Mr. Thomas put the papers into the pocket of his overcoat. The men muttered a few more words, which even Julian’s sharp ears could not catch, and then parted. The artists went off towards Kirrin Farmhouse, and Mr. Roland took the path back over the common. Julian crouched down in the hollow of the prickly gorse bush, hoping the tutor would not turn and see him. Luckily he didn’t. He went straight on and disappeared into
the snow, which was now falling thickly. It was also beginning to get dark and Julian, unable to see the path very clearly, hurried after Mr. Roland, half-afraid of being lost in the snow-storm.
Mr. Roland was not anxious to be out longer than he could help, either. He almost ran back to Kirrin Cottage. He came to the gate at last, and Julian watched him go into the house. He gave him a little time to take off his things and then, giving Timothy a pat as he went by, he went to the garden door. He took off his mackintosh cloak, changed his boots, and slipped into the sitting-room before Mr. Roland had come down from his bedroom.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Dick and Anne, seeing that Julian was in a great state of excitement. But he could not tell them, for at that moment Joanna came in to lay the tea.
Much to Julian’s disappointment, he could not say a word to the others all that evening, because one or other of the grown-ups was always in the room. Neither could he go up to see George. He could hardly wait to tell his news, but it was no good, he had to.
‘Is it still snowing, Aunt Fanny ?’ asked Anne.
Her aunt went to the front door and looked out. The snow was piled high against the step!
‘Yes,’ she said, when she came back. ‘It is snowing fast and thickly. If it goes on like this we shall be completely snowed up, as we were two winters ago! We couldn’t get out of the house for five days then. The milkman couldn’t get to us, nor the baker. Fortunately we had plenty of tinned milk, and I can bake my-own
bread. Poor children – you will not be able to go out tomorrow – the snow will be too thick!’
‘Will Kirrin Farmhouse be snowed up too?’ asked Mr. Roland.
‘Oh yes – worse than we shall be,’ said Aunt Fanny. ‘But they won’t mind! They have plenty of food there. They will be prisoners just as much, and more, as we shall.’
Julian wondered why Mr. Roland had asked that question. Was he afraid that his friends would not be able to send those pages away by the post – or take them anywhere by bus or car? The boy felt certain this was the reason for the question. How he longed to be able to talk over everything with the others.
‘I’m tired!’ he said, about eight o’clock. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
Dick and Anne stared at him in astonishment. Usually, as he was the eldest, he went to bed last of all. Tonight he was actually asking to go! Julian winked quickly at them, and they backed him up at once.
Dick yawned widely, and so did Anne. Their aunt put down the sewing she was doing. ‘You do sound tired!’ she said. ‘I think you’d better all go to bed.’
‘Could I just go out and see if Timmy is all right?’ I asked Julian. His aunt nodded. The boy put on his rubber boots and coat, and slipped out through the garden door into the yard. It was very deep in snow, too. Tim’s kennel was half-hidden in it. The dog had trampled a | space in front of the kennel door, and stood there, looking for Julian as he came out of the house.
‘Poor old boy, out here in the snow all alone,’ said
Julian. He patted the dog, and Timmy whined. He was asking to go back with the boy. *
‘I wish I could take you back with me,’ said Julian. ‘Never mind, Timothy. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.’
He went indoors again. The children said good night to their aunt and Mr. Roland, and went upstairs.
‘Undress quickly, put on dressing-gowns and meet in George’s room,’ whispered Julian to the others. ‘Don’t make a sound or we’ll have Aunt Fanny up. Quick now!’
In less than three minutes the children were undressed, and were sitting on George’s bed. She was very pleased to see them. Anne slipped into bed with her, because her feet were cold.
‘Julian! Did you follow Mr. Roland all right?’ whispered George. *
‘Why did he follow him ?’ asked Dick, who had been dying to know.
Julian told them everything as quickly as he could -all that George suspected – and how he had followed the tutor – and what he had seen. When George heard how Julian had watched him giving a sheaf of papers to the two artists, her eyes gleamed angrily.
‘The thief! They must have been the lost pages! And to think my father has been so friendly to him. Oh, what can we do? Those men will get the papers away as quickly as they can, and the secret Father has been working on for ages will be used by someone else – for some other country, probably!’
‘They can’t get the papers away,’ said Julian. ‘You’ve no idea how thick the snow is now, George. We shall
be prisoners here for a few days, if this snow goes on, and so will the people in Kirrin Farmhouse. If they want to hide the papers, they will have to hide them in the farmhouse! If only we could get over there and hunt round!’ “
‘Well, we can’t,’ said Dick. ‘That’s quite certain. We’d be up to our necks in snow!’
The four children looked gloomily at one another. Dick and Anne could hardly believe that the jolly Mr. Roland was a thief – a spy perhaps, trying to steal a valuable secret from a friendly scientist. And they couldn’t stop it.
‘We’d better tell your father,’ said Julian at last.
‘No,’ said Anne. ‘He wouldn’t believe it, would he, George ?’
‘He’d laugh at us and go straight and tell Mr. Roland,’ said George. ‘That would warn him, and he mustn’t be warned. He mustn’t know that we guess anything.’
‘Sh! Aunt Fanny’s coming!’ whispered Dick, suddenly. The boys slipped out of the room and into bed. Anne hopped across to her own little bed. All was peace and quiet when the children’s aunt came into the bedroom.
She said good night and tucked them up. As soon as she had gone down, the four children met together again in George’s room.
‘George, tell me now what you were going to say about the Secret Way,’ said Julian.
‘Oh yes,’ said George. ‘Well, there may be nothing in my idea at all – but in the study downstairs, there are eight wooden panels over the mantelpiece – and the floor
is of stone – and the room faces east! A bit queer, isn’t it ? Just what the directions said.’
‘Is there a cupboard there too ?’ asked Julian.
‘No. But there is everything else,’ said George. ‘And I was just wondering if by any chance the entrance to the Secret Way is in this house, not in the farmhouse. After all, they both belonged to my family at one time, you know. The people living in the farmhouse years ago must have known all about this cottage.’
‘Golly, George – suppose the entrance was here!’ said Dick. ‘Wouldn’t it be simply marvellous! Let’s go straight down and look!’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Julian. ‘Go down to the study when Uncle Quentin is there? I’d rather meet twenty lions than face Uncle! Especially after what has happened!’
‘Well, we simply MUST find out if George’s idea is right; we simply must,’ said Dick, forgetting to whisper.
‘Shut up, idiot!’ said Julian, giving him a punch. ‘Do you want to bring the whole household up here ?’
‘Sorry!’ said Dick. ‘But, oh golly, this is exciting. It’s an Adventure again.’
‘Just what I said,’ said George, eagerly. ‘Listen, shall we wait till midnight, and then creep down to the study when everyone is asleep, and try our luck ? There may be nothing in my idea at all – but we’ll have to find out now. I don’t believe I could go to sleep till I’ve tried one of those panels over the mantelpiece to see if something happens.’
‘Well, I know I can’t sleep a wink either,’ said Dick. ‘Listen – is that someone coming up? We’d better go.
Come on, Julian! Meet in George’s room at midnight – and we’ll creep down and try out George’s idea!’
The two boys went off to their own room. Neither of them could sleep a wink. Nor could George. She lay awake, and went over and over in her mind all that had happened those holidays. ‘It’s like a jigsaw puzzle,’ she thought. ‘I couldn’t understand a lot of things at first -but now they are fitting together, and making a picture.’