Reading Help Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-XIII
should never have thought of that." `
` `
` "Good wheeze, wasn't it? And we can repeat it ad lib." `
` `
` Lunch-time found the young couple attacking a steak and chips in `
` an obscure hostelry with avidity. They had collected a Gladys `
` Mary and a Marjorie, been baffled by one change of address, and `
` had been forced to listen to a long lecture on universal suffrage `
` from a vivacious American lady whose Christian name had proved to `
` be Sadie. `
` `
` "Ah!" said Tommy, imbibing a long draught of beer, "I feel `
` better. Where's the next draw?" `
` `
` The notebook lay on the table between them. Tuppence picked it `
` up. `
` `
` "Mrs. Vandemeyer," she read, "20 South Audley Mansions. Miss `
` Wheeler, 43 Clapington Road, Battersea. She's a lady's maid, as `
` far as I remember, so probably won't be there, and, anyway, she's `
` not likely." `
` `
` "Then the Mayfair lady is clearly indicated as the first port of `
` call." `
` `
` "Tommy, I'm getting discouraged." `
` `
` "Buck up, old bean. We always knew it was an outside chance. `
` And, anyway, we're only starting. If we draw a blank in London, `
` there's a fine tour of England, Ireland and Scotland before us." `
` `
` "True," said Tuppence, her flagging spirits reviving. "And all `
` expenses paid! But, oh, Tommy, I do like things to happen `
` quickly. So far, adventure has succeeded adventure, but this `
` morning has been dull as dull." `
` `
` "You must stifle this longing for vulgar sensation, Tuppence. `
` Remember that if Mr. Brown is all he is reported to be, it's a `
` wonder that he has not ere now done us to death. That's a good `
` sentence, quite a literary flavour about it." `
` `
` "You're really more conceited than I am--with less excuse! Ahem! `
` But it certainly is queer that Mr. Brown has not yet wreaked `
` vengeance upon us. (You see, I can do it too.) We pass on our way `
` unscathed." `
` `
` "Perhaps he doesn't think us worth bothering about," suggested `
` the young man simply. `
` `
` Tuppence received the remark with great disfavour. `
` `
` "How horrid you are, Tommy. Just as though we didn't count." `
` `
` "Sorry, Tuppence. What I meant was that we work like moles in `
` the dark, and that he has no suspicion of our nefarious schemes. `
` Ha ha!" `
` `
` "Ha ha!" echoed Tuppence approvingly, as she rose. `
` `
` South Audley Mansions was an imposing-looking block of flats just `
` off Park Lane. No. 20 was on the second floor. `
` `
` Tommy had by this time the glibness born of practice. He rattled `
` off the formula to the elderly woman, looking more like a `
` housekeeper than a servant, who opened the door to him. `
` `
` "Christian name?" `
` `
` "Margaret." `
` `
` Tommy spelt it, but the other interrupted him. `
` `
` "No, G U E." `
` `
` "Oh, Marguerite; French way, I see." He paused, then plunged `
` boldly. "We had her down as Rita Vandemeyer, but I suppose that's `
` incorrect?" `
` `
` "She's mostly called that, sir, but Marguerite's her name." `
` `
` "Thank you. That's all. Good morning." `
` `
` Hardly able to contain his excitement, Tommy hurried down the `
` stairs. Tuppence was waiting at the angle of the turn. `
` `
` "You heard?" `
` `
` "Yes. Oh, TOMMY!" `
` `
` Tommy squeezed her arm sympathetically. `
` `
` "I know, old thing. I feel the same." `
` `
` "It's--it's so lovely to think of things--and then for them `
` really to happen!" cried Tuppence enthusiastically. `
` `
` Her hand was still in Tommy's. They had reached the entrance `
` hall. There were footsteps on the stairs above them, and voices. `
` `
` Suddenly, to Tommy's complete surprise, Tuppence dragged him into `
` the little space by the side of the lift where the shadow was `
` deepest. `
` `
` "What the----" `
` `
` "Hush!" `
` `
` Two men came down the stairs and passed out through the entrance. `
` Tuppence's hand closed tighter on Tommy's arm. `
` `
` "Quick--follow them. I daren't. He might recognize me. I don't `
` know who the other man is, but the bigger of the two was `
` Whittington." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER VII `
` `
` THE HOUSE IN SOHO `
` `
` WHITTINGTON and his companion were walking at a good pace. Tommy `
` started in pursuit at once, and was in time to see them turn the `
` corner of the street. His vigorous strides soon enabled him to `
` gain upon them, and by the time he, in his turn, reached the `
` corner the distance between them was sensibly lessened. The small `
` Mayfair streets were comparatively deserted, and he judged it `
` wise to content himself with keeping them in sight. `
` `
` The sport was a new one to him. Though familiar with the `
` technicalities from a course of novel reading, he had never `
` before attempted to "follow" anyone, and it appeared to him at `
` once that, in actual practice, the proceeding was fraught with `
` difficulties. Supposing, for instance, that they should suddenly `
` hail a taxi? In books, you simply leapt into another, promised `
` the driver a sovereign--or its modern equivalent--and there you `
` were. In actual fact, Tommy foresaw that it was extremely likely `
` there would be no second taxi. Therefore he would have to run. `
` What happened in actual fact to a young man who ran incessantly `
` and persistently through the London streets? In a main road he `
` might hope to create the illusion that he was merely running for `
` a bus. But in these obscure aristocratic byways he could not but `
` feel that an officious policeman might stop him to explain `
` matters. `
` `
` At this juncture in his thoughts a taxi with flag erect turned `
` the corner of the street ahead. Tommy held his breath. Would `
` they hail it? `
` `
` He drew a sigh of relief as they allowed it to pass unchallenged. `
` Their course was a zigzag one designed to bring them as quickly `
` as possible to Oxford Street. When at length they turned into `
` it, proceeding in an easterly direction, Tommy slightly increased `
` his pace. Little by little he gained upon them. On the crowded `
` pavement there was little chance of his attracting their notice, `
` and he was anxious if possible to catch a word or two of their `
` conversation. In this he was completely foiled; they spoke low `
` and the din of the traffic drowned their voices effectually. `
` `
` Just before the Bond Street Tube station they crossed the road, `
` Tommy, unperceived, faithfully at their heels, and entered the `
` big Lyons'. There they went up to the first floor, and sat at a `
` small table in the window. It was late, and the place was `
` thinning out. Tommy took a seat at the table next to them, `
` sitting directly behind Whittington in case of recognition. On `
` the other hand, he had a full view of the second man and studied `
` him attentively. He was fair, with a weak, unpleasant face, and `
` Tommy put him down as being either a Russian or a Pole. He was `
` probably about fifty years of age, his shoulders cringed a little `
` as he talked, and his eyes, small and crafty, shifted `
` unceasingly. `
` `
` Having already lunched heartily, Tommy contented himself with `
` ordering a Welsh rarebit and a cup of coffee. Whittington `
` ordered a substantial lunch for himself and his companion; then, `
` as the waitress withdrew, he moved his chair a little closer to `
` the table and began to talk earnestly in a low voice. The other `
` man joined in. Listen as he would, Tommy could only catch a word `
` here and there; but the gist of it seemed to be some directions `
` or orders which the big man was impressing on his companion, and `
` with which the latter seemed from time to time to disagree. `
` Whittington addressed the other as Boris. `
` `
` Tommy caught the word "Ireland" several times, also "propaganda," `
` but of Jane Finn there was no mention. Suddenly, in a lull in `
` the clatter of the room, he got one phrase entire. Whittington `
` was speaking. "Ah, but you don't know Flossie. She's a marvel. `
` An archbishop would swear she was his own mother. She gets the `
` voice right every time, and that's really the principal thing." `
` `
` Tommy did not hear Boris's reply, but in response to it `
` Whittington said something that sounded like: "Of course--only `
` in an emergency...." `
` `
` Then he lost the thread again. But presently the phrases became `
` distinct again whether because the other two had insensibly `
` raised their voices, or because Tommy's ears were getting more `
` attuned, he could not tell. But two words certainly had a most `
` stimulating effect upon the listener. They were uttered by Boris `
` and they were: "Mr. Brown." `
` `
` Whittington seemed to remonstrate with him, but he merely `
`
` `
` "Good wheeze, wasn't it? And we can repeat it ad lib." `
` `
` Lunch-time found the young couple attacking a steak and chips in `
` an obscure hostelry with avidity. They had collected a Gladys `
` Mary and a Marjorie, been baffled by one change of address, and `
` had been forced to listen to a long lecture on universal suffrage `
` from a vivacious American lady whose Christian name had proved to `
` be Sadie. `
` `
` "Ah!" said Tommy, imbibing a long draught of beer, "I feel `
` better. Where's the next draw?" `
` `
` The notebook lay on the table between them. Tuppence picked it `
` up. `
` `
` "Mrs. Vandemeyer," she read, "20 South Audley Mansions. Miss `
` Wheeler, 43 Clapington Road, Battersea. She's a lady's maid, as `
` far as I remember, so probably won't be there, and, anyway, she's `
` not likely." `
` `
` "Then the Mayfair lady is clearly indicated as the first port of `
` call." `
` `
` "Tommy, I'm getting discouraged." `
` `
` "Buck up, old bean. We always knew it was an outside chance. `
` And, anyway, we're only starting. If we draw a blank in London, `
` there's a fine tour of England, Ireland and Scotland before us." `
` `
` "True," said Tuppence, her flagging spirits reviving. "And all `
` expenses paid! But, oh, Tommy, I do like things to happen `
` quickly. So far, adventure has succeeded adventure, but this `
` morning has been dull as dull." `
` `
` "You must stifle this longing for vulgar sensation, Tuppence. `
` Remember that if Mr. Brown is all he is reported to be, it's a `
` wonder that he has not ere now done us to death. That's a good `
` sentence, quite a literary flavour about it." `
` `
` "You're really more conceited than I am--with less excuse! Ahem! `
` But it certainly is queer that Mr. Brown has not yet wreaked `
` vengeance upon us. (You see, I can do it too.) We pass on our way `
` unscathed." `
` `
` "Perhaps he doesn't think us worth bothering about," suggested `
` the young man simply. `
` `
` Tuppence received the remark with great disfavour. `
` `
` "How horrid you are, Tommy. Just as though we didn't count." `
` `
` "Sorry, Tuppence. What I meant was that we work like moles in `
` the dark, and that he has no suspicion of our nefarious schemes. `
` Ha ha!" `
` `
` "Ha ha!" echoed Tuppence approvingly, as she rose. `
` `
` South Audley Mansions was an imposing-looking block of flats just `
` off Park Lane. No. 20 was on the second floor. `
` `
` Tommy had by this time the glibness born of practice. He rattled `
` off the formula to the elderly woman, looking more like a `
` housekeeper than a servant, who opened the door to him. `
` `
` "Christian name?" `
` `
` "Margaret." `
` `
` Tommy spelt it, but the other interrupted him. `
` `
` "No, G U E." `
` `
` "Oh, Marguerite; French way, I see." He paused, then plunged `
` boldly. "We had her down as Rita Vandemeyer, but I suppose that's `
` incorrect?" `
` `
` "She's mostly called that, sir, but Marguerite's her name." `
` `
` "Thank you. That's all. Good morning." `
` `
` Hardly able to contain his excitement, Tommy hurried down the `
` stairs. Tuppence was waiting at the angle of the turn. `
` `
` "You heard?" `
` `
` "Yes. Oh, TOMMY!" `
` `
` Tommy squeezed her arm sympathetically. `
` `
` "I know, old thing. I feel the same." `
` `
` "It's--it's so lovely to think of things--and then for them `
` really to happen!" cried Tuppence enthusiastically. `
` `
` Her hand was still in Tommy's. They had reached the entrance `
` hall. There were footsteps on the stairs above them, and voices. `
` `
` Suddenly, to Tommy's complete surprise, Tuppence dragged him into `
` the little space by the side of the lift where the shadow was `
` deepest. `
` `
` "What the----" `
` `
` "Hush!" `
` `
` Two men came down the stairs and passed out through the entrance. `
` Tuppence's hand closed tighter on Tommy's arm. `
` `
` "Quick--follow them. I daren't. He might recognize me. I don't `
` know who the other man is, but the bigger of the two was `
` Whittington." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER VII `
` `
` THE HOUSE IN SOHO `
` `
` WHITTINGTON and his companion were walking at a good pace. Tommy `
` started in pursuit at once, and was in time to see them turn the `
` corner of the street. His vigorous strides soon enabled him to `
` gain upon them, and by the time he, in his turn, reached the `
` corner the distance between them was sensibly lessened. The small `
` Mayfair streets were comparatively deserted, and he judged it `
` wise to content himself with keeping them in sight. `
` `
` The sport was a new one to him. Though familiar with the `
` technicalities from a course of novel reading, he had never `
` before attempted to "follow" anyone, and it appeared to him at `
` once that, in actual practice, the proceeding was fraught with `
` difficulties. Supposing, for instance, that they should suddenly `
` hail a taxi? In books, you simply leapt into another, promised `
` the driver a sovereign--or its modern equivalent--and there you `
` were. In actual fact, Tommy foresaw that it was extremely likely `
` there would be no second taxi. Therefore he would have to run. `
` What happened in actual fact to a young man who ran incessantly `
` and persistently through the London streets? In a main road he `
` might hope to create the illusion that he was merely running for `
` a bus. But in these obscure aristocratic byways he could not but `
` feel that an officious policeman might stop him to explain `
` matters. `
` `
` At this juncture in his thoughts a taxi with flag erect turned `
` the corner of the street ahead. Tommy held his breath. Would `
` they hail it? `
` `
` He drew a sigh of relief as they allowed it to pass unchallenged. `
` Their course was a zigzag one designed to bring them as quickly `
` as possible to Oxford Street. When at length they turned into `
` it, proceeding in an easterly direction, Tommy slightly increased `
` his pace. Little by little he gained upon them. On the crowded `
` pavement there was little chance of his attracting their notice, `
` and he was anxious if possible to catch a word or two of their `
` conversation. In this he was completely foiled; they spoke low `
` and the din of the traffic drowned their voices effectually. `
` `
` Just before the Bond Street Tube station they crossed the road, `
` Tommy, unperceived, faithfully at their heels, and entered the `
` big Lyons'. There they went up to the first floor, and sat at a `
` small table in the window. It was late, and the place was `
` thinning out. Tommy took a seat at the table next to them, `
` sitting directly behind Whittington in case of recognition. On `
` the other hand, he had a full view of the second man and studied `
` him attentively. He was fair, with a weak, unpleasant face, and `
` Tommy put him down as being either a Russian or a Pole. He was `
` probably about fifty years of age, his shoulders cringed a little `
` as he talked, and his eyes, small and crafty, shifted `
` unceasingly. `
` `
` Having already lunched heartily, Tommy contented himself with `
` ordering a Welsh rarebit and a cup of coffee. Whittington `
` ordered a substantial lunch for himself and his companion; then, `
` as the waitress withdrew, he moved his chair a little closer to `
` the table and began to talk earnestly in a low voice. The other `
` man joined in. Listen as he would, Tommy could only catch a word `
` here and there; but the gist of it seemed to be some directions `
` or orders which the big man was impressing on his companion, and `
` with which the latter seemed from time to time to disagree. `
` Whittington addressed the other as Boris. `
` `
` Tommy caught the word "Ireland" several times, also "propaganda," `
` but of Jane Finn there was no mention. Suddenly, in a lull in `
` the clatter of the room, he got one phrase entire. Whittington `
` was speaking. "Ah, but you don't know Flossie. She's a marvel. `
` An archbishop would swear she was his own mother. She gets the `
` voice right every time, and that's really the principal thing." `
` `
` Tommy did not hear Boris's reply, but in response to it `
` Whittington said something that sounded like: "Of course--only `
` in an emergency...." `
` `
` Then he lost the thread again. But presently the phrases became `
` distinct again whether because the other two had insensibly `
` raised their voices, or because Tommy's ears were getting more `
` attuned, he could not tell. But two words certainly had a most `
` stimulating effect upon the listener. They were uttered by Boris `
` and they were: "Mr. Brown." `
` `
` Whittington seemed to remonstrate with him, but he merely `
`