minds which are definitely
no good, and which are worth enquiring into. I'll take Bets and mine
first."
    He ran over them quickly. "Barton Grange, Hollins Road. Ivy-covered.
Well, I suppose we'd better find out if people called Smith lived there, and if
it was ever named 'The Ivies'. Then there was the house we found in Jordans
Road, but we've ruled that out already, because it never was called The
Ivies. Then there's the house called Fairlin Hall, that Larry and Daisy
found—but it's empty, so that's no good."
    "So that only leaves Haylings Nursery, owned by Smith and
Harris," said Pip. "I vote we enquire into that! If that's no good,
we'll find out a bit more about Barton Grange in Hollins Road, the one you and
Bets found. Fatty."
    "I wonder if my mother knows who lives in Barton
Grange," said Fatty. "She's lived in Peterswood so long, she knows
practically everybody. I'll ask her. Gosh, look at the time! And there's our
dinner-bell! Buck up, all of you, you'll get into a row!"
    "Oh my goodness!" said Ern, in a panic. "What will
Uncle say if I'm late! And he's supposed to pay me my first half-crown at
dinner-time. Good-bye, all!"
    He raced off to get his bicycle, and Larry and the others rode
away at top speed too.
    "I'll telephone you later!" Fatty shouted after them,
and ran indoors to his own lunch. How the time flew when there was detective
work to be done! He washed his hands, slicked back his hair and went into the
dining-room, to find his mother just about to sit down herself.
    "So sorry I'm a bit late, Mother," said Fatty, sliding
into his seat.
    "It will be a nice surprise for me when you decide to be
punctual, Frederick," said his mother. "What have you been doing this
morning?"
    "Oh—just messing about with the others," said Fatty,
truthfully. "We did a bit of cycling. Mother, can you tell me something? Who
lives at Barton Grange—the big house in Hollins Road?"
    "Barton Grange—let me think now," said his mother.
"First the Fords lived there—then the old man died and his widow went to
live with her daughter. Then the Jenkins came there—but they lost all their
money and left. Then the Georges came—now what happened to them? I know they
left very hurriedly indeed—there was some trouble..."
    "And then did the Smiths come?" asked Fatty, hopefully.
    "The Smiths? What Smiths?" said his mother, in surprise.
    "Oh—I don't really know," said Fatty. "Anyway—who's
there now? It wouldn't be people called Smith, would it?"
    "No. Nothing like Smith," said his mother,
decidedly. "Yes—I remember now—it's old Lady Hammerlit. I don't know her
at all—she's bedridden, poor old thing. But why are you so interested in Barton
Grange, Frederick?"
    "Well, I was—but I'm not now," said Fatty, disappointed
to find that no Smiths lived there. "Mother, I suppose you don't know any
place that was once called 'The Ivies', do you?"
    "Frederick, what is all this?" asked his mother,
sus piciously. "You're
not getting mixed up in anything peculiar again, are you? I don't want that
unpleasant Mr. Goon here again, complaining about you."
    "Mother, he's got nothing to complain about,"
said Fatty, impatiently. "And you haven't answered my question. Was there
ever any house called 'The Ivies' in Peterswood—its name will have been changed
by now. We've heard of one—but nobody seems to know of it now."
    "The Ivies?" said Mrs. Trotteville. "No—I don't think
I've ever heard of it. I've lived in Peterswood for nineteen years, and as far
as I remember there never has been any place called 'The Ivies'. Why do
you want to