Reading Help Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-XIII
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." `
`
` `
` 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." `
`