Mystery of Holly Lane by Enid Blyton Page A

true,” said Larry. “Well, all right, I’ll say that a very silly idea happened to turn out well — but that’s as far as I’ll go.”
    Fatty changed the subject. He picked up his notes. “Now, listen,” he said. “I’ve written out a short summary of what’s happened so far — just to get our minds clear, so to speak — and I’ll read it. Then we’ll discuss any clues, and all the suspects, and make plans. Ready?”
    “Yes! This sounds good!” said Pip, settling himself comfortably on a box.
    “Well, get ready to use your brains,” said Fatty. “Buster, sit still and listen, too. It disturbs me if you keep snuffling for mice in that corner. Sit, Buster.”
    Buster sat, his ears pricked as if he were quite ready to listen. Fatty went quickly through his notes.
    “The mystery begins when Larry goes to Hollies to clean the windows. He saw the old man there, crawling about, poking at his furniture. We know now that he was looking to make sure that his savings were safely where he had hidden them — either the whole two hundred pounds in some particular chair or sofa, or divided up and put into different places. Possibly in some carefully prepared, hidden pocket under a chair or chairs.”
    “Oh, that reminds me!” said Daisy, suddenly. “Excuse me interrupting, Fatty, but our charwoman told me she knew the old man when he was younger — and he was an upholsterer, so he’d know very well how to make some kind of hidden pockets in furniture, wouldn’t he?”
    “What’s an upholsterer?” asked Bets.
    “Bets! You’re a baby!” said Pip at once. “It’s some one who makes chair covers and curtains, and stuffs couches and chairs and things — isn’t it, Fatty?”
    “Yes,” said Fatty. “That’s an interesting bit of information of yours, Daisy. Very interesting. The old man probably made himself quite a lot of hiding-places here and there in the upholstery of his chairs or sofas. I’ll just add a note about it.”
    Daisy looked pleased. “It’s a sort of clue, isn’t it?” she said. “A very small one, I know.”
    “It all helps to fill in the mystery,” said Fatty. “I always think of our mysteries as jigsaws. We’ve got a great many bits and pieces — but not until we fit them together properly do we see the whole picture. Now, then, I’ll go on.”
    “We’re listening,” said Bets, happily.
    “Well, we come next to when we all of us went with Larry to find the leather he had left behind,” said Fatty. “And we heard the old man yelling for the police. He is certain that his money was in its usual place — or places — about midnight the night before, but in the morning it is gone. He doesn’t discover that it’s gone, however, until six people, at least, have been to Hollies Cottage for some reason or other.”
    “And all those six are Suspects, then, till we prove them otherwise,” said Larry. “Good! Who are they, Fatty?”
    “All in good time,” said Fatty. “Don’t keep interrupting. Buster, sit! There is NO mouse in that corner!”
    Buster sat, looking as if he knew better than Fatty where mice were concerned. Fatty went on.
    “We decided at this point that it was only a question of straightforward robbery, and that Goon would be able to deal with it,” he said. “But last night I went to get Larry’s leather, and as I told you, I arrived just about the time the car, or lorry, or van came to remove the furniture out of that front room.”
    “Extraordinary!” said Larry, unable to stop himself from interrupting.
    Fatty went on to describe what he had heard. “Actually I saw nothing,” he said. “And I didn’t even know till this morning that the midnight visitors were taking away all the furniture. I didn’t know that they might have a van or a lorry — I thought it was a car. I imagined they might be kidnapping the old man, but I both saw and heard him, fast asleep, on his bed in the back room.”
    “What did you think was happening?” asked Pip.
    “I