Reading Help Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-XIII
Whittington seemed to remonstrate with him, but he merely `
` laughed. `
` `
` "Why not, my friend? It is a name most respectable--most common. `
` Did he not choose it for that reason? Ah, I should like to meet `
` him--Mr. Brown." `
` `
` There was a steely ring in Whittington's voice as he replied: `
` `
` "Who knows? You may have met him already." `
` `
` "Bah!" retorted the other. "That is children's talk--a fable for `
` the police. Do you know what I say to myself sometimes? That he `
` is a fable invented by the Inner Ring, a bogy to frighten us `
` with. It might be so." `
` `
` "And it might not." `
` `
` "I wonder ... or is it indeed true that he is with us and amongst `
` us, unknown to all but a chosen few? If so, he keeps his secret `
` well. And the idea is a good one, yes. We never know. We look `
` at each other--ONE OF US IS MR. BROWN--which? He commands--but `
` also he serves. Among us--in the midst of us. And no one knows `
` which he is...." `
` `
` With an effort the Russian shook off the vagary of his fancy. He `
` looked at his watch. `
` `
` "Yes," said Whittington. "We might as well go." `
` `
` He called the waitress and asked for his bill. Tommy did `
` likewise, and a few moments later was following the two men down `
` the stairs. `
` `
` Outside, Whittington hailed a taxi, and directed the driver to go `
` to Waterloo. `
` `
` Taxis were plentiful here, and before Whittington's had driven `
` off another was drawing up to the curb in obedience to Tommy's `
` peremptory hand. `
` `
` "Follow that other taxi," directed the young man. "Don't lose `
` it." `
` `
` The elderly chauffeur showed no interest. He merely grunted and `
` jerked down his flag. The drive was uneventful. Tommy's taxi `
` came to rest at the departure platform just after Whittington's. `
` Tommy was behind him at the booking-office. He took a first-class `
` single ticket to Bournemouth, Tommy did the same. As he emerged, `
` Boris remarked, glancing up at the clock: "You are early. You `
` have nearly half an hour." `
` `
` Boris's words had aroused a new train of thought in Tommy's mind. `
` Clearly Whittington was making the journey alone, while the other `
` remained in London. Therefore he was left with a choice as to `
` which he would follow. Obviously, he could not follow both of `
` them unless----Like Boris, he glanced up at the clock, and then `
` to the announcement board of the trains. The Bournemouth train `
` left at 3.30. It was now ten past. Whittington and Boris were `
` walking up and down by the bookstall. He gave one doubtful look `
` at them, then hurried into an adjacent telephone box. He dared `
` not waste time in trying to get hold of Tuppence. In all `
` probability she was still in the neighbourhood of South Audley `
` Mansions. But there remained another ally. He rang up the Ritz `
` and asked for Julius Hersheimmer. There was a click and a buzz. `
` Oh, if only the young American was in his room! There was another `
` click, and then "Hello" in unmistakable accents came over the `
` wire. `
` `
` "That you, Hersheimmer? Beresford speaking. I'm at Waterloo. `
` I've followed Whittington and another man here. No time to `
` explain. Whittington's off to Bournemouth by the 3.30. Can you `
` get there by then?" `
` `
` The reply was reassuring. `
` `
` "Sure. I'll hustle." `
` `
` The telephone rang off. Tommy put back the receiver with a sigh `
` of relief. His opinion of Julius's power of hustling was high. `
` He felt instinctively that the American would arrive in time. `
` `
` Whittington and Boris were still where he had left them. If Boris `
` remained to see his friend off, all was well. Then Tommy fingered `
` his pocket thoughtfully. In spite of the carte blanche assured `
` to him, he had not yet acquired the habit of going about with any `
` considerable sum of money on him. The taking of the first-class `
` ticket to Bournemouth had left him with only a few shillings in `
` his pocket. It was to be hoped that Julius would arrive better `
` provided. `
` `
` In the meantime, the minutes were creeping by: 3.15, 3.20, 3.25, `
` 3.27. Supposing Julius did not get there in time. 3.29.... Doors `
` were banging. Tommy felt cold waves of despair pass over him. `
` Then a hand fell on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Here I am, son. Your British traffic beats description! Put me `
` wise to the crooks right away." `
` `
` "That's Whittington--there, getting in now, that big dark man. `
` The other is the foreign chap he's talking to." `
` `
` "I'm on to them. Which of the two is my bird?" `
` `
` Tommy had thought out this question. `
` `
` "Got any money with you?" `
` `
` Julius shook his head, and Tommy's face fell. `
` `
` "I guess I haven't more than three or four hundred dollars with `
` me at the moment," explained the American. `
` `
` Tommy gave a faint whoop of relief. `
` `
` "Oh, Lord, you millionaires! You don't talk the same language! `
` Climb aboard the lugger. Here's your ticket. Whittington's your `
` man." `
` `
` "Me for Whittington!" said Julius darkly. The train was just `
` starting as he swung himself aboard. "So long, Tommy." The `
` train slid out of the station. `
` `
` Tommy drew a deep breath. The man Boris was coming along the `
` platform towards him. Tommy allowed him to pass and then took up `
` the chase once more. `
` `
` From Waterloo Boris took the tube as far as Piccadilly Circus. `
` Then he walked up Shaftesbury Avenue, finally turning off into `
` the maze of mean streets round Soho. Tommy followed him at a `
` judicious distance. `
` `
` They reached at length a small dilapidated square. The houses `
` there had a sinister air in the midst of their dirt and decay. `
` Boris looked round, and Tommy drew back into the shelter of a `
` friendly porch. The place was almost deserted. It was a `
` cul-de-sac, and consequently no traffic passed that way. The `
` stealthy way the other had looked round stimulated Tommy's `
` imagination. From the shelter of the doorway he watched him go `
` up the steps of a particularly evil-looking house and rap `
` sharply, with a peculiar rhythm, on the door. It was opened `
` promptly, he said a word or two to the doorkeeper, then passed `
` inside. The door was shut to again. `
` `
` It was at this juncture that Tommy lost his head. What he ought `
` to have done, what any sane man would have done, was to remain `
` patiently where he was and wait for his man to come out again. `
` What he did do was entirely foreign to the sober common sense `
` which was, as a rule, his leading characteristic. Something, as `
` he expressed it, seemed to snap in his brain. Without a moment's `
` pause for reflection he, too, went up the steps, and reproduced `
` as far as he was able the peculiar knock. `
` `
` The door swung open with the same promptness as before. A `
` villainous-faced man with close-cropped hair stood in the `
` doorway. `
` `
` "Well?" he grunted. `
` `
` It was at that moment that the full realization of his folly `
` began to come home to Tommy. But he dared not hesitate. He `
` seized at the first words that came into his mind. `
` `
` "Mr. Brown?" he said. `
` `
` To his surprise the man stood aside. `
` `
` "Upstairs," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "second `
` door on your left." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER VIII `
` `
` THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY `
` `
` `
` TAKEN aback though he was by the man's words, Tommy did not `
` hesitate. If audacity had successfully carried him so far, it was `
` to be hoped it would carry him yet farther. He quietly passed `
` into the house and mounted the ramshackle staircase. Everything `
` in the house was filthy beyond words. The grimy paper, of a `
` pattern now indistinguishable, hung in loose festoons from the `
` wall. In every angle was a grey mass of cobweb. `
` `
` Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of `
` the staircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back `
` room. Clearly no suspicion attached to him as yet. To come to `
` the house and ask for "Mr. Brown" appeared indeed to be a `
` reasonable and natural proceeding. `
` `
` At the top of the stairs Tommy halted to consider his next move. `
` In front of him ran a narrow passage, with doors opening on `
` either side of it. From the one nearest him on the left came a `
` low murmur of voices. It was this room which he had been `
` directed to enter. But what held his glance fascinated was a `
` small recess immediately on his right, half concealed by a torn `
` velvet curtain. It was directly opposite the left-handed door `
` and, owing to its angle, it also commanded a good view of the `
` upper part of the staircase. As a hiding-place for one or, at a `
` pinch, two men, it was ideal, being about two feet deep and three `
`
` laughed. `
` `
` "Why not, my friend? It is a name most respectable--most common. `
` Did he not choose it for that reason? Ah, I should like to meet `
` him--Mr. Brown." `
` `
` There was a steely ring in Whittington's voice as he replied: `
` `
` "Who knows? You may have met him already." `
` `
` "Bah!" retorted the other. "That is children's talk--a fable for `
` the police. Do you know what I say to myself sometimes? That he `
` is a fable invented by the Inner Ring, a bogy to frighten us `
` with. It might be so." `
` `
` "And it might not." `
` `
` "I wonder ... or is it indeed true that he is with us and amongst `
` us, unknown to all but a chosen few? If so, he keeps his secret `
` well. And the idea is a good one, yes. We never know. We look `
` at each other--ONE OF US IS MR. BROWN--which? He commands--but `
` also he serves. Among us--in the midst of us. And no one knows `
` which he is...." `
` `
` With an effort the Russian shook off the vagary of his fancy. He `
` looked at his watch. `
` `
` "Yes," said Whittington. "We might as well go." `
` `
` He called the waitress and asked for his bill. Tommy did `
` likewise, and a few moments later was following the two men down `
` the stairs. `
` `
` Outside, Whittington hailed a taxi, and directed the driver to go `
` to Waterloo. `
` `
` Taxis were plentiful here, and before Whittington's had driven `
` off another was drawing up to the curb in obedience to Tommy's `
` peremptory hand. `
` `
` "Follow that other taxi," directed the young man. "Don't lose `
` it." `
` `
` The elderly chauffeur showed no interest. He merely grunted and `
` jerked down his flag. The drive was uneventful. Tommy's taxi `
` came to rest at the departure platform just after Whittington's. `
` Tommy was behind him at the booking-office. He took a first-class `
` single ticket to Bournemouth, Tommy did the same. As he emerged, `
` Boris remarked, glancing up at the clock: "You are early. You `
` have nearly half an hour." `
` `
` Boris's words had aroused a new train of thought in Tommy's mind. `
` Clearly Whittington was making the journey alone, while the other `
` remained in London. Therefore he was left with a choice as to `
` which he would follow. Obviously, he could not follow both of `
` them unless----Like Boris, he glanced up at the clock, and then `
` to the announcement board of the trains. The Bournemouth train `
` left at 3.30. It was now ten past. Whittington and Boris were `
` walking up and down by the bookstall. He gave one doubtful look `
` at them, then hurried into an adjacent telephone box. He dared `
` not waste time in trying to get hold of Tuppence. In all `
` probability she was still in the neighbourhood of South Audley `
` Mansions. But there remained another ally. He rang up the Ritz `
` and asked for Julius Hersheimmer. There was a click and a buzz. `
` Oh, if only the young American was in his room! There was another `
` click, and then "Hello" in unmistakable accents came over the `
` wire. `
` `
` "That you, Hersheimmer? Beresford speaking. I'm at Waterloo. `
` I've followed Whittington and another man here. No time to `
` explain. Whittington's off to Bournemouth by the 3.30. Can you `
` get there by then?" `
` `
` The reply was reassuring. `
` `
` "Sure. I'll hustle." `
` `
` The telephone rang off. Tommy put back the receiver with a sigh `
` of relief. His opinion of Julius's power of hustling was high. `
` He felt instinctively that the American would arrive in time. `
` `
` Whittington and Boris were still where he had left them. If Boris `
` remained to see his friend off, all was well. Then Tommy fingered `
` his pocket thoughtfully. In spite of the carte blanche assured `
` to him, he had not yet acquired the habit of going about with any `
` considerable sum of money on him. The taking of the first-class `
` ticket to Bournemouth had left him with only a few shillings in `
` his pocket. It was to be hoped that Julius would arrive better `
` provided. `
` `
` In the meantime, the minutes were creeping by: 3.15, 3.20, 3.25, `
` 3.27. Supposing Julius did not get there in time. 3.29.... Doors `
` were banging. Tommy felt cold waves of despair pass over him. `
` Then a hand fell on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Here I am, son. Your British traffic beats description! Put me `
` wise to the crooks right away." `
` `
` "That's Whittington--there, getting in now, that big dark man. `
` The other is the foreign chap he's talking to." `
` `
` "I'm on to them. Which of the two is my bird?" `
` `
` Tommy had thought out this question. `
` `
` "Got any money with you?" `
` `
` Julius shook his head, and Tommy's face fell. `
` `
` "I guess I haven't more than three or four hundred dollars with `
` me at the moment," explained the American. `
` `
` Tommy gave a faint whoop of relief. `
` `
` "Oh, Lord, you millionaires! You don't talk the same language! `
` Climb aboard the lugger. Here's your ticket. Whittington's your `
` man." `
` `
` "Me for Whittington!" said Julius darkly. The train was just `
` starting as he swung himself aboard. "So long, Tommy." The `
` train slid out of the station. `
` `
` Tommy drew a deep breath. The man Boris was coming along the `
` platform towards him. Tommy allowed him to pass and then took up `
` the chase once more. `
` `
` From Waterloo Boris took the tube as far as Piccadilly Circus. `
` Then he walked up Shaftesbury Avenue, finally turning off into `
` the maze of mean streets round Soho. Tommy followed him at a `
` judicious distance. `
` `
` They reached at length a small dilapidated square. The houses `
` there had a sinister air in the midst of their dirt and decay. `
` Boris looked round, and Tommy drew back into the shelter of a `
` friendly porch. The place was almost deserted. It was a `
` cul-de-sac, and consequently no traffic passed that way. The `
` stealthy way the other had looked round stimulated Tommy's `
` imagination. From the shelter of the doorway he watched him go `
` up the steps of a particularly evil-looking house and rap `
` sharply, with a peculiar rhythm, on the door. It was opened `
` promptly, he said a word or two to the doorkeeper, then passed `
` inside. The door was shut to again. `
` `
` It was at this juncture that Tommy lost his head. What he ought `
` to have done, what any sane man would have done, was to remain `
` patiently where he was and wait for his man to come out again. `
` What he did do was entirely foreign to the sober common sense `
` which was, as a rule, his leading characteristic. Something, as `
` he expressed it, seemed to snap in his brain. Without a moment's `
` pause for reflection he, too, went up the steps, and reproduced `
` as far as he was able the peculiar knock. `
` `
` The door swung open with the same promptness as before. A `
` villainous-faced man with close-cropped hair stood in the `
` doorway. `
` `
` "Well?" he grunted. `
` `
` It was at that moment that the full realization of his folly `
` began to come home to Tommy. But he dared not hesitate. He `
` seized at the first words that came into his mind. `
` `
` "Mr. Brown?" he said. `
` `
` To his surprise the man stood aside. `
` `
` "Upstairs," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "second `
` door on your left." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER VIII `
` `
` THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY `
` `
` `
` TAKEN aback though he was by the man's words, Tommy did not `
` hesitate. If audacity had successfully carried him so far, it was `
` to be hoped it would carry him yet farther. He quietly passed `
` into the house and mounted the ramshackle staircase. Everything `
` in the house was filthy beyond words. The grimy paper, of a `
` pattern now indistinguishable, hung in loose festoons from the `
` wall. In every angle was a grey mass of cobweb. `
` `
` Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of `
` the staircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back `
` room. Clearly no suspicion attached to him as yet. To come to `
` the house and ask for "Mr. Brown" appeared indeed to be a `
` reasonable and natural proceeding. `
` `
` At the top of the stairs Tommy halted to consider his next move. `
` In front of him ran a narrow passage, with doors opening on `
` either side of it. From the one nearest him on the left came a `
` low murmur of voices. It was this room which he had been `
` directed to enter. But what held his glance fascinated was a `
` small recess immediately on his right, half concealed by a torn `
` velvet curtain. It was directly opposite the left-handed door `
` and, owing to its angle, it also commanded a good view of the `
` upper part of the staircase. As a hiding-place for one or, at a `
` pinch, two men, it was ideal, being about two feet deep and three `
`