Five fall into adventure by Enid Blyton

Author:Enid Blyton [Blyton, Enid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novela, Aventuras, Infantil, Juvenil
Publisher: ePubLibre
Published: 1949-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Anne doesn’t like adventures

There was no answer from inside the caravan. Perhaps George was asleep — or drugged! And Timmy, too. Julian’s heart sank. It would be dreadful if George had been ill-treated. He tried to peer inside the window again, but what with the darkness of the wood and the dirt on the pane, it really was impossible to see inside.

“Shall we bang on the door?” asked Dick.

“No. That would only bring Simmy if he’s anywhere about — and if George is inside and awake, our voices would have attracted her attention,” said Julian.

They went quietly round the caravan to the door at the back. It had no key in the lock. Julian frowned.

Simmy must have got the key with him. That would mean breaking down the door and making a noise. He went up the few steps and pushed at the door. It seemed very solid indeed. How could he break it down, anyway? He had no tools, and it didn’t look as if kicking and shoving would burst it in.

He knocked gently on the door — rap-rap-rap. Not a movement from inside. It seemed very strange. He tried the round handle, and it turned easily.

It not only turned easily — but the door opened! “Dick! It’s not locked!” said Julian, forgetting to whisper in his surprise. He went inside the dark caravan, hardly hoping now to see George or Timmy.

Dick pushed in after him. There was a nasty sour smell and it was very untidy. Nobody was there. It was quite empty, as Julian had feared.

He groaned. “All this way for nothing. They’ve taken George somewhere else. We’re done, now, Dick — we haven’t a clue where to go next.”

Dick fished his torch out of his pocket. He flashed it over the untidy jumble of things in the caravan, looking for some sign that George had been there. But there was nothing at all that he could see to show him that either Timmy or George had been there.

“It’s quite likely that Jo made the whole story up about her father taking George away,” he groaned. “It doesn’t look as if they’ve been here at all.”

His torch flashed on to the wooden wall of the caravan, and Dick saw something that arrested his attention. Somebody had written something on the wall!

He looked more closely. “Julian! Isn’t that George’s writing? Look! What’s written there?”

Both boys bent towards the dirty wall. “Red Tower, Red Tower, Red Tower,” was written again and again, in very small writing.

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