Mystery of the Hidden House by Enid Blyton Page B

There was the robbery. Coo!
    Mr. Goon was astonished to see Ern poring over the paper, reading details on the front page, and the back page too, quite forgetting his breakfast.
    “What’s up?” he said. “Give me the paper. Boys shouldn’t read at meal-times.”
    Ern handed it over, his head in a whirl. It had happened! The robbery was committed. Soon the loot would be in the old mill - and he’d find it. He’d be a hero. His uncle would admire him tremendously and be very sorry indeed for all the hard things he had said. Ern sat in a happy dream all through his breakfast, much to the surprise of his uncle.
    Mr. Goon read about the robbery too - but he didn’t for one moment think it had anything to do with Ern or himself. Robberies didn’t concern him unless they were in his own district. He wondered why Ern looked so daft that morning. Had he found any more clues, or got any more news?
    No, said Ern - he hadn’t. He felt guilty when he remembered how he was going to find the loot, without telling his uncle anything about it - but he wasn’t going to split on Fatty any more. He was going to behave like a real Find-Outer!
    The Find-Outers were busy that day. Pip and Bets had laid their plans very carefully, hoping not to arouse their parents’ suspicions when they asked about the Hollands.
    “We’ll talk about people who have queer names,” decided Pip. “I’ll remind you of a girl you used to know whose surname is Redball - you remember her? Then you say ‘oh yes - and do you remember those people called Tinkle?’ or something like that. And from that we’ll go on to people with names of towns or countries - and when we get to the name Holland, I’ll ask mother if she knows people of that name.”
    “Yes, that would be a safe way of finding out,” said Bets, pleased. So they began at breakfast time.
    “Do you remember that girl you used to know - she had such a funny name,” said Pip. “Redball, I think it was.”
    “Oh yes,” said Bets. “That was a queer name. I remember somebody else with a funny name too - Tinkle. Don’t you remember, Pip?”
    “Yes. It must be queer to answer to a name like that,” said Pip.
    “You get used to it,” said his mother, joining in unsuspectingly.
    “Some people have names of countries and towns,” said Pip. “There’s a composer called Edward Germany, isn’t there?”
    “Edward German,” corrected his father, “not Germany. Plenty of people are called England, and I have known an Ireland and a Scotland too.”
    “Have you known a Holland?” asked Bets. This was going much better than they had hoped!
    “Oh yes,” said Mrs. Hilton at once. “I know a Mrs. Holland quite well.”
    “Is there a Mr. Holland?” asked Pip.
    “Yes, I think so,” said Mrs. Hilton, looking rather surprised. “I’ve never seen him. He must be an old man by now, because Mrs. Holland is a very old lady.”
    “Did they have any children?” asked Pip, ruling out old Mr. Holland at once, because it didn’t seem very likely that he would be engaged in any sort of mystery if he was so old.
    “Well - their children would be grown up by now,” said his mother.
    “Was there a boy?” asked Bets. “A boy who would be a man now?”
    Mrs. Hilton felt surprised at these last questions. “Why all this sudden interest in the Hollands?” she asked. “What are you up to? You are usually up to something when you begin this sort of thing.”
    Pip sighed. Mothers were much too sharp. They were like dogs. Buster always sensed when anything was out of the ordinary, and so did mothers. Mothers and dogs both had a kind of second sight that made them see into people’s minds and know when anything unusual was going on. He kicked Bets under the table to stop her asking any more questions.
    She understood the kick, though she didn’t like it, and tried to change the subject. “I wish I had another name, not Hilton,” she said. “A more exciting name. And I wish people would call me Elizabeth, not Bets.”
    “Oh no,” said her father. “Bets suits you. You