The house remained very quiet. Did anyone live here? Maybe visitors came and looked around secretly, running up and down the stairs,in and out of rooms, too fast to be seen. But what about the chocolate cake and the hot tea? What about all the clothes and shoes she had seen lying around? Who put those there?

It was time to search for clues and she decided to start outside. She had heard somewhere that people who write stories for newspapers occasionally rummage about in bins,looking for bits and pieces,so that is where she started.

She ran down the stairs from the garden. More stairs! Goodness me!

By the back door was a black bin. In went her wooden arms and they rummaged about.

 Scrabbling around she found vegetable peelings wrapped in newspaper, rattling tins and empty bottles. However knowing what people eat and drink is one thing,but knowing what they think and feel is quite another. She decided to go back upstairs to search through the books, maybe read a few.Why there might even be a diary! That would be interesting!

But this time she went in a different way although she knew she shouldn’t: she stepped smartly through the front door, and then she turned right.

She had forgotten all about the letter. 

 Being a detective in a sitting room was going to be much more fun!