The Secret Adversary

Agatha Christie

To all those who lead monotonous livesin the hope that they may experienceat
second hand the delightsand dangers of adventure

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?""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.""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."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.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."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 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-
-"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:"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, 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."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 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?""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 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?"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.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.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?"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?""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.""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."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."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.""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."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."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!""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."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?""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.""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.""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."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 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 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."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:"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?""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--
"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.""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."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."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 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."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."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 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!"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.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 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."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."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.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.""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?""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--""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."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.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."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.""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."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

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, 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."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."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 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.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.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 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 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.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 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.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.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 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."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 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.""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--"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."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."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.""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."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 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 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.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."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.""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."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 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.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:"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 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.""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 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."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: 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.""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 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.""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."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 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.""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.'"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?'"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."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.""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."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 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.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."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?""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."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--""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."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.""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."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.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."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."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."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."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."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.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--"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.""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.""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-""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."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."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.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.""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."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.""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."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.""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!""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.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 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."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."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 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.""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 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.""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."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. 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.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?"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.""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.""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."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."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."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."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."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.""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.""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 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."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."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 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!""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 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."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."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."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 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?"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.""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 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 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 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.""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."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."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 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?""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.""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 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.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?""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?""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!"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!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."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."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."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 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?""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.""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."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."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."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 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--"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."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.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.""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.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 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."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."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!""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.""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!"

Chapter XIX. Jane Finn

"MY train got in half an hour ago," explained Julius, as he led the way out of
the station. "I reckoned you'd come by this before I left London, and wired
accordingly to Sir James. He's booked rooms for us, and will be round to dine
at eight.""What made you think he'd ceased to take any interest in the case?"
asked Tommy curiously."What he said," replied Julius dryly. "The old bird's as
close as an oyster! Like all the darned lot of them, he wasn't going to commit
himself till he was sure he could deliver the goods.""I wonder," said Tommy
thoughtfully.Julius turned on him."You wonder what?""Whether that was his
real reason.""Sure. You bet your life it was."Tommy shook his head
unconvinced.Sir James arrived punctually at eight o'clock, and Julius
introduced Tommy. Sir James shook hands with him warmly."I am delighted to
make your acquaintance, Mr. Beresford. I have heard so much about you from
Miss Tuppence"-he smiled involuntarily-"that it really seems as though I
already know you quite well.""Thank you, sir," said Tommy with his cheerful
grin. He scanned the great lawyer eagerly. Like Tuppence, he felt the
magnetism of the other's personality. He was reminded of Mr. Carter. The two
men, totally unlike so far as physical resemblance went, produced a similar
effect. Beneath the weary manner of the one and the professional reserve of
the other, lay the same quality of mind, keen-edged like a rapier.In the
meantime he was conscious of Sir James's close scrutiny. When the lawyer
dropped his eyes the young man had the feeling that the other had read him
through and through like an open book. He could not but wonder what the
final judgment was, but there was little chance of learning that. Sir James took
in everything, but gave out only what he chose. A proof of that occurred
almost at once.Immediately the first greetings were over Julius broke out into
a flood of eager questions. How had Sir James managed to track the girl? Why
had he not let them know that he was still working on the case? And so on.Sir
James stroked his chin and smiled. At last he said:"Just so, just so. Well, she's
found. And that's the great thing, isn't it? Eh! Come now, that's the great
thing?""Sure it is. But just how did you strike her trail? Miss Tuppence and I
thought you'd quit for good and all.""Ah!" The lawyer shot a lightning glance at
him, then resumed operations on his chin. "You thought that, did you? Did you
really? H'm, dear me.""But I guess I can take it we were wrong," pursued
Julius."Well, I don't know that I should go so far as to say that. But it's certainly
fortunate for all parties that we've managed to find the young lady.""But
where is she?" demanded Julius, his thoughts flying off on another tack. "I
thought you'd be sure to bring her along?""That would hardly be possible,"
said Sir James gravely."Why?""Because the young lady was knocked down in a
street accident, and has sustained slight injuries to the head. She was taken to
the infirmary, and on recovering consciousness gave her name as Jane Finn.
When-ah!-I heard that, I arranged for her to be removed to the house of a
doctor-a friend of mine, and wired at once for you. She relapsed into
unconsciousness and has not spoken since.""She's not seriously hurt?""Oh, a
bruise and a cut or two; really, from a medical point of view, absurdly slight
injuries to have produced such a condition. Her state is probably to be
attributed to the mental shock consequent on recovering her memory.""It's
come back?" cried Julius excitedly.Sir James tapped the table rather
impatiently."Undoubtedly, Mr. Hersheimmer, since she was able to give her
real name. I thought you had appreciated that point.""And you just happened
to be on the spot," said Tommy. "Seems quite like a fairy tale."But Sir James
was far too wary to be drawn."Coincidences are curious things," he said
dryly.Nevertheless Tommy was now certain of what he had before only
suspected. Sir James's presence in Manchester was not accidental. Far from
abandoning the case, as Julius supposed, he had by some means of his own
successfully run the missing girl to earth. The only thing that puzzled Tommy
was the reason for all this secrecy. He concluded that it was a foible of the
legal mind.Julius was speaking."After dinner," he announced, "I shall go right
away and see Jane.""That will be impossible, I fear," said Sir James. "It is very
unlikely they would allow her to see visitors at this time of night. I should
suggest to-morrow morning about ten o'clock."Julius flushed. There was
something in Sir James which always stirred him to antagonism. It was a
conflict of two masterful personalities."All the same, I reckon I'll go round
there to-night and see if I can't ginger them up to break through their silly
rules.""It will be quite useless, Mr. Hersheimmer."The words came out like the
crack of a pistol, and Tommy looked up with a start. Julius was nervous and
excited. The hand with which he raised his glass to his lips shook slightly, but
his eyes held Sir James's defiantly. For a moment the hostility between the two
seemed likely to burst into flame, but in the end Julius lowered his eyes,
defeated."For the moment, I reckon you're the boss.""Thank you," said the
other. "We will say ten o'clock then?" With consummate ease of manner he
turned to Tommy. "I must confess, Mr. Beresford, that it was something of a
surprise to me to see you here this evening. The last I heard of you was that
your friends were in grave anxiety on your behalf. Nothing had been heard of
you for some days, and Miss Tuppence was inclined to think you had got into
difficulties.""I had, sir!" Tommy grinned reminiscently. "I was never in a tighter
place in my life."Helped out by questions from Sir James, he gave an
abbreviated account of his adventures. The lawyer looked at him with renewed
interest as he brought the tale to a close."You got yourself out of a tight place
very well," he said gravely. "I congratulate you. You displayed a great deal of
ingenuity and carried your part through well."Tommy blushed, his face
assuming a prawnlike hue at the praise."I couldn't have got away but for the
girl, sir.""No." Sir James smiled a little. "It was lucky for you she happened to-
er-take a fancy to you." Tommy appeared about to protest, but Sir James went
on. "There's no doubt about her being one of the gang, I suppose?""I'm afraid
not, sir. I thought perhaps they were keeping her there by force, but the way
she acted didn't fit in with that. You see, she went back to them when she
could have got away."Sir James nodded thoughtfully."What did she say?
Something about wanting to be taken to Marguerite?""Yes, sir. I suppose she
meant Mrs. Vandemeyer.""She always signed herself Rita Vandemeyer. All her
friends spoke of her as Rita. Still, I suppose the girl must have been in the habit
of calling her by her full name. And, at the moment she was crying out to her,
Mrs. Vandemeyer was either dead or dying! Curious! There are one or two
points that strike me as being obscure-their sudden change of attitude towards
yourself, for instance. By the way, the house was raided, of course?""Yes, sir,
but they'd all cleared out.""Naturally," said Sir James dryly."And not a clue left
behind.""I wonder--" The lawyer tapped the table thoughtfully.Something in
his voice made Tommy look up. Would this man's eyes have seen something
where theirs had been blind? He spoke impulsively:"I wish you'd been there,
sir, to go over the house!""I wish I had," said Sir James quietly. He sat for a
moment in silence. Then he looked up. "And since then? What have you been
doing?"For a moment, Tommy stared at him. Then it dawned on him that of
course the lawyer did not know."I forgot that you didn't know about
Tuppence," he said slowly. The sickening anxiety, forgotten for a while in the
excitement of knowing Jane Finn was found at last, swept over him again.The
lawyer laid down his knife and fork sharply."Has anything happened to Miss
Tuppence?" His voice was keen-edged."She's disappeared," said
Julius."When?""A week ago.""How?"Sir James's questions fairly shot out.
Between them Tommy and Julius gave the history of the last week and their
futile search.Sir James went at once to the root of the matter."A wire signed
with your name? They knew enough of you both for that. They weren't sure of
how much you had learnt in that house. Their kidnapping of Miss Tuppence is
the counter-move to your escape. If necessary they could seal your lips with a
threat of what might happen to her."Tommy nodded."That's just what I
thought, sir."Sir James looked at him keenly. "You had worked that out, had
you? Not bad-not at all bad. The curious thing is that they certainly did not
know anything about you when they first held you prisoner. You are sure that
you did not in any way disclose your identity?"Tommy shook his head."That's
so," said Julius with a nod. "Therefore I reckon some one put them wise-and
not earlier than Sunday afternoon.""Yes, but who?""That almighty omniscient
Mr. Brown, of course!"There was a faint note of derision in the American's
voice which made Sir James look up sharply."You don't believe in Mr. Brown,
Mr. Hersheimmer?""No, sir, I do not," returned the young American with
emphasis. "Not as such, that is to say. I reckon it out that he's a figurehead-just
a bogy name to frighten the children with. The real head of this business is that
Russian chap Kramenin. I guess he's quite capable of running revolutions in
three countries at once if he chose! The man Whittington is probably the head
of the English branch.""I disagree with you," said Sir James shortly. "Mr. Brown
exists." He turned to Tommy. "Did you happen to notice where that wire was
handed in?""No, sir, I'm afraid I didn't.""H'm. Got it with you?""It's upstairs, sir,
in my kit.""I'd like to have a look at it sometime. No hurry. You've wasted a
week"-Tommy hung his head-"a day or so more is immaterial. We'll deal with
Miss Jane Finn first. Afterwards, we'll set to work to rescue Miss Tuppence
from bondage. I don't think she's in any immediate danger. That is, so long as
they don't know that we've got Jane Finn, and that her memory has returned.
We must keep that dark at all costs. You understand?"The other two assented,
and, after making arrangements for meeting on the morrow, the great lawyer
took his leave.At ten o'clock, the two young men were at the appointed spot.
Sir James had joined them on the doorstep. He alone appeared unexcited. He
introduced them to the doctor."Mr. Hersheimmer-Mr. Beresford-Dr. Roylance.
How's the patient?""Going on well. Evidently no idea of the flight of time.
Asked this morning how many had been saved from the Lusitania. Was it in the
papers yet? That, of course, was only what was to be expected. She seems to
have something on her mind, though.""I think we can relieve her anxiety. May
we go up?""Certainly."Tommy's heart beat sensibly faster as they followed the
doctor upstairs. Jane Finn at last! The long-sought, the mysterious, the elusive
Jane Finn! How wildly improbable success had seemed! And here in this house,
her memory almost miraculously restored, lay the girl who held the future of
England in her hands. A half groan broke from Tommy's lips. If only Tuppence
could have been at his side to share in the triumphant conclusion of their joint
venture! Then he put the thought of Tuppence resolutely aside. His confidence
in Sir James was growing. There was a man who would unerringly ferret out
Tuppence's whereabouts. In the meantime Jane Finn! And suddenly a dread
clutched at his heart. It seemed too easy… Suppose they should find her dead…
stricken down by the hand of Mr. Brown?In another minute he was laughing at
these melodramatic fancies. The doctor held open the door of a room and they
passed in. On the white bed, bandages round her head, lay the girl. Somehow
the whole scene seemed unreal. It was so exactly what one expected that it
gave the effect of being beautifully staged.The girl looked from one to the
other of them with large wondering eyes. Sir James spoke first."Miss Finn," he
said, "this is your cousin, Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer."A faint flush flitted over
the girl's face, as Julius stepped forward and took her hand."How do, Cousin
Jane?" he said lightly.But Tommy caught the tremor in his voice."Are you really
Uncle Hiram's son?" she asked wonderingly.Her voice, with the slight warmth
of the Western accent, had an almost thrilling quality. It seemed vaguely
familiar to Tommy, but he thrust the impression aside as impossible."Sure
thing.""We used to read about Uncle Hiram in the papers," continued the girl,
in her low soft tones. "But I never thought I'd meet you one day. Mother
figured it out that Uncle Hiram would never get over being mad with her.""The
old man was like that," admitted Julius. "But I guess the new generation's sort
of different. Got no use for the family feud business. First thing I thought
about, soon as the war was over, was to come along and hunt you up."A
shadow passed over the girl's face."They've been telling me things-dreadful
things-that my memory went, and that there are years I shall never know
about-years lost out of my life.""You didn't realize that yourself?"The girl's
eyes opened wide."Why, no. It seems to me as though it were no time since
we were being hustled into those boats. I can see it all now." She closed her
eyes with a shudder.Julius looked across at Sir James, who nodded."Don't
worry any. It isn't worth it. Now, see here, Jane, there's something we want to
know about. There was a man aboard that boat with some mighty important
papers on him, and the big guns in this country have got a notion that he
passed on the goods to you. Is that so?"The girl hesitated, her glance shifting
to the other two. Julius understood."Mr. Beresford is commissioned by the
British Government to get those papers back. Sir James Peel Edgerton is an
English Member of Parliament, and might be a big gun in the Cabinet if he
liked. It's owing to him that we've ferreted you out at last. So you can go right
ahead and tell us the whole story. Did Danvers give you the papers?""Yes. He
said they'd have a better chance with me, because they would save the
women and children first.""Just as we thought," said Sir James."He said they
were very important-that they might make all the difference to the Allies. But,
if it's all so long ago, and the war's over, what does it matter now?""I guess
history repeats itself, Jane. First there was a great hue and cry over those
papers, then it all died down, and now the whole caboodle's started all over
again-for rather different reasons. Then you can hand them over to us right
away?""But I can't.""What?""I haven't got them.""You-haven't-got them?"
Julius punctuated the words with little pauses."No-I hid them.""You hid
them?""Yes. I got uneasy. People seemed to be watching me. It scared me-
badly." She put her hand to her head. "It's almost the last thing I remember
before waking up in the hospital…""Go on," said Sir James, in his quiet
penetrating tones. "What do you remember?"She turned to him obediently."It
was at Holyhead. I came that way-I don't remember why…""That doesn't
matter. Go on.""In the confusion on the quay I slipped away. Nobody saw me. I
took a car. Told the man to drive me out of the town. I watched when we got
on the open road. No other car was following us. I saw a path at the side of the
road. I told the man to wait."She paused, then went on. "The path led to the
cliff, and down to the sea between big yellow gorse bushes-they were like
golden flames. I looked round. There wasn't a soul in sight. But just level with
my head there was a hole in the rock. It was quite small-I could only just get
my hand in, but it went a long way back. I took the oilskin packet from round
my neck and shoved it right in as far as I could. Then I tore off a bit of gorse-
My! but it did prick-and plugged the hole with it so that you'd never guess
there was a crevice of any kind there. Then I marked the place carefully in my
own mind, so that I'd find it again. There was a queer boulder in the path just
there-for all the world like a dog sitting up begging. Then I went back to the
road. The car was waiting, and I drove back. I just caught the train. I was a bit
ashamed of myself for fancying things maybe, but, by and by, I saw the man
opposite me wink at a woman who was sitting next to me, and I felt scared
again, and was glad the papers were safe. I went out in the corridor to get a
little air. I thought I'd slip into another carriage. But the woman called me back,
said I'd dropped something, and when I stooped to look, something seemed to
hit me-here." She placed her hand to the back of her head. "I don't remember
anything more until I woke up in the hospital."There was a pause."Thank you,
Miss Finn." It was Sir James who spoke. "I hope we have not tired you?""Oh,
that's all right. My head aches a little, but otherwise I feel fine."Julius stepped
forward and took her hand again."So long, Cousin Jane. I'm going to get busy
after those papers, but I'll be back in two shakes of a dog's tail, and I'll tote you
up to London and give you the time of your young life before we go back to the
States! I mean it-so hurry up and get well."

Chapter XX. Too Late

IN the street they held an informal council of war. Sir James had drawn a watch
from his pocket. "The boat train to Holyhead stops at Chester at 12.14. If you
start at once I think you can catch the connection."Tommy looked up,
puzzled."Is there any need to hurry, sir? To-day is only the 24th.""I guess it's
always well to get up early in the morning," said Julius, before the lawyer had
time to reply. "We'll make tracks for the depot right away."A little frown had
settled on Sir James's brow."I wish I could come with you. I am due to speak at
a meeting at two o'clock. It is unfortunate."The reluctance in his tone was very
evident. It was clear, on the other hand, that Julius was easily disposed to put
up with the loss of the other's company."I guess there's nothing complicated
about this deal," he remarked. "Just a game of hide-and-seek, that's all.""I
hope so," said Sir James."Sure thing. What else could it be?""You are still
young, Mr. Hersheimmer. At my age you will probably have learnt one lesson.
'Never underestimate your adversary.' "The gravity of his tone impressed
Tommy, but had little effect upon Julius."You think Mr. Brown might come
along and take a hand? If he does, I'm ready for him." He slapped his pocket. "I
carry a gun. Little Willie here travels round with me everywhere." He produced
a murderous-looking automatic, and tapped it affectionately before returning
it to its home. "But he won't be needed this trip. There's nobody to put Mr.
Brown wise."The lawyer shrugged his shoulders."There was nobody to put Mr.
Brown wise to the fact that Mrs. Vandemeyer meant to betray him.
Nevertheless, MRS. VANDEMEYER DIED WITHOUT SPEAKING."Julius was
silenced for once, and Sir James added on a lighter note:"I only want to put
you on your guard. Good-bye, and good luck. Take no unnecessary risks once
the papers are in your hands. If there is any reason to believe that you have
been shadowed, destroy them at once. Good luck to you. The game is in your
hands now." He shook hands with them both.Ten minutes later the two young
men were seated in a first-class carriage en route for Chester.For a long time
neither of them spoke. When at length Julius broke the silence, it was with a
totally unexpected remark."Say," he observed thoughtfully, "did you ever
make a darned fool of yourself over a girl's face?"Tommy, after a moment's
astonishment, searched his mind."Can't say I have," he replied at last. "Not
that I can recollect, anyhow. Why?""Because for the last two months I've been
making a sentimental idiot of myself over Jane! First moment I clapped eyes on
her photograph my heart did all the usual stunts you read about in novels. I
guess I'm ashamed to admit it, but I came over here determined to find her
and fix it all up, and take her back as Mrs. Julius P. Hersheimmer!""Oh!" said
Tommy, amazed.Julius uncrossed his legs brusquely and continued:"Just shows
what an almighty fool a man can make of himself! One look at the girl in the
flesh, and I was cured!"Feeling more tongue-tied than ever, Tommy ejaculated
"Oh!" again."No disparagement to Jane, mind you," continued the other.
"She's a real nice girl, and some fellow will fall in love with her right away.""I
thought her a very good-looking girl," said Tommy, finding his tongue."Sure
she is. But she's not like her photo one bit. At least I suppose she is in a way-
must be-because I recognized her right off. If I'd seen her in a crowd I'd have
said 'There's a girl whose face I know' right away without any hesitation. But
there was something about that photo"-Julius shook his head, and heaved a
sigh-"I guess romance is a mighty queer thing!""It must be," said Tommy
coldly, "if you can come over here in love with one girl, and propose to another
within a fortnight."Julius had the grace to look discomposed."Well, you see, I'd
got a sort of tired feeling that I'd never find Jane-and that it was all plumb
foolishness anyway. And then-oh, well, the French, for instance, are much
more sensible in the way they look at things. They keep romance and marriage
apart--"Tommy flushed."Well, I'm damned! If that's--"Julius hastened to
interrupt."Say now, don't be hasty. I don't mean what you mean. I take it
Americans have a higher opinion of morality than you have even. What I
meant was that the French set about marriage in a businesslike way-find two
people who are suited to one another, look after the money affairs, and see
the whole thing practically, and in a businesslike spirit.""If you ask me," said
Tommy, "we're all too damned businesslike nowadays. We're always saying,
'Will it pay?' The men are bad enough, and the girls are worse!""Cool down,
son. Don't get so heated.""I feel heated," said Tommy.Julius looked at him and
judged it wise to say no more.However, Tommy had plenty of time to cool
down before they reached Holyhead, and the cheerful grin had returned to his
countenance as they alighted at their destination.After consultation, and with
the aid of a road map, they were fairly well agreed as to direction, so were able
to hire a taxi without more ado and drive out on the road leading to Treaddur
Bay. They instructed the man to go slowly, and watched narrowly so as not to
miss the path. They came to it not long after leaving the town, and Tommy
stopped the car promptly, asked in a casual tone whether the path led down to
the sea, and hearing it did paid off the man in handsome style.A moment later
the taxi was slowly chugging back to Holyhead. Tommy and Julius watched it
out of sight, and then turned to the narrow path."It's the right one, I suppose?"
asked Tommy doubtfully. "There must be simply heaps along here.""Sure it is.
Look at the gorse. Remember what Jane said?"Tommy looked at the swelling
hedges of golden blossom which bordered the path on either side, and was
convinced.They went down in single file, Julius leading. Twice Tommy turned
his head uneasily. Julius looked back."What is it?""I don't know. I've got the
wind up somehow. Keep fancying there's some one following us.""Can't be,"
said Julius positively. "We'd see him."Tommy had to admit that this was true.
Nevertheless, his sense of uneasiness deepened. In spite of himself he believed
in the omniscience of the enemy."I rather wish that fellow would come along,"
said Julius. He patted his pocket. "Little William here is just aching for
exercise!""Do you always carry it-him-with you?" inquired Tommy with
burning curiosity."Most always. I guess you never know what might turn
up."Tommy kept a respectful silence. He was impressed by little William. It
seemed to remove the menace of Mr. Brown farther away.The path was now
running along the side of the cliff, parallel to the sea. Suddenly Julius came to
such an abrupt halt that Tommy cannoned into him."What's up?" he
inquired."Look there. If that doesn't beat the band!"Tommy looked. Standing
out half obstructing the path was a huge boulder which certainly bore a
fanciful resemblance to a "begging" terrier."Well," said Tommy, refusing to
share Julius's emotion, "it's what we expected to see, isn't it?"Julius looked at
him sadly and shook his head."British phlegm! Sure we expected it-but it kind
of rattles me, all the same, to see it sitting there just where we expected to
find it!"Tommy, whose calm was, perhaps, more assumed than natural, moved
his feet impatiently."Push on. What about the hole?"They scanned the cliff-
side narrowly. Tommy heard himself saying idiotically:"The gorse won't be
there after all these years."And Julius replied solemnly:"I guess you're
right."Tommy suddenly pointed with a shaking hand."What about that crevice
there?"Julius replied in an awestricken voice:"That's it-for sure."They looked at
each other."When I was in France," said Tommy reminiscently, "whenever my
batman failed to call me, he always said that he had come over queer. I never
believed it. But whether he felt it or not, there IS such a sensation. I've got it
now! Badly!"He looked at the rock with a kind of agonized passion."Damn it!"
he cried. "It's impossible! Five years! Think of it! Bird's-nesting boys, picnic
parties, thousands of people passing! It can't be there! It's a hundred to one
against its being there! It's against all reason!"Indeed, he felt it to be
impossible-more, perhaps, because he could not believe in his own success
where so many others had failed. The thing was too easy, therefore it could
not be. The hole would be empty.Julius looked at him with a widening smile."I
guess you're rattled now all right," he drawled with some enjoyment. "Well,
here goes!" He thrust his hand into the crevice, and made a slight grimace. "It's
a tight fit. Jane's hand must be a few sizes smaller than mine. I don't feel
anything-no-say, what's this? Gee whiz!" And with a flourish he waved aloft a
small discoloured packet. "It's the goods all right. Sewn up in oilskin. Hold it
while I get my penknife."The unbelievable had happened. Tommy held the
precious packet tenderly between his hands. They had succeeded!"It's queer,"
he murmured idly, "you'd think the stitches would have rotted. They look just
as good as new."They cut them carefully and ripped away the oilskin. Inside
was a small folded sheet of paper. With trembling fingers they unfolded it. The
sheet was blank! They stared at each other, puzzled."A dummy?" hazarded
Julius. "Was Danvers just a decoy?"Tommy shook his head. That solution did
not satisfy him. Suddenly his face cleared."I've got it! SYMPATHETIC INK!""You
think so?""Worth trying anyhow. Heat usually does the trick. Get some sticks.
We'll make a fire."In a few minutes the little fire of twigs and leaves was
blazing merrily. Tommy held the sheet of paper near the glow. The paper
curled a little with the heat. Nothing more.Suddenly Julius grasped his arm,
and pointed to where characters were appearing in a faint brown colour."Gee
whiz! You've got it! Say, that idea of yours was great. It never occurred to
me."Tommy held the paper in position some minutes longer until he judged
the heat had done its work. Then he withdrew it. A moment later he uttered a
cry.Across the sheet in neat brown printing ran the words: WITH THE
COMPLIMENTS OF MR. BROWN.

Chapter XXI. Tommy Makes a Discovery

FOR a moment or two they stood staring at each other stupidly, dazed with the
shock. Somehow, inexplicably, Mr. Brown had forestalled them. Tommy
accepted defeat quietly. Not so Julius."How in tarnation did he get ahead of
us? That's what beats me!" he ended up.Tommy shook his head, and said
dully:"It accounts for the stitches being new. We might have guessed…""Never
mind the darned stitches. How did he get ahead of us? We hustled all we
knew. It's downright impossible for anyone to get here quicker than we did.
And, anyway, how did he know? Do you reckon there was a dictaphone in
Jane's room? I guess there must have been."But Tommy's common sense
pointed out objections."No one could have known beforehand that she was
going to be in that house-much less that particular room.""That's so," admitted
Julius. "Then one of the nurses was a crook and listened at the door. How's
that?""I don't see that it matters anyway," said Tommy wearily. "He may have
found out some months ago, and removed the papers, then--No, by Jove, that
won't wash! They'd have been published at once.""Sure thing they would! No,
some one's got ahead of us to-day by an hour or so. But how they did it gets
my goat.""I wish that chap Peel Edgerton had been with us," said Tommy
thoughtfully."Why?" Julius stared. "The mischief was done when we
came.""Yes--" Tommy hesitated. He could not explain his own feeling-the
illogical idea that the K.C.'s presence would somehow have averted the
catastrophe. He reverted to his former point of view. "It's no good arguing
about how it was done. The game's up. We've failed. There's only one thing for
me to do.""What's that?""Get back to London as soon as possible. Mr. Carter
must be warned. It's only a matter of hours now before the blow falls. But, at
any rate, he ought to know the worst."The duty was an unpleasant one, but
Tommy had no intention of shirking it. He must report his failure to Mr. Carter.
After that his work was done. He took the midnight mail to London. Julius
elected to stay the night at Holyhead.Half an hour after arrival, haggard and
pale, Tommy stood before his chief."I've come to report, sir. I've failed-failed
badly."Mr. Carter eyed him sharply."You mean that the treaty--""Is in the
hands of Mr. Brown, sir.""Ah!" said Mr. Carter quietly. The expression on his
face did not change, but Tommy caught the flicker of despair in his eyes. It
convinced him as nothing else had done that the outlook was hopeless."Well,"
said Mr. Carter after a minute or two, "we mustn't sag at the knees, I suppose.
I'm glad to know definitely. We must do what we can."Through Tommy's mind
flashed the assurance: "It's hopeless, and he knows it's hopeless!"The other
looked up at him."Don't take it to heart, lad," he said kindly. "You did your
best. You were up against one of the biggest brains of the century. And you
came very near success. Remember that.""Thank you, sir. It's awfully decent of
you.""I blame myself. I have been blaming myself ever since I heard this other
news."Something in his tone attracted Tommy's attention. A new fear gripped
at his heart."Is there-something more, sir?""I'm afraid so," said Mr. Carter
gravely. He stretched out his hand to a sheet on the table."Tuppence--?"
faltered Tommy."Read for yourself."The typewritten words danced before his
eyes. The description of a green toque, a coat with a handkerchief in the
pocket marked P.L.C. He looked an agonized question at Mr. Carter. The latter
replied to it:"Washed up on the Yorkshire coast-near Ebury. I'm afraid-it looks
very much like foul play.""My God!" gasped Tommy. "TUPPENCE! Those devils-
I'll never rest till I've got even with them! I'll hunt them down! I'll--"The pity on
Mr. Carter's face stopped him."I know what you feel like, my poor boy. But it's
no good. You'll waste your strength uselessly. It may sound harsh, but my
advice to you is: Cut your losses. Time's merciful. You'll forget.""Forget
Tuppence? Never!"Mr. Carter shook his head."So you think now. Well, it won't
bear thinking of-that brave little girl! I'm sorry about the whole business-
confoundedly sorry."Tommy came to himself with a start."I'm taking up your
time, sir," he said with an effort. "There's no need for you to blame yourself. I
dare say we were a couple of young fools to take on such a job. You warned us
all right. But I wish to God I'd been the one to get it in the neck. Good-bye,
sir."Back at the Ritz, Tommy packed up his few belongings mechanically, his
thoughts far away. He was still bewildered by the introduction of tragedy into
his cheerful commonplace existence. What fun they had had together, he and
Tuppence! And now-oh, he couldn't believe it-it couldn't be true! TUPPENCE-
DEAD! Little Tuppence, brimming over with life! It was a dream, a horrible
dream. Nothing more.They brought him a note, a few kind words of sympathy
from Peel Edgerton, who had read the news in the paper. (There had been a
large headline: EX-V.A.D. FEARED DROWNED.) The letter ended with the offer
of a post on a ranch in the Argentine, where Sir James had considerable
interests."Kind old beggar," muttered Tommy, as he flung it aside.The door
opened, and Julius burst in with his usual violence. He held an open newspaper
in his hand."Say, what's all this? They seem to have got some fool idea about
Tuppence.""It's true," said Tommy quietly."You mean they've done her
in?"Tommy nodded."I suppose when they got the treaty she-wasn't any good
to them any longer, and they were afraid to let her go.""Well, I'm darned!"
said Julius. "Little Tuppence. She sure was the pluckiest little girl--"But
suddenly something seemed to crack in Tommy's brain. He rose to his
feet."Oh, get out! You don't really care, damn you! You asked her to marry you
in your rotten cold-blooded way, but I LOVED her. I'd have given the soul out
of my body to save her from harm. I'd have stood by without a word and let
her marry you, because you could have given her the sort of time she ought to
have had, and I was only a poor devil without a penny to bless himself with.
But it wouldn't have been because I didn't care!""See here," began Julius
temperately."Oh, go to the devil! I can't stand your coming here and talking
about 'little Tuppence.' Go and look after your cousin. Tuppence is my girl! I've
always loved her, from the time we played together as kids. We grew up and it
was just the same. I shall never forget when I was in hospital, and she came in
in that ridiculous cap and apron! It was like a miracle to see the girl I loved turn
up in a nurse's kit--"But Julius interrupted him."A nurse's kit! Gee whiz! I must
be going to Colney Hatch! I could swear I've seen Jane in a nurse's cap too. And
that's plumb impossible! No, by gum, I've got it! It was her I saw talking to
Whittington at that nursing home in Bournemouth. She wasn't a patient there!
She was a nurse!""I dare say," said Tommy angrily, "she's probably been in
with them from the start. I shouldn't wonder if she stole those papers from
Danvers to begin with.""I'm darned if she did!" shouted Julius. "She's my
cousin, and as patriotic a girl as ever stepped.""I don't care a damn what she is,
but get out of here!" retorted Tommy also at the top of his voice.The young
men were on the point of coming to blows. But suddenly, with an almost
magical abruptness, Julius's anger abated."All right, son," he said quietly, "I'm
going. I don't blame you any for what you've been saying. It's mighty lucky you
did say it. I've been the most almighty blithering darned idiot that it's possible
to imagine. Calm down"-Tommy had made an impatient gesture-"I'm going
right away now-going to the London and North Western Railway depot, if you
want to know.""I don't care a damn where you're going," growled Tommy.As
the door closed behind Julius, he returned to his suit-case."That's the lot," he
murmured, and rang the bell."Take my luggage down.""Yes, sir. Going away,
sir?""I'm going to the devil," said Tommy, regardless of the menial's
feelings.That functionary, however, merely replied respectfully:"Yes, sir. Shall I
call a taxi?"Tommy nodded.Where was he going? He hadn't the faintest idea.
Beyond a fixed determination to get even with Mr. Brown he had no plans. He
re-read Sir James's letter, and shook his head. Tuppence must be avenged.
Still, it was kind of the old fellow."Better answer it, I suppose." He went across
to the writing-table. With the usual perversity of bedroom stationery, there
were innumerable envelopes and no paper. He rang. No one came. Tommy
fumed at the delay. Then he remembered that there was a good supply in
Julius's sitting-room. The American had announced his immediate departure,
there would be no fear of running up against him. Besides, he wouldn't mind if
he did. He was beginning to be rather ashamed of the things he had said. Old
Julius had taken them jolly well. He'd apologize if he found him there.But the
room was deserted. Tommy walked across to the writing-table, and opened
the middle drawer. A photograph, carelessly thrust in face upwards, caught his
eye. For a moment he stood rooted to the ground. Then he took it out, shut
the drawer, walked slowly over to an arm-chair, and sat down still staring at
the photograph in his hand.What on earth was a photograph of the French girl
Annette doing in Julius Hersheimmer's writing-table?

Chapter XXII. In Downing Street

THE Prime Minister tapped the desk in front of him with nervous fingers. His
face was worn and harassed. He took up his conversation with Mr. Carter at
the point it had broken off. "I don't understand," he said. "Do you really mean
that things are not so desperate after all?""So this lad seems to think.""Let's
have a look at his letter again."Mr. Carter handed it over. It was written in a
sprawling boyish hand."DEAR MR. CARTER, "Something's turned up that has
given me a jar. Of course I may be simply making an awful ass of myself, but I
don't think so. If my conclusions are right, that girl at Manchester was just a
plant. The whole thing was prearranged, sham packet and all, with the object
of making us think the game was up-therefore I fancy that we must have been
pretty hot on the scent."I think I know who the real Jane Finn is, and I've even
got an idea where the papers are. That last's only a guess, of course, but I've a
sort of feeling it'll turn out right. Anyhow, I enclose it in a sealed envelope for
what it's worth. I'm going to ask you not to open it until the very last moment,
midnight on the 28th, in fact. You'll understand why in a minute. You see, I've
figured it out that those things of Tuppence's are a plant too, and she's no
more drowned than I am. The way I reason is this: as a last chance they'll let
Jane Finn escape in the hope that she's been shamming this memory stunt,
and that once she thinks she's free she'll go right away to the cache. Of course
it's an awful risk for them to take, because she knows all about them-but
they're pretty desperate to get hold of that treaty. BUT IF THEY KNOW THAT
THE PAPERS HAVE BEEN RECOVERED BY US, neither of those two girls' lives will
be worth an hour's purchase. I must try and get hold of Tuppence before Jane
escapes."I want a repeat of that telegram that was sent to Tuppence at the
Ritz. Sir James Peel Edgerton said you would be able to manage that for me.
He's frightfully clever."One last thing-please have that house in Soho watched
day and night. "Yours, etc., "THOMAS BERESFORD."The Prime Minister looked
up."The enclosure?"Mr. Carter smiled dryly."In the vaults of the Bank. I am
taking no chances.""You don't think"-the Prime Minister hesitated a minute-
"that it would be better to open it now? Surely we ought to secure the
document, that is, provided the young man's guess turns out to be correct, at
once. We can keep the fact of having done so quite secret.""Can we? I'm not
so sure. There are spies all round us. Once it's known I wouldn't give that"-he
snapped his fingers-"for the life of those two girls. No, the boy trusted me, and
I shan't let him down.""Well, well, we must leave it at that, then. What's he
like, this lad?""Outwardly, he's an ordinary clean-limbed, rather block-headed
young Englishman. Slow in his mental processes. On the other hand, it's quite
impossible to lead him astray through his imagination. He hasn't got any-so
he's difficult to deceive. He worries things out slowly, and once he's got hold of
anything he doesn't let go. The little lady's quite different. More intuition and
less common sense. They make a pretty pair working together. Pace and
stamina.""He seems confident," mused the Prime Minister."Yes, and that's
what gives me hope. He's the kind of diffident youth who would have to be
VERY sure before he ventured an opinion at all."A half smile came to the
other's lips."And it is this-boy who will defeat the master criminal of our
time?""This-boy, as you say! But I sometimes fancy I see a shadow
behind.""You mean?""Peel Edgerton.""Peel Edgerton?" said the Prime Minister
in astonishment."Yes. I see his hand in THIS." He struck the open letter. "He's
there-working in the dark, silently, unobtrusively. I've always felt that if anyone
was to run Mr. Brown to earth, Peel Edgerton would be the man. I tell you he's
on the case now, but doesn't want it known. By the way, I got rather an odd
request from him the other day.""Yes?""He sent me a cutting from some
American paper. It referred to a man's body found near the docks in New York
about three weeks ago. He asked me to collect any information on the subject
I could.""Well?"Carter shrugged his shoulders."I couldn't get much. Young
fellow about thirty-five-poorly dressed-face very badly disfigured. He was
never identified.""And you fancy that the two matters are connected in some
way?""Somehow I do. I may be wrong, of course."There was a pause, then Mr.
Carter continued:"I asked him to come round here. Not that we'll get anything
out of him he doesn't want to tell. His legal instincts are too strong. But there's
no doubt he can throw light on one or two obscure points in young Beresford's
letter. Ah, here he is!"The two men rose to greet the new-comer. A half
whimsical thought flashed across the Premier's mind. "My successor,
perhaps!""We've had a letter from young Beresford," said Mr. Carter, coming
to the point at once. "You've seen him, I suppose?""You suppose wrong," said
the lawyer."Oh!" Mr. Carter was a little nonplussed.Sir James smiled, and
stroked his chin."He rang me up," he volunteered."Would you have any
objection to telling us exactly what passed between you?""Not at all. He
thanked me for a certain letter which I had written to him-as a matter of fact, I
had offered him a job. Then he reminded me of something I had said to him at
Manchester respecting that bogus telegram which lured Miss Cowley away. I
asked him if anything untoward had occurred. He said it had-that in a drawer
in Mr. Hersheimmer's room he had discovered a photograph." The laywer{sic}
paused, then continued: "I asked him if the photograph bore the name and
address of a Californian photographer. He replied: 'You're on to it, sir. It had.'
Then he went on to tell me something I DIDN'T know. The original of that
photograph was the French girl, Annette, who saved his life.""What?""Exactly.
I asked the young man with some curiosity what he had done with the
photograph. He replied that he had put it back where he found it." The lawyer
paused again. "That was good, you know-distinctly good. He can use his brains,
that young fellow. I congratulated him. The discovery was a providential one.
Of course, from the moment that the girl in Manchester was proved to be a
plant everything was altered. Young Beresford saw that for himself without my
having to tell it him. But he felt he couldn't trust his judgment on the subject of
Miss Cowley. Did I think she was alive? I told him, duly weighing the evidence,
that there was a very decided chance in favour of it. That brought us back to
the telegram.""Yes?""I advised him to apply to you for a copy of the original
wire. It had occurred to me as probable that, after Miss Cowley flung it on the
floor, certain words might have been erased and altered with the express
intention of setting searchers on a false trail."Carter nodded. He took a sheet
from his pocket, and read aloud:"Come at once, Astley Priors, Gatehouse,
Kent. Great developments-TOMMY."Very simple," said Sir James, "and very
ingenious. Just a few words to alter, and the thing was done. And the one
important clue they overlooked.""What was that?""The page-boy's statement
that Miss Cowley drove to Charing Cross. They were so sure of themselves that
they took it for granted he had made a mistake.""Then young Beresford is
now?""At Gatehouse, Kent, unless I am much mistaken."Mr. Carter looked at
him curiously."I rather wonder you're not there too, Peel Edgerton?""Ah, I'm
busy on a case.""I thought you were on your holiday?""Oh, I've not been
briefed. Perhaps it would be more correct to say I'm preparing a case. Any
more facts about that American chap for me?""I'm afraid not. Is it important to
find out who he was?""Oh, I know who he was," said Sir James easily. "I can't
prove it yet-but I know."The other two asked no questions. They had an
instinct that it would be mere waste of breath."But what I don't understand,"
said the Prime-Minister suddenly, "is how that photograph came to be in Mr.
Hersheimmer's drawer?""Perhaps it never left it," suggested the lawyer
gently."But the bogus inspector? Inspector Brown?""Ah!" said Sir James
thoughtfully. He rose to his feet. "I mustn't keep you. Go on with the affairs of
the nation. I must get back to-my case."Two days later Julius Hersheimmer
returned from Manchester. A note from Tommy lay on his table:"DEAR
HERSHEIMMER, "Sorry I lost my temper. In case I don't see you again, good-
bye. I've been offered a job in the Argentine, and might as well take it. "Yours,
"TOMMY BERESFORD."A peculiar smile lingered for a moment on Julius's face.
He threw the letter into the waste-paper basket."The darned fool!" he
murmured.

Chapter XXIII. A Race Against Time

AFTER ringing up Sir James, Tommy's next procedure was to make a call at
South Audley Mansions. He found Albert discharging his professional duties,
and introduced himself without more ado as a friend of Tuppence's. Albert
unbent immediately."Things has been very quiet here lately," he said wistfully.
"Hope the young lady's keeping well, sir?""That's just the point, Albert. She's
disappeared." You don't mean as the crooks have got her?""In the
Underworld?""No, dash it all, in this world!""It's a h'expression, sir," explained
Albert. "At the pictures the crooks always have a restoorant in the Underworld.
But do you think as they've done her in, sir?""I hope not. By the way, have you
by any chance an aunt, a cousin, a grandmother, or any other suitable female
relation who might be represented as being likely to kick the bucket?"A
delighted grin spread slowly over Albert's countenance."I'm on, sir. My poor
aunt what lives in the country has been mortal bad for a long time, and she's
asking for me with her dying breath."Tommy nodded approval."Can you report
this in the proper quarter and meet me at Charing Cross in an hour's time?""I'll
be there, sir. You can count on me."As Tommy had judged, the faithful Albert
proved an invaluable ally. The two took up their quarters at the inn in
Gatehouse. To Albert fell the task of collecting information There was no
difficulty about it.Astley Priors was the property of a Dr. Adams. The doctor no
longer practiced, had retired, the landlord believed, but he took a few private
patients-here the good fellow tapped his forehead knowingly-"balmy ones!
You understand!" The doctor was a popular figure in the village, subscribed
freely to all the local sports-"a very pleasant, affable gentleman." Been there
long? Oh, a matter of ten years or so-might be longer. Scientific gentleman, he
was. Professors and people often came down from town to see him. Anyway, it
was a gay house, always visitors.In the face of all this volubility, Tommy felt
doubts. Was it possible that this genial, well-known figure could be in reality a
dangerous criminal? His life seemed so open and aboveboard. No hint of
sinister doings. Suppose it was all a gigantic mistake? Tommy felt a cold chill at
the thought.Then he remembered the private patients-"balmy ones." He
inquired carefully if there was a young lady amongst them, describing
Tuppence. But nothing much seemed to be known about the patients-they
were seldom seen outside the grounds. A guarded description of Annette also
failed to provoke recognition.Astley Priors was a pleasant red-brick edifice,
surrounded by well-wooded grounds which effectually shielded the house
from observation from the road.On the first evening Tommy, accompanied by
Albert, explored the grounds. Owing to Albert's insistence they dragged
themselves along painfully on their stomachs, thereby producing a great deal
more noise than if they had stood upright. In any case, these precautions were
totally unnecessary. The grounds, like those of any other private house after
nightfall, seemed untenanted. Tommy had imagined a possible fierce
watchdog. Albert's fancy ran to a puma, or a tame cobra. But they reached a
shrubbery near the house quite unmolested.The blinds of the dining-room
window were up. There was a large company assembled round the table. The
port was passing from hand to hand. It seemed a normal, pleasant company.
Through the open window scraps of conversation floated out disjointedly on
the night air. It was a heated discussion on county cricket!Again Tommy felt
that cold chill of uncertainty. It seemed impossible to believe that these people
were other than they seemed. Had he been fooled once more? The fair-
bearded, spectacled gentleman who sat at the head of the table looked
singularly honest and normal.Tommy slept badly that night. The following
morning the indefatigable Albert, having cemented an alliance with the
greengrocer's boy, took the latter's place and ingratiated himself with the cook
at Malthouse. He returned with the information that she was undoubtedly
"one of the crooks," but Tommy mistrusted the vividness of his imagination.
Questioned, he could adduce nothing in support of his statement except his
own opinion that she wasn't the usual kind. You could see that at a glance.The
substitution being repeated (much to the pecuniary advantage of the real
greengrocer's boy) on the following day, Albert brought back the first piece of
hopeful news. There WAS a French young lady staying in the house. Tommy
put his doubts aside. Here was confirmation of his theory. But time pressed.
To-day was the 27th. The 29th was the much-talked-of "Labour Day," about
which all sorts of rumours were running riot. Newspapers were getting
agitated. Sensational hints of a Labour coup d'etat were freely reported. The
Government said nothing. It knew and was prepared. There were rumours of
dissension among the Labour leaders. They were not of one mind. The more
far-seeing among them realized that what they proposed might well be a
death-blow to the England that at heart they loved. They shrank from the
starvation and misery a general strike would entail, and were willing to meet
the Government half-way. But behind them were subtle, insistent forces at
work, urging the memories of old wrongs, deprecating the weakness of half-
and-half measures, fomenting misunderstandings.Tommy felt that, thanks to
Mr. Carter, he understood the position fairly accurately. With the fatal
document in the hands of Mr. Brown, public opinion would swing to the side of
the Labour extremists and revolutionists. Failing that, the battle was an even
chance. The Government with a loyal army and police force behind them might
win-but at a cost of great suffering. But Tommy nourished another and a
preposterous dream. With Mr. Brown unmasked and captured he believed,
rightly or wrongly, that the whole organization would crumble ignominiously
and instantaneously. The strange permeating influence of the unseen chief
held it together. Without him, Tommy believed an instant panic would set in;
and, the honest men left to themselves, an eleventh-hour reconciliation would
be possible."This is a one-man show," said Tommy to himself. "The thing to do
is to get hold of the man."It was partly in furtherance of this ambitious design
that he had requested Mr. Carter not to open the sealed envelope. The draft
treaty was Tommy's bait. Every now and then he was aghast at his own
presumption. How dared he think that he had discovered what so many wiser
and clever men had overlooked? Nevertheless, he stuck tenaciously to his
idea.That evening he and Albert once more penetrated the grounds of Astley
Priors. Tommy's ambition was somehow or other to gain admission to the
house itself. As they approached cautiously, Tommy gave a sudden gasp.On
the second floor window some one standing between the window and the
light in the room threw a silhouette on the blind. It was one Tommy would
have recognized anywhere! Tuppence was in that house!He clutched Albert by
the shoulder."Stay here! When I begin to sing, watch that window."He
retreated hastily to a position on the main drive, and began in a deep roar,
coupled with an unsteady gait, the following ditty:I am a Soldier A jolly British
Soldier; You can see that I'm a Soldier by my feet…It had been a favourite on
the gramophone in Tuppence's hospital days. He did not doubt but that she
would recognize it and draw her own conclusions. Tommy had not a note of
music in his voice, but his lungs were excellent. The noise he produced was
terrific.Presently an unimpeachable butler, accompanied by an equally
unimpeachable footman, issued from the front door. The butler remonstrated
with him. Tommy continued to sing, addressing the butler affectionately as
"dear old whiskers." The footman took him by one arm, the butler by the
other. They ran him down the drive, and neatly out of the gate. The butler
threatened him with the police if he intruded again. It was beautifully done-
soberly and with perfect decorum. Anyone would have sworn that the butler
was a real butler, the footman a real footman-only, as it happened, the butler
was Whittington!Tommy retired to the inn and waited for Albert's return. At
last that worthy made his appearance."Well?" cried Tommy eagerly."It's all
right. While they was a-running of you out the window opened, and something
was chucked out." He handed a scrap of paper to Tommy. "It was wrapped
round a letterweight."On the paper were scrawled three words: "To-morrow-
same time.""Good egg!" cried Tommy. "We're getting going.""I wrote a
message on a piece of paper, wrapped it round a stone, and chucked it through
the window," continued Albert breathlessly.Tommy groaned."Your zeal will be
the undoing of us, Albert. What did you say?""Said we was a-staying at the inn.
If she could get away, to come there and croak like a frog.""She'll know that's
you," said Tommy with a sigh of relief. "Your imagination runs away with you,
you know, Albert. Why, you wouldn't recognize a frog croaking if you heard
it."Albert looked rather crest-fallen."Cheer up," said Tommy. "No harm done.
That butler's an old friend of mine-I bet he knew who I was, though he didn't
let on. It's not their game to show suspicion. That's why we've found it fairly
plain sailing. They don't want to discourage me altogether. On the other hand,
they don't want to make it too easy. I'm a pawn in their game, Albert, that's
what I am. You see, if the spider lets the fly walk out too easily, the fly might
suspect it was a put-up job. Hence the usefulness of that promising youth, Mr.
T. Beresford, who's blundered in just at the right moment for them. But later,
Mr. T. Beresford had better look out!"Tommy retired for the night in a state of
some elation. He had elaborated a careful plan for the following evening. He
felt sure that the inhabitants of Astley Priors would not interfere with him up
to a certain point. It was after that that Tommy proposed to give them a
surprise.About twelve o'clock, however, his calm was rudely shaken. He was
told that some one was demanding him in the bar. The applicant proved to be
a rude-looking carter well coated with mud."Well, my good fellow, what is it?"
asked Tommy."Might this be for you, sir?" The carter held out a very dirty
folded note, on the outside of which was written: "Take this to the gentleman
at the inn near Astley Priors. He will give you ten shillings."The handwriting
was Tuppence's. Tommy appreciated her quick-wittedness in realizing that he
might be staying at the inn under an assumed name. He snatched at it."That's
all right."The man withheld it."What about my ten shillings?"Tommy hastily
produced a ten-shilling note, and the man relinquished his find. Tommy
unfastened it."DEAR TOMMY, "I knew it was you last night. Don't go this
evening. They'll be lying in wait for you. They're taking us away this morning. I
heard something about Wales-Holyhead, I think. I'll drop this on the road if I
get a chance. Annette told me how you'd escaped. Buck up. "Yours,
"TWOPENCE."Tommy raised a shout for Albert before he had even finished
perusing this characteristic epistle."Pack my bag! We're off!""Yes, sir." The
boots of Albert could be heard racing upstairs. Holyhead? Did that mean that,
after all--Tommy was puzzled. He read on slowly.The boots of Albert continued
to be active on the floor above.Suddenly a second shout came from
below."Albert! I'm a damned fool! Unpack that bag!""Yes, sir."Tommy
smoothed out the note thoughtfully."Yes, a damned fool," he said softly. "But
so's some one else! And at last I know who it is!"

Chapter XXIV. Julius Takes a Hand

IN his suite at Claridge's, Kramenin reclined on a couch and dictated to his

secretary in sibilant Russian.Presently the telephone at the secretary's elbow
purred, and he took up the receiver, spoke for a minute or two, then turned to
his employer."Some one below is asking for you.""Who is it?""He gives the
name of Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer.""Hersheimmer," repeated Kramenin
thoughtfully. "I have heard that name before.""His father was one of the steel
kings of America," explained the secretary, whose business it was to know
everything. "This young man must be a millionaire several times over."The
other's eyes narrowed appreciatively."You had better go down and see him,
Ivan. Find out what he wants."The secretary obeyed, closing the door
noiselessly behind him. In a few minutes he returned."He declines to state his
business-says it is entirely private and personal, and that he must see you.""A
millionaire several times over," murmured Kramenin. "Bring him up, my dear
Ivan."The secretary left the room once more, and returned escorting
Julius."Monsieur Kramenin?" said the latter abruptly.The Russian, studying him
attentively with his pale venomous eyes, bowed."Pleased to meet you," said
the American. "I've got some very important business I'd like to talk over with
you, if I can see you alone." He looked pointedly at the other."My secretary,
Monsieur Grieber, from whom I have no secrets.""That may be so-but I have,"
said Julius dryly. "So I'd be obliged if you'd tell him to scoot.""Ivan," said the
Russian softly, "perhaps you would not mind retiring into the next room--""The
next room won't do," interrupted Julius. "I know these ducal suites-and I want
this one plumb empty except for you and me. Send him round to a store to buy
a penn'orth of peanuts."Though not particularly enjoying the American's free
and easy manner of speech, Kramenin was devoured by curiosity. "Will your
business take long to state?""Might be an all night job if you caught on.""Very
good, Ivan. I shall not require you again this evening. Go to the theatre-take a
night off.""Thank you, your excellency."The secretary bowed and
departed.Julius stood at the door watching his retreat. Finally, with a satisfied
sigh, he closed it, and came back to his position in the centre of the
room."Now, Mr. Hersheimmer, perhaps you will be so kind as to come to the
point?""I guess that won't take a minute," drawled Julius. Then, with an abrupt
change of manner: "Hands up-or I shoot!"For a moment Kramenin stared
blindly into the big automatic, then, with almost comical haste, he flung up his
hands above his head. In that instant Julius had taken his measure. The man he
had to deal with was an abject physical coward-the rest would be easy."This is
an outrage," cried the Russian in a high hysterical voice. "An outrage! Do you
mean to kill me?""Not if you keep your voice down. Don't go edging sideways
towards that bell. That's better.""What do you want? Do nothing rashly.
Remember my life is of the utmost value to my country. I may have been
maligned--""I reckon," said Julius, "that the man who let daylight into you
would be doing humanity a good turn. But you needn't worry any. I'm not
proposing to kill you this trip-that is, if you're reasonable."The Russian quailed
before the stern menace in the other's eyes. He passed his tongue over his dry
lips."What do you want? Money?""No. I want Jane Finn.""Jane Finn? I-never
heard of her!""You're a darned liar! You know perfectly who I mean.""I tell you
I've never heard of the girl.""And I tell you," retorted Julius, "that Little Willie
here is just hopping mad to go off!"The Russian wilted visibly."You wouldn't
dare--""Oh, yes, I would, son!"Kramenin must have recognized something in
the voice that carried conviction, for he said sullenly:"Well? Granted I do know
who you mean-what of it?""You will tell me now-right here-where she is to be
found."Kramenin shook his head."I daren't.""Why not?""I daren't. You ask an
impossibility.""Afraid, eh? Of whom? Mr. Brown? Ah, that tickles you up!
There is such a person, then? I doubted it. And the mere mention of him scares
you stiff!""I have seen him," said the Russian slowly. "Spoken to him face to
face. I did not know it until afterwards. He was one of a crowd. I should not
know him again. Who is he really? I do not know. But I know this-he is a man to
fear.""He'll never know," said Julius."He knows everything-and his vengeance
is swift. Even I-Kramenin!-would not be exempt!""Then you won't do as I ask
you?""You ask an impossibility.""Sure that's a pity for you," said Julius
cheerfully. "But the world in general will benefit." He raised the
revolver."Stop," shrieked the Russian. "You cannot mean to shoot me?""Of
course I do. I've always heard you Revolutionists held life cheap, but it seems
there's a difference when it's your own life in question. I gave you just one
chance of saving your dirty skin, and that you wouldn't take!""They would kill
me!""Well," said Julius pleasantly, "it's up to you. But I'll just say this. Little
Willie here is a dead cert, and if I was you I'd take a sporting chance with Mr.
Brown!""You will hang if you shoot me," muttered the Russian
irresolutely."No, stranger, that's where you're wrong. You forget the dollars. A
big crowd of solicitors will get busy, and they'll get some high-brow doctors on
the job, and the end of it all will be that they'll say my brain was unhinged. I
shall spend a few months in a quiet sanatorium, my mental health will
improve, the doctors will declare me sane again, and all will end happily for
little Julius. I guess I can bear a few months' retirement in order to rid the
world of you, but don't you kid yourself I'll hang for it!"The Russian believed
him. Corrupt himself, he believed implicitly in the power of money. He had
read of American murder trials running much on the lines indicated by Julius.
He had bought and sold justice himself. This virile young American, with the
significant drawling voice, had the whip hand of him."I'm going to count five,"
continued Julius, "and I guess, if you let me get past four, you needn't worry
any about Mr. Brown. Maybe he'll send some flowers to the funeral, but YOU
won't smell them! Are you ready? I'll begin. One-two three-four--"The Russian
interrupted with a shriek:"Do not shoot. I will do all you wish."Julius lowered
the revolver."I thought you'd hear sense. Where is the girl?""At Gatehouse, in
Kent. Astley Priors, the place is called.""Is she a prisoner there?""She's not
allowed to leave the house-though it's safe enough really. The little fool has
lost her memory, curse her!""That's been annoying for you and your friends, I
reckon. What about the other girl, the one you decoyed away over a week
ago?""She's there too," said the Russian sullenly."That's good," said Julius.
"Isn't it all panning out beautifully? And a lovely night for the run!""What run?"
demanded Kramenin, with a stare."Down to Gatehouse, sure. I hope you're
fond of motoring?""What do you mean? I refuse to go.""Now don't get mad.
You must see I'm not such a kid as to leave you here. You'd ring up your friends
on that telephone first thing! Ah!" He observed the fall on the other's face.
"You see, you'd got it all fixed. No, sir, you're coming along with me. This your
bedroom next door here? Walk right in. Little Willie and I will come behind. Put
on a thick coat, that's right. Fur lined? And you a Socialist! Now we're ready.
We walk downstairs and out through the hall to where my car's waiting. And
don't you forget I've got you covered every inch of the way. I can shoot just as
well through my coat pocket. One word, or a glance even, at one of those
liveried menials, and there'll sure be a strange face in the Sulphur and
Brimstone Works!"Together they descended the stairs, and passed out to the
waiting car. The Russian was shaking with rage. The hotel servants surrounded
them. A cry hovered on his lips, but at the last minute his nerve failed him. The
American was a man of his word.When they reached the car, Julius breathed a
sigh of relief. The danger-zone was passed. Fear had successfully hypnotized
the man by his side."Get in," he ordered. Then as he caught the other's
sidelong glance, "No, the chauffeur won't help you any. Naval man. Was on a
submarine in Russia when the Revolution broke out. A brother of his was
murdered by your people. George!""Yes, sir?" The chauffeur turned his
head."This gentleman is a Russian Bolshevik. We don't want to shoot him, but
it may be necessary. You understand?""Perfectly, sir.""I want to go to
Gatehouse in Kent. Know the road at all?""Yes, sir, it will be about an hour and
a half's run.""Make it an hour. I'm in a hurry.""I'll do my best, sir." The car shot
forward through the traffic.Julius ensconced himself comfortably by the side of
his victim. He kept his hand in the pocket of his coat, but his manner was
urbane to the last degree."There was a man I shot once in Arizona--" he began
cheerfully.At the end of the hour's run the unfortunate Kramenin was more
dead than alive. In succession to the anecdote of the Arizona man, there had
been a tough from 'Frisco, and an episode in the Rockies. Julius's narrative
style, if not strictly accurate, was picturesque!Slowing down, the chauffeur
called over his shoulder that they were just coming into Gatehouse. Julius bade
the Russian direct them. His plan was to drive straight up to the house. There
Kramenin was to ask for the two girls. Julius explained to him that Little Willie
would not be tolerant of failure. Kramenin, by this time, was as putty in the
other's hands. The terrific pace they had come had still further unmanned him.
He had given himself up for dead at every corner.The car swept up the drive,
and stopped before the porch. The chauffeur looked round for orders."Turn
the car first, George. Then ring the bell, and get back to your place. Keep the
engine going, and be ready to scoot like hell when I give the word.""Very good,
sir."The front door was opened by the butler. Kramenin felt the muzzle of the
revolver pressed against his ribs."Now," hissed Julius. "And be careful."The
Russian beckoned. His lips were white, and his voice was not very steady:"It is
I-Kramenin! Bring down the girl at once! There is no time to lose!"Whittington
had come down the steps. He uttered an exclamation of astonishment at
seeing the other."You! What's up? Surely you know the plan--"Kramenin
interrupted him, using the words that have created many unnecessary
panics:"We have been betrayed! Plans must be abandoned. We must save our
own skins. The girl! And at once! It's our only chance."Whittington hesitated,
but for hardly a moment."You have orders-from HIM?""Naturally! Should I be
here otherwise? Hurry! There is no time to be lost. The other little fool had
better come too."Whittington turned and ran back into the house. The
agonizing minutes went by. Then-two figures hastily huddled in cloaks
appeared on the steps and were hustled into the car. The smaller of the two
was inclined to resist and Whittington shoved her in unceremoniously. Julius
leaned forward, and in doing so the light from the open door lit up his face.
Another man on the steps behind Whittington gave a startled exclamation.
Concealment was at an end."Get a move on, George," shouted Julius.The
chauffeur slipped in his clutch, and with a bound the car started.The man on
the steps uttered an oath. His hand went to his pocket. There was a flash and a
report. The bullet just missed the taller girl by an inch."Get down, Jane," cried
Julius. "Flat on the bottom of the car." He thrust her sharply forward, then
standing up, he took careful aim and fired."Have you hit him?" cried Tuppence
eagerly."Sure," replied Julius. "He isn't killed, though. Skunks like that take a lot
of killing. Are you all right, Tuppence?""Of course I am. Where's Tommy? And
who's this?" She indicated the shivering Kramenin."Tommy's making tracks for
the Argentine. I guess he thought you'd turned up your toes. Steady through
the gate, George! That's right. It'll take 'em at least five minutes to get busy
after us. They'll use the telephone, I guess, so look out for snares ahead-and
don't take the direct route. Who's this, did you say, Tuppence? Let me present
Monsieur Kramenin. I persuaded him to come on the trip for his health."The
Russian remained mute, still livid with terror."But what made them let us go?"
demanded Tuppence suspiciously."I reckon Monsieur Kramenin here asked
them so prettily they just couldn't refuse!"This was too much for the Russian.
He burst out vehemently:"Curse you-curse you! They know now that I
betrayed them. My life won't be safe for an hour in this country.""That's so,"
assented Julius. "I'd advise you to make tracks for Russia right away.""Let me
go, then," cried the other. "I have done what you asked. Why do you still keep
me with you?""Not for the pleasure of your company. I guess you can get right
off now if you want to. I thought you'd rather I tooled you back to
London.""You may never reach London," snarled the other. "Let me go here
and now.""Sure thing. Pull up, George. The gentleman's not making the return
trip. If I ever come to Russia, Monsieur Kramenin, I shall expect a rousing
welcome, and--"But before Julius had finished his speech, and before the car
had finally halted, the Russian had swung himself out and disappeared into the
night."Just a mite impatient to leave us," commented Julius, as the car
gathered way again. "And no idea of saying good-bye politely to the ladies.
Say, Jane, you can get up on the seat now."For the first time the girl
spoke."How did you 'persuade' him?" she asked.Julius tapped his
revolver."Little Willie here takes the credit!""Splendid!" cried the girl. The
colour surged into her face, her eyes looked admiringly at Julius."Annette and I
didn't know what was going to happen to us," said Tuppence. "Old Whittington
hurried us off. We thought it was lambs to the slaughter.""Annette," said
Julius. "Is that what you call her?"His mind seemed to be trying to adjust itself
to a new idea."It's her name," said Tuppence, opening her eyes very
wide."Shucks!" retorted Julius. "She may think it's her name, because her
memory's gone, poor kid. But it's the one real and original Jane Finn we've got
here.""What?" cried Tuppence.But she was interrupted. With an angry spurt, a
bullet embedded itself in the upholstery of the car just behind her head."Down
with you," cried Julius. "It's an ambush. These guys have got busy pretty
quickly. Push her a bit, George."The car fairly leapt forward. Three more shots
rang out, but went happily wide. Julius, upright, leant over the back of the
car."Nothing to shoot at," he announced gloomily. "But I guess there'll be
another little picnic soon. Ah!"He raised his hand to his cheek."You are hurt?"
said Annette quickly."Only a scratch."The girl sprang to her feet."Let me out!
Let me out, I say! Stop the car. It is me they're after. I'm the one they want.
You shall not lose your lives because of me. Let me go." She was fumbling with
the fastenings of the door.Julius took her by both arms, and looked at her. She
had spoken with no trace of foreign accent."Sit down, kid," he said gently. "I
guess there's nothing wrong with your memory. Been fooling them all the
time, eh?"The girl looked at him, nodded, and then suddenly burst into tears.
Julius patted her on the shoulder."There, there-just you sit tight. We're not
going to let you quit."Through her sobs the girl said indistinctly:"You're from
home. I can tell by your voice. It makes me home-sick.""Sure I'm from home.
I'm your cousin-Julius Hersheimmer. I came over to Europe on purpose to find
you-and a pretty dance you've led me."The car slackened speed. George spoke
over his shoulder:"Cross-roads here, sir. I'm not sure of the way."The car
slowed down till it hardly moved. As it did so a figure climbed suddenly over
the back, and plunged head first into the midst of them."Sorry," said Tommy,
extricating himself.A mass of confused exclamations greeted him. He replied to
them severally:"Was in the bushes by the drive. Hung on behind. Couldn't let
you know before at the pace you were going. It was all I could do to hang on.
Now then, you girls, get out!""Get out?""Yes. There's a station just up that
road. Train due in three minutes. You'll catch it if you hurry.""What the devil
are you driving at?" demanded Julius. "Do you think you can fool them by
leaving the car?""You and I aren't going to leave the car. Only the girls.""You're
crazed, Beresford. Stark staring mad! You can't let those girls go off alone. It'll
be the end of it if you do."Tommy turned to Tuppence."Get out at once,
Tuppence. Take her with you, and do just as I say. No one will do you any
harm. You're safe. Take the train to London. Go straight to Sir James Peel
Edgerton. Mr. Carter lives out of town, but you'll be safe with him.""Darn you!"
cried Julius. "You're mad. Jane, you stay where you are."With a sudden swift
movement, Tommy snatched the revolver from Julius's hand, and levelled it at
him."Now will you believe I'm in earnest? Get out, both of you, and do as I say-
or I'll shoot!"Tuppence sprang out, dragging the unwilling Jane after her."Come
on, it's all right. If Tommy's sure-he's sure. Be quick. We'll miss the train."They
started running.Julius's pent-up rage burst forth."What the hell--"Tommy
interrupted him."Dry up! I want a few words with you, Mr. Julius
Hersheimmer."

Chapter XXV. Jane's Story

HER arm through Jane's, dragging her along, Tuppence reached the station.
Her quick ears caught the sound of the approaching train."Hurry up," she
panted, "or we'll miss it."They arrived on the platform just as the train came to
a standstill. Tuppence opened the door of an empty first-class compartment,
and the two girls sank down breathless on the padded seats.A man looked in,
then passed on to the next carriage. Jane started nervously. Her eyes dilated
with terror. She looked questioningly at Tuppence."Is he one of them, do you
think?" she breathed.Tuppence shook her head."No, no. It's all right." She took
Jane's hand in hers. "Tommy wouldn't have told us to do this unless he was
sure we'd be all right.""But he doesn't know them as I do!" The girl shivered.
"You can't understand. Five years! Five long years! Sometimes I thought I
should go mad.""Never mind. It's all over." "Is it?"The train was moving now,
speeding through the night at a gradually increasing rate. Suddenly Jane Finn
started up."What was that? I thought I saw a face-looking in through the
window.""No, there's nothing. See." Tuppence went to the window, and lifting
the strap let the pane down."You're sure?""Quite sure."The other seemed to
feel some excuse was necessary:"I guess I'm acting like a frightened rabbit, but
I can't help it. If they caught me now they'd--" Her eyes opened wide and
staring."DON'T!" implored Tuppence. "Lie back, and DON'T THINK. You can be
quite sure that Tommy wouldn't have said it was safe if it wasn't.""My cousin
didn't think so. He didn't want us to do this.""No," said Tuppence, rather
embarrassed."What are you thinking of?" said Jane sharply."Why?""Your voice
was so-queer!""I WAS thinking of something," confessed Tuppence. "But I
don't want to tell you-not now. I may be wrong, but I don't think so. It's just an
idea that came into my head a long time ago. Tommy's got it too-I'm almost
sure he has. But don't YOU worry-there'll be time enough for that later. And it
mayn't be so at all! Do what I tell you-lie back and don't think of anything.""I'll
try." The long lashes drooped over the hazel eyes.Tuppence, for her part, sat
bolt upright-much in the attitude of a watchful terrier on guard. In spite of
herself she was nervous. Her eyes flashed continually from one window to the
other. She noted the exact position of the communication cord. What it was
that she feared, she would have been hard put to it to say. But in her own
mind she was far from feeling the confidence displayed in her words. Not that
she disbelieved in Tommy, but occasionally she was shaken with doubts as to
whether anyone so simple and honest as he was could ever be a match for the
fiendish subtlety of the arch-criminal.If they once reached Sir James Peel
Edgerton in safety, all would be well. But would they reach him? Would not
the silent forces of Mr. Brown already be assembling against them? Even that
last picture of Tommy, revolver in hand, failed to comfort her. By now he might
be overpowered, borne down by sheer force of numbers… Tuppence mapped
out her plan of campaign.As the train at length drew slowly into Charing Cross,
Jane Finn sat up with a start."Have we arrived? I never thought we
should!""Oh, I thought we'd get to London all right. If there's going to be any
fun, now is when it will begin. Quick, get out. We'll nip into a taxi."In another
minute they were passing the barrier, had paid the necessary fares, and were
stepping into a taxi."King's Cross," directed Tuppence. Then she gave a jump. A
man looked in at the window, just as they started. She was almost certain it
was the same man who had got into the carriage next to them. She had a
horrible feeling of being slowly hemmed in on every side."You see," she
explained to Jane, "if they think we're going to Sir James, this will put them off
the scent. Now they'll imagine we're going to Mr. Carter. His country place is
north of London somewhere."Crossing Holborn there was a block, and the taxi
was held up. This was what Tuppence had been waiting for."Quick," she
whispered. "Open the right-hand door!"The two girls stepped out into the
traffic. Two minutes later they were seated in another taxi and were retracing
their steps, this time direct to Carlton House Terrace."There," said Tuppence,
with great satisfaction, "this ought to do them. I can't help thinking that I'm
really rather clever! How that other taxi man will swear! But I took his number,
and I'll send him a postal order to-morrow, so that he won't lose by it if he
happens to be genuine. What's this thing swerving--Oh!"There was a grinding
noise and a bump. Another taxi had collided with them.In a flash Tuppence
was out on the pavement. A policeman was approaching. Before he arrived
Tuppence had handed the driver five shillings, and she and Jane had merged
themselves in the crowd."It's only a step or two now," said Tuppence
breathlessly. The accident had taken place in Trafalgar Square."Do you think
the collision was an accident, or done deliberately?""I don't know. It might
have been either."Hand-in-hand, the two girls hurried along."It may be my
fancy," said Tuppence suddenly, "but I feel as though there was some one
behind us.""Hurry!" murmured the other. "Oh, hurry!"They were now at the
corner of Carlton House Terrace, and their spirits lightened. Suddenly a large
and apparently intoxicated man barred their way."Good evening, ladies," he
hiccupped. "Whither away so fast?""Let us pass, please," said Tuppence
imperiously."Just a word with your pretty friend here." He stretched out an
unsteady hand, and clutched Jane by the shoulder. Tuppence heard other
footsteps behind. She did not pause to ascertain whether they were friends or
foes. Lowering her head, she repeated a manoeuvre of childish days, and
butted their aggressor full in the capacious middle. The success of these
unsportsmanlike tactics was immediate. The man sat down abruptly on the
pavement. Tuppence and Jane took to their heels. The house they sought was
some way down. Other footsteps echoed behind them. Their breath was
coming in choking gasps as they reached Sir James's door. Tuppence seized the
bell and Jane the knocker.The man who had stopped them reached the foot of
the steps. For a moment he hesitated, and as he did so the door opened. They
fell into the hall together. Sir James came forward from the library door."Hullo!
What's this?"He stepped forward, and put his arm round Jane as she swayed
uncertainly. He half carried her into the library, and laid her on the leather
couch. From a tantalus on the table he poured out a few drops of brandy, and
forced her to drink them. With a sigh she sat up, her eyes still wild and
frightened."It's all right. Don't be afraid, my child. You're quite safe."Her
breath came more normally, and the colour was returning to her cheeks. Sir
James looked at Tuppence quizzically."So you're not dead, Miss Tuppence, any
more than that Tommy boy of yours was!""The Young Adventurers take a lot
of killing," boasted Tuppence."So it seems," said Sir James dryly. "Am I right in
thinking that the joint venture has ended in success, and that this"-he turned
to the girl on the couch-"is Miss Jane Finn?"Jane sat up."Yes," she said quietly,
"I am Jane Finn. I have a lot to tell you.""When you are stronger--""No-now!"
Her voice rose a little. "I shall feel safer when I have told everything.""As you
please," said the lawyer.He sat down in one of the big arm-chairs facing the
couch. In a low voice Jane began her story."I came over on the Lusitania to
take up a post in Paris. I was fearfully keen about the war, and just dying to
help somehow or other. I had been studying French, and my teacher said they
were wanting help in a hospital in Paris, so I wrote and offered my services,
and they were accepted. I hadn't got any folk of my own, so it made it easy to
arrange things."When the Lusitania was torpedoed, a man came up to me. I'd
noticed him more than once-and I'd figured it out in my own mind that he was
afraid of somebody or something. He asked me if I was a patriotic American,
and told me he was carrying papers which were just life or death to the Allies.
He asked me to take charge of them. I was to watch for an advertisement in
the Times. If it didn't appear, I was to take them to the American
Ambassador."Most of what followed seems like a nightmare still. I see it in my
dreams sometimes… I'll hurry over that part. Mr. Danvers had told me to
watch out. He might have been shadowed from New York, but he didn't think
so. At first I had no suspicions, but on the boat to Holyhead I began to get
uneasy. There was one woman who had been very keen to look after me, and
chum up with me generally-a Mrs. Vandemeyer. At first I'd been only grateful
to her for being so kind to me; but all the time I felt there was something
about her I didn't like, and on the Irish boat I saw her talking to some queer-
looking men, and from the way they looked I saw that they were talking about
me. I remembered that she'd been quite near me on the Lusitania when Mr.
Danvers gave me the packet, and before that she'd tried to talk to him once or
twice. I began to get scared, but I didn't quite see what to do."I had a wild idea
of stopping at Holyhead, and not going on to London that day, but I soon saw
that that would be plumb foolishness. The only thing was to act as though I'd
noticed nothing, and hope for the best. I couldn't see how they could get me if
I was on my guard. One thing I'd done already as a precaution-ripped open the
oilskin packet and substituted blank paper, and then sewn it up again. So, if
anyone did manage to rob me of it, it wouldn't matter."What to do with the
real thing worried me no end. Finally I opened it out flat-there were only two
sheets-and laid it between two of the advertisement pages of a magazine. I
stuck the two pages together round the edge with some gum off an envelope. I
carried the magazine carelessly stuffed into the pocket of my ulster."At
Holyhead I tried to get into a carriage with people that looked all right, but in a
queer way there seemed always to be a crowd round me shoving and pushing
me just the way I didn't want to go. There was something uncanny and
frightening about it. In the end I found myself in a carriage with Mrs.
Vandemeyer after all. I went out into the corridor, but all the other carriages
were full, so I had to go back and sit down. I consoled myself with the thought
that there were other people in the carriage-there was quite a nice-looking
man and his wife sitting just opposite. So I felt almost happy about it until just
outside London. I had leaned back and closed my eyes. I guess they thought I
was asleep, but my eyes weren't quite shut, and suddenly I saw the nice-
looking man get something out of his bag and hand it to Mrs. Vandemeyer, and
as he did so he WINKED…"I can't tell you how that wink sort of froze me
through and through. My only thought was to get out in the corridor as quick
as ever I could. I got up, trying to look natural and easy. Perhaps they saw
something-I don't know-but suddenly Mrs. Vandemeyer said 'Now,' and flung
something over my nose and mouth as I tried to scream. At the same moment
I felt a terrific blow on the back of my head…"She shuddered. Sir James
murmured something sympathetically. In a minute she resumed:"I don't know
how long it was before I came back to consciousness. I felt very ill and sick. I
was lying on a dirty bed. There was a screen round it, but I could hear two
people talking in the room. Mrs. Vandemeyer was one of them. I tried to listen,
but at first I couldn't take much in. When at last I did begin to grasp what was
going on-I was just terrified! I wonder I didn't scream right out there and
then."They hadn't found the papers. They'd got the oilskin packet with the
blanks, and they were just mad! They didn't know whether I'd changed the
papers, or whether Danvers had been carrying a dummy message, while the
real one was sent another way. They spoke of"-she closed her eyes-"torturing
me to find out!"I'd never known what fear-really sickening fear-was before!
Once they came to look at me. I shut my eyes and pretended to be still
unconscious, but I was afraid they'd hear the beating of my heart. However,
they went away again. I began thinking madly. What could I do? I knew I
wouldn't be able to stand up against torture very long."Suddenly something
put the thought of loss of memory into my head. The subject had always
interested me, and I'd read an awful lot about it. I had the whole thing at my
finger-tips. If only I could succeed in carrying the bluff through, it might save
me. I said a prayer, and drew a long breath. Then I opened my eyes and started
babbling in FRENCH!"Mrs. Vandemeyer came round the screen at once. Her
face was so wicked I nearly died, but I smiled up at her doubtfully, and asked
her in French where I was."It puzzled her, I could see. She called the man she
had been talking to. He stood by the screen with his face in shadow. He spoke
to me in French. His voice was very ordinary and quiet, but somehow, I don't
know why, he scared me worse than the woman. I felt he'd seen right through
me, but I went on playing my part. I asked again where I was, and then went
on that there was something I MUST remember-MUST remember-only for the
moment it was all gone. I worked myself up to be more and more distressed.
He asked me my name. I said I didn't know-that I couldn't remember anything
at all."Suddenly he caught my wrist, and began twisting it. The pain was awful.
I screamed. He went on. I screamed and screamed, but I managed to shriek out
things in French. I don't know how long I could have gone on, but luckily I
fainted. The last thing I heard was his voice saying: 'That's not bluff! Anyway, a
kid of her age wouldn't know enough.' I guess he forgot American girls are
older for their age than English ones, and take more interest in scientific
subjects."When I came to, Mrs. Vandemeyer was sweet as honey to me. She'd
had her orders, I guess. She spoke to me in French-told me I'd had a shock and
been very ill. I should be better soon. I pretended to be rather dazed-
murmured something about the 'doctor' having hurt my wrist. She looked
relieved when I said that."By and by she went out of the room altogether. I
was suspicious still, and lay quite quiet for some time. In the end, however, I
got up and walked round the room, examining it. I thought that even if anyone
WAS watching me from somewhere, it would seem natural enough under the
circumstances. It was a squalid, dirty place. There were no windows, which
seemed queer. I guessed the door would be locked, but I didn't try it. There
were some battered old pictures on the walls, representing scenes from
Faust."Jane's two listeners gave a simultaneous "Ah!" The girl nodded."Yes-it
was the place in Soho where Mr. Beresford was imprisoned. Of course, at the
time I didn't even know if I was in London. One thing was worrying me
dreadfully, but my heart gave a great throb of relief when I saw my ulster lying
carelessly over the back of a chair. AND THE MAGAZINE WAS STILL ROLLED UP
IN THE POCKET!"If only I could be certain that I was not being overlooked! I
looked carefully round the walls. There didn't seem to be a peep-hole of any
kind-nevertheless I felt kind of sure there must be. All of a sudden I sat down
on the edge of the table, and put my face in my hands, sobbing out a 'Mon
Dieu! Mon Dieu!' I've got very sharp ears. I distinctly heard the rustle of a
dress, and slight creak. That was enough for me. I was being watched!"I lay
down on the bed again, and by and by Mrs. Vandemeyer brought me some
supper. She was still sweet as they make them. I guess she'd been told to win
my confidence. Presently she produced the oilskin packet, and asked me if I
recognized it, watching me like a lynx all the time."I took it and turned it over
in a puzzled sort of way. Then I shook my head. I said that I felt I OUGHT to
remember something about it, that it was just as though it was all coming
back, and then, before I could get hold of it, it went again. Then she told me
that I was her niece, and that I was to call her 'Aunt Rita.' I did obediently, and
she told me not to worry-my memory would soon come back."That was an
awful night. I'd made my plan whilst I was waiting for her. The papers were
safe so far, but I couldn't take the risk of leaving them there any longer. They
might throw that magazine away any minute. I lay awake waiting until I judged
it must be about two o'clock in the morning. Then I got up as softly as I could,
and felt in the dark along the left-hand wall. Very gently, I unhooked one of the
pictures from its nail-Marguerite with her casket of jewels. I crept over to my
coat and took out the magazine, and an odd envelope or two that I had shoved
in. Then I went to the washstand, and damped the brown paper at the back of
the picture all round. Presently I was able to pull it away. I had already torn out
the two stuck-together pages from the magazine, and now I slipped them with
their precious enclosure between the picture and its brown paper backing. A
little gum from the envelopes helped me to stick the latter up again. No one
would dream the picture had ever been tampered with. I rehung it on the wall,
put the magazine back in my coat pocket, and crept back to bed. I was pleased
with my hiding-place. They'd never think of pulling to pieces one of their own
pictures. I hoped that they'd come to the conclusion that Danvers had been
carrying a dummy all along, and that, in the end, they'd let me go."As a matter
of fact, I guess that's what they did think at first, and, in a way, it was
dangerous for me. I learnt afterwards that they nearly did away with me then
and there-there was never much chance of their 'letting me go'-but the first
man, who was the boss, preferred to keep me alive on the chance of my having
hidden them, and being able to tell where if I recovered my memory. They
watched me constantly for weeks. Sometimes they'd ask me questions by the
hour-I guess there was nothing they didn't know about the third degree!-but
somehow I managed to hold my own. The strain of it was awful, though…"They
took me back to Ireland, and over every step of the Journey again, in case I'd
hidden it somewhere en route. Mrs. Vandemeyer and another woman never
left me for a moment. They spoke of me as a young relative of Mrs.
Vandemeyer's whose mind was affected by the shock of the Lusitania. There
was no one I could appeal to for help without giving myself away to THEM, and
if I risked it and failed-and Mrs. Vandemeyer looked so rich, and so beautifully
dressed, that I felt convinced they'd take her word against mine, and think it
was part of my mental trouble to think myself 'persecuted'-I felt that the
horrors in store for me would be too awful once they knew I'd been only
shamming."Sir James nodded comprehendingly."Mrs. Vandemeyer was a
woman of great personality. With that and her social position she would have
had little difficulty in imposing her point of view in preference to yours. Your
sensational accusations against her would not easily have found
credence.""That's what I thought. It ended in my being sent to a sanatorium at
Bournemouth. I couldn't make up my mind at first whether it was a sham affair
or genuine. A hospital nurse had charge of me. I was a special patient. She
seemed so nice and normal that at last I determined to confide in her. A
merciful providence just saved me in time from falling into the trap. My door
happened to be ajar, and I heard her talking to some one in the passage. SHE
WAS ONE OF THEM! They still fancied it might be a bluff on my part, and she
was put in charge of me to make sure! After that, my nerve went completely. I
dared trust nobody."I think I almost hypnotized myself. After a while, I almost
forgot that I was really Jane Finn. I was so bent on playing the part of Janet
Vandemeyer that my nerves began to play me tricks. I became really ill-for
months I sank into a sort of stupor. I felt sure I should die soon, and that
nothing really mattered. A sane person shut up in a lunatic asylum often ends
by becoming insane, they say. I guess I was like that. Playing my part had
become second nature to me. I wasn't even unhappy in the end-just apathetic.
Nothing seemed to matter. And the years went on."And then suddenly things
seemed to change. Mrs. Vandemeyer came down from London. She and the
doctor asked me questions, experimented with various treatments. There was
some talk of sending me to a specialist in Paris. In the end, they did not dare
risk it. I overheard something that seemed to show that other people-friends-
were looking for me. I learnt later that the nurse who had looked after me
went to Paris, and consulted a specialist, representing herself to be me. He put
her through some searching tests, and exposed her loss of memory to be
fraudulent; but she had taken a note of his methods and reproduced them on
me. I dare say I couldn't have deceived the specialist for a minute-a man who
has made a lifelong study of a thing is unique-but I managed once again to hold
my own with them. The fact that I'd not thought of myself as Jane Finn for so
long made it easier."One night I was whisked off to London at a moment's
notice. They took me back to the house in Soho. Once I got away from the
sanatorium I felt different-as though something in me that had been buried for
a long time was waking up again."They sent me in to wait on Mr. Beresford.
(Of course I didn't know his name then.) I was suspicious-I thought it was
another trap. But he looked so honest, I could hardly believe it. However, I was
careful in all I said, for I knew we could be overheard. There's a small hole, high
up in the wall."But on the Sunday afternoon a message was brought to the
house. They were all very disturbed. Without their knowing, I listened. Word
had come that he was to be killed. I needn't tell the next part, because you
know it. I thought I'd have time to rush up and get the papers from their
hiding-place, but I was caught. So I screamed out that he was escaping, and I
said I wanted to go back to Marguerite. I shouted the name three times very
loud. I knew the others would think I meant Mrs. Vandemeyer, but I hoped it
might make Mr. Beresford think of the picture. He'd unhooked one the first
day-that's what made me hesitate to trust him."She paused."Then the papers,"
said Sir James slowly, "are still at the back of the picture in that room.""Yes."
The girl had sunk back on the sofa exhausted with the strain of the long
story.Sir James rose to his feet. He looked at his watch."Come," he said, "we
must go at once.""To-night?" queried Tuppence, surprised."To-morrow may be
too late," said Sir James gravely. "Besides, by going to-night we have the
chance of capturing that great man and super-criminal-Mr. Brown!"There was
dead silence, and Sir James continued:"You have been followed here-not a
doubt of it. When we leave the house we shall be followed again, but not
molested, FOR IT IS MR. BROWN'S PLAN THAT WE ARE TO LEAD HIM. But the
Soho house is under police supervision night and day. There are several men
watching it. When we enter that house, Mr. Brown will not draw back-he will
risk all, on the chance of obtaining the spark to fire his mine. And he fancies
the risk not great-since he will enter in the guise of a friend!"Tuppence flushed,
then opened her mouth impulsively."But there's something you don't know-
that we haven't told you." Her eyes dwelt on Jane in perplexity."What is that?"
asked the other sharply. "No hesitations, Miss Tuppence. We need to be sure
of our going."But Tuppence, for once, seemed tongue-tied."It's so difficult-you
see, if I'm wrong-oh, it would be dreadful." She made a grimace at the
unconscious Jane. "Never forgive me," she observed cryptically."You want me
to help you out, eh?""Yes, please. YOU know who Mr. Brown is, don't
you?""Yes," said Sir James gravely. "At last I do.""At last?" queried Tuppence
doubtfully. "Oh, but I thought--" She paused."You thought correctly, Miss
Tuppence. I have been morally certain of his identity for some time-ever since
the night of Mrs. Vandemeyer's mysterious death.""Ah!" breathed
Tuppence."For there we are up against the logic of facts. There are only two
solutions. Either the chloral was administered by her own hand, which theory I
reject utterly, or else--""Yes?""Or else it was administered in the brandy you
gave her. Only three people touched that brandy-you, Miss Tuppence, I myself,
and one other-Mr. Julius Hersheimmer!"Jane Finn stirred and sat up, regarding
the speaker with wide astonished eyes."At first, the thing seemed utterly
impossible. Mr. Hersheimmer, as the son of a prominent millionaire, was a
well-known figure in America. It seemed utterly impossible that he and Mr.
Brown could be one and the same. But you cannot escape from the logic of
facts. Since the thing was so-it must be accepted. Remember Mrs.
Vandemeyer's sudden and inexplicable agitation. Another proof, if proof was
needed."I took an early opportunity of giving you a hint. From some words of
Mr. Hersheimmer's at Manchester, I gathered that you had understood and
acted on that hint. Then I set to work to prove the impossible possible. Mr.
Beresford rang me up and told me, what I had already suspected, that the
photograph of Miss Jane Finn had never really been out of Mr. Hersheimmer's
possession--"But the girl interrupted. Springing to her feet, she cried out
angrily:"What do you mean? What are you trying to suggest? That Mr. Brown
is JULIUS? Julius-my own cousin!""No, Miss Finn," said Sir James unexpectedly.
"Not your cousin. The man who calls himself Julius Hersheimmer is no relation
to you whatsoever."

Chapter XXVI. Mr. Brown

SIR James's words came like a bomb-shell. Both girls looked equally puzzled.
The lawyer went across to his desk, and returned with a small newspaper
cutting, which he handed to Jane. Tuppence read it over her shoulder. Mr.
Carter would have recognized it. It referred to the mysterious man found dead
in New York."As I was saying to Miss Tuppence," resumed the lawyer, "I set to
work to prove the impossible possible. The great stumbling-block was the
undeniable fact that Julius Hersheimmer was not an assumed name. When I
came across this paragraph my problem was solved. Julius Hersheimmer set
out to discover what had become of his cousin. He went out West, where he
obtained news of her and her photograph to aid him in his search. On the eve
of his departure from New York he was set upon and murdered. His body was
dressed in shabby clothes, and the face disfigured to prevent identification.
Mr. Brown took his place. He sailed immediately for England. None of the real
Hersheimmer's friends or intimates saw him before he sailed-though indeed it
would hardly have mattered if they had, the impersonation was so perfect.
Since then he had been hand and glove with those sworn to hunt him down.
Every secret of theirs has been known to him. Only once did he come near
disaster. Mrs. Vandemeyer knew his secret. It was no part of his plan that that
huge bribe should ever be offered to her. But for Miss Tuppence's fortunate
change of plan, she would have been far away from the flat when we arrived
there. Exposure stared him in the face. He took a desperate step, trusting in his
assumed character to avert suspicion. He nearly succeeded-but not quite.""I
can't believe it," murmured Jane. "He seemed so splendid.""The real Julius
Hersheimmer WAS a splendid fellow! And Mr. Brown is a consummate actor.
But ask Miss Tuppence if she also has not had her suspicions."Jane turned
mutely to Tuppence. The latter nodded."I didn't want to say it, Jane-I knew it
would hurt you. And, after all, I couldn't be sure. I still don't understand why, if
he's Mr. Brown, he rescued us.""Was it Julius Hersheimmer who helped you to
escape?"Tuppence recounted to Sir James the exciting events of the evening,
ending up: "But I can't see WHY!""Can't you? I can. So can young Beresford, by
his actions. As a last hope Jane Finn was to be allowed to escape-and the
escape must be managed so that she harbours no suspicions of its being a put-
up job. They're not averse to young Beresford's being in the neighbourhood,
and, if necessary, communicating with you. They'll take care to get him out of
the way at the right minute. Then Julius Hersheimmer dashes up and rescues
you in true melodramatic style. Bullets fly-but don't hit anybody. What would
have happened next? You would have driven straight to the house in Soho and
secured the document which Miss Finn would probably have entrusted to her
cousin's keeping. Or, if he conducted the search, he would have pretended to
find the hiding-place already rifled. He would have had a dozen ways of dealing
with the situation, but the result would have been the same. And I rather fancy
some accident would have happened to both of you. You see, you know rather
an inconvenient amount. That's a rough outline. I admit I was caught napping;
but somebody else wasn't.""Tommy," said Tuppence softly."Yes. Evidently
when the right moment came to get rid of him-he was too sharp for them. All
the same, I'm not too easy in my mind about him.""Why?""Because Julius
Hersheimmer is Mr. Brown," said Sir James dryly. "And it takes more than one
man and a revolver to hold up Mr. Brown…"Tuppence paled a little."What can
we do?""Nothing until we've been to the house in Soho. If Beresford has still
got the upper hand, there's nothing to fear. If otherwise, our enemy will come
to find us, and he will not find us unprepared!" From a drawer in the desk, he
took a service revolver, and placed it in his coat pocket."Now we're ready. I
know better than even to suggest going without you, Miss Tuppence--""I
should think so indeed!""But I do suggest that Miss Finn should remain here.
She will be perfectly safe, and I am afraid she is absolutely worn out with all
she has been through."But to Tuppence's surprise Jane shook her head."No. I
guess I'm going too. Those papers were my trust. I must go through with this
business to the end. I'm heaps better now anyway."Sir James's car was ordered
round. During the short drive Tuppence's heart beat tumultuously. In spite of
momentary qualms of uneasiness respecting Tommy, she could not but feel
exultation. They were going to win!The car drew up at the corner of the square
and they got out. Sir James went up to a plain-clothes man who was on duty
with several others, and spoke to him. Then he rejoined the girls."No one has
gone into the house so far. It is being watched at the back as well, so they are
quite sure of that. Anyone who attempts to enter after we have done so will be
arrested immediately. Shall we go in?"A policeman produced a key. They all
knew Sir James well. They had also had orders respecting Tuppence. Only the
third member of the party was unknown to them. The three entered the
house, pulling the door to behind them. Slowly they mounted the rickety
stairs. At the top was the ragged curtain hiding the recess where Tommy had
hidden that day. Tuppence had heard the story from Jane in her character of
"Annette." She looked at the tattered velvet with interest. Even now she could
almost swear it moved-as though some one was behind it. So strong was the
illusion that she almost fancied she could make out the outline of a form…
Supposing Mr. Brown-Julius-was there waiting…Impossible of course! Yet she
almost went back to put the curtain aside and make sure…Now they were
entering the prison room. No place for anyone to hide here, thought
Tuppence, with a sigh of relief, then chided herself indignantly. She must not
give way to this foolish fancying-this curious insistent feeling that MR. BROWN
WAS IN THE HOUSE… Hark! what was that? A stealthy footstep on the stairs?
There WAS some one in the house! Absurd! She was becoming hysterical.Jane
had gone straight to the picture of Marguerite. She unhooked it with a steady
hand. The dust lay thick upon it, and festoons of cobwebs lay between it and
the wall. Sir James handed her a pocket-knife, and she ripped away the brown
paper from the back… The advertisement page of a magazine fell out. Jane
picked it up. Holding apart the frayed inner edges she extracted two thin
sheets covered with writing!No dummy this time! The real thing!"We've got
it," said Tuppence. "At last…"The moment was almost breathless in its
emotion. Forgotten the faint creakings, the imagined noises of a minute ago.
None of them had eyes for anything but what Jane held in her hand.Sir James
took it, and scrutinized it attentively."Yes," he said quietly, "this is the ill-fated
draft treaty!""We've succeeded," said Tuppence. There was awe and an almost
wondering unbelief in her voice.Sir James echoed her words as he folded the
paper carefully and put it away in his pocket-book, then he looked curiously
round the dingy room."It was here that our young friend was confined for so
long, was it not?" he said. "A truly sinister room. You notice the absence of
windows, and the thickness of the close-fitting door. Whatever took place here
would never be heard by the outside world."Tuppence shivered. His words
woke a vague alarm in her. What if there WAS some one concealed in the
house? Some one who might bar that door on them, and leave them to die like
rats in a trap? Then she realized the absurdity of her thought. The house was
surrounded by police who, if they failed to reappear, would not hesitate to
break in and make a thorough search. She smiled at her own foolishness-then
looked up with a start to find Sir James watching her. He gave her an emphatic
little nod."Quite right, Miss Tuppence. You scent danger. So do I. So does Miss
Finn.""Yes," admitted Jane. "It's absurd-but I can't help it."Sir James nodded
again."You feel-as we all feel-THE PRESENCE OF MR. BROWN. Yes"-as
Tuppence made a movement-"not a doubt of it-MR. BROWN IS HERE…""In this
house?""In this room… You don't understand? I AM MR. BROWN…"Stupefied,
unbelieving, they stared at him. The very lines of his face had changed. It was a
different man who stood before them. He smiled a slow cruel smile."Neither of
you will leave this room alive! You said just now we had succeeded. I have
succeeded! The draft treaty is mine." His smile grew wider as he looked at
Tuppence. "Shall I tell you how it will be? Sooner or later the police will break
in, and they will find three victims of Mr. Brown-three, not two, you
understand, but fortunately the third will not be dead, only wounded, and will
be able to describe the attack with a wealth of detail! The treaty? It is in the
hands of Mr. Brown. So no one will think of searching the pockets of Sir James
Peel Edgerton!"He turned to Jane."You outwitted me. I make my
acknowledgments. But you will not do it again."There was a faint sound behind
him, but, intoxicated with success, he did not turn his head.He slipped his hand
into his pocket."Checkmate to the Young Adventurers," he said, and slowly
raised the big automatic.But, even as he did so, he felt himself seized from
behind in a grip of iron. The revolver was wrenched from his hand, and the
voice of Julius Hersheimmer said drawlingly:"I guess you're caught redhanded
with the goods upon you."The blood rushed to the K.C.'s face, but his self-
control was marvellous, as he looked from one to the other of his two captors.
He looked longest at Tommy."You," he said beneath his breath. "YOU! I might
have known."Seeing that he was disposed to offer no resistance, their grip
slackened. Quick as a flash his left hand, the hand which bore the big signet
ring, was raised to his lips…" 'Ave, Caesar! te morituri salutant,' " he said, still
looking at Tommy.Then his face changed, and with a long convulsive shudder
he fell forward in a crumpled heap, whilst an odour of bitter almonds filled the
air.

Chapter XXVII. A Supper Party at the Savoy

THE supper party given by Mr. Julius Hersheimmer to a few friends on the
evening of the 30th will long be remembered in catering circles. It took place in
a private room, and Mr. Hersheimmer's orders were brief and forcible. He gave
carte blanche-and when a millionaire gives carte blanche he usually gets
it!Every delicacy out of season was duly provided. Waiters carried bottles of
ancient and royal vintage with loving care. The floral decorations defied the
seasons, and fruits of the earth as far apart as May and November found
themselves miraculously side by side. The list of guests was small and select.
The American Ambassador, Mr. Carter, who had taken the liberty, he said, of
bringing an old friend, Sir William Beresford, with him, Archdeacon Cowley, Dr.
Hall, those two youthful adventurers, Miss Prudence Cowley and Mr. Thomas
Beresford, and last, but not least, as guest of honour, Miss Jane Finn.Julius had
spared no pains to make Jane's appearance a success. A mysterious knock had
brought Tuppence to the door of the apartment she was sharing with the
American girl. It was Julius. In his hand he held a cheque."Say, Tuppence," he
began, "will you do me a good turn? Take this, and get Jane regularly togged
up for this evening. You're all coming to supper with me at the Savoy. See?
Spare no expense. You get me?""Sure thing," mimicked Tuppence. "We shall
enjoy ourselves. It will be a pleasure dressing Jane. She's the loveliest thing I've
ever seen.""That's so," agreed Mr. Hersheimmer fervently.His fervour brought
a momentary twinkle to Tuppence's eye."By the way, Julius," she remarked
demurely, "I-haven't given you my answer yet.""Answer?" said Julius. His face
paled."You know-when you asked me to-marry you," faltered Tuppence, her
eyes downcast in the true manner of the early Victorian heroine, "and
wouldn't take no for an answer. I've thought it well over--""Yes?" said Julius.
The perspiration stood on his forehead.Tuppence relented suddenly."You great
idiot!" she said. "What on earth induced you to do it? I could see at the time
you didn't care a twopenny dip for me!""Not at all. I had-and still have-the
highest sentiments of esteem and respect-and admiration for you--""H'm!"
said Tuppence. "Those are the kind of sentiments that very soon go to the wall
when the other sentiment comes along! Don't they, old thing?""I don't know
what you mean," said Julius stiffly, but a large and burning blush overspread
his countenance."Shucks!" retorted Tuppence. She laughed, and closed the
door, reopening it to add with dignity: "Morally, I shall always consider I have
been jilted!""What was it?" asked Jane as Tuppence rejoined
her."Julius.""What did he want?""Really, I think, he wanted to see you, but I
wasn't going to let him. Not until to-night, when you're going to burst upon
every one like King Solomon in his glory! Come on! WE'RE GOING TO SHOP!"To
most people the 29th, the much-heralded "Labour Day," had passed much as
any other day. Speeches were made in the Park and Trafalgar Square.
Straggling processions, singing the Red Flag, wandered through the streets in a
more or less aimless manner. Newspapers which had hinted at a general strike,
and the inauguration of a reign of terror, were forced to hide their diminished
heads. The bolder and more astute among them sought to prove that peace
had been effected by following their counsels. In the Sunday papers a brief
notice of the sudden death of Sir James Peel Edgerton, the famous K.C., had
appeared. Monday's paper dealt appreciatively with the dead man's career.
The exact manner of his sudden death was never made public.Tommy had
been right in his forecast of the situation. It had been a one-man show.
Deprived of their chief, the organization fell to pieces. Kramenin had made a
precipitate return to Russia, leaving England early on Sunday morning. The
gang had fled from Astley Priors in a panic, leaving behind, in their haste,
various damaging documents which compromised them hopelessly. With these
proofs of conspiracy in their hands, aided further by a small brown diary taken
from the pocket of the dead man which had contained a full and damning
resume of the whole plot, the Government had called an eleventh-hour
conference. The Labour leaders were forced to recognize that they had been
used as a cat's paw. Certain concessions were made by the Government, and
were eagerly accepted. It was to be Peace, not War!But the Cabinet knew by
how narrow a margin they had escaped utter disaster. And burnt in on Mr.
Carter's brain was the strange scene which had taken place in the house in
Soho the night before.He had entered the squalid room to find that great man,
the friend of a lifetime, dead-betrayed out of his own mouth. From the dead
man's pocket-book he had retrieved the ill-omened draft treaty, and then and
there, in the presence of the other three, it had been reduced to ashes…
England was saved!And now, on the evening of the 30th, in a private room at
the Savoy, Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer was receiving his guests.Mr. Carter was
the first to arrive. With him was a choleric-looking old gentleman, at sight of
whom Tommy flushed up to the roots of his hair. He came forward."Ha!" said
the old gentleman, surveying him apoplectically. "So you're my nephew, are
you? Not much to look at-but you've done good work, it seems. Your mother
must have brought you up well after all. Shall we let bygones be bygones, eh?
You're my heir, you know; and in future I propose to make you an allowance-
and you can look upon Chalmers Park as your home.""Thank you, sir, it's
awfully decent of you.""Where's this young lady I've been hearing such a lot
about?"Tommy introduced Tuppence."Ha!" said Sir William, eyeing her. "Girls
aren't what they used to be in my young days.""Yes, they are," said Tuppence.
"Their clothes are different, perhaps, but they themselves are just the
same.""Well, perhaps you're right. Minxes then-minxes now!""That's it," said
Tuppence. "I'm a frightful minx myself.""I believe you," said the old gentleman,
chuckling, and pinched her ear in high good-humour. Most young women were
terrified of the "old bear," as they termed him. Tuppence's pertness delighted
the old misogynist.Then came the timid archdeacon, a little bewildered by the
company in which he found himself, glad that his daughter was considered to
have distinguished herself, but unable to help glancing at her from time to
time with nervous apprehension. But Tuppence behaved admirably. She
forbore to cross her legs, set a guard upon her tongue, and steadfastly refused
to smoke.Dr. Hall came next, and he was followed by the American
Ambassador."We might as well sit down," said Julius, when he had introduced
all his guests to each other. "Tuppence, will you "He indicated the place of
honour with a wave of his hand.But Tuppence shook her head."No-that's
Jane's place! When one thinks of how she's held out all these years, she ought
to be made the queen of the feast to-night."Julius flung her a grateful glance,
and Jane came forward shyly to the allotted seat. Beautiful as she had seemed
before, it was as nothing to the loveliness that now went fully adorned.
Tuppence had performed her part faithfully. The model gown supplied by a
famous dressmaker had been entitled "A tiger lily." It was all golds and reds
and browns, and out of it rose the pure column of the girl's white throat, and
the bronze masses of hair that crowned her lovely head. There was admiration
in every eye, as she took her seat.Soon the supper party was in full swing, and
with one accord Tommy was called upon for a full and complete
explanation."You've been too darned close about the whole business," Julius
accused him. "You let on to me that you were off to the Argentine-though I
guess you had your reasons for that. The idea of both you and Tuppence
casting me for the part of Mr. Brown just tickles me to death!""The idea was
not original to them," said Mr. Carter gravely. "It was suggested, and the
poison very carefully instilled, by a past-master in the art. The paragraph in the
New York paper suggested the plan to him, and by means of it he wove a web
that nearly enmeshed you fatally.""I never liked him," said Julius. "I felt from
the first that there was something wrong about him, and I always suspected
that it was he who silenced Mrs. Vandemeyer so appositely. But it wasn't till I
heard that the order for Tommy's execution came right on the heels of our
interview with him that Sunday that I began to tumble to the fact that he was
the big bug himself.""I never suspected it at all," lamented Tuppence. "I've
always thought I was so much cleverer than Tommy-but he's undoubtedly
scored over me handsomely."Julius agreed."Tommy's been the goods this trip!
And, instead of sitting there as dumb as a fish, let him banish his blushes, and
tell us all about it.""Hear! hear!""There's nothing to tell," said Tommy, acutely
uncomfortable. "I was an awful mug-right up to the time I found that
photograph of Annette, and realized that she was Jane Finn. Then I
remembered how persistently she had shouted out that word 'Marguerite'-and
I thought of the pictures, and-well, that's that. Then of course I went over the
whole thing to see where I'd made an ass of myself.""Go on," said Mr. Carter,
as Tommy showed signs of taking refuge in silence once more."That business
about Mrs. Vandemeyer had worried me when Julius told me about it. On the
face of it, it seemed that he or Sir James must have done the trick. But I didn't
know which. Finding that photograph in the drawer, after that story of how it
had been got from him by Inspector Brown, made me suspect Julius. Then I
remembered that it was Sir James who had discovered the false Jane Finn. In
the end, I couldn't make up my mind-and just decided to take no chances
either way. I left a note for Julius, in case he was Mr. Brown, saying I was off to
the Argentine, and I dropped Sir James's letter with the offer of the job by the
desk so that he would see it was a genuine stunt. Then I wrote my letter to Mr.
Carter and rang up Sir James. Taking him into my confidence would be the best
thing either way, so I told him everything except where I believed the papers
to be hidden. The way he helped me to get on the track of Tuppence and
Annette almost disarmed me, but not quite. I kept my mind open between the
two of them. And then I got a bogus note from Tuppence-and I knew!""But
how?"Tommy took the note in question from his pocket and passed it round
the table."It's her handwriting all right, but I knew it wasn't from her because
of the signature. She'd never spell her name 'Twopence,' but anyone who'd
never seen it written might quite easily do so. Julius HAD seen it-he showed
me a note of hers to him once-but SIR JAMES HADN'T! After that everything
was plain sailing. I sent off Albert post-haste to Mr. Carter. I pretended to go
away, but doubled back again. When Julius came bursting up in his car, I felt it
wasn't part of Mr. Brown's plan-and that there would probably be trouble.
Unless Sir James was actually caught in the act, so to speak, I knew Mr. Carter
would never believe it of him on my bare word--""I didn't," interposed Mr.
Carter ruefully."That's why I sent the girls off to Sir James. I was sure they'd
fetch up at the house in Soho sooner or later. I threatened Julius with the
revolver, because I wanted Tuppence to repeat that to Sir James, so that he
wouldn't worry about us. The moment the girls were out of sight I told Julius to
drive like hell for London, and as we went along I told him the whole story. We
got to the Soho house in plenty of time and met Mr. Carter outside. After
arranging things with him we went in and hid behind the curtain in the recess.
The policemen had orders to say, if they were asked, that no one had gone into
the house. That's all."And Tommy came to an abrupt halt.There was silence for
a moment."By the way," said Julius suddenly, "you're all wrong about that
photograph of Jane. It WAS taken from me, but I found it again.""Where?"
cried Tuppence."In that little safe on the wall in Mrs. Vandemeyer's
bedroom.""I knew you found something," said Tuppence reproachfully. "To tell
you the truth, that's what started me off suspecting you. Why didn't you
say?""I guess I was a mite suspicious too. It had been got away from me once,
and I determined I wouldn't let on I'd got it until a photographer had made a
dozen copies of it!""We all kept back something or other," said Tuppence
thoughtfully. "I suppose secret service work makes you like that!"In the pause
that ensued, Mr. Carter took from his pocket a small shabby brown
book."Beresford has just said that I would not have believed Sir James Peel
Edgerton to be guilty unless, so to speak, he was caught in the act. That is so.
Indeed, not until I read the entries in this little book could I bring myself fully to
credit the amazing truth. This book will pass into the possession of Scotland
Yard, but it will never be publicly exhibited. Sir James's long association with
the law would make it undesirable. But to you, who know the truth, I propose
to read certain passages which will throw some light on the extraordinary
mentality of this great man."He opened the book, and turned the thin
pages."… It is madness to keep this book. I know that. It is documentary
evidence against me. But I have never shrunk from taking risks. And I feel an
urgent need for self-expression… The book will only be taken from my dead
body…"… From an early age I realized that I had exceptional abilities. Only a
fool underestimates his capabilities. My brain power was greatly above the
average. I know that I was born to succeed. My appearance was the only thing
against me. I was quiet and insignificant-utterly nondescript…"… When I was a
boy I heard a famous murder trial. I was deeply impressed by the power and
eloquence of the counsel for the defence. For the first time I entertained the
idea of taking my talents to that particular market… Then I studied the criminal
in the dock… The man was a fool-he had been incredibly, unbelievably stupid.
Even the eloquence of his counsel was hardly likely to save him. I felt an
immeasurable contempt for him… Then it occurred to me that the criminal
standard was a low one. It was the wastrels, the failures, the general riff-raff of
civilization who drifted into crime… Strange that men of brains had never
realized its extraordinary opportunities… I played with the idea… What a
magnificent field-what unlimited possibilities! It made my brain reel…"… I read
standard works on crime and criminals. They all confirmed my opinion.
Degeneracy, disease-never the deliberate embracing of a career by a far-seeing
man. Then I considered. Supposing my utmost ambitions were realized-that I
was called to the bar, and rose to the height of my profession? That I entered
politics-say, even, that I became Prime Minister of England? What then? Was
that power? Hampered at every turn by my colleagues, fettered by the
democratic system of which I should be the mere figurehead! No-the power I
dreamed of was absolute! An autocrat! A dictator! And such power could only
be obtained by working outside the law. To play on the weaknesses of human
nature, then on the weaknesses of nations-to get together and control a vast
organization, and finally to overthrow the existing order, and rule! The thought
intoxicated me…"… I saw that I must lead two lives. A man like myself is bound
to attract notice. I must have a successful career which would mask my true
activities… Also I must cultivate a personality. I modelled myself upon famous
K.C.'s. I reproduced their mannerisms, their magnetism. If I had chosen to be
an actor, I should have been the greatest actor living! No disguises-no grease
paint-no false beards! Personality! I put it on like a glove! When I shed it, I was
myself, quiet, unobtrusive, a man like every other man. I called myself Mr.
Brown. There are hundreds of men called Brown-there are hundreds of men
looking just like me…"… I succeeded in my false career. I was bound to
succeed. I shall succeed in the other. A man like me cannot fail…"… I have been
reading a life of Napoleon. He and I have much in common…"… I make a
practice of defending criminals. A man should look after his own people…"…
Once or twice I have felt afraid. The first time was in Italy. There was a dinner
given. Professor D--, the great alienist, was present. The talk fell on insanity. He
said, 'A great many men are mad, and no one knows it. They do not know it
themselves.' I do not understand why he looked at me when he said that. His
glance was strange… I did not like it…"… The war has disturbed me… I thought
it would further my plans. The Germans are so efficient. Their spy system, too,
was excellent. The streets are full of these boys in khaki. All empty-headed
young fools… Yet I do not know… They won the war… It disturbs me…"… My
plans are going well… A girl butted in-I do not think she really knew anything…
But we must give up the Esthonia… No risks now…"… All goes well. The loss of
memory is vexing. It cannot be a fake. No girl could deceive ME!…"…The 29th…
That is very soon…" Mr. Carter paused."I will not read the details of the coup
that was planned. But there are just two small entries that refer to the three of
you. In the light of what happened they are interesting."… By inducing the girl
to come to me of her own accord, I have succeeded in disarming her. But she
has intuitive flashes that might be dangerous… She must be got out of the
way… I can do nothing with the American. He suspects and dislikes me. But he
cannot know. I fancy my armour is impregnable… Sometimes I fear I have
underestimated the other boy. He is not clever, but it is hard to blind his eyes
to facts…"Mr. Carter shut the book."A great man," he said. "Genius, or
insanity, who can say?"There was silence.Then Mr. Carter rose to his feet."I
will give you a toast. The Joint Venture which has so amply justified itself by
success!"It was drunk with acclamation."There's something more we want to
hear," continued Mr. Carter. He looked at the American Ambassador. "I speak
for you also, I know. We'll ask Miss Jane Finn to tell us the story that only Miss
Tuppence has heard so far-but before we do so we'll drink her health. The
health of one of the bravest of America's daughters, to whom is due the thanks
and gratitude of two great countries!"

Chapter XXVIII. And After

"THAT was a mighty good toast, Jane," said Mr. Hersheimmer, as he and his
cousin were being driven back in the Rolls-Royce to the Ritz."The one to the
joint venture?""No-the one to you. There isn't another girl in the world who
could have carried it through as you did. You were just wonderful! "Jane shook
her head."I don't feel wonderful. At heart I'm just tired and lonesome-and
longing for my own country.""That brings me to something I wanted to say. I
heard the Ambassador telling you his wife hoped you would come to them at
the Embassy right away. That's good enough, but I've got another plan. Jane-I
want you to marry me! Don't get scared and say no at once. You can't love me
right away, of course, that's impossible. But I've loved you from the very
moment I set eyes on your photo-and now I've seen you I'm simply crazy about
you! If you'll only marry me, I won't worry you any-you shall take your own
time. Maybe you'll never come to love me, and if that's the case I'll manage to
set you free. But I want the right to look after you, and take care of
you.""That's what I want," said the girl wistfully. "Some one who'll be good to
me. Oh, you don't know how lonesome I feel!""Sure thing I do. Then I guess
that's all fixed up, and I'll see the archbishop about a special license to-morrow
morning.""Oh, Julius!""Well, I don't want to hustle you any, Jane, but there's
no sense in waiting about. Don't be scared-I shan't expect you to love me all at
once."But a small hand was slipped into his."I love you now, Julius," said Jane
Finn. "I loved you that first moment in the car when the bullet grazed your
cheek…"Five minutes later Jane murmured softly:"I don't know London very
well, Julius, but is it such a very long way from the Savoy to the Ritz?""It
depends how you go," explained Julius unblushingly. "We're going by way of
Regent's Park!""Oh, Julius-what will the chauffeur think?""At the wages I pay
him, he knows better than to do any independent thinking. Why, Jane, the only
reason I had the supper at the Savoy was so that I could drive you home. I
didn't see how I was ever going to get hold of you alone. You and Tuppence
have been sticking together like Siamese twins. I guess another day of it would
have driven me and Beresford stark staring mad!""Oh. Is he--?""Of course he
is. Head over ears.""I thought so," said Jane thoughtfully."Why?""From all the
things Tuppence didn't say!""There you have me beat," said Mr. Hersheimmer.
But Jane only laughed.In the meantime, the Young Adventurers were sitting
bolt upright, very stiff and ill at ease, in a taxi which, with a singular lack of
originality, was also returning to the Ritz via Regent's Park.A terrible constraint
seemed to have settled down between them. Without quite knowing what had
happened, everything seemed changed. They were tongue-tied-paralysed. All
the old camaraderie was gone.Tuppence could think of nothing to say.Tommy
was equally afflicted.They sat very straight and forbore to look at each other.At
last Tuppence made a desperate effort."Rather fun, wasn't
it?""Rather."Another silence."I like Julius," essayed Tuppence again.Tommy
was suddenly galvanized into life."You're not going to marry him, do you
hear?" he said dictatorially. "I forbid it.""Oh!" said Tuppence
meekly."Absolutely, you understand.""He doesn't want to marry me-he really
only asked me out of kindness.""That's not very likely," scoffed Tommy."It's
quite true. He's head over ears in love with Jane. I expect he's proposing to her
now.""She'll do for him very nicely," said Tommy condescendingly."Don't you
think she's the most lovely creature you've ever seen?""Oh, I dare say.""But I
suppose you prefer sterling worth," said Tuppence demurely."I-oh, dash it all,
Tuppence, you know!""I like your uncle, Tommy," said Tuppence, hastily
creating a diversion. "By the way, what are you going to do, accept Mr. Carter's
offer of a Government job, or accept Julius's invitation and take a richly
remunerated post in America on his ranch?""I shall stick to the old ship, I think,
though it's awfully good of Hersheimmer. But I feel you'd be more at home in
London.""I don't see where I come in.""I do," said Tommy positively.Tuppence
stole a glance at him sideways."There's the money, too," she observed
thoughtfully."What money?""We're going to get a cheque each. Mr. Carter
told me so.""Did you ask how much?" inquired Tommy sarcastically."Yes," said
Tuppence triumphantly. "But I shan't tell you.""Tuppence, you are the limit!""It
has been fun, hasn't it, Tommy? I do hope we shall have lots more
adventures.""You're insatiable, Tuppence. I've had quite enough adventures
for the present.""Well, shopping is almost as good," said Tuppence
dreamily."Think of buying old furniture, and bright carpets, and futurist silk
curtains, and a polished dining-table, and a divan with lots of cushions ""Hold
hard," said Tommy. "What's all this for?""Possibly a house-but I think a
flat.""Whose flat?""You think I mind saying it, but I don't in the least! OURS, so
there!""You darling!" cried Tommy, his arms tightly round her. "I was
determined to make you say it. I owe you something for the relentless way
you've squashed me whenever I've tried to be sentimental."Tuppence raised
her face to his. The taxi proceeded on its course round the north side of
Regent's Park."You haven't really proposed now," pointed out Tuppence. "Not
what our grandmothers would call a proposal. But after listening to a rotten
one like Julius's, I'm inclined to let you off.""You won't be able to get out of
marrying me, so don't you think it.""What fun it will be," responded Tuppence.
"Marriage is called all sorts of things, a haven, and a refuge, and a crowning
glory, and a state of bondage, and lots more. But do you know what I think it
is?""What?""A sport!""And a damned good sport too," said Tommy.