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