Julian was glad to see that Tinker looked bright and cheerful. He was afraid that the boy might have sulked, and that would have spoilt things for the others.

“Hi!” said Tinker. “I’ve got news!” And he proceeded to tell the others all about the happenings of the night before, ending up with his father solemnly going off to hide his morning newspapers under the coal at the back of the coal-cellar, under the impression that he was hiding the rest of his precious papers.

“But why on earth didn’t you tell him he had left his valuable papers behind and hidden his newspapers?” asked George.

“Because if he knew that, he’d go and hide the precious papers somewhere, and forget where he’d put them — and they might be lost for ever!” said Tinker.

“Well, what are you going to do with them?” asked Dick.

“I’ve had rather a brain-wave,” said Tinker, as modestly as he could. “Er — I thought that we’d hide them away ourselves, where nobody could possibly find them.”

“And where is this wonderful hiding-place?” asked Dick.

“On Kirrin Island!” said Tinker, triumphantly. “Who’d think of looking there? And as we shall all know the hiding-place, we can’t possibly forget it. The papers will be absolutely safe. Dad can get on with the rest of his ideas without worrying about anything.”

“Have you told him all this?” asked Julian.

“Well, no,” said Tinker. “Jenny thought we’d better just keep it to ourselves. She’s pretty certain the thieves will try their hand at breaking in to get the rest of the papers, though.”

“Ha! Well, I vote we scribble some papers ourselves,” said Dick. “Complete with wonderful diagrams, and all kinds of peculiar figurings and numberings. I feel I could do that very well! And we’d leave them up in the tower room for the thieves to take — they’d think they were the ones they’d missed!”

Everyone chuckled. “Ass!” said Julian. “Still — it’s not a bad idea to leave something behind for the thieves that isn’t worth a moment’s look — and hide the genuine figures where they’d never dream of finding them — on Kirrin Island!”

“When shall we go?” asked George. “It’s ages since I’ve visited my island — and will you believe it, last time I rowed over, trippers had been there and left their beastly mess everywhere! Paper bags, broken glass, lettuce leaves, orange peel, ugh!”

“Why DO people do that?” asked Anne. “They’d hate to have to sit in the midst of other people’s mess — so why in the world can’t they clear up their own?”

“Oh, they’re probably just like that in their own homes,” said Dick. “All mess and litter — and yet it takes so little time to clear up a picnic mess, and leave the place decent for the next comers.”

“What did you do with all the mess left on Kirrin Island?” asked Julian.