The Secret Adversary book

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THE SECRET ADVERSARY
AGATHA CHRISTIE
TO ALL THOSE WHO LEAD MONOTONOUS LIVES IN THE HOPE
THAT THEY MAY EXPERIENCE AT SECOND HAND THE
DELIGHTS AND DANGERS OF ADVENTURE
CONTENTS
Prologue I The Young Adventurers, Ltd. II Mr. Whittington's Offer III A
Set Back IV Who Is Jane Finn? V Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer VI A Plan of
Campaign VII The House in Soho VIII The Adventures of Tommy IX
Tuppence Enters Domestic Service X Enter Sir James Peel Edgerton XI
Julius Tells a Story XII A Friend in Need XIII The Vigil XIV A
Consultation XV Tuppence Receives a Proposal XVI Further Adventures
of Tommy XVII Annette XVIII The Telegram XIX Jane Finn XX Too Late
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 8
XXI Tommy Makes a Discovery XXII In Downing Street XXIII A Race
Against Time XXIV Julius Takes a Hand XXV Jane's Story XXVI Mr.
Brown XXVII A Supper Party at the Savoy XXVIII And After
PROLOGUE
IT was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915. The Lusitania had been
struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking rapidly, while the
boats were being launched with all possible speed. The women and
children were being lined up awaiting their turn. Some still clung
desperately to husbands and fathers; others clutched their children closely
to their breasts. One girl stood alone, slightly apart from the rest. She was
quite young, not more than eighteen. She did not seem afraid, and her
grave, steadfast eyes looked straight ahead.
"I beg your pardon."
A man's voice beside her made her start and turn. She had noticed the
speaker more than once amongst the first−class passengers. There had been
a hint of mystery about him which had appealed to her imagination. He
spoke to no one. If anyone spoke to him he was quick to rebuff the
overture. Also he had a nervous way of looking over his shoulder with a
swift, suspicious glance.
She noticed now that he was greatly agitated. There were beads of
perspiration on his brow. He was evidently in a state of overmastering fear.
And yet he did not strike her as the kind of man who would be afraid to
meet death!
"Yes?" Her grave eyes met his inquiringly.
He stood looking at her with a kind of desperate irresolution.
"It must be!" he muttered to himself. "Yes−−it is the only way." Then aloud
he said abruptly: "You are an American?"
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 9
"Yes."
"A patriotic one?"
The girl flushed.
"I guess you've no right to ask such a thing! Of course I am!"
"Don't be offended. You wouldn't be if you knew how much there was at
stake. But I've got to trust some one−−and it must be a woman."
"Why?"
"Because of 'women and children first.' " He looked round and lowered his
voice. "I'm carrying papers−−vitally important papers. They may make all
the difference to the Allies in the war. You understand? These papers have
GOT to be saved! They've more chance with you than with me. Will you
take them?"
The girl held out her hand.
"Wait−−I must warn you. There may be a risk−−if I've been followed. I
don't think I have, but one never knows. If so, there will be danger. Have
you the nerve to go through with it?"
The girl smiled.
"I'll go through with it all right. And I'm real proud to be chosen! What am
I to do with them afterwards?"
"Watch the newspapers! I'll advertise in the personal column of the Times,
beginning 'Shipmate.' At the end of three days if there's nothing−−well,
you'll know I'm down and out. Then take the packet to the American
Embassy, and deliver it into the Ambassador's own hands. Is that clear?"
"Quite clear."
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 10
"Then be ready−−I'm going to say good−bye." He took her hand in his.
"Good−bye. Good luck to you," he said in a louder tone.
Her hand closed on the oilskin packet that had lain in his palm.
The Lusitania settled with a more decided list to starboard. In answer to a
quick command, the girl went forward to take her place in the boat.
CHAPTER I
THE YOUNG ADVENTURERS, LTD.
"TOMMY, old thing!"
"Tuppence, old bean!"
The two young people greeted each other affectionately, and momentarily
blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. The adjective "old" was
misleading. Their united ages would certainly not have totalled forty−five.
"Not seen you for simply centuries," continued the young man. "Where are
you off to? Come and chew a bun with me. We're getting a bit unpopular
here−−blocking the gangway as it were. Let's get out of it."
The girl assenting, they started walking down Dover Street towards
Piccadilly.
"Now then," said Tommy, "where shall we go?"
The very faint anxiety which underlay his tone did not escape the astute
ears of Miss Prudence Cowley, known to her intimate friends for some
mysterious reason as "Tuppence." She pounced at once.
CHAPTER I 11
"Tommy, you're stony!"
"Not a bit of it," declared Tommy unconvincingly. "Rolling in cash."
"You always were a shocking liar," said Tuppence severely, "though you
did once persuade Sister Greenbank that the doctor had ordered you beer as
a tonic, but forgotten to write it on the chart. Do you remember?"
Tommy chuckled.
"I should think I did! Wasn't the old cat in a rage when she found out? Not
that she was a bad sort really, old Mother Greenbank! Good old
hospital−−demobbed like everything else, I suppose?"
Tuppence sighed.
"Yes. You too?"
Tommy nodded.
"Two months ago."
"Gratuity?" hinted Tuppence.
"Spent."
"Oh, Tommy!"
"No, old thing, not in riotous dissipation. No such luck! The cost of
living−−ordinary plain, or garden living nowadays is, I assure you, if you
do not know−−−−"
"My dear child," interrupted Tuppence, "there is nothing I do NOT know
about the cost of living. Here we are at Lyons', and we will each of us pay
for our own. That's it!" And Tuppence led the way upstairs.
CHAPTER I 12
The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table, catching
odds and ends of conversation as they did so.
"And−−do you know, she sat down and CRIED when I told her she couldn't
have the flat after all." "It was simply a BARGAIN, my dear! Just like the
one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris−−−−"
"Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy. "I passed two
Johnnies in the street to−day talking about some one called Jane Finn. Did
you ever hear such a name?"
But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels, and
Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats.
Tommy ordered tea and buns. Tuppence ordered tea and buttered toast.
"And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely.
Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock of
exquisitely slicked−back red hair. His face was pleasantly
ugly−−nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a
sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the end of its
tether.
They were an essentially modern−looking couple as they sat there.
Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and charm in the
elfin lines of her little face, with its determined chin and large, wide−apart
grey eyes that looked mistily out from under straight, black brows. She
wore a small bright green toque over her black bobbed hair, and her
extremely short and rather shabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly
dainty ankles. Her appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness.
The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit of
meditation, poured it out.
CHAPTER I 13
"Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get up−to−date.
Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in hospital in 1916."
"Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered toast. "Abridged
biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth daughter of Archdeacon Cowley
of Little Missendell, Suffolk. Miss Cowley left the delights (and
drudgeries) of her home life early in the war and came up to London, where
she entered an officers' hospital. First month: Washed up six hundred and
forty−eight plates every day. Second month: Promoted to drying aforesaid
plates. Third month: Promoted to peeling potatoes. Fourth month:
Promoted to cutting bread and butter. Fifth month: Promoted one floor up
to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail. Sixth month: Promoted to waiting
at table. Seventh month: Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking
that am promoted to waiting on the Sisters! Eighth month: Slight check in
career. Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row! Wardmaid
clearly to blame! Inattention in such important matters cannot be too highly
censured. Mop and pail again! How are the mighty fallen! Ninth month:
Promoted to sweeping out wards, where I found a friend of my childhood
in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford (bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for
five long years. The meeting was affecting! Tenth month: Reproved by
matron for visiting the pictures in company with one of the patients,
namely: the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford. Eleventh and
twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed with entire success. At the end
of the year left hospital in a blaze of glory. After that, the talented Miss
Cowley drove successively a trade delivery van, a motor−lorry and a
general!" The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!"
"What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy. "Perfectly sickening the way
those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy, and from the
Savoy to the War Office!"
"I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence. "To resume, that was
in a way the apex of my career. I next entered a Government office. We had
several very enjoyable tea parties. I had intended to become a land girl, a
postwoman, and a bus conductress by way of rounding off my career−−but
the Armistice intervened! I clung to the office with the true limpet touch for
CHAPTER I 14
many long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since then I've been
looking for a job. Now then−−your turn."
"There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully, "and a
great deal less variety. I went out to France again, as you know. Then they
sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got wounded for the second time, and went
into hospital out there. Then I got stuck in Egypt till the Armistice
happened, kicked my heels there some time longer, and, as I told you,
finally got demobbed. And, for ten long, weary months I've been job
hunting! There aren't any jobs! And, if there were, they wouldn't give 'em
to me. What good am I? What do I know about business? Nothing."
Tuppence nodded gloomily.
"What about the colonies?" she suggested.
Tommy shook his head.
"I shouldn't like the colonies−−and I'm perfectly certain they wouldn't like
me!"
"Rich relations?"
Again Tommy shook his head.
"Oh, Tommy, not even a great−aunt?"
"I've got an old uncle who's more or less rolling, but he's no good."
"Why not?"
"Wanted to adopt me once. I refused."
"I think I remember hearing about it," said Tuppence slowly. "You refused
because of your mother−−−−"
CHAPTER I 15
Tommy flushed.
"Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater. As you know, I was all
she had. Old boy hated her−−wanted to get me away from her. Just a bit of
spite."
"Your mother's dead, isn't she?" said Tuppence gently.
Tommy nodded.
Tuppence's large grey eyes looked misty.
"You're a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it."
"Rot!" said Tommy hastily. "Well, that's my position. I'm just about
desperate."
"So am I! I've hung out as long as I could. I've touted round. I've answered
advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessed thing. I've screwed and
saved and pinched! But it's no good. I shall have to go home!"
"Don't you want to?"
"Of course I don't want to! What's the good of being sentimental? Father's a
dear−−I'm awfully fond of him−−but you've no idea how I worry him! He
has that delightful early Victorian view that short skirts and smoking are
immoral. You can imagine what a thorn in the flesh I am to him! He just
heaved a sigh of relief when the war took me off. You see, there are seven
of us at home. It's awful! All housework and mothers' meetings! I have
always been the changeling. I don't want to go back, but−−oh, Tommy,
what else is there to do?"
Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and then Tuppence
burst out:
CHAPTER I 16
"Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon and night! I
dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!"
"Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling.
"I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too," continued
Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to marry it, or to make it.
First is ruled out. I haven't got any rich elderly relatives. Any relatives I
have are in homes for decayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over
crossings, and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn
out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has ever asked me my
name−−and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' "
There was a pause.
"Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I made up
my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any thinking girl
would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused. "Come now, you can't
say I'm sentimental," she added sharply.
"Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think of
sentiment in connection with you."
"That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you mean it all
right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing−−but I never meet any rich
men! All the boys I know are about as hard up as I am."
"What about the general?" inquired Tommy.
"I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained Tuppence.
"No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl."
"I'm like you. I don't know any."
"That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if I see a man
in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up to him and say: 'Look here,
CHAPTER I 17
you're rich. I'd like to know you.' "
"Do you suggest that I should do that to a similarly garbed female?"
"Don't be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up her handkerchief, or
something like that. If she thinks you want to know her she's flattered, and
will manage it for you somehow."
"You overrate my manly charms," murmured Tommy.
"On the other hand," proceeded Tuppence, "my millionaire would probably
run for his life! No−−marriage is fraught with difficulties. Remains−−to
MAKE money!"
"We've tried that, and failed," Tommy reminded her.
"We've tried all the orthodox ways, yes. But suppose we try the
unorthodox. Tommy, let's be adventurers!"
"Certainly," replied Tommy cheerfully. "How do we begin?"
"That's the difficulty. If we could make ourselves known, people might hire
us to commit crimes for them."
"Delightful," commented Tommy. "Especially coming from a clergyman's
daughter!"
"The moral guilt," Tuppence pointed out, "would be theirs−−not mine. You
must admit that there's a difference between stealing a diamond necklace
for yourself and being hired to steal it."
"There wouldn't be the least difference if you were caught!"
"Perhaps not. But I shouldn't be caught. I'm so clever."
"Modesty always was your besetting sin," remarked Tommy.
CHAPTER I 18
"Don't rag. Look here, Tommy, shall we really? Shall we form a business
partnership?"
"Form a company for the stealing of diamond necklaces?"
"That was only an illustration. Let's have a−−what do you call it in
book−keeping?"
"Don't know. Never did any."
"I have−−but I always got mixed up, and used to put credit entries on the
debit side, and vice versa−−so they fired me out. Oh, I know−−a joint
venture! It struck me as such a romantic phrase to come across in the
middle of musty old figures. It's got an Elizabethan flavour about
it−−makes one think of galleons and doubloons. A joint venture!"
"Trading under the name of the Young Adventurers, Ltd.? Is that your idea,
Tuppence?"
"It's all very well to laugh, but I feel there might be something in it."
"How do you propose to get in touch with your would−be employers?"
"Advertisement," replied Tuppence promptly. "Have you got a bit of paper
and a pencil? Men usually seem to have. Just like we have hairpins and
powder−puffs."
Tommy handed over a rather shabby green notebook, and Tuppence began
writing busily.
"Shall we begin: 'Young officer, twice wounded in the war−−' "
"Certainly not."
"Oh, very well, my dear boy. But I can assure you that that sort of thing
might touch the heart of an elderly spinster, and she might adopt you, and
CHAPTER I 19
then there would be no need for you to be a young adventurer at all."
"I don't want to be adopted."
"I forgot you had a prejudice against it. I was only ragging you! The papers
are full up to the brim with that type of thing. Now listen−−how's this?
'Two young adventurers for hire. Willing to do anything, go anywhere. Pay
must be good.' (We might as well make that clear from the start.) Then we
might add: 'No reasonable offer refused'−−like flats and furniture."
"I should think any offer we get in answer to that would be a pretty
UNreasonable one!"
"Tommy! You're a genius! That's ever so much more chic. 'No
unreasonable offer refused−−if pay is good.' How's that?"
"I shouldn't mention pay again. It looks rather eager."
"It couldn't look as eager as I feel! But perhaps you are right. Now I'll read
it straight through. 'Two young adventurers for hire. Willing to do anything,
go anywhere. Pay must be good. No unreasonable offer refused.' How
would that strike you if you read it?"
"It would strike me as either being a hoax, or else written by a lunatic."
"It's not half so insane as a thing I read this morning beginning 'Petunia' and
signed 'Best Boy.' " She tore out the leaf and handed it to Tommy. "There
you are. Times, I think. Reply to Box so−and−so. I expect it will be about
five shillings. Here's half a crown for my share."
Tommy was holding the paper thoughtfully. His faced burned a deeper red.
"Shall we really try it?" he said at last. "Shall we, Tuppence? Just for the
fun of the thing?"
CHAPTER I 20
"Tommy, you're a sport! I knew you would be! Let's drink to success." She
poured some cold dregs of tea into the two cups.
"Here's to our joint venture, and may it prosper!"
"The Young Adventurers, Ltd.!" responded Tommy.
They put down the cups and laughed rather uncertainly. Tuppence rose.
"I must return to my palatial suite at the hostel."
"Perhaps it is time I strolled round to the Ritz," agreed Tommy with a grin.
"Where shall we meet? And when?"
"Twelve o'clock to−morrow. Piccadilly Tube station. Will that suit you?"
"My time is my own," replied Mr. Beresford magnificently.
"So long, then."
"Good−bye, old thing."
The two young people went off in opposite directions. Tuppence's hostel
was situated in what was charitably called Southern Belgravia. For reasons
of economy she did not take a bus.
She was half−way across St. James's Park, when a man's voice behind her
made her start.
"Excuse me," it said. "But may I speak to you for a moment?"
CHAPTER I 21
CHAPTER II
MR. WHITTINGTON'S OFFER
TUPPENCE turned sharply, but the words hovering on the tip of her tongue
remained unspoken, for the man's appearance and manner did not bear out
her first and most natural assumption. She hesitated. As if he read her
thoughts, the man said quickly:
"I can assure you I mean no disrespect."
Tuppence believed him. Although she disliked and distrusted him
instinctively, she was inclined to acquit him of the particular motive which
she had at first attributed to him. She looked him up and down. He was a
big man, clean shaven, with a heavy jowl. His eyes were small and
cunning, and shifted their glance under her direct gaze.
"Well, what is it?" she asked.
The man smiled.
"I happened to overhear part of your conversation with the young
gentleman in Lyons'."
"Well−−what of it?"
"Nothing−−except that I think I may be of some use to you."
Another inference forced itself into Tuppence's mind:
"You followed me here?"
"I took that liberty."
"And in what way do you think you could be of use to me?"
CHAPTER II 22
The man took a card from his pocket and handed it to her with a bow.
Tuppence took it and scrutinized it carefully. It bore the inscription, "Mr.
Edward Whittington." Below the name were the words "Esthonia
Glassware Co.," and the address of a city office. Mr. Whittington spoke
again:
"If you will call upon me to−morrow morning at eleven o'clock, I will lay
the details of my proposition before you."
"At eleven o'clock?" said Tuppence doubtfully.
"At eleven o'clock."
Tuppence made up her mind.
"Very well. I'll be there."
"Thank you. Good evening."
He raised his hat with a flourish, and walked away. Tuppence remained for
some minutes gazing after him. Then she gave a curious movement of her
shoulders, rather as a terrier shakes himself.
"The adventures have begun," she murmured to herself. "What does he
want me to do, I wonder? There's something about you, Mr. Whittington,
that I don't like at all. But, on the other hand, I'm not the least bit afraid of
you. And as I've said before, and shall doubtless say again, little Tuppence
can look after herself, thank you!"
And with a short, sharp nod of her head she walked briskly onward. As a
result of further meditations, however, she turned aside from the direct
route and entered a post office. There she pondered for some moments, a
telegraph form in her hand. The thought of a possible five shillings spent
unnecessarily spurred her to action, and she decided to risk the waste of
ninepence.
CHAPTER II 23
Disdaining the spiky pen and thick, black treacle which a beneficent
Government had provided, Tuppence drew out Tommy's pencil which she
had retained and wrote rapidly: "Don't put in advertisement. Will explain
to−morrow." She addressed it to Tommy at his club, from which in one
short month he would have to resign, unless a kindly fortune permitted him
to renew his subscription.
"It may catch him," she murmured. "Anyway, it's worth trying."
After handing it over the counter she set out briskly for home, stopping at a
baker's to buy three penny−worth of new buns.
Later, in her tiny cubicle at the top of the house she munched buns and
reflected on the future. What was the Esthonia Glassware Co., and what
earthly need could it have for her services? A pleasurable thrill of
excitement made Tuppence tingle. At any rate, the country vicarage had
retreated into the background again. The morrow held possibilities.
It was a long time before Tuppence went to sleep that night, and, when at
length she did, she dreamed that Mr. Whittington had set her to washing up
a pile of Esthonia Glassware, which bore an unaccountable resemblance to
hospital plates!
It wanted some five minutes to eleven when Tuppence reached the block of
buildings in which the offices of the Esthonia Glassware Co. were situated.
To arrive before the time would look over−eager. So Tuppence decided to
walk to the end of the street and back again. She did so. On the stroke of
eleven she plunged into the recesses of the building. The Esthonia
Glassware Co. was on the top floor. There was a lift, but Tuppence chose to
walk up.
Slightly out of breath, she came to a halt outside the ground glass door with
the legend painted across it "Esthonia Glassware Co."
Tuppence knocked. In response to a voice from within, she turned the
handle and walked into a small rather dirty outer office.
CHAPTER II 24
A middle−aged clerk got down from a high stool at a desk near the window
and came towards her inquiringly.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Whittington," said Tuppence.
"Will you come this way, please." He crossed to a partition door with
"Private" on it, knocked, then opened the door and stood aside to let her
pass in.
Mr. Whittington was seated behind a large desk covered with papers.
Tuppence felt her previous judgment confirmed. There was something
wrong about Mr. Whittington. The combination of his sleek prosperity and
his shifty eye was not attractive.
He looked up and nodded.
"So you've turned up all right? That's good. Sit down, will you?"
Tuppence sat down on the chair facing him. She looked particularly small
and demure this morning. She sat there meekly with downcast eyes whilst
Mr. Whittington sorted and rustled amongst his papers. Finally he pushed
them away, and leaned over the desk.
"Now, my dear young lady, let us come to business." His large face
broadened into a smile. "You want work? Well, I have work to offer you.
What should you say now to L100 down, and all expenses paid?" Mr.
Whittington leaned back in his chair, and thrust his thumbs into the
arm−holes of his waistcoat.
Tuppence eyed him warily.
"And the nature of the work?" she demanded.
"Nominal−−purely nominal. A pleasant trip, that is all."
"Where to?"
CHAPTER II 25
Mr. Whittington smiled again.
"Paris."
"Oh!" said Tuppence thoughtfully. To herself she said: "Of course, if father
heard that he would have a fit! But somehow I don't see Mr. Whittington in
the role of the gay deceiver."
"Yes," continued Whittington. "What could be more delightful? To put the
clock back a few years−−a very few, I am sure−−and re−enter one of those
charming pensionnats de jeunes filles with which Paris abounds−−−−"
Tuppence interrupted him.
"A pensionnat?"
"Exactly. Madame Colombier's in the Avenue de Neuilly."
Tuppence knew the name well. Nothing could have been more select. She
had had several American friends there. She was more than ever puzzled.
"You want me to go to Madame Colombier's? For how long?"
"That depends. Possibly three months."
"And that is all? There are no other conditions?"
"None whatever. You would, of course, go in the character of my ward, and
you would hold no communication with your friends. I should have to
request absolute secrecy for the time being. By the way, you are English,
are you not?"
"Yes."
"Yet you speak with a slight American accent?"
CHAPTER II 26
"My great pal in hospital was a little American girl. I dare say I picked it up
from her. I can soon get out of it again."
"On the contrary, it might be simpler for you to pass as an American.
Details about your past life in England might be more difficult to sustain.
Yes, I think that would be decidedly better. Then−−−−"
"One moment, Mr. Whittington! You seem to be taking my consent for
granted."
Whittington looked surprised.
"Surely you are not thinking of refusing? I can assure you that Madame
Colombier's is a most high−class and orthodox establishment. And the
terms are most liberal."
"Exactly," said Tuppence. "That's just it. The terms are almost too liberal,
Mr. Whittington. I cannot see any way in which I can be worth that amount
of money to you."
"No?" said Whittington softly. "Well, I will tell you. I could doubtless
obtain some one else for very much less. What I am willing to pay for is a
young lady with sufficient intelligence and presence of mind to sustain her
part well, and also one who will have sufficient discretion not to ask too
many questions."
Tuppence smiled a little. She felt that Whittington had scored.
"There's another thing. So far there has been no mention of Mr. Beresford.
Where does he come in?"
"Mr. Beresford?"
"My partner," said Tuppence with dignity. "You saw us together
yesterday."
CHAPTER II 27
"Ah, yes. But I'm afraid we shan't require his services."
"Then it's off!" Tuppence rose. "It's both or neither. Sorry−−but that's how
it is. Good morning, Mr. Whittington."
"Wait a minute. Let us see if something can't be managed. Sit down again,
Miss−−−−" He paused interrogatively.
Tuppence's conscience gave her a passing twinge as she remembered the
archdeacon. She seized hurriedly on the first name that came into her head.
"Jane Finn," she said hastily; and then paused open−mouthed at the effect
of those two simple words.
All the geniality had faded out of Whittington's face. It was purple with
rage, and the veins stood out on the forehead. And behind it all there lurked
a sort of incredulous dismay. He leaned forward and hissed savagely:
"So that's your little game, is it?"
Tuppence, though utterly taken aback, nevertheless kept her head. She had
not the faintest comprehension of his meaning, but she was naturally
quick−witted, and felt it imperative to "keep her end up" as she phrased it.
Whittington went on:
"Been playing with me, have you, all the time, like a cat and mouse? Knew
all the time what I wanted you for, but kept up the comedy. Is that it, eh?"
He was cooling down. The red colour was ebbing out of his face. He eyed
her keenly. "Who's been blabbing? Rita?"
Tuppence shook her head. She was doubtful as to how long she could
sustain this illusion, but she realized the importance of not dragging an
unknown Rita into it.
"No," she replied with perfect truth. "Rita knows nothing about me."
CHAPTER II 28
His eyes still bored into her like gimlets.
"How much do you know?" he shot out.
"Very little indeed," answered Tuppence, and was pleased to note that
Whittington's uneasiness was augmented instead of allayed. To have
boasted that she knew a lot might have raised doubts in his mind.
"Anyway," snarled Whittington, "you knew enough to come in here and
plump out that name."
"It might be my own name," Tuppence pointed out.
"It's likely, isn't it, then there would be two girls with a name like that?"
"Or I might just have hit upon it by chance," continued Tuppence,
intoxicated with the success of truthfulness.
Mr. Whittington brought his fist down upon the desk with a bang.
"Quit fooling! How much do you know? And how much do you want?"
The last five words took Tuppence's fancy mightily, especially after a
meagre breakfast and a supper of buns the night before. Her present part
was of the adventuress rather than the adventurous order, but she did not
deny its possibilities. She sat up and smiled with the air of one who has the
situation thoroughly well in hand.
"My dear Mr. Whittington," she said, "let us by all means lay our cards
upon the table. And pray do not be so angry. You heard me say yesterday
that I proposed to live by my wits. It seems to me that I have now proved I
have some wits to live by! I admit I have knowledge of a certain name, but
perhaps my knowledge ends there."
"Yes−−and perhaps it doesn't," snarled Whittington.
CHAPTER II 29
"You insist on misjudging me," said Tuppence, and sighed gently.
"As I said once before," said Whittington angrily, "quit fooling, and come
to the point. You can't play the innocent with me. You know a great deal
more than you're willing to admit."
Tuppence paused a moment to admire her own ingenuity, and then said
softly:
"I shouldn't like to contradict you, Mr. Whittington."
"So we come to the usual question−−how much?"
Tuppence was in a dilemma. So far she had fooled Whittington with
complete success, but to mention a palpably impossible sum might awaken
his suspicions. An idea flashed across her brain.
"Suppose we say a little something down, and a fuller discussion of the
matter later?"
Whittington gave her an ugly glance.
"Blackmail, eh?"
Tuppence smiled sweetly.
"Oh no! Shall we say payment of services in advance?"
Whittington grunted.
"You see," explained Tuppence still sweetly, "I'm so very fond of money!"
"You're about the limit, that's what you are," growled Whittington, with a
sort of unwilling admiration. "You took me in all right. Thought you were
quite a meek little kid with just enough brains for my purpose."
CHAPTER II 30
"Life," moralized Tuppence, "is full of surprises."
"All the same," continued Whittington, "some one's been talking. You say
it isn't Rita. Was it−−−−? Oh, come in."
The clerk followed his discreet knock into the room, and laid a paper at his
master's elbow.
"Telephone message just come for you, sir."
Whittington snatched it up and read it. A frown gathered on his brow.
"That'll do, Brown. You can go."
The clerk withdrew, closing the door behind him. Whittington turned to
Tuppence.
"Come to−morrow at the same time. I'm busy now. Here's fifty to go on
with."
He rapidly sorted out some notes, and pushed them across the table to
Tuppence, then stood up, obviously impatient for her to go.
The girl counted the notes in a businesslike manner, secured them in her
handbag, and rose.
"Good morning, Mr. Whittington," she said politely. "At least, au revoir, I
should say."
"Exactly. Au revoir!" Whittington looked almost genial again, a reversion
that aroused in Tuppence a faint misgiving. "Au revoir, my clever and
charming young lady."
Tuppence sped lightly down the stairs. A wild elation possessed her. A
neighbouring clock showed the time to be five minutes to twelve.
CHAPTER II 31
"Let's give Tommy a surprise!" murmured Tuppence, and hailed a taxi.
The cab drew up outside the tube station. Tommy was just within the
entrance. His eyes opened to their fullest extent as he hurried forward to
assist Tuppence to alight. She smiled at him affectionately, and remarked in
a slightly affected voice:
"Pay the thing, will you, old bean? I've got nothing smaller than a
five−pound note!"
CHAPTER III
A SET BACK
THE moment was not quite so triumphant as it ought to have been. To
begin with, the resources of Tommy's pockets were somewhat limited. In
the end the fare was managed, the lady recollecting a plebeian twopence,
and the driver, still holding the varied assortment of coins in his hand, was
prevailed upon to move on, which he did after one last hoarse demand as to
what the gentleman thought he was giving him?
"I think you've given him too much, Tommy," said Tuppence innocently. "I
fancy he wants to give some of it back."
It was possibly this remark which induced the driver to move away.
"Well," said Mr. Beresford, at length able to relieve his feelings, "what
the−−dickens, did you want to take a taxi for?"
"I was afraid I might be late and keep you waiting," said Tuppence gently.
CHAPTER III 32
"Afraid−−you−−might−−be−−late! Oh, Lord, I give it up!" said Mr.
Beresford.
"And really and truly," continued Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide, "I
haven't got anything smaller than a five−pound note."
"You did that part of it very well, old bean, but all the same the fellow
wasn't taken in−−not for a moment!"
"No," said Tuppence thoughtfully, "he didn't believe it. That's the curious
part about speaking the truth. No one does believe it. I found that out this
morning. Now let's go to lunch. How about the Savoy?"
Tommy grinned.
"How about the Ritz?"
"On second thoughts, I prefer the Piccadilly. It's nearer. We shan't have to
take another taxi. Come along."
"Is this a new brand of humour? Or is your brain really unhinged?" inquired
Tommy.
"Your last supposition is the correct one. I have come into money, and the
shock has been too much for me! For that particular form of mental trouble
an eminent physician recommends unlimited Hors d'oeuvre, Lobster a
l'americane, Chicken Newberg, and Peche Melba! Let's go and get them!"
"Tuppence, old girl, what has really come over you?"
"Oh, unbelieving one!" Tuppence wrenched open her bag. "Look here, and
here, and here!"
"Great Jehosaphat! My dear girl, don't wave Fishers aloft like that!"
CHAPTER III 33
"They're not Fishers. They're five times better than Fishers, and this one's
ten times better!"
Tommy groaned.
"I must have been drinking unawares! Am I dreaming, Tuppence, or do I
really behold a large quantity of five−pound notes being waved about in a
dangerous fashion?"
"Even so, O King! Now, will you come and have lunch?"
"I'll come anywhere. But what have you been doing? Holding up a bank?"
"All in good time. What an awful place Piccadilly Circus is. There's a huge
bus bearing down on us. It would be too terrible if they killed the
five−pound notes!"
"Grill room?" inquired Tommy, as they reached the opposite pavement in
safety.
"The other's more expensive," demurred Tuppence.
"That's mere wicked wanton extravagance. Come on below."
"Are you sure I can get all the things I want there?"
"That extremely unwholesome menu you were outlining just now? Of
course you can−−or as much as is good for you, anyway."
"And now tell me," said Tommy, unable to restrain his pent−up curiosity
any longer, as they sat in state surrounded by the many hors d'oeuvre of
Tuppence's dreams.
Miss Cowley told him.
CHAPTER III 34
"And the curious part of it is," she ended, "that I really did invent the name
of Jane Finn! I didn't want to give my own because of poor father−−in case
I should get mixed up in anything shady."
"Perhaps that's so," said Tommy slowly. "But you didn't invent it."
"What?"
"No. I told it to you. Don't you remember, I said yesterday I'd overheard
two people talking about a female called Jane Finn? That's what brought
the name into your mind so pat."
"So you did. I remember now. How extraordinary−−−−" Tuppence tailed
off into silence. Suddenly she aroused herself. "Tommy!"
"Yes?"
"What were they like, the two men you passed?"
Tommy frowned in an effort at remembrance.
"One was a big fat sort of chap. Clean shaven, I think−−and dark."
"That's him," cried Tuppence, in an ungrammatical squeal. "That's
Whittington! What was the other man like?"
"I can't remember. I didn't notice him particularly. It was really the
outlandish name that caught my attention."
"And people say that coincidences don't happen!" Tuppence tackled her
Peche Melba happily.
But Tommy had become serious.
"Look here, Tuppence, old girl, what is this going to lead to?"
CHAPTER III 35
"More money," replied his companion.
"I know that. You've only got one idea in your head. What I mean is, what
about the next step? How are you going to keep the game up?"
"Oh!" Tuppence laid down her spoon. "You're right, Tommy, it is a bit of a
poser."
"After all, you know, you can't bluff him forever. You're sure to slip up
sooner or later. And, anyway, I'm not at all sure that it isn't
actionable−−blackmail, you know."
"Nonsense. Blackmail is saying you'll tell unless you are given money.
Now, there's nothing I could tell, because I don't really know anything."
"Hm," said Tommy doubtfully. "Well, anyway, what ARE we going to do?
Whittington was in a hurry to get rid of you this morning, but next time
he'll want to know something more before he parts with his money. He'll
want to know how much YOU know, and where you got your information
from, and a lot of other things that you can't cope with. What are you going
to do about it?"
Tuppence frowned severely.
"We must think. Order some Turkish coffee, Tommy. Stimulating to the
brain. Oh, dear, what a lot I have eaten!"
"You have made rather a hog of yourself! So have I for that matter, but I
flatter myself that my choice of dishes was more judicious than yours. Two
coffees." (This was to the waiter.) "One Turkish, one French."
Tuppence sipped her coffee with a deeply reflective air, and snubbed
Tommy when he spoke to her.
"Be quiet. I'm thinking."
CHAPTER III 36
"Shades of Pelmanism!" said Tommy, and relapsed into silence.
"There!" said Tuppence at last. "I've got a plan. Obviously what we've got
to do is to find out more about it all."
Tommy applauded.
"Don't jeer. We can only find out through Whittington. We must discover
where he lives, what he does−−sleuth him, in fact! Now I can't do it,
because he knows me, but he only saw you for a minute or two in Lyons'.
He's not likely to recognize you. After all, one young man is much like
another."
"I repudiate that remark utterly. I'm sure my pleasing features and
distinguished appearance would single me out from any crowd."
"My plan is this," Tuppence went on calmly, "I'll go alone to−morrow. I'll
put him off again like I did to−day. It doesn't matter if I don't get any more
money at once. Fifty pounds ought to last us a few days."
"Or even longer!"
"You'll hang about outside. When I come out I shan't speak to you in case
he's watching. But I'll take up my stand somewhere near, and when he
comes out of the building I'll drop a handkerchief or something, and off you
go!"
"Off I go where?"
"Follow him, of course, silly! What do you think of the idea?"
"Sort of thing one reads about in books. I somehow feel that in real life one
will feel a bit of an ass standing in the street for hours with nothing to do.
People will wonder what I'm up to."
CHAPTER III 37
"Not in the city. Every one's in such a hurry. Probably no one will even
notice you at all."
"That's the second time you've made that sort of remark. Never mind, I
forgive you. Anyway, it will be rather a lark. What are you doing this
afternoon?"
"Well," said Tuppence meditatively. "I HAD thought of hats! Or perhaps
silk stockings! Or perhaps−−−−"
"Hold hard," admonished Tommy. "There's a limit to fifty pounds! But let's
do dinner and a show to−night at all events."
"Rather."
The day passed pleasantly. The evening even more so. Two of the
five−pound notes were now irretrievably dead.
They met by arrangement the following morning and proceeded citywards.
Tommy remained on the opposite side of the road while Tuppence plunged
into the building.
Tommy strolled slowly down to the end of the street, then back again. Just
as he came abreast of the building, Tuppence darted across the road.
"Tommy!"
"Yes. What's up?"
"The place is shut. I can't make anyone hear."
"That's odd."
"Isn't it? Come up with me, and let's try again."
CHAPTER III 38
Tommy followed her. As they passed the third floor landing a young clerk
came out of an office. He hesitated a moment, then addressed himself to
Tuppence.
"Were you wanting the Esthonia Glassware?"
"Yes, please."
"It's closed down. Since yesterday afternoon. Company being wound up,
they say. Not that I've ever heard of it myself. But anyway the office is to
let."
"Th−−thank you," faltered Tuppence. "I suppose you don't know Mr.
Whittington's address?"
"Afraid I don't. They left rather suddenly."
"Thank you very much," said Tommy. "Come on, Tuppence."
They descended to the street again where they gazed at one another
blankly.
"That's torn it," said Tommy at length.
"And I never suspected it," wailed Tuppence.
"Cheer up, old thing, it can't be helped."
"Can't it, though!" Tuppence's little chin shot out defiantly. "Do you think
this is the end? If so, you're wrong. It's just the beginning!"
"The beginning of what?"
"Of our adventure! Tommy, don't you see, if they are scared enough to run
away like this, it shows that there must be a lot in this Jane Finn business!
Well, we'll get to the bottom of it. We'll run them down! We'll be sleuths in
CHAPTER III 39
earnest!"
"Yes, but there's no one left to sleuth."
"No, that's why we'll have to start all over again. Lend me that bit of pencil.
Thanks. Wait a minute−−don't interrupt. There!" Tuppence handed back the
pencil, and surveyed the piece of paper on which she had written with a
satisfied eye:
"What's that?"
"Advertisement."
"You're not going to put that thing in after all?"
"No, it's a different one." She handed him the slip of paper.
Tommy read the words on it aloud:
"WANTED, any information respecting Jane Finn. Apply Y.A."
CHAPTER IV
WHO IS JANE FINN?
THE next day passed slowly. It was necessary to curtail expenditure.
Carefully husbanded, forty pounds will last a long time. Luckily the
weather was fine, and "walking is cheap," dictated Tuppence. An outlying
picture house provided them with recreation for the evening.
The day of disillusionment had been a Wednesday. On Thursday the
advertisement had duly appeared. On Friday letters might be expected to
CHAPTER IV 40
arrive at Tommy's rooms.
He had been bound by an honourable promise not to open any such letters
if they did arrive, but to repair to the National Gallery, where his colleague
would meet him at ten o'clock.
Tuppence was first at the rendezvous. She ensconced herself on a red velvet
seat, and gazed at the Turners with unseeing eyes until she saw the familiar
figure enter the room.
"Well?"
"Well," returned Mr. Beresford provokingly. "Which is your favourite
picture?"
"Don't be a wretch. Aren't there ANY answers?"
Tommy shook his head with a deep and somewhat overacted melancholy.
"I didn't want to disappoint you, old thing, by telling you right off. It's too
bad. Good money wasted." He sighed. "Still, there it is. The advertisement
has appeared, and−−there are only two answers!"
"Tommy, you devil!" almost screamed Tuppence. "Give them to me. How
could you be so mean!"
"Your language, Tuppence, your language! They're very particular at the
National Gallery. Government show, you know. And do remember, as I
have pointed out to you before, that as a clergyman's daughter−−−−"
"I ought to be on the stage!" finished Tuppence with a snap.
"That is not what I intended to say. But if you are sure that you have
enjoyed to the full the reaction of joy after despair with which I have kindly
provided you free of charge, let us get down to our mail, as the saying
goes."
CHAPTER IV 41
Tuppence snatched the two precious envelopes from him unceremoniously,
and scrutinized them carefully.
"Thick paper, this one. It looks rich. We'll keep it to the last and open the
other first."
"Right you are. One, two, three, go!"
Tuppence's little thumb ripped open the envelope, and she extracted the
contents.
"DEAR SIR,
"Referring to your advertisement in this morning's paper, I may be able to
be of some use to you. Perhaps you could call and see me at the above
address at eleven o'clock to−morrow morning. "Yours truly, "A. CARTER.
"27 Carshalton Gardens," said Tuppence, referring to the address. "That's
Gloucester Road way. Plenty of time to get there if we tube."
"The following," said Tommy, "is the plan of campaign. It is my turn to
assume the offensive. Ushered into the presence of Mr. Carter, he and I
wish each other good morning as is customary. He then says: 'Please take a
seat, Mr.−−er?' To which I reply promptly and significantly: 'Edward
Whittington!' whereupon Mr. Carter turns purple in the face and gasps out:
'How much?' Pocketing the usual fee of fifty pounds, I rejoin you in the
road outside, and we proceed to the next address and repeat the
performance."
"Don't be absurd, Tommy. Now for the other letter. Oh, this is from the
Ritz!"
"A hundred pounds instead of fifty!"
"I'll read it:
CHAPTER IV 42
"DEAR SIR,
"Re your advertisement, I should be glad if you would call round
somewhere about lunch−time. "Yours truly, "JULIUS P.
HERSHEIMMER."
"Ha!" said Tommy. "Do I smell a Boche? Or only an American millionaire
of unfortunate ancestry? At all events we'll call at lunch−time. It's a good
time−−frequently leads to free food for two."
Tuppence nodded assent.
"Now for Carter. We'll have to hurry."
Carshalton Terrace proved to be an unimpeachable row of what Tuppence
called "ladylike looking houses." They rang the bell at No. 27, and a neat
maid answered the door. She looked so respectable that Tuppence's heart
sank. Upon Tommy's request for Mr. Carter, she showed them into a small
study on the ground floor where she left them. Hardly a minute elapsed,
however, before the door opened, and a tall man with a lean hawklike face
and a tired manner entered the room.
"Mr. Y. A.?" he said, and smiled. His smile was distinctly attractive. "Do
sit down, both of you."
They obeyed. He himself took a chair opposite to Tuppence and smiled at
her encouragingly. There was something in the quality of his smile that
made the girl's usual readiness desert her.
As he did not seem inclined to open the conversation, Tuppence was forced
to begin.
"We wanted to know−−that is, would you be so kind as to tell us anything
you know about Jane Finn?"
CHAPTER IV 43
"Jane Finn? Ah!" Mr. Carter appeared to reflect. "Well, the question is,
what do you know about her?"
Tuppence drew herself up.
"I don't see that that's got anything to do with it."
"No? But it has, you know, really it has." He smiled again in his tired way,
and continued reflectively. "So that brings us down to it again. What do you
know about Jane Finn?
"Come now," he continued, as Tuppence remained silent. "You must know
SOMETHING to have advertised as you did?" He leaned forward a little,
his weary voice held a hint of persuasiveness. "Suppose you tell me . . ."
There was something very magnetic about Mr. Carter's personality.
Tuppence seemed to shake herself free of it with an effort, as she said:
"We couldn't do that, could we, Tommy?"
But to her surprise, her companion did not back her up. His eyes were fixed
on Mr. Carter, and his tone when he spoke held an unusual note of
deference.
"I dare say the little we know won't be any good to you, sir. But such as it
is, you're welcome to it."
"Tommy!" cried out Tuppence in surprise.
Mr. Carter slewed round in his chair. His eyes asked a question.
Tommy nodded.
"Yes, sir, I recognized you at once. Saw you in France when I was with the
Intelligence. As soon as you came into the room, I knew−−−−"
CHAPTER IV 44
Mr. Carter held up his hand.
"No names, please. I'm known as Mr. Carter here. It's my cousin's house,
by the way. She's willing to lend it to me sometimes when it's a case of
working on strictly unofficial lines. Well, now"−−he looked from one to the
other−−"who's going to tell me the story?"
"Fire ahead, Tuppence," directed Tommy. "It's your yarn."
"Yes, little lady, out with it."
And obediently Tuppence did out with it, telling the whole story from the
forming of the Young Adventurers, Ltd., downwards.
Mr. Carter listened in silence with a resumption of his tired manner. Now
and then he passed his hand across his lips as though to hide a smile. When
she had finished he; nodded gravely.
"Not much. But suggestive. Quite suggestive. If you'll excuse my saying so,
you're a curious young couple. I don't know−−you might succeed where
others have failed . . . I believe in luck, you know−−always have...."
He paused a moment, and then went on.
"Well, how about it? You're out for adventure. How would you like to work
for me? All quite unofficial, you know. Expenses paid, and a moderate
screw?"
Tuppence gazed at him, her lips parted, her eyes growing wider and wider.
"What should we have to do?" she breathed.
Mr. Carter smiled.
"Just go on with what you're doing now. FIND JANE FINN."
CHAPTER IV 45
"Yes, but−−who IS Jane Finn?"
Mr. Carter nodded gravely.
"Yes, you're entitled to know that, I think."
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, brought the tips of his fingers
together, and began in a low monotone:
"Secret diplomacy (which, by the way, is nearly always bad policy!) does
not concern you. It will be sufficient to say that in the early days of 1915 a
certain document came into being. It was the draft of a secret
agreement−−treaty−−call it what you like. It was drawn up ready for
signature by the various representatives, and drawn up in America−−at that
time a neutral country. It was dispatched to England by a special messenger
selected for that purpose, a young fellow called Danvers. It was hoped that
the whole affair had been kept so secret that nothing would have leaked
out. That kind of hope is usually disappointed. Somebody always talks!
"Danvers sailed for England on the Lusitania. He carried the precious
papers in an oilskin packet which he wore next his skin. It was on that
particular voyage that the Lusitania was torpedoed and sunk. Danvers was
among the list of those missing. Eventually his body was washed ashore,
and identified beyond any possible doubt. But the oilskin packet was
missing!
"The question was, had it been taken from him, or had he himself passed it
on into another's keeping? There were a few incidents that strengthened the
possibility of the latter theory. After the torpedo struck the ship, in the few
moments during the launching of the boats, Danvers was seen speaking to a
young American girl. No one actually saw him pass anything to her, but he
might have done so. It seems to me quite likely that he entrusted the papers
to this girl, believing that she, as a woman, had a greater chance of bringing
them safely to shore.
CHAPTER IV 46
"But if so, where was the girl, and what had she done with the papers? By
later advice from America it seemed likely that Danvers had been closely
shadowed on the way over. Was this girl in league with his enemies? Or
had she, in her turn, been shadowed and either tricked or forced into
handing over the precious packet?
"We set to work to trace her out. It proved unexpectedly difficult. Her name
was Jane Finn, and it duly appeared among the list of the survivors, but the
girl herself seemed to have vanished completely. Inquiries into her
antecedents did little to help us. She was an orphan, and had been what we
should call over here a pupil teacher in a small school out West. Her
passport had been made out for Paris, where she was going to join the staff
of a hospital. She had offered her services voluntarily, and after some
correspondence they had been accepted. Having seen her name in the list of
the saved from the Lusitania, the staff of the hospital were naturally very
surprised at her not arriving to take up her billet, and at not hearing from
her in any way.
"Well, every effort was made to trace the young lady−−but all in vain. We
tracked her across Ireland, but nothing could be heard of her after she set
foot in England. No use was made of the draft treaty−−as might very easily
have been done−−and we therefore came to the conclusion that Danvers
had, after all, destroyed it. The war entered on another phase, the
diplomatic aspect changed accordingly, and the treaty was never redrafted.
Rumours as to its existence were emphatically denied. The disappearance
of Jane Finn was forgotten and the whole affair was lost in oblivion."
Mr. Carter paused, and Tuppence broke in impatiently:
"But why has it all cropped up again? The war's over."
A hint of alertness came into Mr. Carter's manner.
"Because it seems that the papers were not destroyed after all, and that they
might be resurrected to−day with a new and deadly significance."
CHAPTER IV 47
Tuppence stared. Mr. Carter nodded.
"Yes, five years ago, that draft treaty was a weapon in our hands; to−day it
is a weapon against us. It was a gigantic blunder. If its terms were made
public, it would mean disaster.... It might possibly bring about another
war−−not with Germany this time! That is an extreme possibility, and I do
not believe in its likelihood myself, but that document undoubtedly
implicates a number of our statesmen whom we cannot afford to have
discredited in any way at the present moment. As a party cry for Labour it
would be irresistible, and a Labour Government at this juncture would, in
my opinion, be a grave disability for British trade, but that is a mere
nothing to the REAL danger."
He paused, and then said quietly:
"You may perhaps have heard or read that there is Bolshevist influence at
work behind the present Labour unrest?"
Tuppence nodded.
"That is the truth. Bolshevist gold is pouring into this country for the
specific purpose of procuring a Revolution. And there is a certain man, a
man whose real name is unknown to us, who is working in the dark for his
own ends. The Bolshevists are behind the Labour unrest−−but this man is
BEHIND THE BOLSHEVISTS. Who is he? We do not know. He is always
spoken of by the unassuming title of 'Mr. Brown.' But one thing is certain,
he is the master criminal of this age. He controls a marvellous organization.
Most of the Peace propaganda during the war was originated and financed
by him. His spies are everywhere."
"A naturalized German?" asked Tommy.
"On the contrary, I have every reason to believe he is an Englishman. He
was pro−German, as he would have been pro−Boer. What he seeks to attain
we do not know−−probably supreme power for himself, of a kind unique in
history. We have no clue as to his real personality. It is reported that even
CHAPTER IV 48
his own followers are ignorant of it. Where we have come across his tracks,
he has always played a secondary part. Somebody else assumes the chief
role. But afterwards we always find that there has been some nonentity, a
servant or a clerk, who has remained in the background unnoticed, and that
the elusive Mr. Brown has escaped us once more."
"Oh!" Tuppence jumped. "I wonder−−−−"
"Yes?"
"I remember in Mr. Whittington's office. The clerk−−he called him Brown.
You don't think−−−−"
Carter nodded thoughtfully.
"Very likely. A curious point is that the name is usually mentioned. An
idiosyncrasy of genius. Can you describe him at all?"
"I really didn't notice. He was quite ordinary−−just like anyone else."
Mr. Carter sighed in his tired manner.
"That is the invariable description of Mr. Brown! Brought a telephone
message to the man Whittington, did he? Notice a telephone in the outer
office?"
Tuppence thought.
"No, I don't think I did."
"Exactly. That 'message' was Mr. Brown's way of giving an order to his
subordinate. He overheard the whole conversation of course. Was it after
that that Whittington handed you over the money, and told you to come the
following day?"
Tuppence nodded.
CHAPTER IV 49
"Yes, undoubtedly the hand of Mr. Brown!" Mr. Carter paused. "Well,
there it is, you see what you are pitting yourselves against? Possibly the
finest criminal brain of the age. I don't quite like it, you know. You're such
young things, both of you. I shouldn't like anything to happen to you."
"It won't," Tuppence assured him positively.
"I'll look after her, sir," said Tommy.
"And I'll look after YOU," retorted Tuppence, resenting the manly
assertion.
"Well, then, look after each other," said Mr. Carter, smiling. "Now let's get
back to business. There's something mysterious about this draft treaty that
we haven't fathomed yet. We've been threatened with it−−in plain and
unmistakable terms. The Revolutionary element as good as declare that it's
in their hands, and that they intend to produce it at a given moment. On the
other hand, they are clearly at fault about many of its provisions. The
Government consider it as mere bluff on their part, and, rightly or wrongly,
have stuck to the policy of absolute denial. I'm not so sure. There have been
hints, indiscreet allusions, that seem to indicate that the menace is a real
one. The position is much as though they had got hold of an incriminating
document, but couldn't read it because it was in cipher−−but we know that
the draft treaty wasn't in cipher−−couldn't be in the nature of things−−so
that won't wash. But there's SOMETHING. Of course, Jane Finn may be
dead for all we know−−but I don't think so. The curious thing is that
THEY'RE TRYING TO GET INFORMATION ABOUT THE GIRL
FROM US"
"What?"
"Yes. One or two little things have cropped up. And your story, little lady,
confirms my idea. They know we're looking for Jane Finn. Well, they'll
produce a Jane Finn of their own−−say at a pensionnat in Paris." Tuppence
gasped, and Mr. Carter smiled. "No one knows in the least what she looks
like, so that's all right. She's primed with a trumped−up tale, and her real
business is to get as much information as possible out of us. See the idea?"
"Then you think"−−Tuppence paused to grasp the supposition fully−−"that
it WAS as Jane Finn that they wanted me to go to Paris?"
Mr. Carter smiled more wearily than ever.
"I believe in coincidences, you know," he said.
CHAPTER V
MR. JULIUS P. HERSHEIMMER
"WELL," said Tuppence, recovering herself, "it really seems as though it
were meant to be."
Carter nodded.
"I know what you mean. I'm superstitious myself. Luck, and all that sort of
thing. Fate seems to have chosen you out to be mixed up in this."
Tommy indulged in a chuckle.
"My word! I don't wonder Whittington got the wind up when Tuppence
plumped out that name! I should have myself. But look here, sir, we're
taking up an awful lot of your time. Have you any tips to give us before we
clear out?"
"I think not. My experts, working in stereotyped ways, have failed. You
will bring imagination and an open mind to the task. Don't be discouraged
if that too does not succeed. For one thing there is a likelihood of the pace
being forced."
CHAPTER V 51
Tuppence frowned uncomprehendingly.
"When you had that interview with Whittington, they had time before them.
I have information that the big coup was planned for early in the new year.
But the Government is contemplating legislative action which will deal
effectually with the strike menace. They'll get wind of it soon, if they
haven't already, and it's possible that that may bring things to a head. I hope
it will myself. The less time they have to mature their plans the better. I'm
just warning you that you haven't much time before you, and that you
needn't be cast down if you fail. It's not an easy proposition anyway. That's
all."
Tuppence rose.
I think we ought to be businesslike. What exactly can we count upon you
for, Mr. Carter?" Mr. Carter's lips twitched slightly, but he replied
succinctly: "Funds within reason, detailed information on any point, and
NO OFFICIAL RECOGNITION. I mean that if you get yourselves into
trouble with the police, I can't officially help you out of it. You're on your
own."
Tuppence nodded sagely.
"I quite understand that. I'll write out a list of the things I want to know
when I've had time to think. Now−−about money−−−−"
"Yes, Miss Tuppence. Do you want to say how much?"
"Not exactly. We've got plenty to go with for the present, but when we
want more−−−−"
"It will be waiting for you."
"Yes, but−−I'm sure I don't want to be rude about the Government if you've
got anything to do with it, but you know one really has the devil of a time
getting anything out of it! And if we have to fill up a blue form and send it
CHAPTER V 52
in, and then, after three months, they send us a green one, and so on−−well,
that won't be much use, will it?"
Mr. Carter laughed outright.
"Don't worry, Miss Tuppence. You will send a personal demand to me
here, and the money, in notes, shall be sent by return of post. As to salary,
shall we say at the rate of three hundred a year? And an equal sum for Mr.
Beresford, of course."
Tuppence beamed upon him.
"How lovely. You are kind. I do love money! I'll keep beautiful accounts of
our expenses all debit and credit, and the balance on the right side, and red
line drawn sideways with the totals the same at the bottom. I really know
how to do it when I think."
"I'm sure you do. Well, good−bye, and good luck to you both."
He shook hands with them, and in another minute they were descending the
steps of 27 Carshalton Terrace with their heads in a whirl.
"Tommy! Tell me at once, who is 'Mr. Carter'?"
Tommy murmured a name in her ear.
"Oh!" said Tuppence, impressed.
"And I can tell you, old bean, he's IT!"
"Oh!" said Tuppence again. Then she added reflectively,
"I like him, don't you? He looks so awfully tired and bored, and yet you
feel that underneath he's just like steel, all keen and flashing. Oh!" She gave
a skip. "Pinch me, Tommy, do pinch me. I can't believe it's real!"
CHAPTER V 53
Mr. Beresford obliged.
"Ow! That's enough! Yes, we're not dreaming. We've got a job!"
"And what a job! The joint venture has really begun."
"It's more respectable than I thought it would be," said Tuppence
thoughtfully.
"Luckily I haven't got your craving for crime! What time is it? Let's have
lunch−−oh!"
The same thought sprang to the minds of each. Tommy voiced it first.
"Julius P. Hersheimmer!"
"We never told Mr. Carter about hearing from him."
"Well, there wasn't much to tell−−not till we've seen him. Come on, we'd
better take a taxi."
"Now who's being extravagant?"
"All expenses paid, remember. Hop in."
"At any rate, we shall make a better effect arriving this way," said
Tuppence, leaning back luxuriously. "I'm sure blackmailers never arrive in
buses!"
"We've ceased being blackmailers," Tommy pointed out.
"I'm not sure I have," said Tuppence darkly.
On inquiring for Mr. Hersheimmer, they were at once taken up to his suite.
An impatient voice cried "Come in" in answer to the page−boy's knock, and
the lad stood aside to let them pass in.
CHAPTER V 54
Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer was a great deal younger than either Tommy or
Tuppence had pictured him. The girl put him down as thirty−five. He was
of middle height, and squarely built to match his jaw. His face was
pugnacious but pleasant. No one could have mistaken him for anything but
an American, though he spoke with very little accent.
"Get my note? Sit down and tell me right away all you know about my
cousin."
"Your cousin?"
"Sure thing. Jane Finn."
"Is she your cousin?"
"My father and her mother were brother and sister," explained Mr.
Hersheimmer meticulously.
"Oh!" cried Tuppence. "Then you know where she is?"
"No!" Mr. Hersheimmer brought down his fist with a bang on the table.
"I'm darned if I do! Don't you?"
"We advertised to receive information, not to give it," said Tuppence
severely.
"I guess I know that. I can read. But I thought maybe it was her back
history you were after, and that you'd know where she was now?"
"Well, we wouldn't mind hearing her back history," said Tuppence
guardedly.
But Mr. Hersheimmer seemed to grow suddenly suspicious.
"See here," he declared. "This isn't Sicily! No demanding ransom or
threatening to crop her ears if I refuse. These are the British Isles, so quit
CHAPTER V 55
the funny business, or I'll just sing out for that beautiful big British
policeman I see out there in Piccadilly."
Tommy hastened to explain.
"We haven't kidnapped your cousin. On the contrary, we're trying to find
her. We're employed to do so."
Mr. Hersheimmer leant back in his chair.
"Put me wise," he said succinctly.
Tommy fell in with this demand in so far as he gave him a guarded version
of the disappearance of Jane Finn, and of the possibility of her having been
mixed up unawares in "some political show." He alluded to Tuppence and
himself as "private inquiry agents" commissioned to find her, and added
that they would therefore be glad of any details Mr. Hersheimmer could
give them.
That gentleman nodded approval.
"I guess that's all right. I was just a mite hasty. But London gets my goat! I
only know little old New York. Just trot out your questions and I'll answer."
For the moment this paralysed the Young Adventurers, but Tuppence,
recovering herself, plunged boldly into the breach with a reminiscence
culled from detective fiction.
"When did you last see the dece−−your cousin, I mean?"
"Never seen her," responded Mr. Hersheimmer.
"What?" demanded Tommy, astonished.
Hersheimmer turned to him.
CHAPTER V 56
"No, sir. As I said before, my father and her mother were brother and sister,
just as you might be"−−Tommy did not correct this view of their
relationship−−"but they didn't always get on together. And when my aunt
made up her mind to marry Amos Finn, who was a poor school teacher out
West, my father was just mad! Said if he made his pile, as he seemed in a
fair way to do, she'd never see a cent of it. Well, the upshot was that Aunt
Jane went out West and we never heard from her again.
"The old man DID pile it up. He went into oil, and he went into steel, and
he played a bit with railroads, and I can tell you he made Wall Street sit
up!" He paused. "Then he died−−last fall−−and I got the dollars. Well,
would you believe it, my conscience got busy! Kept knocking me up and
saying: What abour{sic} your Aunt Jane, way out West? It worried me
some. You see, I figured it out that Amos Finn would never make good. He
wasn't the sort. End of it was, I hired a man to hunt her down. Result, she
was dead, and Amos Finn was dead, but they'd left a
daughter−−Jane−−who'd been torpedoed in the Lusitania on her way to
Paris. She was saved all right, but they didn't seem able to hear of her over
this side. I guessed they weren't hustling any, so I thought I'd come along
over, and speed things up. I phoned Scotland Yard and the Admiralty first
thing. The Admiralty rather choked me off, but Scotland Yard were very
civil−−said they would make inquiries, even sent a man round this morning
to get her photograph. I'm off to Paris to−morrow, just to see what the
Prefecture is doing. I guess if I go to and fro hustling them, they ought to
get busy!"
The energy of Mr. Hersheimmer was tremendous. They bowed before it.
"But say now," he ended, "you're not after her for anything? Contempt of
court, or something British? A proud−spirited young American girl might
find your rules and regulations in war time rather irksome, and get up
against it. If that's the case, and there's such a thing as graft in this country,
I'll buy her off."
Tuppence reassured him.
CHAPTER V 57
"That's good. Then we can work together. What about some lunch? Shall
we have it up here, or go down to the restaurant?"
Tuppence expressed a preference for the latter, and Julius bowed to her
decision.
Oysters had just given place to Sole Colbert when a card was brought to
Hersheimmer.
"Inspector Japp, C.I.D. Scotland Yard again. Another man this time. What
does he expect I can tell him that I didn't tell the first chap? I hope they
haven't lost that photograph. That Western photographer's place was burned
down and all his negatives destroyed−−this is the only copy in existence. I
got it from the principal of the college there."
An unformulated dread swept over Tuppence.
"You−−you don't know the name of the man who came this morning?"
"Yes, I do. No, I don't. Half a second. It was on his card. Oh, I know!
Inspector Brown. Quiet, unassuming sort of chap."
CHAPTER VI
A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN
A veil might with profit be drawn over the events of the next half−hour.
Suffice it to say that no such person as "Inspector Brown" was known to
Scotland Yard. The photograph of Jane Finn, which would have been of the
utmost value to the police in tracing her, was lost beyond recovery. Once
again "Mr. Brown" had triumphed.
CHAPTER VI 58
The immediate result of this set back was to effect a rapprochement
between Julius Hersheimmer and the Young Adventurers. All barriers went
down with a crash, and Tommy and Tuppence felt they had known the
young American all their lives. They abandoned the discreet reticence of
"private inquiry agents," and revealed to him the whole history of the joint
venture, whereat the young man declared himself "tickled to death."
He turned to Tuppence at the close of the narration.
"I've always had a kind of idea that English girls were just a mite
moss−grown. Old−fashioned and sweet, you know, but scared to move
round without a footman or a maiden aunt. I guess I'm a bit behind the
times!"
The upshot of these confidential relations was that Tommy and Tuppence
took up their abode forthwith at the Ritz, in order, as Tuppence put it, to
keep in touch with Jane Finn's only living relation. "And put like that," she
added confidentially to Tommy, "nobody could boggle at the expense!"
Nobody did, which was the great thing.
"And now," said the young lady on the morning after their installation, "to
work!"
Mr. Beresford put down the Daily Mail, which he was reading, and
applauded with somewhat unnecessary vigour. He was politely requested
by his colleague not to be an ass.
"Dash it all, Tommy, we've got to DO something for our money."
Tommy sighed.
"Yes, I fear even the dear old Government will not support us at the Ritz in
idleness for ever."
"Therefore, as I said before, we must DO something."
CHAPTER VI 59
"Well," said Tommy, picking up the Daily Mail again, "DO it. I shan't stop
you."
"You see," continued Tuppence. "I've been thinking−−−−"
She was interrupted by a fresh bout of applause.
"It's all very well for you to sit there being funny, Tommy. It would do you
no harm to do a little brain work too."
"My union, Tuppence, my union! It does not permit me to work before 11
a.m."
"Tommy, do you want something thrown at you? It is absolutely essential
that we should without delay map out a plan of campaign."
"Hear, hear!"
"Well, let's do it."
Tommy laid his paper finally aside. "There's something of the simplicity of
the truly great mind about you, Tuppence. Fire ahead. I'm listening."
"To begin with," said Tuppence, "what have we to go upon?"
"Absolutely nothing," said Tommy cheerily.
"Wrong!" Tuppence wagged an energetic finger. "We have two distinct
clues."
"What are they?"
"First clue, we know one of the gang."
"Whittington?"
CHAPTER VI 60
"Yes. I'd recognize him anywhere."
"Hum," said Tommy doubtfully, "I don't call that much of a clue. You don't
know where to look for him, and it's about a thousand to one against your
running against him by accident."
"I'm not so sure about that," replied Tuppence thoughtfully. "I've often
noticed that once coincidences start happening they go on happening in the
most extraordinary way. I dare say it's some natural law that we haven't
found out. Still, as you say, we can't rely on that. But there ARE places in
London where simply every one is bound to turn up sooner or later.
Piccadilly Circus, for instance. One of my ideas was to take up my stand
there every day with a tray of flags."
"What about meals?" inquired the practical Tommy.
"How like a man! What does mere food matter?"
"That's all very well. You've just had a thundering good breakfast. No one's
got a better appetite than you have, Tuppence, and by tea−time you'd be
eating the flags, pins and all. But, honestly, I don't think much of the idea.
Whittington mayn't be in London at all."
"That's true. Anyway, I think clue No. 2 is more promising."
"Let's hear it."
"It's nothing much. Only a Christian name−−Rita. Whittington mentioned it
that day."
"Are you proposing a third advertisement: Wanted, female crook,
answering to the name of Rita?"
"I am not. I propose to reason in a logical manner. That man, Danvers, was
shadowed on the way over, wasn't he? And it's more likely to have been a
woman than a man−−−−"
CHAPTER VI 61
"I don't see that at all."
"I am absolutely certain that it would be a woman, and a good−looking
one," replied Tuppence calmly.
"On these technical points I bow to your decision," murmured Mr.
Beresford.
"Now, obviously this woman, whoever she was, was saved."
"How do you make that out?"
"If she wasn't, how would they have known Jane Finn had got the papers?"
"Correct. Proceed, O Sherlock!"
"Now there's just a chance, I admit it's only a chance, that this woman may
have been 'Rita.' "
"And if so?"
"If so, we've got to hunt through the survivors of the Lusitania till we find
her."
"Then the first thing is to get a list of the survivors."
"I've got it. I wrote a long list of things I wanted to know, and sent it to Mr.
Carter. I got his reply this morning, and among other things it encloses the
official statement of those saved from the Lusitania. How's that for clever
little Tuppence?"
"Full marks for industry, zero for modesty. But the great point is, is there a
'Rita' on the list?"
"That's just what I don't know," confessed Tuppence.
CHAPTER VI 62
"Don't know?"
"Yes. Look here." Together they bent over the list. "You see, very few
Christian names are given. They're nearly all Mrs. or Miss."
Tommy nodded.
"That complicates matters," he murmured thoughtfully.
Tuppence gave her characteristic "terrier" shake.
"Well, we've just got to get down to it, that's all. We'll start with the
London area. Just note down the addresses of any of the females who live
in London or roundabout, while I put on my hat."
Five minutes later the young couple emerged into Piccadilly, and a few
seconds later a taxi was bearing them to The Laurels, Glendower Road,
N.7, the residence of Mrs. Edgar Keith, whose name figured first in a list of
seven reposing in Tommy's pocket−book.
The Laurels was a dilapidated house, standing back from the road with a
few grimy bushes to support the fiction of a front garden. Tommy paid off
the taxi, and accompanied Tuppence to the front door bell. As she was
about to ring it, he arrested her hand.
"What are you going to say?"
"What am I going to say? Why, I shall say−−Oh dear, I don't know. It's
very awkward."
"I thought as much," said Tommy with satisfaction. "How like a woman!
No foresight! Now just stand aside, and see how easily the mere male deals
with the situation." He pressed the bell. Tuppence withdrew to a suitable
spot.
CHAPTER VI 63
A slatternly looking servant, with an extremely dirty face and a pair of eyes
that did not match, answered the door.
Tommy had produced a notebook and pencil.
"Good morning," he said briskly and cheerfully. "From the Hampstead
Borough Council. The new Voting Register. Mrs. Edgar Keith lives here,
does she not?"
"Yaas," said the servant.
"Christian name?" asked Tommy, his pencil poised.
"Missus's? Eleanor Jane."
"Eleanor," spelt Tommy. "Any sons or daughters over twenty−one?"
"Naow."
"Thank you." Tommy closed the notebook with a brisk snap. "Good
morning."
The servant volunteered her first remark:
"I thought perhaps as you'd come about the gas," she observed cryptically,
and shut the door.
Tommy rejoined his accomplice.
"You see, Tuppence," he observed. "Child's play to the masculine mind."
"I don't mind admitting that for once you've scored handsomely. I should
never have thought of that."
"Good wheeze, wasn't it? And we can repeat it ad lib."
CHAPTER VI 64
Lunch−time found the young couple attacking a steak and chips in an
obscure hostelry with avidity. They had collected a Gladys Mary and a
Marjorie, been baffled by one change of address, and had been forced to
listen to a long lecture on universal suffrage from a vivacious American
lady whose Christian name had proved to be Sadie.
"Ah!" said Tommy, imbibing a long draught of beer, "I feel better. Where's
the next draw?"
The notebook lay on the table between them. Tuppence picked it up.
"Mrs. Vandemeyer," she read, "20 South Audley Mansions. Miss Wheeler,
43 Clapington Road, Battersea. She's a lady's maid, as far as I remember, so
probably won't be there, and, anyway, she's not likely."
"Then the Mayfair lady is clearly indicated as the first port of call."
"Tommy, I'm getting discouraged."
"Buck up, old bean. We always knew it was an outside chance. And,
anyway, we're only starting. If we draw a blank in London, there's a fine
tour of England, Ireland and Scotland before us."
"True," said Tuppence, her flagging spirits reviving. "And all expenses
paid! But, oh, Tommy, I do like things to happen quickly. So far, adventure
has succeeded adventure, but this morning has been dull as dull."
"You must stifle this longing for vulgar sensation, Tuppence. Remember
that if Mr. Brown is all he is reported to be, it's a wonder that he has not ere
now done us to death. That's a good sentence, quite a literary flavour about
it."
"You're really more conceited than I am−−with less excuse! Ahem! But it
certainly is queer that Mr. Brown has not yet wreaked vengeance upon us.
(You see, I can do it too.) We pass on our way unscathed."
CHAPTER VI 65
"Perhaps he doesn't think us worth bothering about," suggested the young
man simply.
Tuppence received the remark with great disfavour.
"How horrid you are, Tommy. Just as though we didn't count."
"Sorry, Tuppence. What I meant was that we work like moles in the dark,
and that he has no suspicion of our nefarious schemes. Ha ha!"
"Ha ha!" echoed Tuppence approvingly, as she rose.
South Audley Mansions was an imposing−looking block of flats just off
Park Lane. No. 20 was on the second floor.
Tommy had by this time the glibness born of practice. He rattled off the
formula to the elderly woman, looking more like a housekeeper than a
servant, who opened the door to him.
"Christian name?"
"Margaret."
Tommy spelt it, but the other interrupted him.
"No, G U E."
"Oh, Marguerite; French way, I see." He paused, then plunged boldly. "We
had her down as Rita Vandemeyer, but I suppose that's incorrect?"
"She's mostly called that, sir, but Marguerite's her name."
"Thank you. That's all. Good morning."
Hardly able to contain his excitement, Tommy hurried down the stairs.
Tuppence was waiting at the angle of the turn.
CHAPTER VI 66
"You heard?"
"Yes. Oh, TOMMY!"
Tommy squeezed her arm sympathetically.
"I know, old thing. I feel the same."
"It's−−it's so lovely to think of things−−and then for them really to
happen!" cried Tuppence enthusiastically.
Her hand was still in Tommy's. They had reached the entrance hall. There
were footsteps on the stairs above them, and voices.
Suddenly, to Tommy's complete surprise, Tuppence dragged him into the
little space by the side of the lift where the shadow was deepest.
"What the−−−−"
"Hush!"
Two men came down the stairs and passed out through the entrance.
Tuppence's hand closed tighter on Tommy's arm.
"Quick−−follow them. I daren't. He might recognize me. I don't know who
the other man is, but the bigger of the two was Whittington."
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUSE IN SOHO
CHAPTER VII 67
WHITTINGTON and his companion were walking at a good pace. Tommy
started in pursuit at once, and was in time to see them turn the corner of the
street. His vigorous strides soon enabled him to gain upon them, and by the
time he, in his turn, reached the corner the distance between them was
sensibly lessened. The small Mayfair streets were comparatively deserted,
and he judged it wise to content himself with keeping them in sight.
The sport was a new one to him. Though familiar with the technicalities
from a course of novel reading, he had never before attempted to "follow"
anyone, and it appeared to him at once that, in actual practice, the
proceeding was fraught with difficulties. Supposing, for instance, that they
should suddenly hail a taxi? In books, you simply leapt into another,
promised the driver a sovereign−−or its modern equivalent−−and there you
were. In actual fact, Tommy foresaw that it was extremely likely there
would be no second taxi. Therefore he would have to run. What happened
in actual fact to a young man who ran incessantly and persistently through
the London streets? In a main road he might hope to create the illusion that
he was merely running for a bus. But in these obscure aristocratic byways
he could not but feel that an officious policeman might stop him to explain
matters.
At this juncture in his thoughts a taxi with flag erect turned the corner of
the street ahead. Tommy held his breath. Would they hail it?
He drew a sigh of relief as they allowed it to pass unchallenged. Their
course was a zigzag one designed to bring them as quickly as possible to
Oxford Street. When at length they turned into it, proceeding in an easterly
direction, Tommy slightly increased his pace. Little by little he gained upon
them. On the crowded pavement there was little chance of his attracting
their notice, and he was anxious if possible to catch a word or two of their
conversation. In this he was completely foiled; they spoke low and the din
of the traffic drowned their voices effectually.
Just before the Bond Street Tube station they crossed the road, Tommy,
unperceived, faithfully at their heels, and entered the big Lyons'. There they
went up to the first floor, and sat at a small table in the window. It was late,
CHAPTER VII 68
and the place was thinning out. Tommy took a seat at the table next to
them, sitting directly behind Whittington in case of recognition. On the
other hand, he had a full view of the second man and studied him
attentively. He was fair, with a weak, unpleasant face, and Tommy put him
down as being either a Russian or a Pole. He was probably about fifty years
of age, his shoulders cringed a little as he talked, and his eyes, small and
crafty, shifted unceasingly.
Having already lunched heartily, Tommy contented himself with ordering a
Welsh rarebit and a cup of coffee. Whittington ordered a substantial lunch
for himself and his companion; then, as the waitress withdrew, he moved
his chair a little closer to the table and began to talk earnestly in a low
voice. The other man joined in. Listen as he would, Tommy could only
catch a word here and there; but the gist of it seemed to be some directions
or orders which the big man was impressing on his companion, and with
which the latter seemed from time to time to disagree. Whittington
addressed the other as Boris.
Tommy caught the word "Ireland" several times, also "propaganda," but of
Jane Finn there was no mention. Suddenly, in a lull in the clatter of the
room, he got one phrase entire. Whittington was speaking. "Ah, but you
don't know Flossie. She's a marvel. An archbishop would swear she was his
own mother. She gets the voice right every time, and that's really the
principal thing."
Tommy did not hear Boris's reply, but in response to it Whittington said
something that sounded like: "Of course−−only in an emergency...."
Then he lost the thread again. But presently the phrases became distinct
again whether because the other two had insensibly raised their voices, or
because Tommy's ears were getting more attuned, he could not tell. But two
words certainly had a most stimulating effect upon the listener. They were
uttered by Boris and they were: "Mr. Brown."
Whittington seemed to remonstrate with him, but he merely laughed.
CHAPTER VII 69
"Why not, my friend? It is a name most respectable−−most common. Did
he not choose it for that reason? Ah, I should like to meet him−−Mr.
Brown."
There was a steely ring in Whittington's voice as he replied:
"Who knows? You may have met him already."
"Bah!" retorted the other. "That is children's talk−−a fable for the police.
Do you know what I say to myself sometimes? That he is a fable invented
by the Inner Ring, a bogy to frighten us with. It might be so."
"And it might not."
"I wonder ... or is it indeed true that he is with us and amongst us, unknown
to all but a chosen few? If so, he keeps his secret well. And the idea is a
good one, yes. We never know. We look at each other−−ONE OF US IS
MR. BROWN−−which? He commands−−but also he serves. Among
us−−in the midst of us. And no one knows which he is...."
With an effort the Russian shook off the vagary of his fancy. He looked at
his watch.
"Yes," said Whittington. "We might as well go."
He called the waitress and asked for his bill. Tommy did likewise, and a
few moments later was following the two men down the stairs.
Outside, Whittington hailed a taxi, and directed the driver to go to
Waterloo.
Taxis were plentiful here, and before Whittington's had driven off another
was drawing up to the curb in obedience to Tommy's peremptory hand.
"Follow that other taxi," directed the young man. "Don't lose it."
CHAPTER VII 70
The elderly chauffeur showed no interest. He merely grunted and jerked
down his flag. The drive was uneventful. Tommy's taxi came to rest at the
departure platform just after Whittington's. Tommy was behind him at the
booking−office. He took a first−class single ticket to Bournemouth,
Tommy did the same. As he emerged, Boris remarked, glancing up at the
clock: "You are early. You have nearly half an hour."
Boris's words had aroused a new train of thought in Tommy's mind. Clearly
Whittington was making the journey alone, while the other remained in
London. Therefore he was left with a choice as to which he would follow.
Obviously, he could not follow both of them unless−−−−Like Boris, he
glanced up at the clock, and then to the announcement board of the trains.
The Bournemouth train left at 3.30. It was now ten past. Whittington and
Boris were walking up and down by the bookstall. He gave one doubtful
look at them, then hurried into an adjacent telephone box. He dared not
waste time in trying to get hold of Tuppence. In all probability she was still
in the neighbourhood of South Audley Mansions. But there remained
another ally. He rang up the Ritz and asked for Julius Hersheimmer. There
was a click and a buzz. Oh, if only the young American was in his room!
There was another click, and then "Hello" in unmistakable accents came
over the wire.
"That you, Hersheimmer? Beresford speaking. I'm at Waterloo. I've
followed Whittington and another man here. No time to explain.
Whittington's off to Bournemouth by the 3.30. Can you get there by then?"
The reply was reassuring.
"Sure. I'll hustle."
The telephone rang off. Tommy put back the receiver with a sigh of relief.
His opinion of Julius's power of hustling was high. He felt instinctively that
the American would arrive in time.
Whittington and Boris were still where he had left them. If Boris remained
to see his friend off, all was well. Then Tommy fingered his pocket
CHAPTER VII 71
thoughtfully. In spite of the carte blanche assured to him, he had not yet
acquired the habit of going about with any considerable sum of money on
him. The taking of the first−class ticket to Bournemouth had left him with
only a few shillings in his pocket. It was to be hoped that Julius would
arrive better provided.
In the meantime, the minutes were creeping by: 3.15, 3.20, 3.25, 3.27.
Supposing Julius did not get there in time. 3.29.... Doors were banging.
Tommy felt cold waves of despair pass over him. Then a hand fell on his
shoulder.
"Here I am, son. Your British traffic beats description! Put me wise to the
crooks right away."
"That's Whittington−−there, getting in now, that big dark man. The other is
the foreign chap he's talking to."
"I'm on to them. Which of the two is my bird?"
Tommy had thought out this question.
"Got any money with you?"
Julius shook his head, and Tommy's face fell.
"I guess I haven't more than three or four hundred dollars with me at the
moment," explained the American.
Tommy gave a faint whoop of relief.
"Oh, Lord, you millionaires! You don't talk the same language! Climb
aboard the lugger. Here's your ticket. Whittington's your man."
"Me for Whittington!" said Julius darkly. The train was just starting as he
swung himself aboard. "So long, Tommy." The train slid out of the station.
CHAPTER VII 72
Tommy drew a deep breath. The man Boris was coming along the platform
towards him. Tommy allowed him to pass and then took up the chase once
more.
From Waterloo Boris took the tube as far as Piccadilly Circus. Then he
walked up Shaftesbury Avenue, finally turning off into the maze of mean
streets round Soho. Tommy followed him at a judicious distance.
They reached at length a small dilapidated square. The houses there had a
sinister air in the midst of their dirt and decay. Boris looked round, and
Tommy drew back into the shelter of a friendly porch. The place was
almost deserted. It was a cul−de−sac, and consequently no traffic passed
that way. The stealthy way the other had looked round stimulated Tommy's
imagination. From the shelter of the doorway he watched him go up the
steps of a particularly evil−looking house and rap sharply, with a peculiar
rhythm, on the door. It was opened promptly, he said a word or two to the
doorkeeper, then passed inside. The door was shut to again.
It was at this juncture that Tommy lost his head. What he ought to have
done, what any sane man would have done, was to remain patiently where
he was and wait for his man to come out again. What he did do was entirely
foreign to the sober common sense which was, as a rule, his leading
characteristic. Something, as he expressed it, seemed to snap in his brain.
Without a moment's pause for reflection he, too, went up the steps, and
reproduced as far as he was able the peculiar knock.
The door swung open with the same promptness as before. A
villainous−faced man with close−cropped hair stood in the doorway.
"Well?" he grunted.
It was at that moment that the full realization of his folly began to come
home to Tommy. But he dared not hesitate. He seized at the first words that
came into his mind.
"Mr. Brown?" he said.
CHAPTER VII 73
To his surprise the man stood aside.
"Upstairs," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "second door on
your left."
CHAPTER VIII
THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TAKEN aback though he was by the man's words, Tommy did not hesitate.
If audacity had successfully carried him so far, it was to be hoped it would
carry him yet farther. He quietly passed into the house and mounted the
ramshackle staircase. Everything in the house was filthy beyond words.
The grimy paper, of a pattern now indistinguishable, hung in loose festoons
from the wall. In every angle was a grey mass of cobweb.
Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of the
staircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back room. Clearly
no suspicion attached to him as yet. To come to the house and ask for "Mr.
Brown" appeared indeed to be a reasonable and natural proceeding.
At the top of the stairs Tommy halted to consider his next move. In front of
him ran a narrow passage, with doors opening on either side of it. From the
one nearest him on the left came a low murmur of voices. It was this room
which he had been directed to enter. But what held his glance fascinated
was a small recess immediately on his right, half concealed by a torn velvet
curtain. It was directly opposite the left−handed door and, owing to its
angle, it also commanded a good view of the upper part of the staircase. As
a hiding−place for one or, at a pinch, two men, it was ideal, being about
two feet deep and three feet wide. It attracted Tommy mightily. He thought
things over in his usual slow and steady way, deciding that the mention of
"Mr. Brown" was not a request for an individual, but in all probability a
CHAPTER VIII 74
password used by the gang. His lucky use of it had gained him admission.
So far he had aroused no suspicion. But he must decide quickly on his next
step.
Suppose he were boldly to enter the room on the left of the passage. Would
the mere fact of his having been admitted to the house be sufficient?
Perhaps a further password would be required, or, at any rate, some proof
of identity. The doorkeeper clearly did not know all the members of the
gang by sight, but it might be different upstairs. On the whole it seemed to
him that luck had served him very well so far, but that there was such a
thing as trusting it too far. To enter that room was a colossal risk. He could
not hope to sustain his part indefinitely; sooner or later he was almost
bound to betray himself, and then he would have thrown away a vital
chance in mere foolhardiness.
A repetition of the signal knock sounded on the door below, and Tommy,
his mind made up, slipped quickly into the recess, and cautiously drew the
curtain farther across so that it shielded him completely from sight. There
were several rents and slits in the ancient material which afforded him a
good view. He would watch events, and any time he chose could, after all,
join the assembly, modelling his behaviour on that of the new arrival.
The man who came up the staircase with a furtive, soft−footed tread was
quite unknown to Tommy. He was obviously of the very dregs of society.
The low beetling brows, and the criminal jaw, the bestiality of the whole
countenance were new to the young man, though he was a type that
Scotland Yard would have recognized at a glance.
The man passed the recess, breathing heavily as he went. He stopped at the
door opposite, and gave a repetition of the signal knock. A voice inside
called out something, and the man opened the door and passed in, affording
Tommy a momentary glimpse of the room inside. He thought there must be
about four or five people seated round a long table that took up most of the
space, but his attention was caught and held by a tall man with
close−cropped hair and a short, pointed, naval−looking beard, who sat at
the head of the table with papers in front of him. As the new−comer entered
CHAPTER VIII 75
he glanced up, and with a correct, but curiously precise enunciation, which
attracted Tommy's notice, he asked:
"Your number, comrade?"
"Fourteen, gov'nor," replied the other hoarsely.
"Correct."
The door shut again.
"If that isn't a Hun, I'm a Dutchman!" said Tommy to himself. "And
running the show darned systematically too−−as they always do. Lucky I
didn't roll in. I'd have given the wrong number, and there would have been
the deuce to pay. No, this is the place for me. Hullo, here's another knock."
This visitor proved to be of an entirely different type to the last. Tommy
recognized in him an Irish Sinn Feiner. Certainly Mr. Brown's organization
was a far−reaching concern. The common criminal, the well−bred Irish
gentleman, the pale Russian, and the efficient German master of the
ceremonies! Truly a strange and sinister gathering! Who was this man who
held in his finger these curiously variegated links of an unknown chain?
In this case, the procedure was exactly the same. The signal knock, the
demand for a number, and the reply "Correct."
Two knocks followed in quick succession on the door below. The first man
was quite unknown to Tommy, who put him down as a city clerk. A quiet,
intelligent−looking man, rather shabbily dressed. The second was of the
working classes, and his face was vaguely familiar to the young man.
Three minutes later came another, a man of commanding appearance,
exquisitely dressed, and evidently well born. His face, again, was not
unknown to the watcher, though he could not for the moment put a name to
it.
CHAPTER VIII 76
After his arrival there was a long wait. In fact Tommy concluded that the
gathering was now complete, and was just cautiously creeping out from his
hiding−place, when another knock sent him scuttling back to cover.
This last−comer came up the stairs so quietly that he was almost abreast of
Tommy before the young man had realized his presence.
He was a small man, very pale, with a gentle almost womanish air. The
angle of the cheek−bones hinted at his Slavonic ancestry, otherwise there
was nothing to indicate his nationality. As he passed the recess, he turned
his head slowly. The strange light eyes seemed to burn through the curtain;
Tommy could hardly believe that the man did not know he was there and in
spite of himself he shivered. He was no more fanciful than the majority of
young Englishmen, but he could not rid himself of the impression that some
unusually potent force emanated from the man. The creature reminded him
of a venomous snake.
A moment later his impression was proved correct. The new−comer
knocked on the door as all had done, but his reception was very different.
The bearded man rose to his feet, and all the others followed suit. The
German came forward and shook hands. His heels clicked together.
"We are honoured," he said. "We are greatly honoured. I much feared that it
would be impossible."
The other answered in a low voice that had a kind of hiss in it:
"There were difficulties. It will not be possible again, I fear. But one
meeting is essential−−to define my policy. I can do nothing without−−Mr.
Brown. He is here?"
The change in the German's voice was audible as he replied with slight
hesitation:
"We have received a message. It is impossible for him to be present in
person." He stopped, giving a curious impression of having left the
CHAPTER VIII 77
sentence unfinished.
A very slow smile overspread the face of the other. He looked round at a
circle of uneasy faces.
"Ah! I understand. I have read of his methods. He works in the dark and
trusts no one. But, all the same, it is possible that he is among us now...."
He looked round him again, and again that expression of fear swept over
the group. Each man seemed eyeing his neighbour doubtfully.
The Russian tapped his cheek.
"So be it. Let us proceed."
The German seemed to pull himself together. He indicated the place he had
been occupying at the head of the table. The Russian demurred, but the
other insisted.
"It is the only possible place," he said, "for−−Number One. Perhaps
Number Fourteen will shut the door?"
In another moment Tommy was once more confronting bare wooden
panels, and the voices within had sunk once more to a mere
undistinguishable murmur. Tommy became restive. The conversation he
had overheard had stimulated his curiosity. He felt that, by hook or by
crook, he must hear more.
There was no sound from below, and it did not seem likely that the
doorkeeper would come upstairs. After listening intently for a minute or
two, he put his head round the curtain. The passage was deserted. Tommy
bent down and removed his shoes, then, leaving them behind the curtain, he
walked gingerly out on his stockinged feet, and kneeling down by the
closed door he laid his ear cautiously to the crack. To his intense annoyance
he could distinguish little more; just a chance word here and there if a voice
was raised, which merely served to whet his curiosity still farther.
CHAPTER VIII 78
He eyed the handle of the door tentatively. Could he turn it by degrees so
gently and imperceptibly that those in the room would notice nothing? He
decided that with great care it could be done. Very slowly, a fraction of an
inch at a time, he moved it round, holding his breath in his excessive care.
A little more−−a little more still−−would it never be finished? Ah! at last it
would turn no farther.
He stayed so for a minute or two, then drew a deep breath, and pressed it
ever so slightly inward. The door did not budge. Tommy was annoyed. If
he had to use too much force, it would almost certainly creak. He waited
until the voices rose a little, then he tried again. Still nothing happened. He
increased the pressure. Had the beastly thing stuck? Finally, in desperation,
he pushed with all his might. But the door remained firm, and at last the
truth dawned upon him. It was locked or bolted on the inside.
For a moment or two Tommy's indignation got the better of him.
"Well, I'm damned!" he said. "What a dirty trick!"
As his indignation cooled, he prepared to face the situation. Clearly the first
thing to be done was to restore the handle to its original position. If he let it
go suddenly, the men inside would be almost certain to notice it, so, with
the same infinite pains, he reversed his former tactics. All went well, and
with a sigh of relief the young man rose to his feet. There was a certain
bulldog tenacity about Tommy that made him slow to admit defeat.
Checkmated for the moment, he was far from abandoning the conflict. He
still intended to hear what was going on in the locked room. As one plan
had failed, he must hunt about for another.
He looked round him. A little farther along the passage on the left was a
second door. He slipped silently along to it. He listened for a moment or
two, then tried the handle. It yielded, and he slipped inside.
The room, which was untenanted, was furnished as a bedroom. Like
everything else in the house, the furniture was falling to pieces, and the dirt
was, if anything, more abundant.
CHAPTER VIII 79
But what interested Tommy was the thing he had hoped to find, a
communicating door between the two rooms, up on the left by the window.
Carefully closing the door into the passage behind him, he stepped across to
the other and examined it closely. The bolt was shot across it. It was very
rusty, and had clearly not been used for some time. By gently wriggling it
to and fro, Tommy managed to draw it back without making too much
noise. Then he repeated his former manoeuvres with the handle−−this time
with complete success. The door swung open−−a crack, a mere fraction,
but enough for Tommy to hear what went on. There was a velvet portiere
on the inside of this door which prevented him from seeing, but he was able
to recognize the voices with a reasonable amount of accuracy.
The Sinn Feiner was speaking. His rich Irish voice was unmistakable:
"That's all very well. But more money is essential. No money−−no results!"
Another voice which Tommy rather thought was that of Boris replied:
"Will you guarantee that there ARE results?"
"In a month from now−−sooner or later as you wish−−I will guarantee you
such a reign of terror in Ireland as shall shake the British Empire to its
foundations."
There was a pause, and then came the soft, sibilant accents of Number One:
"Good! You shall have the money. Boris, you will see to that."
Boris asked a question:
"Via the Irish Americans, and Mr. Potter as usual?"
"I guess that'll be all right!" said a new voice, with a transatlantic
intonation, "though I'd like to point out, here and now, that things are
getting a mite difficult. There's not the sympathy there was, and a growing
disposition to let the Irish settle their own affairs without interference from
CHAPTER VIII 80
America."
Tommy felt that Boris had shrugged his shoulders as he answered:
"Does that matter, since the money only nominally comes from the States?"
"The chief difficulty is the landing of the ammunition," said the Sinn
Feiner. "The money is conveyed in easily enough−−thanks to our colleague
here."
Another voice, which Tommy fancied was that of the tall,
commanding−looking man whose face had seemed familiar to him, said:
"Think of the feelings of Belfast if they could hear you!"
"That is settled, then," said the sibilant tones. "Now, in the matter of the
loan to an English newspaper, you have arranged the details satisfactorily,
Boris?"
"I think so."
"That is good. An official denial from Moscow will be forthcoming if
necessary."
There was a pause, and then the clear voice of the German broke the
silence:
"I am directed by−−Mr. Brown, to place the summaries of the reports from
the different unions before you. That of the miners is most satisfactory. We
must hold back the railways. There may be trouble with the A.S.E."
For a long time there was a silence, broken only by the rustle of papers and
an occasional word of explanation from the German. Then Tommy heard
the light tap−tap of fingers, drumming on the table.
"And−−the date, my friend?" said Number One.
CHAPTER VIII 81
"The 29th."
The Russian seemed to consider:
"That is rather soon."
"I know. But it was settled by the principal Labour leaders, and we cannot
seem to interfere too much. They must believe it to be entirely their own
show."
The Russian laughed softly, as though amused.
"Yes, yes," he said. "That is true. They must have no inkling that we are
using them for our own ends. They are honest men−−and that is their value
to us. It is curious−−but you cannot make a revolution without honest men.
The instinct of the populace is infallible." He paused, and then repeated, as
though the phrase pleased him: "Every revolution has had its honest men.
They are soon disposed of afterwards."
There was a sinister note in his voice.
The German resumed:
"Clymes must go. He is too far−seeing. Number Fourteen will see to that."
There was a hoarse murmur.
"That's all right, gov'nor." And then after a moment or two: "Suppose I'm
nabbed."
"You will have the best legal talent to defend you," replied the German
quietly. "But in any case you will wear gloves fitted with the finger−prints
of a notorious housebreaker. You have little to fear."
"Oh, I ain't afraid, gov'nor. All for the good of the cause. The streets is
going to run with blood, so they say." He spoke with a grim relish. "Dreams
CHAPTER VIII 82
of it, sometimes, I does. And diamonds and pearls rolling about in the
gutter for anyone to pick up!"
Tommy heard a chair shifted. Then Number One spoke:
"Then all is arranged. We are assured of success?"
"I−−think so." But the German spoke with less than his usual confidence.
Number One's voice held suddenly a dangerous quality:
"What has gone wrong?"
"Nothing; but−−−−"
"But what?"
"The Labour leaders. Without them, as you say, we can do nothing. If they
do not declare a general strike on the 29th−−−−"
"Why should they not?"
"As you've said, they're honest. And, in spite of everything we've done to
discredit the Government in their eyes, I'm not sure that they haven't got a
sneaking faith and belief in it."
"But−−−−"
"I know. They abuse it unceasingly. But, on the whole, public opinion
swings to the side of the Government. They will not go against it."
Again the Russian's fingers drummed on the table.
"To the point, my friend. I was given to understand that there was a certain
document in existence which assured success."
CHAPTER VIII 83
"That is so. If that document were placed before the leaders, the result
would be immediate. They would publish it broadcast throughout England,
and declare for the revolution without a moment's hesitation. The
Government would be broken finally and completely."
"Then what more do you want?"
"The document itself," said the German bluntly.
"Ah! It is not in your possession? But you know where it is?"
"No."
"Does anyone know where it is?"
"One person−−perhaps. And we are not sure of that even."
"Who is this person?"
"A girl."
Tommy held his breath.
"A girl?" The Russian's voice rose contemptuously. "And you have not
made her speak? In Russia we have ways of making a girl talk."
"This case is different," said the German sullenly.
"How−−different?" He paused a moment, then went on: "Where is the girl
now?"
"The girl?"
"Yes."
"She is−−−−"
CHAPTER VIII 84
But Tommy heard no more. A crashing blow descended on his head, and all
was darkness.
CHAPTER IX
TUPPENCE ENTERS DOMESTIC SERVICE
WHEN Tommy set forth on the trail of the two men, it took all Tuppence's
self−command to refrain from accompanying him. However, she contained
herself as best she might, consoled by the reflection that her reasoning had
been justified by events. The two men had undoubtedly come from the
second floor flat, and that one slender thread of the name "Rita" had set the
Young Adventurers once more upon the track of the abductors of Jane
Finn.
The question was what to do next? Tuppence hated letting the grass grow
under her feet. Tommy was amply employed, and debarred from joining
him in the chase, the girl felt at a loose end. She retraced her steps to the
entrance hall of the mansions. It was now tenanted by a small lift−boy, who
was polishing brass fittings, and whistling the latest air with a good deal of
vigour and a reasonable amount of accuracy.
He glanced round at Tuppence's entry. There was a certain amount of the
gamin element in the girl, at all events she invariably got on well with small
boys. A sympathetic bond seemed instantly to be formed. She reflected that
an ally in the enemy's camp, so to speak, was not to be despised.
"Well, William," she remarked cheerfully, in the best approved
hospital−early−morning style, "getting a good shine up?"
The boy grinned responsively.
CHAPTER IX 85
"Albert, miss," he corrected.
"Albert be it," said Tuppence. She glanced mysteriously round the hall. The
effect was purposely a broad one in case Albert should miss it. She leaned
towards the boy and dropped her voice: "I want a word with you, Albert."
Albert ceased operations on the fittings and opened his mouth slightly.
"Look! Do you know what this is?" With a dramatic gesture she flung back
the left side of her coat and exposed a small enamelled badge. It was
extremely unlikely that Albert would have any knowledge of it−−indeed, it
would have been fatal for Tuppence's plans, since the badge in question
was the device of a local training corps originated by the archdeacon in the
early days of the war. Its presence in Tuppence's coat was due to the fact
that she had used it for pinning in some flowers a day or two before. But
Tuppence had sharp eyes, and had noted the corner of a threepenny
detective novel protruding from Albert's pocket, and the immediate
enlargement of his eyes told her that her tactics were good, and that the fish
would rise to the bait.
"American Detective Force!" she hissed.
Albert fell for it.
"Lord!" he murmured ecstatically.
Tuppence nodded at him with the air of one who has established a thorough
understanding.
"Know who I'm after?" she inquired genially.
Albert, still round−eyed, demanded breathlessly:
"One of the flats?"
Tuppence nodded and jerked a thumb up the stairs.
CHAPTER IX 86
"No. 20. Calls herself Vandemeyer. Vandemeyer! Ha! ha!"
Albert's hand stole to his pocket.
"A crook?" he queried eagerly.
"A crook? I should say so. Ready Rita they call her in the States."
"Ready Rita," repeated Albert deliriously. "Oh, ain't it just like the
pictures!"
It was. Tuppence was a great frequenter of the kinema.
"Annie always said as how she was a bad lot," continued the boy.
"Who's Annie?" inquired Tuppence idly.
" 'Ouse−parlourmaid. She's leaving to−day. Many's the time Annie's said to
me: 'Mark my words, Albert, I wouldn't wonder if the police was to come
after her one of these days.' dust like that. But she's a stunner to look at,
ain't she?"
"She's some peach," allowed Tuppence carelessly. "Finds it useful in her
lay−out, you bet. Has she been wearing any of the emeralds, by the way?"
"Emeralds? Them's the green stones, isn't they?"
Tuppence nodded.
"That's what we're after her for. You know old man Rysdale?"
Albert shook his head.
"Peter B. Rysdale, the oil king?"
"It seems sort of familiar to me."
CHAPTER IX 87
"The sparklers belonged to him. Finest collection of emeralds in the world.
Worth a million dollars!"
"Lumme!" came ecstatically from Albert. "It sounds more like the pictures
every minute."
Tuppence smiled, gratified at the success of her efforts.
"We haven't exactly proved it yet. But we're after her. And"−−she produced
a long−drawn−out wink−−"I guess she won't get away with the goods this
time."
Albert uttered another ejaculation indicative of delight.
"Mind you, sonny, not a word of this," said Tuppence suddenly. "I guess I
oughtn't to have put you wise, but in the States we know a real smart lad
when we see one."
"I'll not breathe a word," protested Albert eagerly. "Ain't there anything I
could do? A bit of shadowing, maybe, or such like?"
Tuppence affected to consider, then shook her head.
"Not at the moment, but I'll bear you in mind, son. What's this about the girl
you say is leaving?"
"Annie? Regular turn up, they 'ad. As Annie said, servants is some one
nowadays, and to be treated accordingly, and, what with her passing the
word round, she won't find it so easy to get another."
"Won't she?" said Tuppence thoughtfully. "I wonder−−−−"
An idea was dawning in her brain. She thought a minute or two, then
tapped Albert on the shoulder.
CHAPTER IX 88
"See here, son, my brain's got busy. How would it be if you mentioned that
you'd got a young cousin, or a friend of yours had, that might suit the place.
You get me?"
"I'm there," said Albert instantly. "You leave it to me, miss, and I'll fix the
whole thing up in two ticks."
"Some lad!" commented Tuppence, with a nod of approval. "You might say
that the young woman could come in right away. You let me know, and if
it's O.K. I'll be round to−morrow at eleven o'clock."
"Where am I to let you know to?"
"Ritz," replied Tuppence laconically. "Name of Cowley."
Albert eyed her enviously.
"It must be a good job, this tec business."
"It sure is," drawled Tuppence, "especially when old man Rysdale backs
the bill. But don't fret, son. If this goes well, you shall come in on the
ground floor."
With which promise she took leave of her new ally, and walked briskly
away from South Audley Mansions, well pleased with her morning's work.
But there was no time to be lost. She went straight back to the Ritz and
wrote a few brief words to Mr. Carter. Having dispatched this, and Tommy
not having yet returned−−which did not surprise her−−she started off on a
shopping expedition which, with an interval for tea and assorted creamy
cakes, occupied her until well after six o'clock, and she returned to the hotel
jaded, but satisfied with her purchases. Starting with a cheap clothing store,
and passing through one or two second−hand establishments, she had
finished the day at a well−known hairdresser's. Now, in the seclusion of her
bedroom, she unwrapped that final purchase. Five minutes later she smiled
contentedly at her reflection in the glass. With an actress's pencil she had
CHAPTER IX 89
slightly altered the line of her eyebrows, and that, taken in conjunction with
the new luxuriant growth of fair hair above, so changed her appearance that
she felt confident that even if she came face to face with Whittington he
would not recognize her. She would wear elevators in her shoes, and the
cap and apron would be an even more valuable disguise. From hospital
experience she knew only too well that a nurse out of uniform is frequently
unrecognized by her patients.
"Yes," said Tuppence aloud, nodding at the pert reflection in the glass,
"you'll do." She then resumed her normal appearance.
Dinner was a solitary meal. Tuppence was rather surprised at Tommy's
non−return. Julius, too, was absent−−but that to the girl's mind was more
easily explained. His "hustling" activities were not confined to London, and
his abrupt appearances and disappearances were fully accepted by the
Young Adventurers as part of the day's work. It was quite on the cards that
Julius P. Hersheimmer had left for Constantinople at a moment's notice if
he fancied that a clue to his cousin's disappearance was to be found there.
The energetic young man had succeeded in making the lives of several
Scotland Yard men unbearable to them, and the telephone girls at the
Admiralty had learned to know and dread the familiar "Hullo!" He had
spent three hours in Paris hustling the Prefecture, and had returned from
there imbued with the idea, possibly inspired by a weary French official,
that the true clue to the mystery was to be found in Ireland.
"I dare say he's dashed off there now," thought Tuppence. "All very well,
but this is very dull for ME! Here I am bursting with news, and absolutely
no one to tell it to! Tommy might have wired, or something. I wonder
where he is. Anyway, he can't have 'lost the trail' as they say. That reminds
me−−−−" And Miss Cowley broke off in her meditations, and summoned a
small boy.
Ten minutes later the lady was ensconced comfortably on her bed, smoking
cigarettes and deep in the perusal of Garnaby Williams, the Boy Detective,
which, with other threepenny works of lurid fiction, she had sent out to
purchase. She felt, and rightly, that before the strain of attempting further
CHAPTER IX 90
intercourse with Albert, it would be as well to fortify herself with a good
supply of local colour.
The morning brought a note from Mr. Carter:
"DEAR MISS TUPPENCE,
"You have made a splendid start, and I congratulate you. I feel, though, that
I should like to point out to you once more the risks you are running,
especially if you pursue the course you indicate. Those people are
absolutely desperate and incapable of either mercy or pity. I feel that you
probably underestimate the danger, and therefore warn you again that I can
promise you no protection. You have given us valuable information, and if
you choose to withdraw now no one could blame you. At any rate, think the
matter over well before you decide.
"If, in spite of my warnings, you make up your mind to go through with it,
you will find everything arranged. You have lived for two years with Miss
Dufferin, The Parsonage, Llanelly, and Mrs. Vandemeyer can apply to her
for a reference.
"May I be permitted a word or two of advice? Stick as near to the truth as
possible−−it minimizes the danger of 'slips.' I suggest that you should
represent yourself to be what you are, a former V.A.D., who has chosen
domestic service as a profession. There are many such at the present time.
That explains away any incongruities of voice or manner which otherwise
might awaken suspicion.
"Whichever way you decide, good luck to you. "Your sincere friend, "MR.
CARTER."
Tuppence's spirits rose mercurially. Mr. Carter's warnings passed unheeded.
The young lady had far too much confidence in herself to pay any heed to
them.
CHAPTER IX 91
With some reluctance she abandoned the interesting part she had sketched
out for herself. Although she had no doubts of her own powers to sustain a
role indefinitely, she had too much common sense not to recognize the
force of Mr. Carter's arguments.
There was still no word or message from Tommy, but the morning post
brought a somewhat dirty postcard with the words: "It's O.K." scrawled
upon it.
At ten−thirty Tuppence surveyed with pride a slightly battered tin trunk
containing her new possessions. It was artistically corded. It was with a
slight blush that she rang the bell and ordered it to be placed in a taxi. She
drove to Paddington, and left the box in the cloak room. She then repaired
with a handbag to the fastnesses of the ladies' waiting−room. Ten minutes
later a metamorphosed Tuppence walked demurely out of the station and
entered a bus.
It was a few minutes past eleven when Tuppence again entered the hall of
South Audley Mansions. Albert was on the look−out, attending to his duties
in a somewhat desultory fashion. He did not immediately recognize
Tuppence. When he did, his admiration was unbounded.
"Blest if I'd have known you! That rig−out's top−hole."
"Glad you like it, Albert," replied Tuppence modestly. "By the way, am I
your cousin, or am I not?"
"Your voice too," cried the delighted boy. "It's as English as anything! No,
I said as a friend of mine knew a young gal. Annie wasn't best pleased.
She's stopped on till to−day−−to oblige, SHE said, but really it's so as to
put you against the place."
"Nice girl," said Tuppence.
Albert suspected no irony.
CHAPTER IX 92
"She's style about her, and keeps her silver a treat−−but, my word, ain't she
got a temper. Are you going up now, miss? Step inside the lift. No. 20 did
you say?" And he winked.
Tuppence quelled him with a stern glance, and stepped inside.
As she rang the bell of No. 20 she was conscious of Albert's eyes slowly
descending beneath the level of the floor.
A smart young woman opened the door.
"I've come about the place," said Tuppence.
"It's a rotten place," said the young woman without hesitation. "Regular old
cat−−always interfering. Accused me of tampering with her letters. Me!
The flap was half undone anyway. There's never anything in the
waste−paper basket−−she burns everything. She's a wrong 'un, that's what
she is. Swell clothes, but no class. Cook knows something about her−−but
she won't tell−−scared to death of her. And suspicious! She's on to you in a
minute if you as much as speak to a fellow. I can tell you−−−−"
But what more Annie could tell, Tuppence was never destined to learn, for
at that moment a clear voice with a peculiarly steely ring to it called:
"Annie!"
The smart young woman jumped as if she had been shot.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Who are you talking to?"
"It's a young woman about the situation, ma'am."
"Show her in then. At once."
CHAPTER IX 93
"Yes, ma'am."
Tuppence was ushered into a room on the right of the long passage. A
woman was standing by the fireplace. She was no longer in her first youth,
and the beauty she undeniably possessed was hardened and coarsened. In
her youth she must have been dazzling. Her pale gold hair, owing a slight
assistance to art, was coiled low on her neck, her eyes, of a piercing electric
blue, seemed to possess a faculty of boring into the very soul of the person
she was looking at. Her exquisite figure was enhanced by a wonderful
gown of indigo charmeuse. And yet, despite her swaying grace, and the
almost ethereal beauty of her face, you felt instinctively the presence of
something hard and menacing, a kind of metallic strength that found
expression in the tones of her voice and in that gimletlike quality of her
eyes.
For the first time Tuppence felt afraid. She had not feared Whittington, but
this woman was different. As if fascinated, she watched the long cruel line
of the red curving mouth, and again she felt that sensation of panic pass
over her. Her usual self−confidence deserted her. Vaguely she felt that
deceiving this woman would be very different to deceiving Whittington.
Mr. Carter's warning recurred to her mind. Here, indeed, she might expect
no mercy.
Fighting down that instinct of panic which urged her to turn tail and run
without further delay, Tuppence returned the lady's gaze firmly and
respectfully.
As though that first scrutiny had been satisfactory, Mrs. Vandemeyer
motioned to a chair.
"You can sit down. How did you hear I wanted a house−parlourmaid?"
"Through a friend who knows the lift boy here. He thought the place might
suit me."
Again that basilisk glance seemed to pierce her through.
CHAPTER IX 94
"You speak like an educated girl?"
Glibly enough, Tuppence ran through her imaginary career on the lines
suggested by Mr. Carter. It seemed to her, as she did so, that the tension of
Mrs. Vandemeyer's attitude relaxed.
"I see," she remarked at length. "Is there anyone I can write to for a
reference?"
"I lived last with a Miss Dufferin, The Parsonage, Llanelly. I was with her
two years."
"And then you thought you would get more money by coming to London, I
suppose? Well, it doesn't matter to me. I will give you
L50−−L60−−whatever you want. You can come in at once?"
"Yes, ma'am. To−day, if you like. My box is at Paddington."
"Go and fetch it in a taxi, then. It's an easy place. I am out a good deal. By
the way, what's your name?"
"Prudence Cooper, ma'am."
"Very well, Prudence. Go away and fetch your box. I shall be out to lunch.
The cook will show you where everything is."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Tuppence withdrew. The smart Annie was not in evidence. In the hall
below a magnificent hall porter had relegated Albert to the background.
Tuppence did not even glance at him as she passed meekly out.
The adventure had begun, but she felt less elated than she had done earlier
in the morning. It crossed her mind that if the unknown Jane Finn had
fallen into the hands of Mrs. Vandemeyer, it was likely to have gone hard
with her.
CHAPTER IX 95
CHAPTER X
ENTER SIR JAMES PEEL EDGERTON
TUPPENCE betrayed no awkwardness in her new duties. The daughters of
the archdeacon were well grounded in household tasks. They were also
experts in training a "raw girl," the inevitable result being that the raw girl,
once trained, departed elsewhere where her newly acquired knowledge
commanded a more substantial remuneration than the archdeacon's meagre
purse allowed.
Tuppence had therefore very little fear of proving inefficient. Mrs.
Vandemeyer's cook puzzled her. She evidently went in deadly terror of her
mistress. The girl thought it probable that the other woman had some hold
over her. For the rest, she cooked like a chef, as Tuppence had an
opportunity of judging that evening. Mrs. Vandemeyer was expecting a
guest to dinner, and Tuppence accordingly laid the beautifully polished
table for two. She was a little exercised in her own mind as to this visitor. It
was highly possible that it might prove to be Whittington. Although she felt
fairly confident that he would not recognize her, yet she would have been
better pleased had the guest proved to be a total stranger. However, there
was nothing for it but to hope for the best.
At a few minutes past eight the front door bell rang, and Tuppence went to
answer it with some inward trepidation. She was relieved to see that the
visitor was the second of the two men whom Tommy had taken upon
himself to follow.
He gave his name as Count Stepanov. Tuppence announced him, and Mrs.
Vandemeyer rose from her seat on a low divan with a quick murmur of
pleasure.
"It is delightful to see you, Boris Ivanovitch," she said.
"And you, madame!" He bowed low over her hand.
CHAPTER X 96
Tuppence returned to the kitchen.
"Count Stepanov, or some such," she remarked, and affecting a frank and
unvarnished curiosity: "Who's he?"
"A Russian gentleman, I believe."
"Come here much?"
"Once in a while. What d'you want to know for?"
"Fancied he might be sweet on the missus, that's all," explained the girl,
adding with an appearance of sulkiness: "How you do take one up!"
"I'm not quite easy in my mind about the souffle," explained the other.
"You know something," thought Tuppence to herself, but aloud she only
said: "Going to dish up now? Right−o."
Whilst waiting at table, Tuppence listened closely to all that was said. She
remembered that this was one of the men Tommy was shadowing when she
had last seen him. Already, although she would hardly admit it, she was
becoming uneasy about her partner. Where was he? Why had no word of
any kind come from him? She had arranged before leaving the Ritz to have
all letters or messages sent on at once by special messenger to a small
stationer's shop near at hand where Albert was to call in frequently. True, it
was only yesterday morning that she had parted from Tommy, and she told
herself that any anxiety on his behalf would be absurd. Still, it was strange
that he had sent no word of any kind.
But, listen as she might, the conversation presented no clue. Boris and Mrs.
Vandemeyer talked on purely indifferent subjects: plays they had seen, new
dances, and the latest society gossip. After dinner they repaired to the small
boudoir where Mrs. Vandemeyer, stretched on the divan, looked more
wickedly beautiful than ever. Tuppence brought in the coffee and liqueurs
and unwillingly retired. As she did so, she heard Boris say:
CHAPTER X 97
"New, isn't she?"
"She came in to−day. The other was a fiend. This girl seems all right. She
waits well."
Tuppence lingered a moment longer by the door which she had carefully
neglected to close, and heard him say:
"Quite safe, I suppose?"
"Really, Boris, you are absurdly suspicious. I believe she's the cousin of the
hall porter, or something of the kind. And nobody even dreams that I have
any connection with our−−mutual friend, Mr. Brown."
"For heaven's sake, be careful, Rita. That door isn't shut."
"Well, shut it then," laughed the woman.
Tuppence removed herself speedily.
She dared not absent herself longer from the back premises, but she cleared
away and washed up with a breathless speed acquired in hospital. Then she
slipped quietly back to the boudoir door. The cook, more leisurely, was still
busy in the kitchen and, if she missed the other, would only suppose her to
be turning down the beds.
Alas! The conversation inside was being carried on in too low a tone to
permit of her hearing anything of it. She dared not reopen the door,
however gently. Mrs. Vandemeyer was sitting almost facing it, and
Tuppence respected her mistress's lynx−eyed powers of observation.
Nevertheless, she felt she would give a good deal to overhear what was
going on. Possibly, if anything unforeseen had happened, she might get
news of Tommy. For some moments she reflected desperately, then her
face brightened. She went quickly along the passage to Mrs. Vandemeyer's
bedroom, which had long French windows leading on to a balcony that ran
CHAPTER X 98
the length of the flat. Slipping quickly through the window, Tuppence crept
noiselessly along till she reached the boudoir window. As she had thought
it stood a little ajar, and the voices within were plainly audible.
Tuppence listened attentively, but there was no mention of anything that
could be twisted to apply to Tommy. Mrs. Vandemeyer and the Russian
seemed to be at variance over some matter, and finally the latter exclaimed
bitterly:
"With your persistent recklessness, you will end by ruining us!"
"Bah!" laughed the woman. "Notoriety of the right kind is the best way of
disarming suspicion. You will realize that one of these days−−perhaps
sooner than you think!"
"In the meantime, you are going about everywhere with Peel Edgerton. Not
only is he, perhaps, the most celebrated K.C. in England, but his special
hobby is criminology! It is madness!"
"I know that his eloquence has saved untold men from the gallows," said
Mrs. Vandemeyer calmly. "What of it? I may need his assistance in that
line myself some day. If so, how fortunate to have such a friend at
court−−or perhaps it would be more to the point to say IN court."
Boris got up and began striding up and down. He was very excited.
"You are a clever woman, Rita; but you are also a fool! Be guided by me,
and give up Peel Edgerton."
Mrs. Vandemeyer shook her head gently.
"I think not."
"You refuse?" There was an ugly ring in the Russian's voice.
"I do."
CHAPTER X 99
"Then, by Heaven," snarled the Russian, "we will see−−−−" But Mrs.
Vandemeyer also rose to her feet, her eyes flashing.
"You forget, Boris," she said. "I am accountable to no one. I take my orders
only from−−Mr. Brown."
The other threw up his hands in despair.
"You are impossible," he muttered. "Impossible! Already it may be too late.
They say Peel Edgerton can SMELL a criminal! How do we know what is
at the bottom of his sudden interest in you? Perhaps even now his
suspicions are aroused. He guesses−−−−"
Mrs. Vandemeyer eyed him scornfully.
"Reassure yourself, my dear Boris. He suspects nothing. With less than
your usual chivalry, you seem to forget that I am commonly accounted a
beautiful woman. I assure you that is all that interests Peel Edgerton."
Boris shook his head doubtfully.
"He has studied crime as no other man in this kingdom has studied it. Do
you fancy that you can deceive him?"
Mrs. Vandemeyer's eyes narrowed.
"If he is all that you say−−it would amuse me to try!"
"Good heavens, Rita−−−−"
"Besides," added Mrs. Vandemeyer, "he is extremely rich. I am not one
who despises money. The 'sinews of war,' you know, Boris!"
"Money−−money! That is always the danger with you, Rita. I believe you
would sell your soul for money. I believe−−−−" He paused, then in a low,
sinister voice he said slowly: "Sometimes I believe that you would
CHAPTER X 100
sell−−us!"
Mrs. Vandemeyer smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"The price, at any rate, would have to be enormous," she said lightly. "It
would be beyond the power of anyone but a millionaire to pay."
"Ah!" snarled the Russian. "You see, I was right!"
"My dear Boris, can you not take a joke?"
"Was it a joke?"
"Of course."
"Then all I can say is that your ideas of humour are peculiar, my dear Rita."
Mrs. Vandemeyer smiled.
"Let us not quarrel, Boris. Touch the bell. We will have some drinks."
Tuppence beat a hasty retreat. She paused a moment to survey herself in
Mrs. Vandemeyer's long glass, and be sure that nothing was amiss with her
appearance. Then she answered the bell demurely.
The conversation that she had overheard, although interesting in that it
proved beyond doubt the complicity of both Rita and Boris, threw very
little light on the present preoccupations. The name of Jane Finn had not
even been mentioned.
The following morning a few brief words with Albert informed her that
nothing was waiting for her at the stationer's. It seemed incredible that
Tommy, if all was well with him, should not send any word to her. A cold
hand seemed to close round her heart.... Supposing ... She choked her fears
down bravely. It was no good worrying. But she leapt at a chance offered
her by Mrs. Vandemeyer.
CHAPTER X 101
"What day do you usually go out, Prudence?"
"Friday's my usual day, ma'am."
Mrs. Vandemeyer lifted her eyebrows.
"And to−day is Friday! But I suppose you hardly wish to go out to−day, as
you only came yesterday."
"I was thinking of asking you if I might, ma'am."
Mrs. Vandemeyer looked at her a minute longer, and then smiled.
"I wish Count Stepanov could hear you. He made a suggestion about you
last night." Her smile broadened, catlike. "Your request is very−−typical. I
am satisfied. You do not understand all this−−but you can go out to−day. It
makes no difference to me, as I shall not be dining at home."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Tuppence felt a sensation of relief once she was out of the other's presence.
Once again she admitted to herself that she was afraid, horribly afraid, of
the beautiful woman with the cruel eyes.
In the midst of a final desultory polishing of her silver, Tuppence was
disturbed by the ringing of the front door bell, and went to answer it. This
time the visitor was neither Whittington nor Boris, but a man of striking
appearance.
Just a shade over average height, he nevertheless conveyed the impression
of a big man. His face, clean−shaven and exquisitely mobile, was stamped
with an expression of power and force far beyond the ordinary. Magnetism
seemed to radiate from him.
Tuppence was undecided for the moment whether to put him down as an
actor or a lawyer, but her doubts were soon solved as he gave her his name:
CHAPTER X 102
Sir James Peel Edgerton.
She looked at him with renewed interest. This, then, was the famous K.C.
whose name was familiar all over England. She had heard it said that he
might one day be Prime Minister. He was known to have refused office in
the interests of his profession, preferring to remain a simple Member for a
Scotch constituency.
Tuppence went back to her pantry thoughtfully. The great man had
impressed her. She understood Boris's agitation. Peel Edgerton would not
be an easy man to deceive.
In about a quarter of an hour the bell rang, and Tuppence repaired to the
hall to show the visitor out. He had given her a piercing glance before.
Now, as she handed him his hat and stick, she was conscious of his eyes
raking her through. As she opened the door and stood aside to let him pass
out, he stopped in the doorway.
"Not been doing this long, eh?"
Tuppence raised her eyes, astonished. She read in his glance kindliness, and
something else more difficult to fathom.
He nodded as though she had answered.
"V.A.D. and hard up, I suppose?"
"Did Mrs. Vandemeyer tell you that?" asked Tuppence suspiciously.
"No, child. The look of you told me. Good place here?"
"Very good, thank you, sir."
"Ah, but there are plenty of good places nowadays. And a change does no
harm sometimes."
CHAPTER X 103
"Do you mean−−−−?" began Tuppence.
But Sir James was already on the topmost stair. He looked back with his
kindly, shrewd glance.
"Just a hint," he said. "That's all."
Tuppence went back to the pantry more thoughtful than ever.
CHAPTER XI
JULIUS TELLS A STORY
DRESSED appropriately, Tuppence duly sallied forth for her "afternoon
out." Albert was in temporary abeyance, but Tuppence went herself to the
stationer's to make quite sure that nothing had come for her. Satisfied on
this point, she made her way to the Ritz. On inquiry she learnt that Tommy
had not yet returned. It was the answer she had expected, but it was another
nail in the coffin of her hopes. She resolved to appeal to Mr. Carter, telling
him when and where Tommy had started on his quest, and asking him to do
something to trace him. The prospect of his aid revived her mercurial
spirits, and she next inquired for Julius Hersheimmer. The reply she got
was to the effect that he had returned about half an hour ago, but had gone
out immediately.
Tuppence's spirits revived still more. It would be something to see Julius.
Perhaps he could devise some plan for finding out what had become of
Tommy. She wrote her note to Mr. Carter in Julius's sitting−room, and was
just addressing the envelope when the door burst open.
"What the hell−−−−" began Julius, but checked himself abruptly. "I beg
your pardon, Miss Tuppence. Those fools down at the office would have it
CHAPTER XI 104
that Beresford wasn't here any longer−−hadn't been here since Wednesday.
Is that so?"
Tuppence nodded.
"You don't know where he is?" she asked faintly.
"I? How should I know? I haven't had one darned word from him, though I
wired him yesterday morning."
"I expect your wire's at the office unopened."
"But where is he?"
"I don't know. I hoped you might."
"I tell you I haven't had one darned word from him since we parted at the
depot on Wednesday."
"What depot?"
"Waterloo. Your London and South Western road."
"Waterloo?" frowned Tuppence.
"Why, yes. Didn't he tell you?"
"I haven't seen him either," replied Tuppence impatiently. "Go on about
Waterloo. What were you doing there?"
"He gave me a call. Over the phone. Told me to get a move on, and hustle.
Said he was trailing two crooks."
"Oh!" said Tuppence, her eyes opening. "I see. Go on."
CHAPTER XI 105
"I hurried along right away. Beresford was there. He pointed out the crooks.
The big one was mine, the guy you bluffed. Tommy shoved a ticket into
my hand and told me to get aboard the cars. He was going to sleuth the
other crook." Julius paused. "I thought for sure you'd know all this."
"Julius," said Tuppence firmly, "stop walking up and down. It makes me
giddy. Sit down in that armchair, and tell me the whole story with as few
fancy turns of speech as possible."
Mr. Hersheimmer obeyed.
"Sure," he said. "Where shall I begin?"
"Where you left off. At Waterloo."
"Well," began Julius, "I got into one of your dear old−fashioned first−class
British compartments. The train was just off. First thing I knew a guard
came along and informed me mighty politely that I wasn't in a
smoking−carriage. I handed him out half a dollar, and that settled that. I did
a bit of prospecting along the corridor to the next coach. Whittington was
there right enough. When I saw the skunk, with his big sleek fat face, and
thought of poor little Jane in his clutches, I felt real mad that I hadn't got a
gun with me. I'd have tickled him up some.
"We got to Bournemouth all right. Whittington took a cab and gave the
name of an hotel. I did likewise, and we drove up within three minutes of
each other. He hired a room, and I hired one too. So far it was all plain
sailing. He hadn't the remotest notion that anyone was on to him. Well, he
just sat around in the hotel lounge, reading the papers and so on, till it was
time for dinner. He didn't hurry any over that either.
"I began to think that there was nothing doing, that he'd just come on the
trip for his health, but I remembered that he hadn't changed for dinner,
though it was by way of being a slap−up hotel, so it seemed likely enough
that he'd be going out on his real business afterwards.
CHAPTER XI 106
"Sure enough, about nine o'clock, so he did. Took a car across the
town−−mighty pretty place by the way, I guess I'll take Jane there for a
spell when I find her−−and then paid it off and struck out along those
pine−woods on the top of the cliff. I was there too, you understand. We
walked, maybe, for half an hour. There's a lot of villas all the way along,
but by degrees they seemed to get more and more thinned out, and in the
end we got to one that seemed the last of the bunch. Big house it was, with
a lot of piny grounds around it.
"It was a pretty black night, and the carriage drive up to the house was dark
as pitch. I could hear him ahead, though I couldn't see him. I had to walk
carefully in case he might get on to it that he was being followed. I turned a
curve and I was just in time to see him ring the bell and get admitted to the
house. I just stopped where I was. It was beginning to rain, and I was soon
pretty near soaked through. Also, it was almighty cold.
"Whittington didn't come out again, and by and by I got kind of restive, and
began to mouch around. All the ground floor windows were shuttered tight,
but upstairs, on the first floor (it was a two−storied house) I noticed a
window with a light burning and the curtains not drawn.
"Now, just opposite to that window, there was a tree growing. It was about
thirty foot away from the house, maybe, and I sort of got it into my head
that, if I climbed up that tree, I'd very likely be able to see into that room.
Of course, I knew there was no reason why Whittington should be in that
room rather than in any other−−less reason, in fact, for the betting would be
on his being in one of the reception−rooms downstairs. But I guess I'd got
the hump from standing so long in the rain, and anything seemed better
than going on doing nothing. So I started up.
"It wasn't so easy, by a long chalk! The rain had made the boughs mighty
slippery, and it was all I could do to keep a foothold, but bit by bit I
managed it, until at last there I was level with the window.
"But then I was disappointed. I was too far to the left. I could only see
sideways into the room. A bit of curtain, and a yard of wallpaper was all I
CHAPTER XI 107
could command. Well, that wasn't any manner of good to me, but just as I
was going to give it up, and climb down ignominiously, some one inside
moved and threw his shadow on my little bit of wall−−and, by gum, it was
Whittington!
"After that, my blood was up. I'd just got to get a look into that room. It was
up to me to figure out how. I noticed that there was a long branch running
out from the tree in the right direction. If I could only swarm about
half−way along it, the proposition would be solved. But it was mighty
uncertain whether it would bear my weight. I decided I'd just got to risk
that, and I started. Very cautiously, inch by inch, I crawled along. The
bough creaked and swayed in a nasty fashion, and it didn't do to think of
the drop below, but at last I got safely to where I wanted to be.
"The room was medium−sized, furnished in a kind of bare hygienic way.
There was a table with a lamp on it in the middle of the room, and sitting at
that table, facing towards me, was Whittington right enough. He was
talking to a woman dressed as a hospital nurse. She was sitting with her
back to me, so I couldn't see her face. Although the blinds were up, the
window itself was shut, so I couldn't catch a word of what they said.
Whittington seemed to be doing all the talking, and the nurse just listened.
Now and then she nodded, and sometimes she'd shake her head, as though
she were answering questions. He seemed very emphatic−−once or twice
he beat with his fist on the table. The rain had stopped now, and the sky
was clearing in that sudden way it does.
"Presently, he seemed to get to the end of what he was saying. He got up,
and so did she. He looked towards the window and asked something−−I
guess it was whether it was raining. Anyway, she came right across and
looked out. Just then the moon came out from behind the clouds. I was
scared the woman would catch sight of me, for I was full in the moonlight.
I tried to move back a bit. The jerk I gave was too much for that rotten old
branch. With an almighty crash, down it came, and Julius P. Hersheimmer
with it!"
"Oh, Julius," breathed Tuppence, "how exciting! Go on."
CHAPTER XI 108
"Well, luckily for me, I pitched down into a good soft bed of earth−−but it
put me out of action for the time, sure enough. The next thing I knew, I was
lying in bed with a hospital nurse (not Whittington's one) on one side of
me, and a little black−bearded man with gold glasses, and medical man
written all over him, on the other. He rubbed his hands together, and raised
his eyebrows as I stared at him. 'Ah!' he said. 'So our young friend is
coming round again. Capital. Capital.'
"I did the usual stunt. Said: 'What's happened?' And 'Where am I?' But I
knew the answer to the last well enough. There's no moss growing on my
brain. 'I think that'll do for the present, sister,' said the little man, and the
nurse left the room in a sort of brisk well−trained way. But I caught her
handing me out a look of deep curiosity as she passed through the door.
"That look of hers gave me an idea. 'Now then, doc,' I said, and tried to sit
up in bed, but my right foot gave me a nasty twinge as I did so. 'A slight
sprain,' explained the doctor. 'Nothing serious. You'll be about again in a
couple of days.' "
"I noticed you walked lame," interpolated Tuppence.
Julius nodded, and continued:
" 'How did it happen?' I asked again. He replied dryly. 'You fell, with a
considerable portion of one of my trees, into one of my newly planted
flower−beds.'
"I liked the man. He seemed to have a sense of humour. I felt sure that he,
at least, was plumb straight. 'Sure, doc,' I said, 'I'm sorry about the tree, and
I guess the new bulbs will be on me. But perhaps you'd like to know what I
was doing in your garden?' 'I think the facts do call for an explanation,' he
replied. 'Well, to begin with, I wasn't after the spoons.'
"He smiled. 'My first theory. But I soon altered my mind. By the way, you
are an American, are you not?' I told him my name. 'And you?' 'I am Dr.
Hall, and this, as you doubtless know, is my private nursing home.'
CHAPTER XI 109
"I didn't know, but I wasn't going to put him wise. I was just thankful for
the information. I liked the man, and I felt he was straight, but I wasn't
going to give him the whole story. For one thing he probably wouldn't have
believed it.
"I made up my mind in a flash. 'Why, doctor,' I said, 'I guess I feel an
almighty fool, but I owe it to you to let you know that it wasn't the Bill
Sikes business I was up to.' Then I went on and mumbled out something
about a girl. I trotted out the stern guardian business, and a nervous
breakdown, and finally explained that I had fancied I recognized her among
the patients at the home, hence my nocturnal adventures. "I guess it was
just the kind of story he was expecting. 'Quite a romance,' he said genially,
when I'd finished. 'Now, doc,' I went on, 'will you be frank with me? Have
you here now, or have you had here at any time, a young girl called Jane
Finn?' He repeated the name thoughtfully. 'Jane Finn?' he said. 'No.'
"I was chagrined, and I guess I showed it. 'You are sure?' 'Quite sure, Mr.
Hersheimmer. It is an uncommon name, and I should not have been likely
to forget it.'
"Well, that was flat. It laid me out for a space. I'd kind of hoped my search
was at an end. 'That's that,' I said at last. 'Now, there's another matter. When
I was hugging that darned branch I thought I recognized an old friend of
mine talking to one of your nurses.' I purposely didn't mention any name
because, of course, Whittington might be calling himself something quite
different down here, but the doctor answered at once. 'Mr. Whittington,
perhaps?' 'That's the fellow,' I replied. 'What's he doing down here? Don't
tell me HIS nerves are out of order?'
"Dr. Hall laughed. 'No. He came down to see one of my nurses, Nurse
Edith, who is a niece of his.' 'Why, fancy that!' I exclaimed. 'Is he still
here?' 'No, he went back to town almost immediately.' 'What a pity!' I
ejaculated. 'But perhaps I could speak to his niece−−Nurse Edith, did you
say her name was?'
CHAPTER XI 110
"But the doctor shook his head. 'I'm afraid that, too, is impossible. Nurse
Edith left with a patient to−night also.' 'I seem to be real unlucky,' I
remarked. 'Have you Mr. Whittington's address in town? I guess I'd like to
look him up when I get back.' 'I don't know his address. I can write to Nurse
Edith for it if you like.' I thanked him. 'Don't say who it is wants it. I'd like
to give him a little surprise.'
"That was about all I could do for the moment. Of course, if the girl was
really Whittington's niece, she might be too cute to fall into the trap, but it
was worth trying. Next thing I did was to write out a wire to Beresford
saying where I was, and that I was laid up with a sprained foot, and telling
him to come down if he wasn't busy. I had to be guarded in what I said.
However, I didn't hear from him, and my foot soon got all right. It was only
ricked, not really sprained, so to−day I said good−bye to the little doctor
chap, asked him to send me word if he heard from Nurse Edith, and came
right away back to town. Say, Miss Tuppence, you're looking mighty pale!"
"It's Tommy," said Tuppence. "What can have happened to him?"
"Buck up, I guess he's all right really. Why shouldn't he be? See here, it was
a foreign−looking guy he went off after. Maybe they've gone abroad−−to
Poland, or something like that?"
Tuppence shook her head.
"He couldn't without passports and things. Besides I've seen that man, Boris
Something, since. He dined with Mrs. Vandemeyer last night."
"Mrs. Who?"
"I forgot. Of course you don't know all that."
"I'm listening," said Julius, and gave vent to his favourite expression. "Put
me wise."
CHAPTER XI 111
Tuppence thereupon related the events of the last two days. Julius's
astonishment and admiration were unbounded.
"Bully for you! Fancy you a menial. It just tickles me to death!" Then he
added seriously: "But say now, I don't like it, Miss Tuppence, I sure don't.
You're just as plucky as they make 'em, but I wish you'd keep right out of
this. These crooks we're up against would as soon croak a girl as a man any
day."
"Do you think I'm afraid?" said Tuppence indignantly, valiantly repressing
memories of the steely glitter in Mrs. Vandemeyer's eyes.
"I said before you were darned plucky. But that doesn't alter facts."
"Oh, bother ME!" said Tuppence impatiently. "Let's think about what can
have happened to Tommy. I've written to Mr. Carter about it," she added,
and told him the gist of her letter.
Julius nodded gravely.
"I guess that's good as far as it goes. But it's for us to get busy and do
something."
"What can we do?" asked Tuppence, her spirits rising.
"I guess we'd better get on the track of Boris. You say he's been to your
place. Is he likely to come again?"
"He might. I really don't know."
"I see. Well, I guess I'd better buy a car, a slap−up one, dress as a chauffeur
and hang about outside. Then if Boris comes, you could make some kind of
signal, and I'd trail him. How's that?"
"Splendid, but he mightn't come for weeks."
CHAPTER XI 112
"We'll have to chance that. I'm glad you like the plan." He rose.
"Where are you going?"
"To buy the car, of course," replied Julius, surprised. "What make do you
like? I guess you'll do some riding in it before we've finished."
"Oh," said Tuppence faintly, "I LIKE Rolls−Royces, but−−−−"
"Sure," agreed Julius. "What you say goes. I'll get one."
"But you can't at once," cried Tuppence. "People wait ages sometimes."
"Little Julius doesn't," affirmed Mr. Hersheimmer. "Don't you worry any.
I'll be round in the car in half an hour."
Tuppence got up.
"You're awfully good, Julius. But I can't help feeling that it's rather a
forlorn hope. I'm really pinning my faith to Mr. Carter."
"Then I shouldn't."
"Why?"
"Just an idea of mine."
"Oh; but he must do something. There's no one else. By the way, I forgot to
tell you of a queer thing that happened this morning."
And she narrated her encounter with Sir James Peel Edgerton. Julius was
interested.
"What did the guy mean, do you think?" he asked.
CHAPTER XI 113
"I don't quite know," said Tuppence meditatively. "But I think that, in an
ambiguous, legal, without prejudishish lawyer's way, he was trying to warn
me."
"Why should he?"
"I don't know," confessed Tuppence. "But he looked kind, and simply
awfully clever. I wouldn't mind going to him and telling him everything."
Somewhat to her surprise, Julius negatived the idea sharply.
"See here," he said, "we don't want any lawyers mixed up in this. That guy
couldn't help us any."
"Well, I believe he could," reiterated Tuppence obstinately.
"Don't you think it. So long. I'll be back in half an hour."
Thirty−five minutes had elapsed when Julius returned. He took Tuppence
by the arm, and walked her to the window.
"There she is."
"Oh!" said Tuppence with a note of reverence in her voice, as she gazed
down at the enormous car.
"She's some pace−maker, I can tell you," said Julius complacently.
"How did you get it?" gasped Tuppence.
"She was just being sent home to some bigwig."
"Well?"
"I went round to his house," said Julius. "I said that I reckoned a car like
that was worth every penny of twenty thousand dollars. Then I told him
CHAPTER XI 114
that it was worth just about fifty thousand dollars to me if he'd get out."
"Well?" said Tuppence, intoxicated.
"Well," returned Julius, "he got out, that's all."
CHAPTER XII
A FRIEND IN NEED
FRIDAY and Saturday passed uneventfully. Tuppence had received a brief
answer to her appeal from Mr. Carter. In it he pointed out that the Young
Adventurers had undertaken the work at their own risk, and had been fully
warned of the dangers. If anything had happened to Tommy he regretted it
deeply, but he could do nothing.
This was cold comfort. Somehow, without Tommy, all the savour went out
of the adventure, and, for the first time, Tuppence felt doubtful of success.
While they had been together she had never questioned it for a minute.
Although she was accustomed to take the lead, and to pride herself on her
quick−wittedness, in reality she had relied upon Tommy more than she
realized at the time. There was something so eminently sober and
clear−headed about him, his common sense and soundness of vision were
so unvarying, that without him Tuppence felt much like a rudderless ship. It
was curious that Julius, who was undoubtedly much cleverer than Tommy,
did not give her the same feeling of support. She had accused Tommy of
being a pessimist, and it is certain that he always saw the disadvantages and
difficulties which she herself was optimistically given to overlooking, but
nevertheless she had really relied a good deal on his judgment. He might be
slow, but he was very sure.
CHAPTER XII 115
It seemed to the girl that, for the first time, she realized the sinister
character of the mission they had undertaken so lightheartedly. It had begun
like a page of romance. Now, shorn of its glamour, it seemed to be turning
to grim reality. Tommy−−that was all that mattered. Many times in the day
Tuppence blinked the tears out of her eyes resolutely. "Little fool," she
would apostrophize herself, "don't snivel. Of course you're fond of him.
You've known him all your life. But there's no need to be sentimental about
it."
In the meantime, nothing more was seen of Boris. He did not come to the
flat, and Julius and the car waited in vain. Tuppence gave herself over to
new meditations. Whilst admitting the truth of Julius's objections, she had
nevertheless not entirely relinquished the idea of appealing to Sir James
Peel Edgerton. Indeed, she had gone so far as to look up his address in the
Red Book. Had he meant to warn her that day? If so, why? Surely she was
at least entitled to demand an explanation. He had looked at her so kindly.
Perhaps he might tell them something concerning Mrs. Vandemeyer which
might lead to a clue to Tommy's whereabouts.
Anyway, Tuppence decided, with her usual shake of the shoulders, it was
worth trying, and try it she would. Sunday was her afternoon out. She
would meet Julius, persuade him to her point of view, and they would beard
the lion in his den.
When the day arrived Julius needed a considerable amount of persuading,
but Tuppence held firm. "It can do no harm," was what she always came
back to. In the end Julius gave in, and they proceeded in the car to Carlton
House Terrace.
The door was opened by an irreproachable butler. Tuppence felt a little
nervous. After all, perhaps it WAS colossal cheek on her part. She had
decided not to ask if Sir James was "at home," but to adopt a more personal
attitude.
"Will you ask Sir James if I can see him for a few minutes? I have an
important message for him."
CHAPTER XII 116
The butler retired, returning a moment or two later.
"Sir James will see you. Will you step this way?"
He ushered them into a room at the back of the house, furnished as a
library. The collection of books was a magnificent one, and Tuppence
noticed that all one wall was devoted to works on crime and criminology.
There were several deep−padded leather arm−chairs, and an old−fashioned
open hearth. In the window was a big roll−top desk strewn with papers at
which the master of the house was sitting.
He rose as they entered.
"You have a message for me? Ah"−−he recognized Tuppence with a
smile−−"it's you, is it? Brought a message from Mrs. Vandemeyer, I
suppose?"
"Not exactly," said Tuppence. "In fact, I'm afraid I only said that to be quite
sure of getting in. Oh, by the way, this is Mr. Hersheimmer, Sir James Peel
Edgerton."
"Pleased to meet you," said the American, shooting out a hand.
"Won't you both sit down?" asked Sir James. He drew forward two chairs.
"Sir James," said Tuppence, plunging boldly, "I dare say you will think it is
most awful cheek of me coming here like this. Because, of course, it's
nothing whatever to do with you, and then you're a very important person,
and of course Tommy and I are very unimportant." She paused for breath.
"Tommy?" queried Sir James, looking across at the American.
"No, that's Julius," explained Tuppence. "I'm rather nervous, and that
makes me tell it badly. What I really want to know is what you meant by
what you said to me the other day? Did you mean to warn me against Mrs.
Vandemeyer? You did, didn't you?"
CHAPTER XII 117
"My dear young lady, as far as I recollect I only mentioned that there were
equally good situations to be obtained elsewhere."
"Yes, I know. But it was a hint, wasn't it?"
"Well, perhaps it was," admitted Sir James gravely.
"Well, I want to know more. I want to know just WHY you gave me a
hint."
Sir James smiled at her earnestness.
"Suppose the lady brings a libel action against me for defamation of
character?"
"Of course," said Tuppence. "I know lawyers are always dreadfully careful.
But can't we say 'without prejudice' first, and then say just what we want
to."
"Well," said Sir James, still smiling, "without prejudice, then, if I had a
young sister forced to earn her living, I should not like to see her in Mrs.
Vandemeyer's service. I felt it incumbent on me just to give you a hint. It is
no place for a young and inexperienced girl. That is all I can tell you."
"I see," said Tuppence thoughtfully. "Thank you very much. But I'm not
REALLY inexperienced, you know. I knew perfectly that she was a bad lot
when I went there−−as a matter of fact that's WHY I went−−−−" She broke
off, seeing some bewilderment on the lawyer's face, and went on: "I think
perhaps I'd better tell you the whole story, Sir James. I've a sort of feeling
that you'd know in a minute if I didn't tell the truth, and so you might as
well know all about it from the beginning. What do you think, Julius?"
"As you're bent on it, I'd go right ahead with the facts," replied the
American, who had so far sat in silence.
"Yes, tell me all about it," said Sir James. "I want to know who Tommy is."
CHAPTER XII 118
Thus encouraged Tuppence plunged into her tale, and the lawyer listened
with close attention.
"Very interesting," he said, when she finished. "A great deal of what you
tell me, child, is already known to me. I've had certain theories of my own
about this Jane Finn. You've done extraordinarily well so far, but it's rather
too bad of−−what do you know him as?−−Mr. Carter to pitchfork you two
young things into an affair of this kind. By the way, where did Mr.
Hersheimmer come in originally? You didn't make that clear?"
Julius answered for himself.
"I'm Jane's first cousin," he explained, returning the lawyer's keen gaze.
"Ah!"
"Oh, Sir James," broke out Tuppence, "what do you think has become of
Tommy?"
"H'm." The lawyer rose, and paced slowly up and down. "When you
arrived, young lady, I was just packing up my traps. Going to Scotland by
the night train for a few days' fishing. But there are different kinds of
fishing. I've a good mind to stay, and see if we can't get on the track of that
young chap."
"Oh!" Tuppence clasped her hands ecstatically.
"All the same, as I said before, it's too bad of−−of Carter to set you two
babies on a job like this. Now, don't get offended, Miss−−er−−−−"
"Cowley. Prudence Cowley. But my friends call me Tuppence."
"Well, Miss Tuppence, then, as I'm certainly going to be a friend. Don't be
offended because I think you're young. Youth is a failing only too easily
outgrown. Now, about this young Tommy of yours−−−−"
CHAPTER XII 119
"Yes." Tuppence clasped her hands.
"Frankly, things look bad for him. He's been butting in somewhere where
he wasn't wanted. Not a doubt of it. But don't give up hope."
"And you really will help us? There, Julius! He didn't want me to come,"
she added by way of explanation.
"H'm," said the lawyer, favouring Julius with another keen glance. "And
why was that?"
"I reckoned it would be no good worrying you with a petty little business
like this."
"I see." He paused a moment. "This petty little business, as you call it,
bears directly on a very big business, bigger perhaps than either you or
Miss Tuppence know. If this boy is alive, he may have very valuable
information to give us. Therefore, we must find him."
"Yes, but how?" cried Tuppence. "I've tried to think of everything."
Sir James smiled.
"And yet there's one person quite near at hand who in all probability knows
where he is, or at all events where he is likely to be."
"Who is that?" asked Tuppence, puzzled.
"Mrs. Vandemeyer."
"Yes, but she'd never tell us."
"Ah, that is where I come in. I think it quite likely that I shall be able to
make Mrs. Vandemeyer tell me what I want to know."
"How?" demanded Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide.
CHAPTER XII 120
"Oh, just by asking her questions," replied Sir James easily. "That's the way
we do it, you know."
He tapped with his finger on the table, and Tuppence felt again the intense
power that radiated from the man.
"And if she won't tell?" asked Julius suddenly.
"I think she will. I have one or two powerful levers. Still, in that unlikely
event, there is always the possibility of bribery."
"Sure. And that's where I come in!" cried Julius, bringing his fist down on
the table with a bang. "You can count on me, if necessary, for one million
dollars. Yes, sir, one million dollars!"
Sir James sat down and subjected Julius to a long scrutiny.
"Mr. Hersheimmer," he said at last, "that is a very large sum."
"I guess it'll have to be. These aren't the kind of folk to offer sixpence to."
"At the present rate of exchange it amounts to considerably over two
hundred and fifty thousand pounds."
"That's so. Maybe you think I'm talking through my hat, but I can deliver
the goods all right, with enough over to spare for your fee."
Sir James flushed slightly.
"There is no question of a fee, Mr. Hersheimmer. I am not a private
detective."
"Sorry. I guess I was just a mite hasty, but I've been feeling bad about this
money question. I wanted to offer a big reward for news of Jane some days
ago, but your crusted institution of Scotland Yard advised me against it.
Said it was undesirable."
CHAPTER XII 121
"They were probably right," said Sir James dryly.
"But it's all O.K. about Julius," put in Tuppence. "He's not pulling your leg.
He's got simply pots of money."
"The old man piled it up in style," explained Julius. "Now, let's get down to
it. What's your idea?"
Sir James considered for a moment or two.
"There is no time to be lost. The sooner we strike the better." He turned to
Tuppence. "Is Mrs. Vandemeyer dining out to−night, do you know?"
"Yes, I think so, but she will not be out late. Otherwise, she would have
taken the latchkey."
"Good. I will call upon her about ten o'clock. What time are you supposed
to return?"
"About nine−thirty or ten, but I could go back earlier."
"You must not do that on any account. It might arouse suspicion if you did
not stay out till the usual time. Be back by nine−thirty. I will arrive at ten.
Mr. Hersheimmer will wait below in a taxi perhaps."
"He's got a new Rolls−Royce car," said Tuppence with vicarious pride.
"Even better. If I succeed in obtaining the address from her, we can go
there at once, taking Mrs. Vandemeyer with us if necessary. You
understand?"
"Yes." Tuppence rose to her feet with a skip of delight. "Oh, I feel so much
better!"
"Don't build on it too much, Miss Tuppence. Go easy."
CHAPTER XII 122
Julius turned to the lawyer.
"Say, then. I'll call for you in the car round about nine−thirty. Is that right?"
"Perhaps that will be the best plan. It would be unnecessary to have two
cars waiting about. Now, Miss Tuppence, my advice to you is to go and
have a good dinner, a REALLY good one, mind. And don't think ahead
more than you can help."
He shook hands with them both, and a moment later they were outside.
"Isn't he a duck?" inquired Tuppence ecstatically, as she skipped down the
steps. "Oh, Julius, isn't he just a duck?"
"Well, I allow he seems to be the goods all right. And I was wrong about its
being useless to go to him. Say, shall we go right away back to the Ritz?"
"I must walk a bit, I think. I feel so excited. Drop me in the park, will you?
Unless you'd like to come too?"
"I want to get some petrol," he explained. "And send off a cable or two."
"All right. I'll meet you at the Ritz at seven. We'll have to dine upstairs. I
can't show myself in these glad rags."
"Sure. I'll get Felix help me choose the menu. He's some head waiter, that.
So long."
Tuppence walked briskly along towards the Serpentine, first glancing at her
watch. It was nearly six o'clock. She remembered that she had had no tea,
but felt too excited to be conscious of hunger. She walked as far as
Kensington Gardens and then slowly retraced her steps, feeling infinitely
better for the fresh air and exercise. It was not so easy to follow Sir James's
advice, and put the possible events of the evening out of her head. As she
drew nearer and nearer to Hyde Park corner, the temptation to return to
South Audley Mansions was almost irresistible.
CHAPTER XII 123
At any rate, she decided, it would do no harm just to go and LOOK at the
building. Perhaps, then, she could resign herself to waiting patiently for ten
o'clock.
South Audley Mansions looked exactly the same as usual. What Tuppence
had expected she hardly knew, but the sight of its red brick stolidity slightly
assuaged the growing and entirely unreasonable uneasiness that possessed
her. She was just turning away when she heard a piercing whistle, and the
faithful Albert came running from the building to join her.
Tuppence frowned. It was no part of the programme to have attention
called to her presence in the neighbourhood, but Albert was purple with
suppressed excitement.
"I say, miss, she's a−going!"
"Who's going?" demanded Tuppence sharply.
"The crook. Ready Rita. Mrs. Vandemeyer. She's a−packing up, and she's
just sent down word for me to get her a taxi."
"What?" Tuppence clutched his arm.
"It's the truth, miss. I thought maybe as you didn't know about it."
"Albert," cried Tuppence, "you're a brick. If it hadn't been for you we'd
have lost her."
Albert flushed with pleasure at this tribute.
"There's no time to lose," said Tuppence, crossing the road. "I've got to stop
her. At all costs I must keep her here until−−−−" She broke off. "Albert,
there's a telephone here, isn't there?"
The boy shook his head.
CHAPTER XII 124
"The flats mostly have their own, miss. But there's a box just round the
corner."
"Go to it then, at once, and ring up the Ritz Hotel. Ask for Mr.
Hersheimmer, and when you get him tell him to get Sir James and come on
at once, as Mrs. Vandemeyer is trying to hook it. If you can't get him, ring
up Sir James Peel Edgerton, you'll find his number in the book, and tell him
what's happening. You won't forget the names, will you?"
Albert repeated them glibly. "You trust to me, miss, it'll be all right. But
what about you? Aren't you afraid to trust yourself with her?"
"No, no, that's all right. BUT GO AND TELEPHONE. Be quick."
Drawing a long breath, Tuppence entered the Mansions and ran up to the
door of No. 20. How she was to detain Mrs. Vandemeyer until the two men
arrived, she did not know, but somehow or other it had to be done, and she
must accomplish the task single−handed. What had occasioned this
precipitate departure? Did Mrs. Vandemeyer suspect her?
Speculations were idle. Tuppence pressed the bell firmly. She might learn
something from the cook.
Nothing happened and, after waiting some minutes, Tuppence pressed the
bell again, keeping her finger on the button for some little while. At last she
heard footsteps inside, and a moment later Mrs. Vandemeyer herself
opened the door. She lifted her eyebrows at the sight of the girl.
"You?"
"I had a touch of toothache, ma'am," said Tuppence glibly. "So thought it
better to come home and have a quiet evening."
Mrs. Vandemeyer said nothing, but she drew back and let Tuppence pass
into the hall.
CHAPTER XII 125
"How unfortunate for you," she said coldly. "You had better go to bed."
"Oh, I shall be all right in the kitchen, ma'am. Cook will−−−−"
"Cook is out," said Mrs. Vandemeyer, in a rather disagreeable tone. "I sent
her out. So you see you had better go to bed."
Suddenly Tuppence felt afraid. There was a ring in Mrs. Vandemeyer's
voice that she did not like at all. Also, the other woman was slowly edging
her up the passage. Tuppence turned at bay.
"I don't want−−−−"
Then, in a flash, a rim of cold steel touched her temple, and Mrs.
Vandemeyer's voice rose cold and menacing:
"You damned little fool! Do you think I don't know? No, don't answer. If
you struggle or cry out, I'll shoot you like a dog."
The rim of steel pressed a little harder against the girl's temple.
"Now then, march," went on Mrs. Vandemeyer. "This way−−into my room.
In a minute, when I've done with you, you'll go to bed as I told you to. And
you'll sleep−−oh yes, my little spy, you'll sleep all right!"
There was a sort of hideous geniality in the last words which Tuppence did
not at all like. For the moment there was nothing to be done, and she
walked obediently into Mrs. Vandemeyer's bedroom. The pistol never left
her forehead. The room was in a state of wild disorder, clothes were flung
about right and left, a suit−case and a hat box, half−packed, stood in the
middle of the floor.
Tuppence pulled herself together with an effort. Her voice shook a little,
but she spoke out bravely.
CHAPTER XII 126
"Come now," she said. "This is nonsense. You can't shoot me. Why, every
one in the building would hear the report."
"I'd risk that," said Mrs. Vandemeyer cheerfully. "But, as long as you don't
sing out for help, you're all right−−and I don't think you will. You're a
clever girl. You deceived ME all right. I hadn't a suspicion of you! So I've
no doubt that you understand perfectly well that this is where I'm on top
and you're underneath. Now then−−sit on the bed. Put your hands above
your head, and if you value your life don't move them."
Tuppence obeyed passively. Her good sense told her that there was nothing
else to do but accept the situation. If she shrieked for help there was very
little chance of anyone hearing her, whereas there was probably quite a
good chance of Mrs. Vandemeyer's shooting her. In the meantime, every
minute of delay gained was valuable.
Mrs. Vandemeyer laid down the revolver on the edge of the washstand
within reach of her hand, and, still eyeing Tuppence like a lynx in case the
girl should attempt to move, she took a little stoppered bottle from its place
on the marble and poured some of its contents into a glass which she filled
up with water.
"What's that?" asked Tuppence sharply.
"Something to make you sleep soundly."
Tuppence paled a little.
"Are you going to poison me?" she asked in a whisper.
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Vandemeyer, smiling agreeably.
"Then I shan't drink it," said Tuppence firmly. "I'd much rather be shot. At
any rate that would make a row, and some one might hear it. But I won't be
killed off quietly like a lamb."
CHAPTER XII 127
Mrs. Vandemeyer stamped her foot.
"Don't be a little fool! Do you really think I want a hue and cry for murder
out after me? If you've any sense at all, you'll realize that poisoning you
wouldn't suit my book at all. It's a sleeping draught, that's all. You'll wake
up to−morrow morning none the worse. I simply don't want the bother of
tying you up and gagging you. That's the alternative−−and you won't like it,
I can tell you! I can be very rough if I choose. So drink this down like a
good girl, and you'll be none the worse for it."
In her heart of hearts Tuppence believed her. The arguments she had
adduced rang true. It was a simple and effective method of getting her out
of the way for the time being. Nevertheless, the girl did not take kindly to
the idea of being tamely put to sleep without as much as one bid for
freedom. She felt that once Mrs. Vandemeyer gave them the slip, the last
hope of finding Tommy would be gone.
Tuppence was quick in her mental processes. All these reflections passed
through her mind in a flash, and she saw where a chance, a very
problematical chance, lay, and she determined to risk all in one supreme
effort.
Accordingly, she lurched suddenly off the bed and fell on her knees before
Mrs. Vandemeyer, clutching her skirts frantically.
"I don't believe it," she moaned. "It's poison−−I know it's poison. Oh, don't
make me drink it"−−her voice rose to a shriek−−"don't make me drink it!"
Mrs. Vandemeyer, glass in hand, looked down with a curling lip at this
sudden collapse.
"Get up, you little idiot! Don't go on drivelling there. How you ever had the
nerve to play your part as you did I can't think." She stamped her foot. "Get
up, I say."
CHAPTER XII 128
But Tuppence continued to cling and sob, interjecting her sobs with
incoherent appeals for mercy. Every minute gained was to the good.
Moreover, as she grovelled, she moved imperceptibly nearer to her
objective.
Mrs. Vandemeyer gave a sharp impatient exclamation, and jerked the girl
to her knees.
"Drink it at once!" Imperiously she pressed the glass to the girl's lips.
Tuppence gave one last despairing moan.
"You swear it won't hurt me?" she temporized.
"Of course it won't hurt you. Don't be a fool."
"Will you swear it?"
"Yes, yes," said the other impatiently. "I swear it."
Tuppence raised a trembling left hand to the glass.
"Very well." Her mouth opened meekly.
Mrs. Vandemeyer gave a sigh of relief, off her guard for the moment. Then,
quick as a flash, Tuppence jerked the glass upward as hard as she could.
The fluid in it splashed into Mrs. Vandemeyer's face, and during her
momentary gasp, Tuppence's right hand shot out and grasped the revolver
where it lay on the edge of the washstand. The next moment she had sprung
back a pace, and the revolver pointed straight at Mrs. Vandemeyer's heart,
with no unsteadiness in the hand that held it.
In the moment of victory, Tuppence betrayed a somewhat unsportsmanlike
triumph.
"Now who's on top and who's underneath?" she crowed.
CHAPTER XII 129
The other's face was convulsed with rage. For a minute Tuppence thought
she was going to spring upon her, which would have placed the girl in an
unpleasant dilemma, since she meant to draw the line at actually letting off
the revolver. However, with an effort Mrs. Vandemeyer controlled herself,
and at last a slow evil smile crept over her face.
"Not a fool, then, after all! You did that well, girl. But you shall pay for
it−−oh, yes, you shall pay for it! I have a long memory!"
"I'm surprised you should have been gulfed so easily," said Tuppence
scornfully. "Did you really think I was the kind of girl to roll about on the
floor and whine for mercy?"
"You may do−−some day!" said the other significantly.
The cold malignity of her manner sent an unpleasant chill down Tuppence's
spine, but she was not going to give in to it.
"Supposing we sit down," she said pleasantly. "Our present attitude is a
little melodramatic. No−−not on the bed. Draw a chair up to the table, that's
right. Now I'll sit opposite you with the revolver in front of me−−just in
case of accidents. Splendid. Now, let's talk."
"What about?" said Mrs. Vandemeyer sullenly.
Tuppence eyed her thoughtfully for a minute. She was remembering several
things. Boris's words, "I believe you would sell−−us!" and her answer, "The
price would have to be enormous," given lightly, it was true, yet might not
there be a substratum of truth in it? Long ago, had not Whittington asked:
"Who's been blabbing? Rita?" Would Rita Vandemeyer prove to be the
weak spot in the armour of Mr. Brown?
Keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the other's face, Tuppence replied
quietly:
"Money−−−−"
CHAPTER XII 130
Mrs. Vandemeyer started. Clearly, the reply was unexpected.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you. You said just now that you had a long memory. A long
memory isn't half as useful as a long purse! I dare say it relieves your
feelings a good deal to plan out all sorts of dreadful things to do to me, but
is that PRACTICAL? Revenge is very unsatisfactory. Every one always
says so. But money"−−Tuppence warmed to her pet creed−−"well, there's
nothing unsatisfactory about money, is there?"
"Do you think," said Mrs. Vandemeyer scornfully, "that I am the kind of
woman to sell my friends?"
"Yes," said Tuppence promptly. "If the price was big enough."
"A paltry hundred pounds or so!"
"No," said Tuppence. "I should suggest−−a hundred thousand!"
Her economical spirit did not permit her to mention the whole million
dollars suggested by Julius.
A flush crept over Mrs. Vandemeyer's face.
"What did you say?" she asked, her fingers playing nervously with a brooch
on her breast. In that moment Tuppence knew that the fish was hooked, and
for the first time she felt a horror of her own money−loving spirit. It gave
her a dreadful sense of kinship to the woman fronting her.
"A hundred thousand pounds," repeated Tuppence.
The light died out of Mrs. Vandemeyer's eyes. She leaned back in her chair.
"Bah!" she said. "You haven't got it."
CHAPTER XII 131
"No," admitted Tuppence, "I haven't−−but I know some one who has."
"Who?"
"A friend of mine."
"Must be a millionaire," remarked Mrs. Vandemeyer unbelievingly.
"As a matter of fact he is. He's an American. He'll pay you that without a
murmur. You can take it from me that it's a perfectly genuine proposition."
Mrs. Vandemeyer sat up again.
"I'm inclined to believe you," she said slowly.
There was silence between them for some time, then Mrs. Vandemeyer
looked up.
"What does he want to know, this friend of yours?"
Tuppence went through a momentary struggle, but it was Julius's money,
and his interests must come first.
"He wants to know where Jane Finn is," she said boldly.
Mrs. Vandemeyer showed no surprise.
"I'm not sure where she is at the present moment," she replied.
"But you could find out?"
"Oh, yes," returned Mrs. Vandemeyer carelessly. "There would be no
difficulty about that."
"Then"−−Tuppence's voice shook a little−−"there's a boy, a friend of mine.
I'm afraid something's happened to him, through your pal Boris."
CHAPTER XII 132
"What's his name?"
"Tommy Beresford."
"Never heard of him. But I'll ask Boris. He'll tell me anything he knows."
"Thank you." Tuppence felt a terrific rise in her spirits. It impelled her to
more audacious efforts. "There's one thing more."
"Well?"
Tuppence leaned forward and lowered her voice.
"WHO IS MR. BROWN?"
Her quick eyes saw the sudden paling of the beautiful face. With an effort
Mrs. Vandemeyer pulled herself together and tried to resume her former
manner. But the attempt was a mere parody.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"You can't have learnt much about us if you don't know that NOBODY
KNOWS WHO MR. BROWN IS...."
"You do," said Tuppence quietly.
Again the colour deserted the other's face.
"What makes you think that?"
"I don't know," said the girl truthfully. "But I'm sure."
Mrs. Vandemeyer stared in front of her for a long time.
"Yes," she said hoarsely, at last, "I know. I was beautiful, you see−−very
beautiful−−"
CHAPTER XII 133
"You are still," said Tuppence with admiration.
Mrs. Vandemeyer shook her head. There was a strange gleam in her
electric−blue eyes.
"Not beautiful enough," she said in a soft dangerous voice.
"Not−−beautiful−−enough! And sometimes, lately, I've been afraid.... It's
dangerous to know too much!" She leaned forward across the table. "Swear
that my name shan't be brought into it−−that no one shall ever know."
"I swear it. And, once's he caught, you'll be out of danger."
A terrified look swept across Mrs. Vandemeyer's face.
"Shall I? Shall I ever be?" She clutched Tuppence's arm. "You're sure about
the money?"
"Quite sure."
"When shall I have it? There must be no delay."
"This friend of mine will be here presently. He may have to send cables, or
something like that. But there won't be any delay−−he's a terrific hustler."
A resolute look settled on Mrs. Vandemeyer's face.
"I'll do it. It's a great sum of money, and besides"−−she gave a curious
smile−−"it is not−−wise to throw over a woman like me!"
For a moment or two, she remained smiling, and lightly tapping her fingers
on the table. Suddenly she started, and her face blanched.
"What was that?"
"I heard nothing."
CHAPTER XII 134
Mrs. Vandemeyer gazed round her fearfully.
"If there should be some one listening−−−−"
"Nonsense. Who could there be?"
"Even the walls might have ears," whispered the other. "I tell you I'm
frightened. You don't know him!"
"Think of the hundred thousand pounds," said Tuppence soothingly.
Mrs. Vandemeyer passed her tongue over her dried lips.
"You don't know him," she reiterated hoarsely. "He's−−ah!"
With a shriek of terror she sprang to her feet. Her outstretched hand pointed
over Tuppence's head. Then she swayed to the ground in a dead faint.
Tuppence looked round to see what had startled her.
In the doorway were Sir James Peel Edgerton and Julius Hersheimmer.
CHAPTER XIII
THE VIGIL
SIR James brushed past Julius and hurriedly bent over the fallen woman.
"Heart," he said sharply. "Seeing us so suddenly must have given her a
shock. Brandy−−and quickly, or she'll slip through our fingers."
Julius hurried to the washstand.
CHAPTER XIII 135
"Not there," said Tuppence over her shoulder. "In the tantalus in the
dining−room. Second door down the passage."
Between them Sir James and Tuppence lifted Mrs. Vandemeyer and carried
her to the bed. There they dashed water on her face, but with no result. The
lawyer fingered her pulse.
"Touch and go," he muttered. "I wish that young fellow would hurry up
with the brandy."
At that moment Julius re−entered the room, carrying a glass half full of the
spirit which he handed to Sir James. While Tuppence lifted her head the
lawyer tried to force a little of the spirit between her closed lips. Finally the
woman opened her eyes feebly. Tuppence held the glass to her lips.
"Drink this."
Mrs. Vandemeyer complied. The brandy brought the colour back to her
white cheeks, and revived her in a marvellous fashion. She tried to sit
up−−then fell back with a groan, her hand to her side.
"It's my heart," she whispered. "I mustn't talk."
She lay back with closed eyes.
Sir James kept his finger on her wrist a minute longer, then withdrew it
with a nod.
"She'll do now."
All three moved away, and stood together talking in low voices. One and
all were conscious of a certain feeling of anticlimax. Clearly any scheme
for cross−questioning the lady was out of the question for the moment. For
the time being they were baffled, and could do nothing.
CHAPTER XIII 136
Tuppence related how Mrs. Vandemeyer had declared herself willing to
disclose the identity of Mr. Brown, and how she had consented to discover
and reveal to them the whereabouts of Jane Finn. Julius was congratulatory.
"That's all right, Miss Tuppence. Splendid! I guess that hundred thousand
pounds will look just as good in the morning to the lady as it did over night.
There's nothing to worry over. She won't speak without the cash anyway,
you bet!"
There was certainly a good deal of common sense in this, and Tuppence
felt a little comforted.
"What you say is true," said Sir James meditatively. "I must confess,
however, that I cannot help wishing we had not interrupted at the minute
we did. Still, it cannot be helped, it is only a matter of waiting until the
morning."
He looked across at the inert figure on the bed. Mrs. Vandemeyer lay
perfectly passive with closed eyes. He shook his head.
"Well," said Tuppence, with an attempt at cheerfulness, "we must wait until
the morning, that's all. But I don't think we ought to leave the flat."
"What about leaving that bright boy of yours on guard?"
"Albert? And suppose she came round again and hooked it. Albert couldn't
stop her."
"I guess she won't want to make tracks away from the dollars."
"She might. She seemed very frightened of 'Mr. Brown.' "
"What? Real plumb scared of him?"
"Yes. She looked round and said even walls had ears."
CHAPTER XIII 137
"Maybe she meant a dictaphone," said Julius with interest.
"Miss Tuppence is right," said Sir James quietly. "We must not leave the
flat−−if only for Mrs. Vandemeyer's sake."
Julius stared at him.
"You think he'd get after her? Between now and to−morrow morning. How
could he know, even?"
"You forget your own suggestion of a dictaphone," said Sir James dryly.
"We have a very formidable adversary. I believe, if we exercise all due
care, that there is a very good chance of his being delivered into our hands.
But we must neglect no precaution. We have an important witness, but she
must be safeguarded. I would suggest that Miss Tuppence should go to bed,
and that you and I, Mr. Hersheimmer, should share the vigil."
Tuppence was about to protest, but happening to glance at the bed she saw
Mrs. Vandemeyer, her eyes half−open, with such an expression of mingled
fear and malevolence on her face that it quite froze the words on her lips.
For a moment she wondered whether the faint and the heart attack had been
a gigantic sham, but remembering the deadly pallor she could hardly credit
the supposition. As she looked the expression disappeared as by magic, and
Mrs. Vandemeyer lay inert and motionless as before. For a moment the girl
fancied she must have dreamt it. But she determined nevertheless to be on
the alert.
"Well," said Julius, "I guess we'd better make a move out of here any way."
The others fell in with his suggestion. Sir James again felt Mrs.
Vandemeyer's pulse.
"Perfectly satisfactory," he said in a low voice to Tuppence. "She'll be
absolutely all right after a night's rest."
CHAPTER XIII 138
The girl hesitated a moment by the bed. The intensity of the expression she
had surprised had impressed her powerfully. Mrs. Vandemeyer lifted her
lids. She seemed to be struggling to speak. Tuppence bent over her.
"Don't−−leave−−−−" she seemed unable to proceed, murmuring something
that sounded like "sleepy." Then she tried again.
Tuppence bent lower still. It was only a breath.
"Mr.−−Brown−−−−" The voice stopped.
But the half−closed eyes seemed still to send an agonized message.
Moved by a sudden impulse, the girl said quickly:
"I shan't leave the flat. I shall sit up all night."
A flash of relief showed before the lids descended once more. Apparently
Mrs. Vandemeyer slept. But her words had awakened a new uneasiness in
Tuppence. What had she meant by that low murmur: "Mr. Brown?"
Tuppence caught herself nervously looking over her shoulder. The big
wardrobe loomed up in a sinister fashion before her eyes. Plenty of room
for a man to hide in that.... Half−ashamed of herself, Tuppence pulled it
open and looked inside. No one−−of course! She stooped down and looked
under the bed. There was no other possible hiding−place.
Tuppence gave her familiar shake of the shoulders. It was absurd, this
giving way to nerves! Slowly she went out of the room. Julius and Sir
James were talking in a low voice. Sir James turned to her.
"Lock the door on the outside, please, Miss Tuppence, and take out the key.
There must be no chance of anyone entering that room."
The gravity of his manner impressed them, and Tuppence felt less ashamed
of her attack of "nerves."
CHAPTER XIII 139
"Say," remarked Julius suddenly, "there's Tuppence's bright boy. I guess I'd
better go down and ease his young mind. That's some lad, Tuppence."
"How did you get in, by the way?" asked Tuppence suddenly. "I forgot to
ask."
"Well, Albert got me on the phone all right. I ran round for Sir James here,
and we came right on. The boy was on the look out for us, and was just a
mite worried about what might have happened to you. He'd been listening
outside the door of the flat, but couldn't hear anything. Anyhow he
suggested sending us up in the coal lift instead of ringing the bell. And sure
enough we landed in the scullery and came right along to find you. Albert's
still below, and must be just hopping mad by this time." With which Julius
departed abruptly.
"Now then, Miss Tuppence," said Sir James, "you know this place better
than I do. Where do you suggest we should take up our quarters?"
Tuppence considered for a moment or two.
"I think Mrs. Vandemeyer's boudoir would be the most comfortable," she
said at last, and led the way there.
Sir James looked round approvingly.
"This will do very well, and now, my dear young lady, do go to bed and get
some sleep."
Tuppence shook her head resolutely.
"I couldn't, thank you, Sir James. I should dream of Mr. Brown all night!"
"But you'll be so tired, child."
"No, I shan't. I'd rather stay up−−really."
CHAPTER XIII 140
The lawyer gave in.
Julius reappeared some minutes later, having reassured Albert and
rewarded him lavishly for his services. Having in his turn failed to persuade
Tuppence to go to bed, he said decisively:
"At any rate, you've got to have something to eat right away. Where's the
larder?"
Tuppence directed him, and he returned in a few minutes with a cold pie
and three plates.
After a hearty meal, the girl felt inclined to pooh−pooh her fancies of half
an hour before. The power of the money bribe could not fail.
"And now, Miss Tuppence," said Sir James, "we want to hear your
adventures."
"That's so," agreed Julius.
Tuppence narrated her adventures with some complacence. Julius
occasionally interjected an admiring "Bully." Sir James said nothing until
she had finished, when his quiet "well done, Miss Tuppence," made her
flush with pleasure.
"There's one thing I don't get clearly," said Julius. "What put her up to
clearing out?"
"I don't know," confessed Tuppence.
Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"The room was in great disorder. That looks as though her flight was
unpremeditated. Almost as though she got a sudden warning to go from
some one."
CHAPTER XIII 141
"Mr. Brown, I suppose," said Julius scoffingly.
The lawyer looked at him deliberately for a minute or two.
"Why not?" he said. "Remember, you yourself have once been worsted by
him."

Julius flushed with vexation."I feel just mad when I think of how I handed out Jane's photograph to him
like a lamb. Gee, if I ever lay hands on it again, I'll freeze on to it
like−−like hell!"
"That contingency is likely to be a remote one," said the other dryly.
"I guess you're right," said Julius frankly. "And, in any case, it's the original
I'm out after. Where do you think she can be, Sir James?"
The lawyer shook his head.
"Impossible to say. But I've a very good idea where she has been."
"You have? Where?"
Sir James smiled.
"At the scene of your nocturnal adventures, the Bournemouth nursing
home."
"There? Impossible. I asked."
"No, my dear sir, you asked if anyone of the name of Jane Finn had been
there. Now, if the girl had been placed there it would almost certainly be
under an assumed name."
"Bully for you," cried Julius. "I never thought of that!"
CHAPTER XIII 142
"It was fairly obvious," said the other.
"Perhaps the doctor's in it too," suggested Tuppence.
Julius shook his head.
"I don't think so. I took to him at once. No, I'm pretty sure Dr. Hall's all
right."
"Hall, did you say?" asked Sir James. "That is curious−−really very
curious."
"Why?" demanded Tuppence.
"Because I happened to meet him this morning. I've known him slightly on
and off for some years, and this morning I ran across him in the street.
Staying at the Metropole, he told me." He turned to Julius. "Didn't he tell
you he was coming up to town?"
Julius shook his head.
"Curious," mused Sir James. "You did not mention his name this afternoon,
or I would have suggested your going to him for further information with
my card as introduction."
"I guess I'm a mutt," said Julius with unusual humility. "I ought to have
thought of the false name stunt."
"How could you think of anything after falling out of that tree?" cried
Tuppence. "I'm sure anyone else would have been killed right off."
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, anyway," said Julius. "We've got Mrs.
Vandemeyer on a string, and that's all we need."
"Yes," said Tuppence, but there was a lack of assurance in her voice.
CHAPTER XIII 143
A silence settled down over the party. Little by little the magic of the night
began to gain a hold on them. There were sudden creaks of the furniture,
imperceptible rustlings in the curtains. Suddenly Tuppence sprang up with
a cry.
"I can't help it. I know Mr. Brown's somewhere in the flat! I can FEEL
him."
"Sure, Tuppence, how could he be? This door's open into the hall. No one
could have come in by the front door without our seeing and hearing him."
"I can't help it. I FEEL he's here!"
She looked appealingly at Sir James, who replied gravely:
"With due deference to your feelings, Miss Tuppence (and mine as well for
that matter), I do not see how it is humanly possible for anyone to be in the
flat without our knowledge."
The girl was a little comforted by his wards.
"Sitting up at night is always rather jumpy," she confessed.
"Yes," said Sir James. "We are in the condition of people holding a seance.
Perhaps if a medium were present we might get some marvellous results."
"Do you believe in spiritualism?" asked Tuppence, opening her eyes wide.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
"There is some truth in it, without a doubt. But most of the testimony would
not pass muster in the witness−box."
The hours drew on. With the first faint glimmerings of dawn, Sir James
drew aside the curtains. They beheld, what few Londoners see, the slow
rising of the sun over the sleeping city. Somehow, with the coming of the
CHAPTER XIII 144
light, the dreads and fancies of the past night seemed absurd. Tuppence's
spirits revived to the normal.
"Hooray!" she said. "It's going to be a gorgeous day. And we shall find
Tommy. And Jane Finn. And everything will be lovely. I shall ask Mr.
Carter if I can't be made a Dame!"
At seven o'clock Tuppence volunteered to go and make some tea. She
returned with a tray, containing the teapot and four cups.
"Who's the other cup for?" inquired Julius.
"The prisoner, of course. I suppose we might call her that?"
"Taking her tea seems a kind of anticlimax to last night," said Julius
thoughtfully.
"Yes, it does," admitted Tuppence. "But, anyway, here goes. Perhaps you'd
both come, too, in case she springs on me, or anything. You see, we don't
know what mood she'll wake up in."
Sir James and Julius accompanied her to the door.
"Where's the key? Oh, of course, I've got it myself."
She put it in the lock, and turned it, then paused.
"Supposing, after all, she's escaped?" she murmured in a whisper.
"Plumb impossible," replied Julius reassuringly.
But Sir James said nothing.
Tuppence drew a long breath and entered. She heaved a sigh of relief as she
saw that Mrs. Vandemeyer was lying on the bed.
CHAPTER XIII 145
"Good morning," she remarked cheerfully. "I've brought you some tea."
Mrs. Vandemeyer did not reply. Tuppence put down the cup on the table by
the bed and went across to draw up the blinds. When she turned, Mrs.
Vandemeyer still lay without a movement. With a sudden fear clutching at
her heart, Tuppence ran to the bed. The hand she lifted was cold as ice....
Mrs. Vandemeyer would never speak now....
Her cry brought the others. A very few minutes sufficed. Mrs. Vandemeyer
was dead−−must have been dead some hours. She had evidently died in her
sleep.
"If that isn't the cruellest luck," cried Julius in despair.
The lawyer was calmer, but there was a curious gleam in his eyes.
"If it is luck," he replied.
"You don't think−−but, say, that's plumb impossible−−no one could have
got in."
"No," admitted the lawyer. "I don't see how they could. And yet−−she is on
the point of betraying Mr. Brown, and−−she dies. Is it only chance?"
"But how−−−−"
"Yes, HOW! That is what we must find out." He stood there silently, gently
stroking his chin. "We must find out," he said quietly, and Tuppence felt
that if she was Mr. Brown she would not like the tone of those simple
words.
Julius's glance went to the window.
"The window's open," he remarked. "Do you think−−−−"
Tuppence shook her head.
CHAPTER XIII 146
"The balcony only goes along as far as the boudoir. We were there."
"He might have slipped out−−−−" suggested Julius.
But Sir James interrupted him.
"Mr. Brown's methods are not so crude. In the meantime we must send for
a doctor, but before we do so, is there anything in this room that might be
of value to us?"
Hastily, the three searched. A charred mass in the grate indicated that Mrs.
Vandemeyer had been burning papers on the eve of her flight. Nothing of
importance remained, though they searched the other rooms as well.
"There's that," said Tuppence suddenly, pointing to a small, old−fashioned
safe let into the wall. "It's for jewellery, I believe, but there might be
something else in it."
The key was in the lock, and Julius swung open the door, and searched
inside. He was some time over the task.
"Well," said Tuppence impatiently.
There was a pause before Julius answered, then he withdrew his head and
shut to the door.
"Nothing," he said.
In five minutes a brisk young doctor arrived, hastily summoned. He was
deferential to Sir James, whom he recognized.
"Heart failure, or possibly an overdose of some sleeping−draught." He
sniffed. "Rather an odour of chloral in the air."
Tuppence remembered the glass she had upset. A new thought drove her to
the washstand. She found the little bottle from which Mrs. Vandemeyer had
CHAPTER XIII 147
poured a few drops.
It had been three parts full. Now−−IT WAS EMPTY.
CHAPTER XIV
A CONSULTATION
NOTHING was more surprising and bewildering to Tuppence than the ease
and simplicity with which everything was arranged, owing to Sir James's
skilful handling. The doctor accepted quite readily the theory that Mrs.
Vandemeyer had accidentally taken an overdose of chloral. He doubted
whether an inquest would be necessary. If so, he would let Sir James know.
He understood that Mrs. Vandemeyer was on the eve of departure for
abroad, and that the servants had already left? Sir James and his young
friends had been paying a call upon her, when she was suddenly stricken
down and they had spent the night in the flat, not liking to leave her alone.
Did they know of any relatives? They did not, but Sir James referred him to
Mrs. Vandemeyer's solicitor.
Shortly afterwards a nurse arrived to take charge, and the other left the
ill−omened building.
"And what now?" asked Julius, with a gesture of despair. "I guess we're
down and out for good."
Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"No," he said quietly. "There is still the chance that Dr. Hall may be able to
tell us something."
"Gee! I'd forgotten him."
CHAPTER XIV 148
"The chance is slight, but it must not be neglected. I think I told you that he
is staying at the Metropole. I should suggest that we call upon him there as
soon as possible. Shall we say after a bath and breakfast?"
It was arranged that Tuppence and Julius should return to the Ritz, and call
for Sir James in the car. This programme was faithfully carried out, and a
little after eleven they drew up before the Metropole. They asked for Dr.
Hall, and a page−boy went in search of him. In a few minutes the little
doctor came hurrying towards them.
"Can you spare us a few minutes, Dr. Hall?" said Sir James pleasantly. "Let
me introduce you to Miss Cowley. Mr. Hersheimmer, I think, you already
know."
A quizzical gleam came into the doctor's eye as he shook hands with Julius.
"Ah, yes, my young friend of the tree episode! Ankle all right, eh?"
"I guess it's cured owing to your skilful treatment, doc."
"And the heart trouble? Ha ha!"
"Still searching," said Julius briefly.
"To come to the point, can we have a word with you in private?" asked Sir
James.
"Certainly. I think there is a room here where we shall be quite
undisturbed."
He led the way, and the others followed him. They sat down, and the doctor
looked inquiringly at Sir James.
"Dr. Hall, I am very anxious to find a certain young lady for the purpose of
obtaining a statement from her. I have reason to believe that she has been at
one time or another in your establishment at Bournemouth. I hope I am
CHAPTER XIV 149
transgressing no professional etiquette in questioning you on the subject?"
"I suppose it is a matter of testimony?"
Sir James hesitated a moment, then he replied:
"Yes."
"I shall be pleased to give you any information in my power. What is the
young lady's name? Mr. Hersheimmer asked me, I remember−−−−" He half
turned to Julius.
"The name," said Sir James bluntly, "is really immaterial. She would be
almost certainly sent to you under an assumed one. But I should like to
know if you are acquainted with a Mrs. Vandemeyer?"
"Mrs. Vandemeyer, of 20 South Audley Mansions? I know her slightly."
"You are not aware of what has happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"You do not know that Mrs. Vandemeyer is dead?"
"Dear, dear, I had no idea of it! When did it happen?"
"She took an overdose of chloral last night."
"Purposely?"
"Accidentally, it is believed. I should not like to say myself. Anyway, she
was found dead this morning."
"Very sad. A singularly handsome woman. I presume she was a friend of
yours, since you are acquainted with all these details."
CHAPTER XIV 150
"I am acquainted with the details because−−well, it was I who found her
dead."
"Indeed," said the doctor, starting.
"Yes," said Sir James, and stroked his chin reflectively.
"This is very sad news, but you will excuse me if I say that I do not see how
it bears on the subject of your inquiry?"
"It bears on it in this way, is it not a fact that Mrs. Vandemeyer committed
a young relative of hers to your charge?"
Julius leaned forward eagerly.
"That is the case," said the doctor quietly.
"Under the name of−−−−?"
"Janet Vandemeyer. I understood her to be a niece of Mrs. Vandemeyer's."
"And she came to you?"
"As far as I can remember in June or July of 1915."
"Was she a mental case?"
"She is perfectly sane, if that is what you mean. I understood from Mrs.
Vandemeyer that the girl had been with her on the Lusitania when that
ill−fated ship was sunk, and had suffered a severe shock in consequence."
"We're on the right track, I think?" Sir James looked round.
"As I said before, I'm a mutt!" returned Julius.
The doctor looked at them all curiously.
CHAPTER XIV 151
"You spoke of wanting a statement from her," he said. "Supposing she is
not able to give one?"
"What? You have just said that she is perfectly sane."
"So she is. Nevertheless, if you want a statement from her concerning any
events prior to May 7, 1915, she will not be able to give it to you."
They looked at the little man, stupefied. He nodded cheerfully.
"It's a pity," he said. "A great pity, especially as I gather, Sir James, that the
matter is important. But there it is, she can tell you nothing."
"But why, man? Darn it all, why?"
The little man shifted his benevolent glance to the excited young American.
"Because Janet Vandemeyer is suffering from a complete loss of memory."
"WHAT?"
"Quite so. An interesting case, a very interesting case. Not so uncommon,
really, as you would think. There are several very well known parallels. It's
the first case of the kind that I've had under my own personal observation,
and I must admit that I've found it of absorbing interest." There was
something rather ghoulish in the little man's satisfaction.
"And she remembers nothing," said Sir James slowly.
"Nothing prior to May 7, 1915. After that date her memory is as good as
yours or mine."
"Then the first thing she remembers?"
"Is landing with the survivors. Everything before that is a blank. She did
not know her own name, or where she had come from, or where she was.
CHAPTER XIV 152
She couldn't even speak her own tongue."
"But surely all this is most unusual?" put in Julius.
"No, my dear sir. Quite normal under the circumstances. Severe shock to
the nervous system. Loss of memory proceeds nearly always on the same
lines. I suggested a specialist, of course. There's a very good man in
Paris−−makes a study of these cases−−but Mrs. Vandemeyer opposed the
idea of publicity that might result from such a course."
"I can imagine she would," said Sir James grimly.
"I fell in with her views. There is a certain notoriety given to these cases.
And the girl was very young−−nineteen, I believe. It seemed a pity that her
infirmity should be talked about−−might damage her prospects. Besides,
there is no special treatment to pursue in such cases. It is really a matter of
waiting."
"Waiting?"
"Yes, sooner or later, the memory will return−−as suddenly as it went. But
in all probability the girl will have entirely forgotten the intervening period,
and will take up life where she left off−−at the sinking of the Lusitania."
"And when do you expect this to happen?"
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah, that I cannot say. Sometimes it is a matter of months, sometimes it has
been known to be as long as twenty years! Sometimes another shock does
the trick. One restores what the other took away."
"Another shock, eh?" said Julius thoughtfully.
"Exactly. There was a case in Colorado−−−−" The little man's voice trailed
on, voluble, mildly enthusiastic.
CHAPTER XIV 153
Julius did not seem to be listening. He had relapsed into his own thoughts
and was frowning. Suddenly he came out of his brown study, and hit the
table such a resounding bang with his fist that every one jumped, the doctor
most of all.
"I've got it! I guess, doc, I'd like your medical opinion on the plan I'm about
to outline. Say Jane was to cross the herring pond again, and the same thing
was to happen. The submarine, the sinking ship, every one to take to the
boats−−and so on. Wouldn't that do the trick? Wouldn't it give a mighty big
bump to her subconscious self, or whatever the jargon is, and start it
functioning again right away?"
"A very interesting speculation, Mr. Hersheimmer. In my own opinion, it
would be successful. It is unfortunate that there is no chance of the
conditions repeating themselves as you suggest."
"Not by nature, perhaps, doc. But I'm talking about art."
"Art?"
"Why, yes. What's the difficulty? Hire a liner−−−−"
"A liner!" murmured Dr. Hall faintly.
"Hire some passengers, hire a submarine−−that's the only difficulty, I
guess. Governments are apt to be a bit hidebound over their engines of war.
They won't sell to the firstcomer. Still, I guess that can be got over. Ever
heard of the word 'graft,' sir? Well, graft gets there every time! I reckon that
we shan't really need to fire a torpedo. If every one hustles round and
screams loud enough that the ship is sinking, it ought to be enough for an
innocent young girl like Jane. By the time she's got a life−belt on her, and is
being hustled into a boat, with a well−drilled lot of artistes doing the
hysterical stunt on deck, why−−she ought to be right back where she was in
May, 1915. How's that for the bare outline?"
CHAPTER XIV 154
Dr. Hall looked at Julius. Everything that he was for the moment incapable
of saying was eloquent in that look.
"No," said Julius, in answer to it, "I'm not crazy. The thing's perfectly
possible. It's done every day in the States for the movies. Haven't you seen
trains in collision on the screen? What's the difference between buying up a
train and buying up a liner? Get the properties and you can go right ahead!"
Dr. Hall found his voice.
"But the expense, my dear sir." His voice rose. "The expense! It will be
COLOSSAL!"
"Money doesn't worry me any," explained Julius simply.
Dr. Hall turned an appealing face to Sir James, who smiled slightly.
"Mr. Hersheimmer is very well off−−very well off indeed."
The doctor's glance came back to Julius with a new and subtle quality in it.
This was no longer an eccentric young fellow with a habit of falling off
trees. The doctor's eyes held the deference accorded to a really rich man.
"Very remarkable plan. Very remarkable," he murmured. "The movies−−of
course! Your American word for the kinema. Very interesting. I fear we are
perhaps a little behind the times over here in our methods. And you really
mean to carry out this remarkable plan of yours."
"You bet your bottom dollar I do."
The doctor believed him−−which was a tribute to his nationality. If an
Englishman had suggested such a thing, he would have had grave doubts as
to his sanity.
"I cannot guarantee a cure," he pointed out. "Perhaps I ought to make that
quite clear."
CHAPTER XIV 155
"Sure, that's all right," said Julius. "You just trot out Jane, and leave the rest
to me."
"Jane?"
"Miss Janet Vandemeyer, then. Can we get on the long distance to your
place right away, and ask them to send her up; or shall I run down and fetch
her in my car?"
The doctor stared.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Hersheimmer. I thought you understood."
"Understood what?"
"That Miss Vandemeyer is no longer under my care."
CHAPTER XV
TUPPENCE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL
JULIUS sprang up.
"What?"
"I thought you were aware of that."
"When did she leave?"
"Let me see. To−day is Monday, is it not? It must have been last
Wednesday−−why, surely−−yes, it was the same evening that
you−−er−−fell out of my tree."
CHAPTER XV 156
"That evening? Before, or after?"
"Let me see−−oh yes, afterwards. A very urgent message arrived from Mrs.
Vandemeyer. The young lady and the nurse who was in charge of her left
by the night train."
Julius sank back again into his chair.
"Nurse Edith−−left with a patient−−I remember," he muttered. "My God, to
have been so near!"
Dr. Hall looked bewildered.
"I don't understand. Is the young lady not with her aunt, after all?"
Tuppence shook her head. She was about to speak when a warning glance
from Sir James made her hold her tongue. The lawyer rose.
"I'm much obliged to you, Hall. We're very grateful for all you've told us.
I'm afraid we're now in the position of having to track Miss Vandemeyer
anew. What about the nurse who accompanied her; I suppose you don't
know where she is?"
The doctor shook his head.
"We've not heard from her, as it happens. I understood she was to remain
with Miss Vandemeyer for a while. But what can have happened? Surely
the girl has not been kidnapped."
"That remains to be seen," said Sir James gravely.
The other hesitated.
"You do not think I ought to go to the police?"
"No, no. In all probability the young lady is with other relations."
CHAPTER XV 157
The doctor was not completely satisfied, but he saw that Sir James was
determined to say no more, and realized that to try and extract more
information from the famous K.C. would be mere waste of labour.
Accordingly, he wished them goodbye, and they left the hotel. For a few
minutes they stood by the car talking.
"How maddening," cried Tuppence. "To think that Julius must have been
actually under the same roof with her for a few hours."
"I was a darned idiot," muttered Julius gloomily.
"You couldn't know," Tuppence consoled him. "Could he?" She appealed
to Sir James.
"I should advise you not to worry," said the latter kindly. "No use crying
over spilt milk, you know."
"The great thing is what to do next," added Tuppence the practical.
Sir James shrugged his shoulders.
"You might advertise for the nurse who accompanied the girl. That is the
only course I can suggest, and I must confess I do not hope for much result.
Otherwise there is nothing to be done."
"Nothing?" said Tuppence blankly. "And−−Tommy?"
"We must hope for the best," said Sir James. "Oh yes, we must go on
hoping."
But over her downcast head his eyes met Julius's, and almost imperceptibly
he shook his head. Julius understood. The lawyer considered the case
hopeless. The young American's face grew grave. Sir James took
Tuppence's hand.
CHAPTER XV 158
"You must let me know if anything further comes to light. Letters will
always be forwarded."
Tuppence stared at him blankly.
"You are going away?"
"I told you. Don't you remember? To Scotland."
"Yes, but I thought−−−−" The girl hesitated.
Sir James shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear young lady, I can do nothing more, I fear. Our clues have all
ended in thin air. You can take my word for it that there is nothing more to
be done. If anything should arise, I shall be glad to advise you in any way I
can."
His words gave Tuppence an extraordinarily desolate feeling.
"I suppose you're right," she said. "Anyway, thank you very much for
trying to help us. Good−bye."
Julius was bending over the car. A momentary pity came into Sir James's
keen eyes, as he gazed into the girl's downcast face.
"Don't be too disconsolate, Miss Tuppence," he said in a low voice.
"Remember, holiday−time isn't always all playtime. One sometimes
manages to put in some work as well."
Something in his tone made Tuppence glance up sharply. He shook his
head with a smile.
"No, I shan't say any more. Great mistake to say too much. Remember that.
Never tell all you know−−not even to the person you know best.
Understand? Good−bye."
CHAPTER XV 159
He strode away. Tuppence stared after him. She was beginning to
understand Sir James's methods. Once before he had thrown her a hint in
the same careless fashion. Was this a hint? What exactly lay behind those
last brief words? Did he mean that, after all, he had not abandoned the case;
that, secretly, he would be working on it still while−−−−
Her meditations were interrupted by Julius, who adjured her to "get right
in."
"You're looking kind of thoughtful," he remarked as they started off. "Did
the old guy say anything more?"
Tuppence opened her mouth impulsively, and then shut it again. Sir James's
words sounded in her ears: "Never tell all you know−−not even to the
person you know best." And like a flash there came into her mind another
memory. Julius before the safe in the flat, her own question and the pause
before his reply, "Nothing." Was there really nothing? Or had he found
something he wished to keep to himself? If he could make a reservation, so
could she.
"Nothing particular," she replied.
She felt rather than saw Julius throw a sideways glance at her.
"Say, shall we go for a spin in the park?"
"If you like."
For a while they ran on under the trees in silence. It was a beautiful day.
The keen rush through the air brought a new exhilaration to Tuppence.
"Say, Miss Tuppence, do you think I'm ever going to find Jane?"
Julius spoke in a discouraged voice. The mood was so alien to him that
Tuppence turned and stared at him in surprise. He nodded.
CHAPTER XV 160
"That's so. I'm getting down and out over the business. Sir James to−day
hadn't got any hope at all, I could see that. I don't like him−−we don't gee
together somehow−−but he's pretty cute, and I guess he wouldn't quit if
there was any chance of success−−now, would he?"
Tuppence felt rather uncomfortable, but clinging to her belief that Julius
also had withheld something from her, she remained firm.
"He suggested advertising for the nurse," she reminded him.
"Yes, with a 'forlorn hope' flavour to his voice! No−−I'm about fed up. I've
half a mind to go back to the States right away."
"Oh no!" cried Tuppence. "We've got to find Tommy."
"I sure forgot Beresford," said Julius contritely. "That's so. We must find
him. But after−−well, I've been day−dreaming ever since I started on this
trip−−and these dreams are rotten poor business. I'm quit of them. Say,
Miss Tuppence, there's something I'd like to ask you."
"Yes?"
"You and Beresford. What about it?"
"I don't understand you," replied Tuppence with dignity, adding rather
inconsequently: "And, anyway, you're wrong!"
"Not got a sort of kindly feeling for one another?"
"Certainly not," said Tuppence with warmth. "Tommy and I are
friends−−nothing more."
"I guess every pair of lovers has said that sometime or another," observed
Julius.
CHAPTER XV 161
"Nonsense!" snapped Tuppence. "Do I look the sort of girl that's always
falling in love with every man she meets?"
"You do not. You look the sort of girl that's mighty often getting fallen in
love with!"
"Oh!" said Tuppence, rather taken aback. "That's a compliment, I
suppose?"
"Sure. Now let's get down to this. Supposing we never find Beresford
and−−and−−−−"
"All right−−say it! I can face facts. Supposing he's−−dead! Well?"
"And all this business fiddles out. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," said Tuppence forlornly.
"You'll be darned lonesome, you poor kid."
"I shall be all right," snapped Tuppence with her usual resentment of any
kind of pity.
"What about marriage?" inquired Julius. "Got any views on the subject?"
"I intend to marry, of course," replied Tuppence. "That is, if"−−she paused,
knew a momentary longing to draw back, and then stuck to her guns
bravely−−"I can find some one rich enough to make it worth my while.
That's frank, isn't it? I dare say you despise me for it."
"I never despise business instinct," said Julius. "What particular figure have
you in mind?"
"Figure?" asked Tuppence, puzzled. "Do you mean tall or short?"
"No. Sum−−income."
CHAPTER XV 162
"Oh, I−−I haven't quite worked that out."
"What about me?"
"You?"
"Sure thing."
"Oh, I couldn't!"
"Why not?"
"I tell you I couldn't."
"Again, why not?"
"It would seem so unfair."
"I don't see anything unfair about it. I call your bluff, that's all. I admire you
immensely, Miss Tuppence, more than any girl I've ever met. You're so
darned plucky. I'd just love to give you a real, rattling good time. Say the
word, and we'll run round right away to some high−class jeweller, and fix
up the ring business."
"I can't," gasped Tuppence.
"Because of Beresford?"
"No, no, NO!"
"Well then?"
Tuppence merely continued to shake her head violently.
"You can't reasonably expect more dollars than I've got."
CHAPTER XV 163
"Oh, it isn't that," gasped Tuppence with an almost hysterical laugh. "But
thanking you very much, and all that, I think I'd better say no."
"I'd be obliged if you'd do me the favour to think it over until to−morrow."
"It's no use."
"Still, I guess we'll leave it like that."
"Very well," said Tuppence meekly.
Neither of them spoke again until they reached the Ritz.
Tuppence went upstairs to her room. She felt morally battered to the ground
after her conflict with Julius's vigorous personality. Sitting down in front of
the glass, she stared at her own reflection for some minutes.
"Fool," murmured Tuppence at length, making a grimace. "Little fool.
Everything you want−−everything you've ever hoped for, and you go and
bleat out 'no' like an idiotic little sheep. It's your one chance. Why don't you
take it? Grab it? Snatch at it? What more do you want?"
As if in answer to her own question, her eyes fell on a small snapshot of
Tommy that stood on her dressing−table in a shabby frame. For a moment
she struggled for self−control, and then abandoning all presence, she held it
to her lips and burst into a fit of sobbing.
"Oh, Tommy, Tommy," she cried, "I do love you so−−and I may never see
you again...."
At the end of five minutes Tuppence sat up, blew her nose, and pushed
back her hair.
"That's that," she observed sternly. "Let's look facts in the face. I seem to
have fallen in love−−with an idiot of a boy who probably doesn't care two
straws about me." Here she paused. "Anyway," she resumed, as though
CHAPTER XV 164
arguing with an unseen opponent, "I don't KNOW that he does. He'd never
have dared to say so. I've always jumped on sentiment−−and here I am
being more sentimental than anybody. What idiots girls are! I've always
thought so. I suppose I shall sleep with his photograph under my pillow,
and dream about him all night. It's dreadful to feel you've been false to your
principles."
Tuppence shook her head sadly, as she reviewed her backsliding.
"I don't know what to say to Julius, I'm sure. Oh, what a fool I feel! I'll have
to say SOMETHING−−he's so American and thorough, he'll insist upon
having a reason. I wonder if he did find anything in that safe−−−−"
Tuppence's meditations went off on another tack. She reviewed the events
of last night carefully and persistently. Somehow, they seemed bound up
with Sir James's enigmatical words....
Suddenly she gave a great start−−the colour faded out of her face. Her eyes,
fascinated, gazed in front of her, the pupils dilated.
"Impossible," she murmured. "Impossible! I must be going mad even to
think of such a thing...."
Monstrous−−yet it explained everything....
After a moment's reflection she sat down and wrote a note, weighing each
word as she did so. Finally she nodded her head as though satisfied, and
slipped it into an envelope which she addressed to Julius. She went down
the passage to his sitting−room and knocked at the door. As she had
expected, the room was empty. She left the note on the table.
A small page−boy was waiting outside her own door when she returned to
it.
"Telegram for you, miss."
CHAPTER XV 165
Tuppence took it from the salver, and tore it open carelessly. Then she gave
a cry. The telegram was from Tommy!
CHAPTER XVI
FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
FROM a darkness punctuated with throbbing stabs of fire, Tommy dragged
his senses slowly back to life. When he at last opened his eyes, he was
conscious of nothing but an excruciating pain through his temples. He was
vaguely aware of unfamiliar surroundings. Where was he? What had
happened? He blinked feebly. This was not his bedroom at the Ritz. And
what the devil was the matter with his head?
"Damn!" said Tommy, and tried to sit up. He had remembered. He was in
that sinister house in Soho. He uttered a groan and fell back. Through his
almost−closed lids he reconnoitred carefully.
"He is coming to," remarked a voice very near Tommy's ear. He recognized
it at once for that of the bearded and efficient German, and lay artistically
inert. He felt that it would be a pity to come round too soon; and until the
pain in his head became a little less acute, he felt quite incapable of
collecting his wits. Painfully he tried to puzzle out what had happened.
Obviously somebody must have crept up behind him as he listened and
struck him down with a blow on the head. They knew him now for a spy,
and would in all probability give him short shrift. Undoubtedly he was in a
tight place. Nobody knew where he was, therefore he need expect no
outside assistance, and must depend solely on his own wits.
"Well, here goes," murmured Tommy to himself, and repeated his former
remark.
CHAPTER XVI 166
"Damn!" he observed, and this time succeeded in sitting up.
In a minute the German stepped forward and placed a glass to his lips, with
the brief command "Drink." Tommy obeyed. The potency of the draught
made him choke, but it cleared his brain in a marvellous manner.
He was lying on a couch in the room in which the meeting had been held.
On one side of him was the German, on the other the villainous−faced
doorkeeper who had let him in. The others were grouped together at a little
distance away. But Tommy missed one face. The man known as Number
One was no longer of the company.
"Feel better?" asked the German, as he removed the empty glass.
"Yes, thanks," returned Tommy cheerfully.
"Ah, my young friend, it is lucky for you your skull is so thick. The good
Conrad struck hard." He indicated the evil−faced doorkeeper by a nod. The
man grinned.
Tommy twisted his head round with an effort.
"Oh," he said, "so you're Conrad, are you? It strikes me the thickness of my
skull was lucky for you too. When I look at you I feel it's almost a pity I've
enabled you to cheat the hangman."
The man snarled, and the bearded man said quietly:
"He would have run no risk of that."
"Just as you like," replied Tommy. "I know it's the fashion to run down the
police. I rather believe in them myself."
His manner was nonchalant to the last degree. Tommy Beresford was one
of those young Englishmen not distinguished by any special intellectual
ability, but who are emphatically at their best in what is known as a "tight
CHAPTER XVI 167
place." Their natural diffidence and caution fall from them like a glove.
Tommy realized perfectly that in his own wits lay the only chance of
escape, and behind his casual manner he was racking his brains furiously.
The cold accents of the German took up the conversation:
"Have you anything to say before you are put to death as a spy?"
"Simply lots of things," replied Tommy with the same urbanity as before.
"Do you deny that you were listening at that door?"
"I do not. I must really apologize−−but your conversation was so
interesting that it overcame my scruples."
"How did you get in?"
"Dear old Conrad here." Tommy smiled deprecatingly at him. "I hesitate to
suggest pensioning off a faithful servant, but you really ought to have a
better watchdog."
Conrad snarled impotently, and said sullenly, as the man with the beard
swung round upon him:
"He gave the word. How was I to know?"
"Yes," Tommy chimed in. "How was he to know? Don't blame the poor
fellow. His hasty action has given me the pleasure of seeing you all face to
face."
He fancied that his words caused some discomposure among the group, but
the watchful German stilled it with a wave of his hand.
"Dead men tell no tales," he said evenly.
"Ah," said Tommy, "but I'm not dead yet!"
CHAPTER XVI 168
"You soon will be, my young friend," said the German.
An assenting murmur came from the others.
Tommy's heart beat faster, but his casual pleasantness did not waver.
"I think not," he said firmly. "I should have a great objection to dying."
He had got them puzzled, he saw that by the look on his captor's face.
"Can you give us any reason why we should not put you to death?" asked
the German.
"Several," replied Tommy. "Look here, you've been asking me a lot of
questions. Let me ask you one for a change. Why didn't you kill me off at
once before I regained consciousness?"
The German hesitated, and Tommy seized his advantage.
"Because you didn't know how much I knew−−and where I obtained that
knowledge. If you kill me now, you never will know."
But here the emotions of Boris became too much for him. He stepped
forward waving his arms.
"You hell−hound of a spy," he screamed. "We will give you short shrift.
Kill him! Kill him!"
There was a roar of applause.
"You hear?" said the German, his eyes on Tommy. "What have you to say
to that?"
"Say?" Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "Pack of fools. Let them ask
themselves a few questions. How did I get into this place? Remember what
dear old Conrad said−−WITH YOUR OWN PASSWORD, wasn't it? How
CHAPTER XVI 169
did I get hold of that? You don't suppose I came up those steps haphazard
and said the first thing that came into my head?"
Tommy was pleased with the concluding words of this speech. His only
regret was that Tuppence was not present to appreciate its full flavour.
"That is true," said the working man suddenly. "Comrades, we have been
betrayed!"
An ugly murmur arose. Tommy smiled at them encouragingly.
"That's better. How can you hope to make a success of any job if you don't
use your brains?"
"You will tell us who has betrayed us," said the German. "But that shall not
save you−−oh, no! You shall tell us all that you know. Boris, here, knows
pretty ways of making people speak!"
"Bah!" said Tommy scornfully, fighting down a singularly unpleasant
feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You will neither torture me nor kill me."
"And why not?" asked Boris.
"Because you'd kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," replied Tommy
quietly.
There was a momentary pause. It seemed as though Tommy's persistent
assurance was at last conquering. They were no longer completely sure of
themselves. The man in the shabby clothes stared at Tommy searchingly.
"He's bluffing you, Boris," he said quietly.
Tommy hated him. Had the man seen through him?
The German, with an effort, turned roughly to Tommy.
CHAPTER XVI 170
"What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?" parried Tommy, searching desperately in his
own mind.
Suddenly Boris stepped forward, and shook his fist in Tommy's face.
"Speak, you swine of an Englishman−−speak!"
"Don't get so excited, my good fellow," said Tommy calmly. "That's the
worst of you foreigners. You can't keep calm. Now, I ask you, do I look as
though I thought there were the least chance of your killing me?"
He looked confidently round, and was glad they could not hear the
persistent beating of his heart which gave the lie to his words.
"No," admitted Boris at last sullenly, "you do not."
"Thank God, he's not a mind reader," thought Tommy. Aloud he pursued
his advantage:
"And why am I so confident? Because I know something that puts me in a
position to propose a bargain."
"A bargain?" The bearded man took him up sharply.
"Yes−−a bargain. My life and liberty against−−−−" He paused.
"Against what?"
The group pressed forward. You could have heard a pin drop.
Slowly Tommy spoke.
"The papers that Danvers brought over from America in the Lusitania."
CHAPTER XVI 171
The effect of his words was electrical. Every one was on his feet. The
German waved them back. He leaned over Tommy, his face purple with
excitement.
"Himmel! You have got them, then?"
With magnificent calm Tommy shook his head.
"You know where they are?" persisted the German.
Again Tommy shook his head. "Not in the least."
"Then−−then−−−−" angry and baffled, the words failed him.
Tommy looked round. He saw anger and bewilderment on every face, but
his calm assurance had done its work−−no one doubted but that something
lay behind his words.
"I don't know where the papers are−−but I believe that I can find them. I
have a theory−−−−"
"Pah!"
Tommy raised his hand, and silenced the clamours of disgust.
"I call it a theory−−but I'm pretty sure of my facts−−facts that are known to
no one but myself. In any case what do you lose? If I can produce the
papers−−you give me my life and liberty in exchange. Is it a bargain?"
"And if we refuse?" said the German quietly.
Tommy lay back on the couch.
"The 29th," he said thoughtfully, "is less than a fortnight ahead−−−−"
For a moment the German hesitated. Then he made a sign to Conrad.
CHAPTER XVI 172
"Take him into the other room."
For five minutes, Tommy sat on the bed in the dingy room next door. His
heart was beating violently. He had risked all on this throw. How would
they decide? And all the while that this agonized questioning went on
within him, he talked flippantly to Conrad, enraging the cross−grained
doorkeeper to the point of homicidal mania.
At last the door opened, and the German called imperiously to Conrad to
return.
"Let's hope the judge hasn't put his black cap on," remarked Tommy
frivolously. "That's right, Conrad, march me in. The prisoner is at the bar,
gentlemen."
The German was seated once more behind the table. He motioned to
Tommy to sit down opposite to him.
"We accept," he said harshly, "on terms. The papers must be delivered to us
before you go free."
"Idiot!" said Tommy amiably. "How do you think I can look for them if
you keep me tied by the leg here?"
"What do you expect, then?"
"I must have liberty to go about the business in my own way."
The German laughed.
"Do you think we are little children to let you walk out of here leaving us a
pretty story full of promises?"
"No," said Tommy thoughtfully. "Though infinitely simpler for me, I did
not really think you would agree to that plan. Very well, we must arrange a
compromise. How would it be if you attached little Conrad here to my
CHAPTER XVI 173
person. He's a faithful fellow, and very ready with the fist."
"We prefer," said the German coldly, "that you should remain here. One of
our number will carry out your instructions minutely. If the operations are
complicated, he will return to you with a report and you can instruct him
further."
"You're tying my hands," complained Tommy. "It's a very delicate affair,
and the other fellow will muff it up as likely as not, and then where shall I
be? I don't believe one of you has got an ounce of tact."
The German rapped the table.
"Those are our terms. Otherwise, death!"
Tommy leaned back wearily.
"I like your style. Curt, but attractive. So be it, then. But one thing is
essential, I must see the girl."
"What girl?"
"Jane Finn, of course."
The other looked at him curiously for some minutes, then he said slowly,
and as though choosing his words with care:
"Do you not know that she can tell you nothing?"
Tommy's heart beat a little faster. Would he succeed in coming face to face
with the girl he was seeking?
"I shall not ask her to tell me anything," he said quietly. "Not in so many
words, that is."
"Then why see her?"
CHAPTER XVI 174
Tommy paused.
"To watch her face when I ask her one question," he replied at last.
Again there was a look in the German's eyes that Tommy did not quite
understand.
"She will not be able to answer your question."
That does not matter. I shall have seen her face when I ask it."
"And you think that will tell you anything?" He gave a short disagreeable
laugh. More than ever, Tommy felt that there was a factor somewhere that
he did not understand. The German looked at him searchingly. "I wonder
whether, after all, you know as much as we think?" he said softly.
Tommy felt his ascendancy less sure than a moment before. His hold had
slipped a little. But he was puzzled. What had he said wrong? He spoke out
on the impulse of the moment.
"There may be things that you know which I do not. I have not pretended to
be aware of all the details of your show. But equally I've got something up
my sleeve that you don't know about. And that's where I mean to score.
Danvers was a damned clever fellow−−−−" He broke off as if he had said
too much.
But the German's face had lightened a little.
"Danvers," he murmured. "I see−−−−" He paused a minute, then waved to
Conrad. "Take him away. Upstairs−−you know."
"Wait a minute," said Tommy. "What about the girl?"
"That may perhaps be arranged."
"It must be."
CHAPTER XVI 175
"We will see about it. Only one person can decide that."
"Who?" asked Tommy. But he knew the answer.
"Mr. Brown−−−−"
"Shall I see him?"
"Perhaps."
"Come," said Conrad harshly.
Tommy rose obediently. Outside the door his gaoler motioned to him to
mount the stairs. He himself followed close behind. On the floor above
Conrad opened a door and Tommy passed into a small room. Conrad lit a
hissing gas burner and went out. Tommy heard the sound of the key being
turned in the lock.
He set to work to examine his prison. It was a smaller room than the one
downstairs, and there was something peculiarly airless about the
atmosphere of it. Then he realized that there was no window. He walked
round it. The walls were filthily dirty, as everywhere else. Four pictures
hung crookedly on the wall representing scenes from Faust. Marguerite
with her box of jewels, the church scene, Siebel and his flowers, and Faust
and Mephistopheles. The latter brought Tommy's mind back to Mr. Brown
again. In this sealed and closed chamber, with its close−fitting heavy door,
he felt cut off from the world, and the sinister power of the arch−criminal
seemed more real. Shout as he would, no one could ever hear him. The
place was a living tomb....
With an effort Tommy pulled himself together. He sank on to the bed and
gave himself up to reflection. His head ached badly; also, he was hungry.
The silence of the place was dispiriting.
"Anyway," said Tommy, trying to cheer himself, "I shall see the chief−−the
mysterious Mr. Brown and with a bit of luck in bluffing I shall see the
CHAPTER XVI 176
mysterious Jane Finn also. After that−−−−"
After that Tommy was forced to admit the prospect looked dreary.
CHAPTER XVII
ANNETTE
THE troubles of the future, however, soon faded before the troubles of the
present. And of these, the most immediate and pressing was that of hunger.
Tommy had a healthy and vigorous appetite. The steak and chips partaken
of for lunch seemed now to belong to another decade. He regretfully
recognized the fact that he would not make a success of a hunger strike.
He prowled aimlessly about his prison. Once or twice he discarded dignity,
and pounded on the door. But nobody answered the summons.
"Hang it all!" said Tommy indignantly. "They can't mean to starve me to
death." A new−born fear passed through his mind that this might, perhaps,
be one of those "pretty ways" of making a prisoner speak, which had been
attributed to Boris. But on reflection he dismissed the idea.
"It's that sour faced brute Conrad," he decided. "That's a fellow I shall
enjoy getting even with one of these days. This is just a bit of spite on his
part. I'm certain of it."
Further meditations induced in him the feeling that it would be extremely
pleasant to bring something down with a whack on Conrad's egg−shaped
head. Tommy stroked his own head tenderly, and gave himself up to the
pleasures of imagination. Finally a bright idea flashed across his brain.
Why not convert imagination into reality? Conrad was undoubtedly the
tenant of the house. The others, with the possible exception of the bearded
CHAPTER XVII 177
German, merely used it as a rendezvous. Therefore, why not wait in
ambush for Conrad behind the door, and when he entered bring down a
chair, or one of the decrepit pictures, smartly on to his head. One would, of
course, be careful not to hit too hard. And then−−and then, simply walk
out! If he met anyone on the way down, well−−−−Tommy brightened at the
thought of an encounter with his fists. Such an affair was infinitely more in
his line than the verbal encounter of this afternoon. Intoxicated by his plan,
Tommy gently unhooked the picture of the Devil and Faust, and settled
himself in position. His hopes were high. The plan seemed to him simple
but excellent.
Time went on, but Conrad did not appear. Night and day were the same in
this prison room, but Tommy's wrist−watch, which enjoyed a certain
degree of accuracy, informed him that it was nine o'clock in the evening.
Tommy reflected gloomily that if supper did not arrive soon it would be a
question of waiting for breakfast. At ten o'clock hope deserted him, and he
flung himself on the bed to seek consolation in sleep. In five minutes his
woes were forgotten.
The sound of the key turning in the lock awoke him from his slumbers. Not
belonging to the type of hero who is famous for awaking in full possession
of his faculties, Tommy merely blinked at the ceiling and wondered
vaguely where he was. Then he remembered, and looked at his watch. It
was eight o'clock.
"It's either early morning tea or breakfast," deduced the young man, "and
pray God it's the latter!"
The door swung open. Too late, Tommy remembered his scheme of
obliterating the unprepossessing Conrad. A moment later he was glad that
he had, for it was not Conrad who entered, but a girl. She carried a tray
which she set down on the table.
In the feeble light of the gas burner Tommy blinked at her. He decided at
once that she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her hair
was a full rich brown, with sudden glints of gold in it as though there were
CHAPTER XVII 178
imprisoned sunbeams struggling in its depths. There was a wild−rose
quality about her face. Her eyes, set wide apart, were hazel, a golden hazel
that again recalled a memory of sunbeams.
A delirious thought shot through Tommy's mind.
"Are you Jane Finn?" he asked breathlessly.
The girl shook her head wonderingly.
"My name is Annette, monsieur."
She spoke in a soft, broken English.
"Oh!" said Tommy, rather taken aback. "Francaise?" he hazarded.
"Oui, monsieur. Monsieur parle francais?"
"Not for any length of time," said Tommy. "What's that? Breakfast?"
The girl nodded. Tommy dropped off the bed and came and inspected the
contents of the tray. It consisted of a loaf, some margarine, and a jug of
coffee.
"The living is not equal to the Ritz," he observed with a sigh. "But for what
we are at last about to receive the Lord has made me truly thankful. Amen."
He drew up a chair, and the girl turned away to the door.
"Wait a sec," cried Tommy. "There are lots of things I want to ask you,
Annette. What are you doing in this house? Don't tell me you're Conrad's
niece, or daughter, or anything, because I can't believe it."
"I do the SERVICE, monsieur. I am not related to anybody."
CHAPTER XVII 179
"I see," said Tommy. "You know what I asked you just now. Have you ever
heard that name?"
"I have heard people speak of Jane Finn, I think."
"You don't know where she is?"
Annette shook her head.
"She's not in this house, for instance?"
"Oh no, monsieur. I must go now−−they will be waiting for me."
She hurried out. The key turned in the lock.
"I wonder who 'they' are," mused Tommy, as he continued to make inroads
on the loaf. "With a bit of luck, that girl might help me to get out of here.
She doesn't look like one of the gang."
At one o'clock Annette reappeared with another tray, but this time Conrad
accompanied her.
"Good morning," said Tommy amiably. "You have NOT used Pear's soap, I
see."
Conrad growled threateningly.
"No light repartee, have you, old bean? There, there, we can't always have
brains as well as beauty. What have we for lunch? Stew? How did I know?
Elementary, my dear Watson−−the smell of onions is unmistakable."
"Talk away," grunted the man. "It's little enough time you'll have to talk in,
maybe."
The remark was unpleasant in its suggestion, but Tommy ignored it. He sat
down at the table.
CHAPTER XVII 180
"Retire, varlet," he said, with a wave of his hand. "Prate not to thy betters."
That evening Tommy sat on the bed, and cogitated deeply. Would Conrad
again accompany the girl? If he did not, should he risk trying to make an
ally of her? He decided that he must leave no stone unturned. His position
was desperate.
At eight o'clock the familiar sound of the key turning made him spring to
his feet. The girl was alone.
"Shut the door," he commanded. "I want to speak to you." She obeyed.
"Look here, Annette, I want you to help me get out of this." She shook her
head.
"Impossible. There are three of them on the floor below."
"Oh!" Tommy was secretly grateful for the information. "But you would
help me if you could?"
"No, monsieur."
"Why not?"
The girl hesitated.
"I think−−they are my own people. You have spied upon them. They are
quite right to keep you here."
"They're a bad lot, Annette. If you'll help me, I'll take you away from the
lot of them. And you'd probably get a good whack of money."
But the girl merely shook her head.
"I dare not, monsieur; I am afraid of them."
CHAPTER XVII 181
She turned away.
"Wouldn't you do anything to help another girl?" cried Tommy. "She's
about your age too. Won't you save her from their clutches?"
"You mean Jane Finn?"
"Yes."
"It is her you came here to look for? Yes?"
"That's it."
The girl looked at him, then passed her hand across her forehead.
"Jane Finn. Always I hear that name. It is familiar."
Tommy came forward eagerly.
"You must know SOMETHING about her?"
But the girl turned away abruptly.
"I know nothing−−only the name." She walked towards the door. Suddenly
she uttered a cry. Tommy stared. She had caught sight of the picture he had
laid against the wall the night before. For a moment he caught a look of
terror in her eyes. As inexplicably it changed to relief. Then abruptly she
went out of the room. Tommy could make nothing of it. Did she fancy that
he had meant to attack her with it? Surely not. He rehung the picture on the
wall thoughtfully.
Three more days went by in dreary inaction. Tommy felt the strain telling
on his nerves. He saw no one but Conrad and Annette, and the girl had
become dumb. She spoke only in monosyllables. A kind of dark suspicion
smouldered in her eyes. Tommy felt that if this solitary confinement went
on much longer he would go mad. He gathered from Conrad that they were
CHAPTER XVII 182
waiting for orders from "Mr. Brown." Perhaps, thought Tommy, he was
abroad or away, and they were obliged to wait for his return.
But the evening of the third day brought a rude awakening.
It was barely seven o'clock when he heard the tramp of footsteps outside in
the passage. In another minute the door was flung open. Conrad entered.
With him was the evil−looking Number 14. Tommy's heart sank at the sight
of them.
"Evenin', gov'nor," said the man with a leer. "Got those ropes, mate?"
The silent Conrad produced a length of fine cord. The next minute Number
14's hands, horribly dexterous, were winding the cord round his limbs,
while Conrad held him down.
"What the devil−−−−?" began Tommy.
But the slow, speechless grin of the silent Conrad froze the words on his
lips.
Number 14 proceeded deftly with his task. In another minute Tommy was a
mere helpless bundle. Then at last Conrad spoke:
"Thought you'd bluffed us, did you? With what you knew, and what you
didn't know. Bargained with us! And all the time it was bluff! Bluff! You
know less than a kitten. But your number's up now all right, you
b−−−−swine."
Tommy lay silent. There was nothing to say. He had failed. Somehow or
other the omnipotent Mr. Brown had seen through his pretensions.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
"A very good speech, Conrad," he said approvingly. "But wherefore the
bonds and fetters? Why not let this kind gentleman here cut my throat
without delay?"
CHAPTER XVII 183
"Garn," said Number 14 unexpectedly. "Think we're as green as to do you
in here, and have the police nosing round? Not 'alf! We've ordered the
carriage for your lordship to−morrow mornin', but in the meantime we're
not taking any chances, see!"
"Nothing," said Tommy, "could be plainer than your words−−unless it was
your face."
"Stow it," said Number 14.
"With pleasure," replied Tommy. "You're making a sad mistake−−but
yours will be the loss."
"You don't kid us that way again," said Number 14. "Talking as though you
were still at the blooming Ritz, aren't you?"
Tommy made no reply. He was engaged in wondering how Mr. Brown had
discovered his identity. He decided that Tuppence, in the throes of anxiety,
had gone to the police, and that his disappearance having been made public
the gang had not been slow to put two and two together.
The two men departed and the door slammed. Tommy was left to his
meditations. They were not pleasant ones. Already his limbs felt cramped
and stiff. He was utterly helpless, and he could see no hope anywhere.
About an hour had passed when he heard the key softly turned, and the
door opened. It was Annette. Tommy's heart beat a little faster. He had
forgotten the girl. Was it possible that she had come to his help?
Suddenly he heard Conrad's voice:
"Come out of it, Annette. He doesn't want any supper to−night."
"Oui, oui, je sais bien. But I must take the other tray. We need the things on
it."
CHAPTER XVII 184
"Well, hurry up," growled Conrad.
Without looking at Tommy the girl went over to the table, and picked up
the tray. She raised a hand and turned out the light.
"Curse you"−−Conrad had come to the door−−"why did you do that?"
"I always turn it out. You should have told me. Shall I relight it, Monsieur
Conrad?"
"No, come on out of it."
"Le beau petit monsieur," cried Annette, pausing by the bed in the
darkness. "You have tied him up well, hein? He is like a trussed chicken!"
The frank amusement in her tone jarred on the boy; but at that moment, to
his amazement, he felt her hand running lightly over his bonds, and
something small and cold was pressed into the palm of his hand.
"Come on, Annette."
"Mais me voila."
The door shut. Tommy heard Conrad say:
"Lock it and give me the key."
The footsteps died away. Tommy lay petrified with amazement. The object
Annette had thrust into his hand was a small penknife, the blade open.
From the way she had studiously avoided looking at him, and her action
with the light, he came to the conclusion that the room was overlooked.
There must be a peep−hole somewhere in the walls. Remembering how
guarded she had always been in her manner, he saw that he had probably
been under observation all the time. Had he said anything to give himself
away? Hardly. He had revealed a wish to escape and a desire to find Jane
Finn, but nothing that could have given a clue to his own identity. True, his
question to Annette had proved that he was personally unacquainted with
CHAPTER XVII 185
Jane Finn, but he had never pretended otherwise. The question now was,
did Annette really know more? Were her denials intended primarily for the
listeners? On that point he could come to no conclusion.
But there was a more vital question that drove out all others. Could he,
bound as he was, manage to cut his bonds? He essayed cautiously to rub the
open blade up and down on the cord that bound his two wrists together. It
was an awkward business, and drew a smothered "Ow" of pain from him as
the knife cut into his wrist. But slowly and doggedly he went on sawing to
and fro. He cut the flesh badly, but at last he felt the cord slacken. With his
hands free, the rest was easy. Five minutes later he stood upright with some
difficulty, owing to the cramp in his limbs. His first care was to bind up his
bleeding wrist. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to think. Conrad had
taken the key of the door, so he could expect little more assistance from
Annette. The only outlet from the room was the door, consequently he
would perforce have to wait until the two men returned to fetch him. But
when they did . . . Tommy smiled! Moving with infinite caution in the dark
room, he found and unhooked the famous picture. He felt an economical
pleasure that his first plan would not be wasted. There was now nothing to
do but to wait. He waited.
The night passed slowly. Tommy lived through an eternity of hours, but at
last he heard footsteps. He stood upright, drew a deep breath, and clutched
the picture firmly.
The door opened. A faint light streamed in from outside. Conrad went
straight towards the gas to light it. Tommy deeply regretted that it was he
who had entered first. It would have been pleasant to get even with Conrad.
Number 14 followed. As he stepped across the threshold, Tommy brought
the picture down with terrific force on his head. Number 14 went down
amidst a stupendous crash of broken glass. In a minute Tommy had slipped
out and pulled to the door. The key was in the lock. He turned it and
withdrew it just as Conrad hurled himself against the door from the inside
with a volley of curses.
CHAPTER XVII 186
For a moment Tommy hesitated. There was the sound of some one stirring
on the floor below. Then the German's voice came up the stairs.
"Gott im Himmel! Conrad, what is it?"
Tommy felt a small hand thrust into his. Beside him stood Annette. She
pointed up a rickety ladder that apparently led to some attics.
"Quick−−up here!" She dragged him after her up the ladder. In another
moment they were standing in a dusty garret littered with lumber. Tommy
looked round.
"This won't do. It's a regular trap. There's no way out."
"Hush! Wait." The girl put her finger to her lips. She crept to the top of the
ladder and listened.
The banging and beating on the door was terrific. The German and another
were trying to force the door in. Annette explained in a whisper:
"They will think you are still inside. They cannot hear what Conrad says.
The door is too thick."
"I thought you could hear what went on in the room?"
"There is a peep−hole into the next room. It was clever of you to guess. But
they will not think of that−−they are only anxious to get in."
"Yes−−but look here−−−−"
"Leave it to me." She bent down. To his amazement, Tommy saw that she
was fastening the end of a long piece of string to the handle of a big
cracked jug. She arranged it carefully, then turned to Tommy.
"Have you the key of the door?"
CHAPTER XVII 187
"Yes."
"Give it to me."
He handed it to her.
"I am going down. Do you think you can go halfway, and then swing
yourself down BEHIND the ladder, so that they will not see you?"
Tommy nodded.
"There's a big cupboard in the shadow of the landing. Stand behind it. Take
the end of this string in your hand. When I've let the others out−−PULL!"
Before he had time to ask her anything more, she had flitted lightly down
the ladder and was in the midst of the group with a loud cry:
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Qu'est−ce qu'il y a?"
The German turned on her with an oath.
"Get out of this. Go to your room!"
Very cautiously Tommy swung himself down the back of the ladder. So
long as they did not turn round ... all was well. He crouched behind the
cupboard. They were still between him and the stairs.
"AH!" Annette appeared to stumble over something. She stooped. "Mon
Dieu, voila la clef!"
The German snatched it from her. He unlocked the door. Conrad stumbled
out, swearing.
"Where is he? Have you got him?"
CHAPTER XVII 188
"We have seen no one," said the German sharply. His face paled. "Who do
you mean?"
Conrad gave vent to another oath.
"He's got away."
"Impossible. He would have passed us."
At that moment, with an ecstatic smile Tommy pulled the string. A crash of
crockery came from the attic above. In a trice the men were pushing each
other up the rickety ladder and had disappeared into the darkness above.
Quick as a flash Tommy leapt from his hiding−place and dashed down the
stairs, pulling the girl with him. There was no one in the hall. He fumbled
over the bolts and chain. At last they yielded, the door swung open. He
turned. Annette had disappeared.
Tommy stood spell−bound. Had she run upstairs again? What madness
possessed her! He fumed with impatience, but he stood his ground. He
would not go without her.
And suddenly there was an outcry overhead, an exclamation from the
German, and then Annette's voice, clear and high:
"Ma foi, he has escaped! And quickly! Who would have thought it?"
Tommy still stood rooted to the ground. Was that a command to him to go?
He fancied it was.
And then, louder still, the words floated down to him:
"This is a terrible house. I want to go back to Marguerite. To Marguerite.
TO MARGUERITE!"
CHAPTER XVII 189
Tommy had run back to the stairs. She wanted him to go and leave her. But
why? At all costs he must try and get her away with him. Then his heart
sank. Conrad was leaping down the stairs, uttering a savage cry at the sight
of him. After him came the others.
Tommy stopped Conrad's rush with a straight blow with his fist. It caught
the other on the point of the jaw and he fell like a log. The second man
tripped over his body and fell. From higher up the staircase there was a
flash, and a bullet grazed Tommy's ear. He realized that it would be good
for his health to get out of this house as soon as possible. As regards
Annette he could do nothing. He had got even with Conrad, which was one
satisfaction. The blow had been a good one.
He leapt for the door, slamming it behind him. The square was deserted. In
front of the house was a baker's van. Evidently he was to have been taken
out of London in that, and his body found many miles from the house in
Soho. The driver jumped to the pavement and tried to bar Tommy's way.
Again Tommy's fist shot out, and the driver sprawled on the pavement.
Tommy took to his heels and ran−−none too soon. The front door opened
and a hail of bullets followed him. Fortunately none of them hit him. He
turned the corner of the square.
"There's one thing," he thought to himself, "they can't go on shooting.
They'll have the police after them if they do. I wonder they dared to there."
He heard the footsteps of his pursuers behind him, and redoubled his own
pace. Once he got out of these by−ways he would be safe. There would be a
policeman about somewhere−−not that he really wanted to invoke the aid
of the police if he could possibly do without it. It meant explanations, and
general awkwardness. In another moment he had reason to bless his luck.
He stumbled over a prostrate figure, which started up with a yell of alarm
and dashed off down the street. Tommy drew back into a doorway. In a
minute he had the pleasure of seeing his two pursuers, of whom the
German was one, industriously tracking down the red herring!
CHAPTER XVII 190
Tommy sat down quietly on the doorstep and allowed a few moments to
elapse while he recovered his breath. Then he strolled gently in the opposite
direction. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after half−past five. It was
rapidly growing light. At the next corner he passed a policeman. The
policeman cast a suspicious eye on him. Tommy felt slightly offended.
Then, passing his hand over his face, he laughed. He had not shaved or
washed for three days! What a guy he must look.
He betook himself without more ado to a Turkish Bath establishment which
he knew to be open all night. He emerged into the busy daylight feeling
himself once more, and able to make plans.
First of all, he must have a square meal. He had eaten nothing since midday
yesterday. He turned into an A.B.C. shop and ordered eggs and bacon and
coffee. Whilst he ate, he read a morning paper propped up in front of him.
Suddenly he stiffened. There was a long article on Kramenin, who was
described as the "man behind Bolshevism" in Russia, and who had just
arrived in London−−some thought as an unofficial envoy. His career was
sketched lightly, and it was firmly asserted that he, and not the figurehead
leaders, had been the author of the Russian Revolution.
In the centre of the page was his portrait.
"So that's who Number 1 is," said Tommy with his mouth full of eggs and
bacon. "Not a doubt about it, I must push on."
He paid for his breakfast, and betook himself to Whitehall. There he sent up
his name, and the message that it was urgent. A few minutes later he was in
the presence of the man who did not here go by the name of "Mr. Carter."
There was a frown on his face.
"Look here, you've no business to come asking for me in this way. I
thought that was distinctly understood?"
"It was, sir. But I judged it important to lose no time."
CHAPTER XVII 191
And as briefly and succinctly as possible he detailed the experiences of the
last few days.
Half−way through, Mr. Carter interrupted him to give a few cryptic orders
through the telephone. All traces of displeasure had now left his face. He
nodded energetically when Tommy had finished.
"Quite right. Every moment's of value. Fear we shall be too late anyway.
They wouldn't wait. Would clear out at once. Still, they may have left
something behind them that will be a clue. You say you've recognized
Number 1 to be Kramenin? That's important. We want something against
him badly to prevent the Cabinet falling on his neck too freely. What about
the others? You say two faces were familiar to you? One's a Labour man,
you think? Just look through these photos, and see if you can spot him."
A minute later, Tommy held one up. Mr. Carter exhibited some surprise.
"Ah, Westway! Shouldn't have thought it. Poses as being moderate. As for
the other fellow, I think I can give a good guess." He handed another
photograph to Tommy, and smiled at the other's exclamation. "I'm right,
then. Who is he? Irishman. Prominent Unionist M.P. All a blind, of course.
We've suspected it−−but couldn't get any proof. Yes, you've done very
well, young man. The 29th, you say, is the date. That gives us very little
time−−very little time indeed."
"But−−−−" Tommy hesitated.
Mr. Carter read his thoughts.
"We can deal with the General Strike menace, I think. It's a toss−up−−but
we've got a sporting chance! But if that draft treaty turns up−−we're done.
England will be plunged in anarchy. Ah, what's that? The car? Come on,
Beresford, we'll go and have a look at this house of yours."
Two constables were on duty in front of the house in Soho. An inspector
reported to Mr. Carter in a low voice. The latter turned to Tommy.
CHAPTER XVII 192
"The birds have flown−−as we thought. We might as well go over it."
Going over the deserted house seemed to Tommy to partake of the
character of a dream. Everything was just as it had been. The prison room
with the crooked pictures, the broken jug in the attic, the meeting room
with its long table. But nowhere was there a trace of papers. Everything of
that kind had either been destroyed or taken away. And there was no sign of
Annette.
"What you tell me about the girl puzzled me," said Mr. Carter. "You
believe that she deliberately went back?"
"It would seem so, sir. She ran upstairs while I was getting. the door open."
"H'm, she must belong to the gang, then; but, being a woman, didn't feel
like standing by to see a personable young man killed. But evidently she's
in with them, or she wouldn't have gone back."
"I can't believe she's really one of them, sir. She−−seemed so
different−−−−"
"Good−looking, I suppose?" said Mr. Carter with a smile that made
Tommy flush to the roots of his hair. He admitted Annette's beauty rather
shamefacedly.
"By the way," observed Mr. Carter, "have you shown yourself to Miss
Tuppence yet? She's been bombarding me with letters about you."
"Tuppence? I was afraid she might get a bit rattled. Did she go to the
police?"
Mr. Carter shook his head.
"Then I wonder how they twigged me."
CHAPTER XVII 193
Mr. Carter looked inquiringly at him, and Tommy explained. The other
nodded thoughtfully.
"True, that's rather a curious point. Unless the mention of the Ritz was an
accidental remark?"
"It might have been, sir. But they must have found out about me suddenly
in some way."
"Well," said Mr. Carter, looking round him, "there's nothing more to be
done here. What about some lunch with me?"
"Thanks awfully, sir. But I think I'd better get back and rout out Tuppence."
"Of course. Give her my kind regards and tell her not to believe you're
killed too readily next time."
Tommy grinned.
"I take a lot of killing, sir."
"So I perceive," said Mr. Carter dryly. "Well, good−bye. Remember you're
a marked man now, and take reasonable care of yourself."
"Thank you, sir."
Hailing a taxi briskly Tommy stepped in, and was swiftly borne to the Ritz'
dwelling the while on the pleasurable anticipation of startling Tuppence.
"Wonder what she's been up to. Dogging 'Rita' most likely. By the way, I
suppose that's who Annette meant by Marguerite. I didn't get it at the time."
The thought saddened him a little, for it seemed to prove that Mrs.
Vandemeyer and the girl were on intimate terms.
The taxi drew up at the Ritz. Tommy burst into its sacred portals eagerly,
but his enthusiasm received a check. He was informed that Miss Cowley
CHAPTER XVII 194
had gone out a quarter of an hour ago.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE TELEGRAM
BAFFLED for the moment, Tommy strolled into the restaurant, and
ordered a meal of surpassing excellence. His four days' imprisonment had
taught him anew to value good food.
He was in the middle of conveying a particularly choice morsel of Sole a la
Jeanette to his mouth, when he caught sight of Julius entering the room.
Tommy waved a menu cheerfully, and succeeded in attracting the other's
attention. At the sight of Tommy, Julius's eyes seemed as though they
would pop out of his head. He strode across, and pump−handled Tommy's
hand with what seemed to the latter quite unnecessary vigour.
"Holy snakes!" he ejaculated. "Is it really you?"
"Of course it is. Why shouldn't it be?"
"Why shouldn't it be? Say, man, don't you know you've been given up for
dead? I guess we'd have had a solemn requiem for you in another few
days."
"Who thought I was dead?" demanded Tommy.
"Tuppence."
"She remembered the proverb about the good dying young, I suppose.
There must be a certain amount of original sin in me to have survived.
Where is Tuppence, by the way?"
CHAPTER XVIII 195
"Isn't she here?"
"No, the fellows at the office said she'd just gone out."
"Gone shopping, I guess. I dropped her here in the car about an hour ago.
But, say, can't you shed that British calm of yours, and get down to it?
What on God's earth have you been doing all this time?"
"If you're feeding here," replied Tommy, "order now. It's going to be a long
story."
Julius drew up a chair to the opposite side of the table, summoned a
hovering waiter, and dictated his wishes. Then he turned to Tommy.
"Fire ahead. I guess you've had some few adventures."
"One or two," replied Tommy modestly, and plunged into his recital.
Julius listened spellbound. Half the dishes that were placed before him he
forgot to eat. At the end he heaved a long sigh.
"Bully for you. Reads like a dime novel!"
"And now for the home front," said Tommy, stretching out his hand for a
peach.
"We−el," drawled Julius, "I don't mind admitting we've had some
adventures too."
He, in his turn, assumed the role of narrator. Beginning with his
unsuccessful reconnoitring at Bournemouth, he passed on to his return to
London, the buying of the car, the growing anxieties of Tuppence, the call
upon Sir James, and the sensational occurrences of the previous night.
"But who killed her?" asked Tommy. "I don't quite understand."
CHAPTER XVIII 196
"The doctor kidded himself she took it herself," replied Julius dryly.
"And Sir James? What did he think?"
"Being a legal luminary, he is likewise a human oyster," replied Julius. "I
should say he 'reserved judgment.' " He went on to detail the events of the
morning.
"Lost her memory, eh?" said Tommy with interest. "By Jove, that explains
why they looked at me so queerly when I spoke of questioning her. Bit of a
slip on my part, that! But it wasn't the sort of thing a fellow would be likely
to guess."
"They didn't give you any sort of hint as to where Jane was?"
Tommy shook his head regretfully.
"Not a word. I'm a bit of an ass, as you know. I ought to have got more out
of them somehow."
"I guess you're lucky to be here at all. That bluff of yours was the goods all
right. How you ever came to think of it all so pat beats me to a frazzle!"
"I was in such a funk I had to think of something," said Tommy simply.
There was a moment's pause, and then Tommy reverted to Mrs.
Vandemeyer's death.
"There's no doubt it was chloral?"
"I believe not. At least they call it heart failure induced by an overdose, or
some such claptrap. It's all right. We don't want to be worried with an
inquest. But I guess Tuppence and I and even the highbrow Sir James have
all got the same idea."
"Mr. Brown?" hazarded Tommy.
CHAPTER XVIII 197
"Sure thing."
Tommy nodded.
"All the same," he said thoughtfully, "Mr. Brown hasn't got wings. I don't
see how he got in and out."
"How about some high−class thought transference stunt? Some magnetic
influence that irresistibly impelled Mrs. Vandemeyer to commit suicide?"
Tommy looked at him with respect.
"Good, Julius. Distinctly good. Especially the phraseology. But it leaves me
cold. I yearn for a real Mr. Brown of flesh and blood. I think the gifted
young detectives must get to work, study the entrances and exits, and tap
the bumps on their foreheads until the solution of the mystery dawns on
them. Let's go round to the scene of the crime. I wish we could get hold of
Tuppence. The Ritz would enjoy the spectacle of the glad reunion."
Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that Tuppence had not yet returned.
"All the same, I guess I'll have a look round upstairs," said Julius. "She
might be in my sitting−room." He disappeared.
Suddenly a diminutive boy spoke at Tommy's elbow:
"The young lady−−she's gone away by train, I think, sir," he murmured
shyly.
"What?" Tommy wheeled round upon him.
The small boy became pinker than before.
"The taxi, sir. I heard her tell the driver Charing Cross and to look sharp."
CHAPTER XVIII 198
Tommy stared at him, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Emboldened, the
small boy proceeded. "So I thought, having asked for an A.B.C. and a
Bradshaw."
Tommy interrupted him:
"When did she ask for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw?"
"When I took her the telegram, sir."
"A telegram?"
"Yes, sir."
"When was that?"
"About half−past twelve, sir."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
The small boy drew a long breath.
"I took up a telegram to No. 891−−the lady was there. She opened it and
gave a gasp, and then she said, very jolly like: 'Bring me up a Bradshaw,
and an A.B.C., and look sharp, Henry.' My name isn't Henry, but−−−−"
"Never mind your name," said Tommy impatiently. "Go on."
"Yes, sir. I brought them, and she told me to wait, and looked up
something. And then she looks up at the clock, and 'Hurry up,' she says.
'Tell them to get me a taxi,' and she begins a−shoving on of her hat in front
of the glass, and she was down in two ticks, almost as quick as I was, and I
seed her going down the steps and into the taxi, and I heard her call out
what I told you."
CHAPTER XVIII 199
The small boy stopped and replenished his lungs. Tommy continued to
stare at him. At that moment Julius rejoined him. He held an open letter in
his hand.
"I say, Hersheimmer"−−Tommy turned to him−−"Tuppence has gone off
sleuthing on her own."
" Shucks!"
"Yes, she has. She went off in a taxi to Charing Cross in the deuce of a
hurry after getting a telegram." His eye fell on the letter in Julius's hand.
"Oh; she left a note for you. That's all right. Where's she off to?"
Almost unconsciously, he held out his hand for the letter, but Julius folded
it up and placed it in his pocket. He seemed a trifle embarrassed.
"I guess this is nothing to do with it. It's about something else−−something
I asked her that she was to let me know about."
"Oh!" Tommy looked puzzled, and seemed waiting for more.
"See here," said Julius suddenly, "I'd better put you wise. I asked Miss
Tuppence to marry me this morning."
"Oh!" said Tommy mechanically. He felt dazed. Julius's words were totally
unexpected. For the moment they benumbed his brain.
"I'd like to tell you," continued Julius, "that before I suggested anything of
the kind to Miss Tuppence, I made it clear that I didn't want to butt in in
any way between her and you−−−−
Tommy roused himself.
"That's all right," he said quickly. "Tuppence and I have been pals for
years. Nothing more." He lit a cigarette with a hand that shook ever so
little. "That's quite all right. Tuppence always said that she was looking out
CHAPTER XVIII 200
for−−−−"
He stopped abruptly, his face crimsoning, but Julius was in no way
discomposed.
"Oh, I guess it'll be the dollars that'll do the trick. Miss Tuppence put me
wise to that right away. There's no humbug about her. We ought to gee
along together very well."
Tommy looked at him curiously for a minute, as though he were about to
speak, then changed his mind and said nothing. Tuppence and Julius! Well,
why not? Had she not lamented the fact that she knew no rich men? Had
she not openly avowed her intention of marrying for money if she ever had
the chance? Her meeting with the young American millionaire had given
her the chance−−and it was unlikely she would be slow to avail herself of
it. She was out for money. She had always said so. Why blame her because
she had been true to her creed?
Nevertheless, Tommy did blame her. He was filled with a passionate and
utterly illogical resentment. It was all very well to SAY things like
that−−but a REAL girl would never marry for money. Tuppence was
utterly cold−blooded and selfish, and he would be delighted if he never saw
her again! And it was a rotten world!
Julius's voice broke in on these meditations.
"Yes, we ought to get along together very well. I've heard that a girl always
refuses you once−−a sort of convention."
Tommy caught his arm.
"Refuses? Did you say REFUSES?"
"Sure thing. Didn't I tell you that? She just rapped out a 'no' without any
kind of reason to it. The eternal feminine, the Huns call it, I've heard. But
she'll come round right enough. Likely enough, I hustled her some−−−−"
CHAPTER XVIII 201
But Tommy interrupted regardless of decorum.
"What did she say in that note?" he demanded fiercely.
The obliging Julius handed it to him.
"There's no earthly clue in it as to where she's gone," he assured Tommy.
"But you might as well see for yourself if you don't believe me."
The note, in Tuppence's well−known schoolboy writing, ran as follows:
"DEAR JULIUS,
"It's always better to have things in black and white. I don't feel I can be
bothered to think of marriage until Tommy is found. Let's leave it till then.
"Yours affectionately, "TUPPENCE."
Tommy handed it back, his eyes shining. His feelings had undergone a
sharp reaction. He now felt that Tuppence was all that was noble and
disinterested. Had she not refused Julius without hesitation? True, the note
betokened signs of weakening, but he could excuse that. It read almost like
a bribe to Julius to spur him on in his efforts to find Tommy, but he
supposed she had not really meant it that way. Darling Tuppence, there was
not a girl in the world to touch her! When he saw her−−−−His thoughts
were brought up with a sudden jerk.
"As you say," he remarked, pulling himself together, "there's not a hint here
as to what she's up to. Hi−−Henry!"
The small boy came obediently. Tommy produced five shillings.
"One thing more. Do you remember what the young lady did with the
telegram?"
Henry gasped and spoke.
CHAPTER XVIII 202
"She crumpled it up into a ball and threw it into the grate, and made a sort
of noise like 'Whoop!' sir."
"Very graphic, Henry," said Tommy. "Here's your five shillings. Come on,
Julius. We must find that telegram."
They hurried upstairs. Tuppence had left the key in her door. The room was
as she had left it. In the fireplace was a crumpled ball of orange and white.
Tommy disentangled it and smoothed out the telegram.
"Come at once, Moat House, Ebury, Yorkshire, great
developments−−TOMMY."
They looked at each other in stupefaction. Julius spoke first:
"You didn't send it?"
"Of course not. What does it mean?"
"I guess it means the worst," said Julius quietly. "They've got her."
"WHAT?"
"Sure thing! They signed your name, and she fell into the trap like a lamb."
"My God! What shall we do?"
"Get busy, and go after her! Right now! There's no time to waste. It's
almighty luck that she didn't take the wire with her. If she had we'd
probably never have traced her. But we've got to hustle. Where's that
Bradshaw?"
The energy of Julius was infectious. Left to himself, Tommy would
probably have sat down to think things out for a good half−hour before he
decided on a plan of action. But with Julius Hersheimmer about, hustling
was inevitable.
CHAPTER XVIII 203
After a few muttered imprecations he handed the Bradshaw to Tommy as
being more conversant with its mysteries. Tommy abandoned it in favour
of an A.B.C.
"Here we are. Ebury, Yorks. From King's Cross. Or St. Pancras. (Boy must
have made a mistake. It was King's Cross, not CHARING Cross.) 12.50,
that's the train she went by. 2.10, that's gone. 3.20 is the next−−and a
damned slow train too."
"What about the car?"
Tommy shook his head.
"Send it up if you like, but we'd better stick to the train. The great thing is
to keep calm."
Julius groaned.
"That's so. But it gets my goat to think of that innocent young girl in
danger!"
Tommy nodded abstractedly. He was thinking. In a moment or two, he
said:
"I say, Julius, what do they want her for, anyway?"
"Eh? I don't get you?"
"What I mean is that I don't think it's their game to do her any harm,"
explained Tommy, puckering his brow with the strain of his mental
processes. "She's a hostage, that's what she is. She's in no immediate
danger, because if we tumble on to anything, she'd be damned useful to
them. As long as they've got her, they've got the whip hand of us. See?"
"Sure thing," said Julius thoughtfully. "That's so."
CHAPTER XVIII 204
"Besides," added Tommy, as an afterthought, "I've great faith in
Tuppence."
The journey was wearisome, with many stops, and crowded carriages. They
had to change twice, once at Doncaster, once at a small junction. Ebury was
a deserted station with a solitary porter, to whom Tommy addressed
himself:
"Can you tell me the way to the Moat House?"
"The Moat House? It's a tidy step from here. The big house near the sea,
you mean?"
Tommy assented brazenly. After listening to the porter's meticulous but
perplexing directions, they prepared to leave the station. It was beginning to
rain, and they turned up the collars of their coats as they trudged through
the slush of the road. Suddenly Tommy halted.
"Wait a moment." He ran back to the station and tackled the porter anew.
"Look here, do you remember a young lady who arrived by an earlier train,
the 12.50 from London? She'd probably ask you the way to the Moat
House."
He described Tuppence as well as he could, but the porter shook his head.
Several people had arrived by the train in question. He could not call to
mind one young lady in particular. But he was quite certain that no one had
asked him the way to the Moat House.
Tommy rejoined Julius, and explained. Depression was settling on him like
a leaden weight. He felt convinced that their quest was going to be
unsuccessful. The enemy had over three hours' start. Three hours was more
than enough for Mr. Brown. He would not ignore the possibility of the
telegram having been found.
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The way seemed endless. Once they took the wrong turning and went
nearly half a mile out of their direction. It was past seven o'clock when a
small boy told them that "t' Moat House" was just past the next corner.
A rusty iron gate swinging dismally on its hinges! An overgrown drive
thick with leaves. There was something about the place that struck a chill to
both their hearts. They went up the deserted drive. The leaves deadened
their footsteps. The daylight was almost gone. It was like walking in a
world of ghosts. Overhead the branches flapped and creaked with a
mournful note. Occasionally a sodden leaf drifted silently down, startling
them with its cold touch on their cheek.
A turn of the drive brought them in sight of the house. That, too, seemed
empty and deserted. The shutters were closed, the steps up to the door
overgrown with moss. Was it indeed to this desolate spot that Tuppence
had been decoyed? It seemed hard to believe that a human footstep had
passed this way for months.
Julius jerked the rusty bell handle. A jangling peal rang discordantly,
echoing through the emptiness within. No one came. They rang again and
again−−but there was no sign of life. Then they walked completely round
the house. Everywhere silence, and shuttered windows. If they could
believe the evidence of their eyes the place was empty.
"Nothing doing," said Julius.
They retraced their steps slowly to the gate.
"There must be a village handy," continued the young American. "We'd
better make inquiries there. They'll know something about the place, and
whether there's been anyone there lately."
"Yes, that's not a bad idea."
Proceeding up the road, they soon came to a little hamlet. On the outskirts
of it, they met a workman swinging his bag of tools, and Tommy stopped
CHAPTER XVIII 206
him with a question.
"The Moat House? It's empty. Been empty for years. Mrs; Sweeny's got the
key if you want to go over it−−next to the post office."
Tommy thanked him. They soon found the post office, which was also a
sweet and general fancy shop, and knocked at the door of the cottage next
to it. A clean, wholesome−looking woman opened it. She readily produced
the key of the Moat House.
"Though I doubt if it's the kind of place to suit you, sir. In a terrible state of
repair. Ceilings leaking and all. 'Twould need a lot of money spent on it."
"Thanks," said Tommy cheerily. "I dare say it'll be a washout, but houses
are scarce nowadays."
"That they are," declared the woman heartily. "My daughter and
son−in−law have been looking for a decent cottage for I don't know how
long. It's all the war. Upset things terribly, it has. But excuse me, sir, it'll be
too dark for you to see much of the house. Hadn't you better wait until
to−morrow?"
"That's all right. We'll have a look around this evening, anyway. We'd have
been here before only we lost our way. What's the best place to stay at for
the night round here?"
Mrs. Sweeny looked doubtful.
"There's the Yorkshire Arms, but it's not much of a place for gentlemen like
you."
"Oh, it will do very well. Thanks. By the way, you've not had a young lady
here asking for this key to−day?"
The woman shook her head.
CHAPTER XVIII 207
"No one's been over the place for a long time."
"Thanks very much."
They retraced their steps to the Moat House. As the front door swung back
on its hinges, protesting loudly, Julius struck a match and examined the
floor carefully. Then he shook his head.
"I'd swear no one's passed this way. Look at the dust. Thick. Not a sign of a
footmark."
They wandered round the deserted house. Everywhere the same tale. Thick
layers of dust apparently undisturbed.
"This gets me," said Julius. "I don't believe Tuppence was ever in this
house."
"She must have been."
Julius shook his head without replying.
"We'll go over it again to−morrow," said Tommy. "Perhaps we'll see more
in the daylight."
On the morrow they took up the search once more, and were reluctantly
forced to the conclusion that the house had not been invaded for some
considerable time. They might have left the village altogether but for a
fortunate discovery of Tommy's. As they were retracing their steps to the
gate, he gave a sudden cry, and stooping, picked something up from among
the leaves, and held it out to Julius. It was a small gold brooch.
"That's Tuppence's!"
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I've often seen her wear it."
CHAPTER XVIII 208
Julius drew a deep breath.
"I guess that settles it. She came as far as here, anyway. We'll make that
pub our head−quarters, and raise hell round here until we find her.
Somebody MUST have seen her."
Forthwith the campaign began. Tommy and Julius worked separately and
together, but the result was the same. Nobody answering to Tuppence's
description had been seen in the vicinity. They were baffled−−but not
discouraged. Finally they altered their tactics. Tuppence had certainly not
remained long in the neighbourhood of the Moat House. That pointed to her
having been overcome and carried away in a car. They renewed inquiries.
Had anyone seen a car standing somewhere near the Moat House that day?
Again they met with no success.
Julius wired to town for his own car, and they scoured the neighbourhood
daily with unflagging zeal. A grey limousine on which they had set high
hopes was traced to Harrogate, and turned out to be the property of a highly
respectable maiden lady!
Each day saw them set out on a new quest. Julius was like a hound on the
leash. He followed up the slenderest clue. Every car that had passed
through the village on the fateful day was tracked down. He forced his way
into country properties and submitted the owners of the motors to a
searching cross−examination. His apologies were as thorough as his
methods, and seldom failed in disarming the indignation of his victims; but,
as day succeeded day, they were no nearer to discovering Tuppence's
whereabouts. So well had the abduction been planned that the girl seemed
literally to have vanished into thin air.
And another preoccupation was weighing on Tommy's mind.
"Do you know how long we've been here?" he asked one morning as they
sat facing each other at breakfast. "A week! We're no nearer to finding
Tuppence, and NEXT SUNDAY IS THE 29TH!"
CHAPTER XVIII 209
"Shucks!" said Julius thoughtfully. "I'd almost forgotten about the 29th. I've
been thinking of nothing but Tuppence."
"So have I. At least, I hadn't forgotten about the 29th, but it didn't seem to
matter a damn in comparison to finding Tuppence. But to−day's the 23rd,
and time's getting short. If we're ever going to get hold of her at all, we
must do it before the 29th−−her life won't be worth an hour's purchase
afterwards. The hostage game will be played out by then. I'm beginning to
feel that we've made a big mistake in the way we've set about this. We've
wasted time and we're no forrader."
"I'm with you there. We've been a couple of mutts, who've bitten off a
bigger bit than they can chew. I'm going to quit fooling right away!"
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you. I'm going to do what we ought to have done a week ago. I'm
going right back to London to put the case in the hands of your British
police. We fancied ourselves as sleuths. Sleuths! It was a piece of
damn−fool foolishness! I'm through! I've had enough of it. Scotland Yard
for me!"
"You're right," said Tommy slowly. "I wish to God we'd gone there right
away."
"Better late than never. We've been like a couple of babes playing 'Here we
go round the Mulberry Bush.' Now I'm going right along to Scotland Yard
to ask them to take me by the hand and show me the way I should go. I
guess the professional always scores over the amateur in the end. Are you
coming along with me?"
Tommy shook his head.
"What's the good? One of us is enough. I might as well stay here and nose
round a bit longer. Something MIGHT turn up. One never knows."
CHAPTER XVIII 210
"Sure thing. Well, so long. I'll be back in a couple of shakes with a few
inspectors along. I shall tell them to pick out their brightest and best."
But the course of events was not to follow the plan Julius had laid down.
Later in the day Tommy received a wire:
"Join me Manchester Midland Hotel. Important news−−JULIUS."
At 7:30 that night Tommy alighted from a slow cross−country train. Julius
was on the platform.
"Thought you'd come by this train if you weren't out when my wire
arrived."
Tommy grasped him by the arm.
"What is it? Is Tuppence found?"
Julius shook his head.
"No. But I found this waiting in London. Just arrived."
He handed the telegraph form to the other. Tommy's eyes opened as he
read:
"Jane Finn found. Come Manchester Midland Hotel immediately−−PEEL
EDGERTON."
Julius took the form back and folded it up.
"Queer," he said thoughtfully. "I thought that lawyer chap had quit!"