Reading Help Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-XIII
`
` The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table, `
` catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so. `
` `
` "And--do you know, she sat down and CRIED when I told her she `
` couldn't have the flat after all." "It was simply a BARGAIN, my `
` dear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris----" `
` `
` "Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy. "I passed two `
` Johnnies in the street to-day talking about some one called Jane `
` Finn. Did you ever hear such a name?" `
` `
` But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels, `
` and Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats. `
` `
` Tommy ordered tea and buns. Tuppence ordered tea and buttered `
` toast. `
` `
` "And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely. `
` `
` Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock of `
` exquisitely slicked-back red hair. His face was pleasantly `
` ugly--nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a `
` sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the `
` end of its tether. `
` `
` They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there. `
` Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and `
` charm in the elfin lines of her little face, with its determined `
` chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked mistily out from `
` under straight, black brows. She wore a small bright green toque `
` over her black bobbed hair, and her extremely short and rather `
` shabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly dainty ankles. Her `
` appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness. `
` `
` The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit of `
` meditation, poured it out. `
` `
` "Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get `
` up-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in `
` hospital in 1916." `
` `
` "Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered `
` toast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth `
` daughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk. `
` Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home life `
` early in the war and came up to London, where she entered an `
` officers' hospital. First month: Washed up six hundred and `
` forty-eight plates every day. Second month: Promoted to drying `
` aforesaid plates. Third month: Promoted to peeling potatoes. `
` Fourth month: Promoted to cutting bread and butter. Fifth month: `
` Promoted one floor up to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail. `
` Sixth month: Promoted to waiting at table. Seventh month: `
` Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking that am promoted `
` to waiting on the Sisters! Eighth month: Slight check in career. `
` Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row! Wardmaid `
` clearly to blame! Inattention in such important matters cannot `
` be too highly censured. Mop and pail again! How are the mighty `
` fallen! Ninth month: Promoted to sweeping out wards, where I `
` found a friend of my childhood in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford `
` (bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for five long years. The `
` meeting was affecting! Tenth month: Reproved by matron for `
` visiting the pictures in company with one of the patients, `
` namely: the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford. `
` Eleventh and twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed with `
` entire success. At the end of the year left hospital in a blaze `
` of glory. After that, the talented Miss Cowley drove `
` successively a trade delivery van, a motor-lorry and a general!" `
` The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!" `
` `
` "What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy. "Perfectly sickening `
` the way those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy, `
` and from the Savoy to the War Office!" `
` `
` "I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence. "To resume, `
` that was in a way the apex of my career. I next entered a `
` Government office. We had several very enjoyable tea parties. I `
` had intended to become a land girl, a postwoman, and a bus `
` conductress by way of rounding off my career--but the Armistice `
` intervened! I clung to the office with the true limpet touch for `
` many long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since then `
` I've been looking for a job. Now then--your turn." `
` `
` "There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully, `
` "and a great deal less variety. I went out to France again, as `
` you know. Then they sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got wounded `
` for the second time, and went into hospital out there. Then I got `
` stuck in Egypt till the Armistice happened, kicked my heels there `
` some time longer, and, as I told you, finally got demobbed. And, `
` for ten long, weary months I've been job hunting! There aren't `
` any jobs! And, if there were, they wouldn't give 'em to me. What `
` good am I? What do I know about business? Nothing." `
` `
` Tuppence nodded gloomily. `
` `
` "What about the colonies?" she suggested. `
` `
` Tommy shook his head. `
` `
` "I shouldn't like the colonies--and I'm perfectly certain they `
` wouldn't like me!" `
` `
` "Rich relations?" `
` `
` Again Tommy shook his head. `
` `
` "Oh, Tommy, not even a great-aunt?" `
` `
` "I've got an old uncle who's more or less rolling, but he's no `
` good." `
` `
` "Why not?" `
` `
` "Wanted to adopt me once. I refused." `
` `
` "I think I remember hearing about it," said Tuppence slowly. "You `
` refused because of your mother----" `
` `
` Tommy flushed. `
` `
` "Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater. As you know, `
` I was all she had. Old boy hated her--wanted to get me away from `
` her. Just a bit of spite." `
` `
` "Your mother's dead, isn't she?" said Tuppence gently. `
` `
` Tommy nodded. `
` `
` Tuppence's large grey eyes looked misty. `
` `
` "You're a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it." `
` `
` "Rot!" said Tommy hastily. "Well, that's my position. I'm just `
` about desperate." `
` `
` "So am I! I've hung out as long as I could. I've touted round. `
` I've answered advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessed `
` thing. I've screwed and saved and pinched! But it's no good. I `
` shall have to go home!" `
` `
` "Don't you want to?" `
` `
` "Of course I don't want to! What's the good of being `
` sentimental? Father's a dear--I'm awfully fond of him--but you've `
` no idea how I worry him! He has that delightful early Victorian `
` view that short skirts and smoking are immoral. You can imagine `
` what a thorn in the flesh I am to him! He just heaved a sigh of `
` relief when the war took me off. You see, there are seven of us `
` at home. It's awful! All housework and mothers' meetings! I `
` have always been the changeling. I don't want to go back, `
` but--oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?" `
` `
` Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and then `
` Tuppence burst out: `
` `
` "Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon and `
` night! I dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!" `
` `
` "Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling. `
` `
` "I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too," `
` continued Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to `
` marry it, or to make it. First is ruled out. I haven't got any `
` rich elderly relatives. Any relatives I have are in homes for `
` decayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over crossings, `
` and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn `
` out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has ever `
` asked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' " `
` `
` There was a pause. `
` `
` "Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I `
` made up my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any `
` thinking girl would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused. `
` "Come now, you can't say I'm sentimental," she added sharply. `
` `
` "Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think `
` of sentiment in connection with you." `
` `
` "That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you `
` mean it all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--but `
` I never meet any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hard `
` up as I am." `
` `
` "What about the general?" inquired Tommy. `
` `
` "I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained `
` Tuppence. "No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl." `
` `
` "I'm like you. I don't know any." `
` `
` "That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if I `
` see a man in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up to `
` him and say: 'Look here, you're rich. I'd like to know you.' " `
` `
` "Do you suggest that I should do that to a similarly garbed `
` female?" `
` `
` "Don't be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up her `
` handkerchief, or something like that. If she thinks you want to `
` know her she's flattered, and will manage it for you somehow." `
`
` The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table, `
` catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so. `
` `
` "And--do you know, she sat down and CRIED when I told her she `
` couldn't have the flat after all." "It was simply a BARGAIN, my `
` dear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris----" `
` `
` "Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy. "I passed two `
` Johnnies in the street to-day talking about some one called Jane `
` Finn. Did you ever hear such a name?" `
` `
` But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels, `
` and Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats. `
` `
` Tommy ordered tea and buns. Tuppence ordered tea and buttered `
` toast. `
` `
` "And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely. `
` `
` Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock of `
` exquisitely slicked-back red hair. His face was pleasantly `
` ugly--nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a `
` sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the `
` end of its tether. `
` `
` They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there. `
` Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and `
` charm in the elfin lines of her little face, with its determined `
` chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked mistily out from `
` under straight, black brows. She wore a small bright green toque `
` over her black bobbed hair, and her extremely short and rather `
` shabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly dainty ankles. Her `
` appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness. `
` `
` The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit of `
` meditation, poured it out. `
` `
` "Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get `
` up-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in `
` hospital in 1916." `
` `
` "Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered `
` toast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth `
` daughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk. `
` Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home life `
` early in the war and came up to London, where she entered an `
` officers' hospital. First month: Washed up six hundred and `
` forty-eight plates every day. Second month: Promoted to drying `
` aforesaid plates. Third month: Promoted to peeling potatoes. `
` Fourth month: Promoted to cutting bread and butter. Fifth month: `
` Promoted one floor up to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail. `
` Sixth month: Promoted to waiting at table. Seventh month: `
` Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking that am promoted `
` to waiting on the Sisters! Eighth month: Slight check in career. `
` Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row! Wardmaid `
` clearly to blame! Inattention in such important matters cannot `
` be too highly censured. Mop and pail again! How are the mighty `
` fallen! Ninth month: Promoted to sweeping out wards, where I `
` found a friend of my childhood in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford `
` (bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for five long years. The `
` meeting was affecting! Tenth month: Reproved by matron for `
` visiting the pictures in company with one of the patients, `
` namely: the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford. `
` Eleventh and twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed with `
` entire success. At the end of the year left hospital in a blaze `
` of glory. After that, the talented Miss Cowley drove `
` successively a trade delivery van, a motor-lorry and a general!" `
` The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!" `
` `
` "What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy. "Perfectly sickening `
` the way those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy, `
` and from the Savoy to the War Office!" `
` `
` "I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence. "To resume, `
` that was in a way the apex of my career. I next entered a `
` Government office. We had several very enjoyable tea parties. I `
` had intended to become a land girl, a postwoman, and a bus `
` conductress by way of rounding off my career--but the Armistice `
` intervened! I clung to the office with the true limpet touch for `
` many long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since then `
` I've been looking for a job. Now then--your turn." `
` `
` "There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully, `
` "and a great deal less variety. I went out to France again, as `
` you know. Then they sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got wounded `
` for the second time, and went into hospital out there. Then I got `
` stuck in Egypt till the Armistice happened, kicked my heels there `
` some time longer, and, as I told you, finally got demobbed. And, `
` for ten long, weary months I've been job hunting! There aren't `
` any jobs! And, if there were, they wouldn't give 'em to me. What `
` good am I? What do I know about business? Nothing." `
` `
` Tuppence nodded gloomily. `
` `
` "What about the colonies?" she suggested. `
` `
` Tommy shook his head. `
` `
` "I shouldn't like the colonies--and I'm perfectly certain they `
` wouldn't like me!" `
` `
` "Rich relations?" `
` `
` Again Tommy shook his head. `
` `
` "Oh, Tommy, not even a great-aunt?" `
` `
` "I've got an old uncle who's more or less rolling, but he's no `
` good." `
` `
` "Why not?" `
` `
` "Wanted to adopt me once. I refused." `
` `
` "I think I remember hearing about it," said Tuppence slowly. "You `
` refused because of your mother----" `
` `
` Tommy flushed. `
` `
` "Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater. As you know, `
` I was all she had. Old boy hated her--wanted to get me away from `
` her. Just a bit of spite." `
` `
` "Your mother's dead, isn't she?" said Tuppence gently. `
` `
` Tommy nodded. `
` `
` Tuppence's large grey eyes looked misty. `
` `
` "You're a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it." `
` `
` "Rot!" said Tommy hastily. "Well, that's my position. I'm just `
` about desperate." `
` `
` "So am I! I've hung out as long as I could. I've touted round. `
` I've answered advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessed `
` thing. I've screwed and saved and pinched! But it's no good. I `
` shall have to go home!" `
` `
` "Don't you want to?" `
` `
` "Of course I don't want to! What's the good of being `
` sentimental? Father's a dear--I'm awfully fond of him--but you've `
` no idea how I worry him! He has that delightful early Victorian `
` view that short skirts and smoking are immoral. You can imagine `
` what a thorn in the flesh I am to him! He just heaved a sigh of `
` relief when the war took me off. You see, there are seven of us `
` at home. It's awful! All housework and mothers' meetings! I `
` have always been the changeling. I don't want to go back, `
` but--oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?" `
` `
` Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and then `
` Tuppence burst out: `
` `
` "Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon and `
` night! I dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!" `
` `
` "Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling. `
` `
` "I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too," `
` continued Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to `
` marry it, or to make it. First is ruled out. I haven't got any `
` rich elderly relatives. Any relatives I have are in homes for `
` decayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over crossings, `
` and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn `
` out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has ever `
` asked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' " `
` `
` There was a pause. `
` `
` "Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I `
` made up my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any `
` thinking girl would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused. `
` "Come now, you can't say I'm sentimental," she added sharply. `
` `
` "Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think `
` of sentiment in connection with you." `
` `
` "That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you `
` mean it all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--but `
` I never meet any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hard `
` up as I am." `
` `
` "What about the general?" inquired Tommy. `
` `
` "I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained `
` Tuppence. "No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl." `
` `
` "I'm like you. I don't know any." `
` `
` "That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if I `
` see a man in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up to `
` him and say: 'Look here, you're rich. I'd like to know you.' " `
` `
` "Do you suggest that I should do that to a similarly garbed `
` female?" `
` `
` "Don't be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up her `
` handkerchief, or something like that. If she thinks you want to `
` know her she's flattered, and will manage it for you somehow." `
`