Having fared wonderfully with Enid Blyton’s Five Find-Outers (and Dog), and faring as I am less well with the first three so-called ‘R’ Mysteries I’ve read so far, I was intrigued to see mentioned online that one of the Secret Seven novels was more of a clue-based mystery than its brethren…and so to the appropriately(?)-named Secret Seven Mystery (1957) does my attention turn.

This ninth novel in the series being my first encounter with Barbara, Colin, George, Jack, Janet, Peter, and Pam, one surprising thing is how ill-suited the alliterative adjective attached advancedly above any amount of (pre-)adolescent adventurers is. They’re not very Secret, is what I’m saying. Why, in the very first chapter, one of their parents — and, look, I’ll do my best to keep these kids distinct, but they’re…not — is actively encouraging them to get involved in shenanigans:

“Listen — I’ll read you the piece,” said his father, and propped the paper up in front of him again. “Elizabeth Mary Wilhemina Sonning, after being accused of stealing money from the desk of her form-mistress, was found to be missing from her aunt’s home. She took nothing with her but the clothes she was wearing, and is in school uniform and school hat. It is stated that her parents are abroad, and that she has a brother who is at present away in France.”

Peter’s father looked up from the paper. “Now comes the bit that might interest you,” he said. “Elizabeth was seen on the evening of that day in Belling Village, and it is thought that she might be going to her grandmother, who lives not far off.”

And so, in great excitement, Janet sits down and writes a letter telling the other members of the Seven that a meeting is being called later the next day (it’s the school hols, of course; I didn’t need to tell you that). And, really, the only notable thing here is that in my 2009 edition pictured above the letter opens “Dear S.S. Member” as if those letters…didn’t have another, more ominous significance.

Anyhoo.

Jobs are divided up among them and Blyton not only makes that sense of youthful freedom appealing as always, she also still has a good sense of these kids as kids, even if their possible ages became increasingly difficult to pin down (anything from about 6 to 16 seems likely).

“Bags I don’t go [and see her grandmother],” said Pam, at once. “I wouldn’t know what to say. I should just stand there and look silly.”

“Well, you’d find that quite easy,” said Colin, and Pam scowled at him.

But, well, like the best of the Find-Outers, the leads followed up here — places to sleep, possible thefts, investigating local stables because the missing girl is known to be wild about horses — show intelligent reasoning, and it’s through a sensible and organised approach that indicators are found and move the plot forward. There’s the difficulty of young people just turning up and asking questions, which is again gotten around with the dexterity Blyton has already shown elsewhere, and there’s even a false trail or two laid by “Jack’s horrible sister Susie”. And, once more, some very intelligent reasoning is shown when two piece of information collected independently seem to contradict each other.

“Well — can you answer this question then, if that’s so,” said Peter, looking suddenly puzzled. “If Elizabeth is in London, waiting to fly to France, who is it who is taking pies and a rug from her grandmother’s house at night?”

There was a deep silence. Everyone looked at Peter, even Scamper.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Janet. “Well, of course, George and I didn’t know anything about the pies till you told us in your report, Peter. Blow! One of our reports is wrong somehow. If Elizabeth is hanging round her granny’s house at night, she can’t be going to fly to France!”

Scamper is the Inevitable Dog, by the way, and you’ll get no complaints from me where he is concerned.

What’s here is very thin as plots go — the, er, S.S. don’t solve the theft of which Elizabeth is accused, they merely find her in the locality (oh, spoilers?) — but, look, it moves at a good lick, shows some hilariously dated attitudes (only The Boys are allowed to go and watch the grandmother’s house at night, of course), and relies on a couple of principles which, if not exactly fair play detection, are at least sowing the seeds of interest in that direction. You’re certainly told things which take on a new significance once the solution is reached, and that’s really all I ask…or, well, it’s the very least I ask, let’s say.

Honestly, I enjoyed this, and was having fun with it long before a veeeeery borderline impossibility crops up, with food vanishing from said grandmother’s house when not just five young people but also two professional policemen are ranged around it looking out for Elizabeth.

“Queer, isn’t it? How could anyone have got in under our very eyes and ears — taken food — and got out again without being heard or seen going away? Well — thanks, Miss Wardle. Sorry to have been such a nuisance for nothing. How that girl — and it must be the girl — gets in and out like this beats me.”

The mystery won’t fool an adult reader — and there’s an uncomfortable sense of Middle Class Plenty in the scene where jumble is collected as an excuse to talk to Elizabeth’s grandmother and the kids find that they have, like, so much stuff they’ve never used and can easily give away — but it’s also not going to take you long to read, so you can’t really begrudge it too much. And as an example of light detection for (very) young readers this was certainly more fun than everything I’ve read about Barney & Chums so far. Are the other S.S. books like this, does anyone know? Because on this evidence I’d very happily read further.