A second mystery for Roger, Diana, Snubby, Loony, Barney, and Miranda — and one with a hint of the impossible, about it, to boot.

With Roger and Diana Lynton heading home for the Easter hols, and with their orphan cousin Snubby joining them, the prospect of much excitement seems slight, until their Great-Uncle Robert joins the ménage with a story of a baffling theft of various valuable papers:

“[I]t was the most extraordinary theft. Doors were locked. Windows were fastened tightly. There was no skylight or other way into the room where these papers were kept. And yet one night thieves got in, took the whole lot, and vanished the way they came through locked doors or fastened windows! What do you think of that?”

When further thefts of a similar ilk follow, and when the children realise that the locations match that of a travelling Fair, it’s only a matter of time before a visit to said attraction reveals that the itinerant Barney is one of the company and mystery is in the offing.

Having previously greatly enjoyed Blyton’s Five Find-Outer books in slightly bowdlerised form, there’s something quite pleasing about reading this version of a book from 1986 where casual mentions that would not make it past modern editors litter the text — the easy accusation that “gypsies or tramps” must be guilty of the thefts, dismissed just as easily by the assurance that such types could hardly be expected to know about valuable documents; the moment you realise that a packet of cigarettes is one of the prizes children can win on a hoopla stall…as an historical document for a window on the prejudices and questionable conduct of earlier generations this is rather fascinating.

Interesting, too, is the occasional inclusion of more complex vocabulary — antiquarian, cat’s-paw, elephantine, flippant, obtrude — which is only occasionally explained, hinting at the slightly older audience this mystery was intended for. An air of slight menace, stronger than anything else I’ve encountered in Blyton to date, pervades matters, too: from the hungry-looking dogs slinking around the fairground to the deployment of casual violence against the children (well, against Snubby — always with the subtext that he had it coming)…the stakes here feel pitched against more of a background of threat than in that other series, and it’s an interesting contrast.

Which is not to say that the book is without humour, with the occasional foray into jocularity, such as when Snubby meets an old man (who later turns out to be Great-Uncle Roger) on the train at the beginning:

Loony fortunately went to sleep. Snubby undid his case and took out a paper-covered book. He settled down to read. The old man looked to see what Snubby was reading. The book had a most lurid cover and an extraordinary title. It was called SPIES! SPIES! SPIES!

Snubby curled himself up, lost to the world. The old man was astonished to see such a peculiar title.

“What is your book about?” he asked at last.

Snubby thought that was a silly question, considering that the book’s title was plainly to be seen.

“It’s about spies,” he said.

In contrast to opening volume The Rockingdown Mystery (1949), the mystery this time around exhibits more of the puzzle plotting acumen that Blyton displayed with the Find-Outers, with various aspects slowly introduced in the manner of clues that will come to take on new significance later. The key word here, however, is “slowly”, since events are really rather padded by multiple visits to the Fair which achieve very little and end up dragging this out to slightly tedious length. There are the trappings of a good detective novel in here somewhere — there’s even a floorplan at one point…! — but too much time spent with Snubby helping Old Ma make a stew or getting on the wrong side of owner Tonnerre and his Mr. Goon-alike proclamations (“You toad of a boy!”) left this reader a little bored during a second half which meanders when it really should begin to wrangle events into a more meaningful shape.

Interesting to reflect, too, that if you took Barney out of this second of the so-called Barney Mysteries, the book would probably get where it was going faster. The whole thing feels rather loose, and lacks any real detection in the FFO mould: while dealing with the elements which made the thefts so baffling, the resolution is achieved by Roger and Diana happening to be in the right place to see how things unfold than by any sort of reasoning, which is a real shame given how adroitly Blyton had turned her hand to meaningful detection with Fatty and the gang. Edited down and divested of a few of its less essential passages this would perhaps be more tolerable, but being made to wait for something which only pays vague lip service to the sort of novel it could easily be is, it must be said, a little vexing.

Barney and chums present, then, a mixed aspect once more, with clever ideas not deployed as effectively as their author has already achieved elsewhere. And, while my own expectations must inevitably play into the disappointment I feel coming away from this, it would be lovely to see these ingredients cooked up with the same skill applied to Fatty and pals. So I read on in hope…

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The Barney Mysteries by Enid Blyton