"I don't expect there would be time," said Fatty. "Look around for some other clues — quick."
The children began to hunt around. Bets put her nose to the cage and sniffed hard.
"There's the same smell as I smelt last time," she said.
Fatty pressed his nose to the wire and sniffed. "Yes, it's turps," he said, puzzled. "Golly! this is very queer. Everything seems to be repeating itself, doesn't it — the whistle on the floor — the smell of turps. I do think this is the strangest mystery I've ever come across."
"Fatty, I suppose this isn't a clue, is it?" said Daisy, pointing to a little round blob of paint on a stone beside the path. Fatty looked at it.
"Shouldn't think so," he said. He picked up the stone and looked at the blob of paint.
"Luke paints our whistles," he said. "Probably this is a drop of paint he spilt. Have you ever painted our whistles here, Luke?"
"No, never," said Luke at once. "I always do them in the shed where the pots of paint are kept. Anyway, I don't use that light-brown colour. I always use bright colours — red and blue and green."
"It can't be a clue," said Fatty. But he put the stone into his pocket in case.
Just then there came the sound of footsteps, and down the path came Lady Candling, Miss Trimble, Tupping, and Miss Harmer. Tupping looked important. The others looked upset, and Miss Trimble could not keep her glasses on for more than two seconds at a time.