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 gulled 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.