GO AHEAD SECRET SEVEN by Enid Blyton

CHAPTER 11 THE COAL-HOLE

Nobody wanted to jump down in the least. For one thing, the hole wasn't very big for another, the dark ground was a long way below, and for a third thing, who knew what might lie in wait for any daring boy dropping down through that hole!

"Well, I must say I think it would be rather silly to get down there, knowing as little as we do about this affair," said Peter, at last. "Do you suppose this is where the dog was pushed down, Colin?"

"I don't know," said Colin, puzzled. "The dog's not there now, anyway, dead or alive. The hole is empty. I suppose it's really an underground cellar, and may be quite big. Anyway, what's the point of pushing a lovely dog down a coal-hole? It doesn't make sense to me."

"We'd better put the lid back and go home," said Peter. "It's getting dark. I'm not sure I like this nasty, lonely little yard now it's getting towards night-time!"

He took hold of the lid, but Colin stopped him. "Wait a minute," he said. "I've got an idea."

He put his head right down into the hole. Then he whistled. Colin had a very shrill, piercing whistle that usually went right through people's heads and made them angry. His shrill whistle sounded now, though it could not be very well heard up in the yard, because Colin's head was in the hole. It could be heard down in the cellar, though, for the piercing noise echoed round and round!

"What are you doing that for?" began Peter, angrily, but Jack guessed, and nudged him to be quiet. Colin was now listening, his head still down the hole. He heard something ... what was it? Yes, there it came again. Then it stopped.

He took his head out, his eyes shining. "The dog's down there somewhere all right," he said. "It heard my whistle, and I heard it barking, far away, somewhere, goodness knows where."

"Gosh! Did you really?" said Peter, amazed.

"That was a jolly good idea of yours, Colin. Well, we now know for certain that the dog's down there, so that fellow must have pushed him into the hole. This is a mystery all right."

"Yes. One that has sprung up all of a sudden, as mysteries usually do," said Colin. "What do we do next? We could get down the hole if we brought a rope-ladder, but we'll break our legs if we just try to drop down."

There was a pause. The boys sat back on their bent knees and thought hard.

"The cellar must belong to one of these buildings," said Jack, at last. "But which one? It might belong to any of these around us. The coal-hole is exactly in the centre of the yard."

"I can't see that it matters which one," said Peter.

"Well, it might," said Jack. "We could find out if any firm in these buildings is interested in dogs."

"Well, I suppose that's an idea," said Peter, doubtfully. "Anyway, let's put this lid back now, and place the box over it. We don't want anyone to suspect we've happened on part of their secret."

They put back the lid as quietly as they could, and dragged the box across it. Now it was as well-hidden as when they had first come into the yard.

"It's almost dark now," said Peter. "We'd better get back home. My mother will be wondering where I am ... and oh, blow ... I've not done my homework yet. It's awfully difficult to swot at French verbs when you're thinking out a mystery all the time."

"Look!" said Jack, as they turned to leave the yard. "Look! Only one of these buildings has alighted window. Do you suppose the coal-cellar belongs to that one? Do you think there's anyone looking after that bull-terrier? He must be scared stiff if he's all by himself."

The boys stared up at the lighted window.

"It's the building on the left," said Peter. "It will be just round the corner of the block. Let's go that way and see what firm uses it. It might be a help, though, of course, the lighted window may have nothing whatever to do with the mystery!"

They left the yard cautiously, went down the dark alley-way, and out into the street. They walked round the block, and came to the building that they thought must have shown the lighted window. Colin switched his torch on to the dirty brass plate in the main doorway.

"Alliance of Callinated Sack Manufacturers!" he read. "What on earth does that mean? Anyway, by the look of the building, the sack manufacturers must have gone west long ago. What a desolate, dirty place! It hasn't had a touch of paint for years!"

"It may be one of the buildings that the Council plan to pull down," said Jack. "I know some of them round about here are being pulled down, they're so old. Come on, let's go."

"Look!" said Peter suddenly, and pulled the others to one side. "The door's opening!"

Sure enough it was. The boys stood quietly in the shadows, waiting. Someone came out and shut the door softly. He went down the few steps into the street. He kept close to the wall as he walked along, a tall, stooping fellow.

With one accord the boys followed, their rubber shoes making no sound. They knew that a lamp-post was round the comer. Perhaps they could see this fellow more clearly in the lamp-light. Who was he?

"We'll shadow him!" whispered Peter. "Come on."