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 gimlet-like 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