5 Exciting plans

CHAPTER FIVE Exciting plans NEXT MORNING Janet went down to the shed by herself. Peter was brushing Scamper. He was well and truly brushed every single morning, so it was no wonder his coat shone so beautifully. 'Just open the shed and give it an airing,' ordered Peter. 'We shan't be using it today. There won't be any meeting yet.' Janet skipped down the path, humming. She took the key from its hiding-place– a little ledge beneath the roof of the shed– and slipped it into the lock. She opened the door. The shed smelt rather stuffy. She left the door open and went to open the little window too. When she turned round she saw Jack's

note on the floor. At first she thought it was an odd piece of waste paper, and she picked it up and crumpled it, meaning to throw it away. Then she caught sight of a word on the outside of the folded paper. 'URGENT. VERY IMPORTANT INDEED.' She was astonished. She opened the paper out and glanced down it. Her mouth fell open in amazement. She raced out of the shed at top speed, yelling for Peter. 'Peter! PETER! Where are you? Something's happened, quick!' Her mother heard her and called to her. 'Janet, Janet, what's the matter, dear? What's happened?' 'Oh– nothing, Mummy,' called back Janet, suddenly remembering that this was Secret Society business. 'Well, why are you screeching for Peter like

that?' said her mother. 'You made me jump.' Janet flew up the stairs to where Peter was still brushing Scamper. 'Peter! Didn't you hear me calling? I tell you, something's happened!' 'What is it?' asked Peter, surprised. 'Look– I found this paper when I went to the shed this morning,' said Janet, and she gave him Jack's note. 'It's marked "Urgent. Very Important Indeed". Look what it says inside.' Peter read out loud what Jack had written: Peter, call a meeting of the Secret Seven at once. Very important Mystery to solve. It happened to me last night about half-past nine. Get the others together at ten if you can. I'll be there. Jack

'What on earth does he mean?' said Peter, in wonder. 'Something happened to him last night? Well, why is it such a mystery then? I expect he's exaggerating.' 'He's not, he's not. I'm sure he's not,' cried Janet, dancing from one foot to another in her excitement. 'Jack doesn't exaggerate, you know he doesn't. Shall I go and tell the others to come at ten if they can? Peter, it's exciting. It's a mystery!' 'You wait and see what the mystery is before you get all worked up,' said Peter, who,

however, was beginning to feel rather thrilled himself. 'I'll go and tell Colin and George– you can tell the girls.' Janet sped off in one direction and Peter in another. How lovely to have to call a meeting already– and about something so exciting too. It was about half-past nine when the two came back. Everyone had promised to come. They were all very anxious to know what Jack had got to say. 'Remember your badges,' Janet said to the two girls. 'You won't be admitted to an important meeting like this unless you know the password and have your badge.' Everyone turned up early, eager to hear the news. Everyone remembered the password, too. 'Weekdays!' and the door was opened and shut. 'Weekdays,' and once more the door was opened and shut. Member after member

passed in, wearing the badge and murmuring the password. Both Colin and George had their badges this morning. George had found his and Colin's mother had already made him one. Jack was the last of all to arrive, which was most annoying because everyone was dying to hear what he had to say. But he came at last. 'Weekdays,' said his voice softly, outside the shed door. It opened and he went in. Everybody looked at him expectantly. 'We got your note, and warned all the members to attend this meeting,' said Peter. 'What's up, Jack? Is it really important?' 'Well, you listen and see,' said Jack, and he sat down on the box left empty for him. 'It happened last night.' He began to tell his story– how he had missed his badge and felt certain he had dropped it in the field where the snowmen were– how he had slipped out with his torch