Reading Help Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. Ch.I-XIII
"Very well. I'll be there." `
` `
` "Thank you. Good evening." `
` `
` He raised his hat with a flourish, and walked away. Tuppence `
` remained for some minutes gazing after him. Then she gave a `
` curious movement of her shoulders, rather as a terrier shakes `
` himself. `
` `
` "The adventures have begun," she murmured to herself. "What does `
` he want me to do, I wonder? There's something about you, Mr. `
` Whittington, that I don't like at all. But, on the other hand, `
` I'm not the least bit afraid of you. And as I've said before, and `
` shall doubtless say again, little Tuppence can look after `
` herself, thank you!" `
` `
` And with a short, sharp nod of her head she walked briskly `
` onward. As a result of further meditations, however, she turned `
` aside from the direct route and entered a post office. There she `
` pondered for some moments, a telegraph form in her hand. The `
` thought of a possible five shillings spent unnecessarily spurred `
` her to action, and she decided to risk the waste of ninepence. `
` `
` Disdaining the spiky pen and thick, black treacle which a `
` beneficent Government had provided, Tuppence drew out Tommy's `
` pencil which she had retained and wrote rapidly: "Don't put in `
` advertisement. Will explain to-morrow." She addressed it to Tommy `
` at his club, from which in one short month he would have to `
` resign, unless a kindly fortune permitted him to renew his `
` subscription. `
` `
` "It may catch him," she murmured. "Anyway, it's worth trying." `
` `
` After handing it over the counter she set out briskly for home, `
` stopping at a baker's to buy three penny-worth of new buns. `
` `
` Later, in her tiny cubicle at the top of the house she munched `
` buns and reflected on the future. What was the Esthonia `
` Glassware Co., and what earthly need could it have for her `
` services? A pleasurable thrill of excitement made Tuppence `
` tingle. At any rate, the country vicarage had retreated into the `
` background again. The morrow held possibilities. `
` `
` It was a long time before Tuppence went to sleep that night, and, `
` when at length she did, she dreamed that Mr. Whittington had set `
` her to washing up a pile of Esthonia Glassware, which bore an `
` unaccountable resemblance to hospital plates! `
` `
` It wanted some five minutes to eleven when Tuppence reached the `
` block of buildings in which the offices of the Esthonia Glassware `
` Co. were situated. To arrive before the time would look `
` over-eager. So Tuppence decided to walk to the end of the street `
` and back again. She did so. On the stroke of eleven she plunged `
` into the recesses of the building. The Esthonia Glassware Co. `
` was on the top floor. There was a lift, but Tuppence chose to `
` walk up. `
` `
` Slightly out of breath, she came to a halt outside the ground `
` glass door with the legend painted across it "Esthonia Glassware `
` Co." `
` `
` Tuppence knocked. In response to a voice from within, she turned `
` the handle and walked into a small rather dirty outer office. `
` `
` A middle-aged clerk got down from a high stool at a desk near the `
` window and came towards her inquiringly. `
` `
` "I have an appointment with Mr. Whittington," said Tuppence. `
` `
` "Will you come this way, please." He crossed to a partition door `
` with "Private" on it, knocked, then opened the door and stood `
` aside to let her pass in. `
` `
` Mr. Whittington was seated behind a large desk covered with `
` papers. Tuppence felt her previous judgment confirmed. There was `
` something wrong about Mr. Whittington. The combination of his `
` sleek prosperity and his shifty eye was not attractive. `
` `
` He looked up and nodded. `
` `
` "So you've turned up all right? That's good. Sit down, will `
` you?" `
` `
` Tuppence sat down on the chair facing him. She looked `
` particularly small and demure this morning. She sat there meekly `
` with downcast eyes whilst Mr. Whittington sorted and rustled `
` amongst his papers. Finally he pushed them away, and leaned over `
` the desk. `
` `
` "Now, my dear young lady, let us come to business." His large `
` face broadened into a smile. "You want work? Well, I have work `
` to offer you. What should you say now to L100 down, and all `
` expenses paid?" Mr. Whittington leaned back in his chair, and `
` thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat. `
` `
` Tuppence eyed him warily. `
` `
` "And the nature of the work?" she demanded. `
` `
` "Nominal--purely nominal. A pleasant trip, that is all." `
` `
` "Where to?" `
` `
` Mr. Whittington smiled again. `
` `
` "Paris." `
` `
` "Oh!" said Tuppence thoughtfully. To herself she said: "Of `
` course, if father heard that he would have a fit! But somehow I `
` don't see Mr. Whittington in the role of the gay deceiver." `
` `
` "Yes," continued Whittington. "What could be more delightful? To `
` put the clock back a few years--a very few, I am sure--and `
` re-enter one of those charming pensionnats de jeunes filles with `
` which Paris abounds----" `
` `
` Tuppence interrupted him. `
` `
` "A pensionnat?" `
` `
` "Exactly. Madame Colombier's in the Avenue de Neuilly." `
` `
` Tuppence knew the name well. Nothing could have been more `
` select. She had had several American friends there. She was more `
` than ever puzzled. `
` `
` "You want me to go to Madame Colombier's? For how long?" `
` `
` "That depends. Possibly three months." `
` `
` "And that is all? There are no other conditions?" `
` `
` "None whatever. You would, of course, go in the character of my `
` ward, and you would hold no communication with your friends. I `
` should have to request absolute secrecy for the time being. By `
` the way, you are English, are you not?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Yet you speak with a slight American accent?" `
` `
` "My great pal in hospital was a little American girl. I dare say `
` I picked it up from her. I can soon get out of it again." `
` `
` "On the contrary, it might be simpler for you to pass as an `
` American. Details about your past life in England might be more `
` difficult to sustain. Yes, I think that would be decidedly `
` better. Then----" `
` `
` "One moment, Mr. Whittington! You seem to be taking my consent `
` for granted." `
` `
` Whittington looked surprised. `
` `
` "Surely you are not thinking of refusing? I can assure you that `
` Madame Colombier's is a most high-class and orthodox `
` establishment. And the terms are most liberal." `
` `
` "Exactly," said Tuppence. "That's just it. The terms are almost `
` too liberal, Mr. Whittington. I cannot see any way in which I `
` can be worth that amount of money to you." `
` `
` "No?" said Whittington softly. "Well, I will tell you. I could `
` doubtless obtain some one else for very much less. What I am `
` willing to pay for is a young lady with sufficient intelligence `
` and presence of mind to sustain her part well, and also one who `
` will have sufficient discretion not to ask too many questions." `
` `
` Tuppence smiled a little. She felt that Whittington had scored. `
` `
` "There's another thing. So far there has been no mention of Mr. `
` Beresford. Where does he come in?" `
` `
` "Mr. Beresford?" `
` `
` "My partner," said Tuppence with dignity. "You saw us together `
` yesterday." `
` `
` "Ah, yes. But I'm afraid we shan't require his services." `
` `
` "Then it's off!" Tuppence rose. "It's both or neither. `
` Sorry--but that's how it is. Good morning, Mr. Whittington." `
` `
` "Wait a minute. Let us see if something can't be managed. Sit `
` down again, Miss----" He paused interrogatively. `
` `
` Tuppence's conscience gave her a passing twinge as she remembered `
` the archdeacon. She seized hurriedly on the first name that came `
` into her head. `
` `
` "Jane Finn," she said hastily; and then paused open-mouthed at `
` the effect of those two simple words. `
` `
` All the geniality had faded out of Whittington's face. It was `
` purple with rage, and the veins stood out on the forehead. And `
` behind it all there lurked a sort of incredulous dismay. He `
` leaned forward and hissed savagely: `
` `
` "So that's your little game, is it?" `
` `
` Tuppence, though utterly taken aback, nevertheless kept her head. `
`
` `
` "Thank you. Good evening." `
` `
` He raised his hat with a flourish, and walked away. Tuppence `
` remained for some minutes gazing after him. Then she gave a `
` curious movement of her shoulders, rather as a terrier shakes `
` himself. `
` `
` "The adventures have begun," she murmured to herself. "What does `
` he want me to do, I wonder? There's something about you, Mr. `
` Whittington, that I don't like at all. But, on the other hand, `
` I'm not the least bit afraid of you. And as I've said before, and `
` shall doubtless say again, little Tuppence can look after `
` herself, thank you!" `
` `
` And with a short, sharp nod of her head she walked briskly `
` onward. As a result of further meditations, however, she turned `
` aside from the direct route and entered a post office. There she `
` pondered for some moments, a telegraph form in her hand. The `
` thought of a possible five shillings spent unnecessarily spurred `
` her to action, and she decided to risk the waste of ninepence. `
` `
` Disdaining the spiky pen and thick, black treacle which a `
` beneficent Government had provided, Tuppence drew out Tommy's `
` pencil which she had retained and wrote rapidly: "Don't put in `
` advertisement. Will explain to-morrow." She addressed it to Tommy `
` at his club, from which in one short month he would have to `
` resign, unless a kindly fortune permitted him to renew his `
` subscription. `
` `
` "It may catch him," she murmured. "Anyway, it's worth trying." `
` `
` After handing it over the counter she set out briskly for home, `
` stopping at a baker's to buy three penny-worth of new buns. `
` `
` Later, in her tiny cubicle at the top of the house she munched `
` buns and reflected on the future. What was the Esthonia `
` Glassware Co., and what earthly need could it have for her `
` services? A pleasurable thrill of excitement made Tuppence `
` tingle. At any rate, the country vicarage had retreated into the `
` background again. The morrow held possibilities. `
` `
` It was a long time before Tuppence went to sleep that night, and, `
` when at length she did, she dreamed that Mr. Whittington had set `
` her to washing up a pile of Esthonia Glassware, which bore an `
` unaccountable resemblance to hospital plates! `
` `
` It wanted some five minutes to eleven when Tuppence reached the `
` block of buildings in which the offices of the Esthonia Glassware `
` Co. were situated. To arrive before the time would look `
` over-eager. So Tuppence decided to walk to the end of the street `
` and back again. She did so. On the stroke of eleven she plunged `
` into the recesses of the building. The Esthonia Glassware Co. `
` was on the top floor. There was a lift, but Tuppence chose to `
` walk up. `
` `
` Slightly out of breath, she came to a halt outside the ground `
` glass door with the legend painted across it "Esthonia Glassware `
` Co." `
` `
` Tuppence knocked. In response to a voice from within, she turned `
` the handle and walked into a small rather dirty outer office. `
` `
` A middle-aged clerk got down from a high stool at a desk near the `
` window and came towards her inquiringly. `
` `
` "I have an appointment with Mr. Whittington," said Tuppence. `
` `
` "Will you come this way, please." He crossed to a partition door `
` with "Private" on it, knocked, then opened the door and stood `
` aside to let her pass in. `
` `
` Mr. Whittington was seated behind a large desk covered with `
` papers. Tuppence felt her previous judgment confirmed. There was `
` something wrong about Mr. Whittington. The combination of his `
` sleek prosperity and his shifty eye was not attractive. `
` `
` He looked up and nodded. `
` `
` "So you've turned up all right? That's good. Sit down, will `
` you?" `
` `
` Tuppence sat down on the chair facing him. She looked `
` particularly small and demure this morning. She sat there meekly `
` with downcast eyes whilst Mr. Whittington sorted and rustled `
` amongst his papers. Finally he pushed them away, and leaned over `
` the desk. `
` `
` "Now, my dear young lady, let us come to business." His large `
` face broadened into a smile. "You want work? Well, I have work `
` to offer you. What should you say now to L100 down, and all `
` expenses paid?" Mr. Whittington leaned back in his chair, and `
` thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat. `
` `
` Tuppence eyed him warily. `
` `
` "And the nature of the work?" she demanded. `
` `
` "Nominal--purely nominal. A pleasant trip, that is all." `
` `
` "Where to?" `
` `
` Mr. Whittington smiled again. `
` `
` "Paris." `
` `
` "Oh!" said Tuppence thoughtfully. To herself she said: "Of `
` course, if father heard that he would have a fit! But somehow I `
` don't see Mr. Whittington in the role of the gay deceiver." `
` `
` "Yes," continued Whittington. "What could be more delightful? To `
` put the clock back a few years--a very few, I am sure--and `
` re-enter one of those charming pensionnats de jeunes filles with `
` which Paris abounds----" `
` `
` Tuppence interrupted him. `
` `
` "A pensionnat?" `
` `
` "Exactly. Madame Colombier's in the Avenue de Neuilly." `
` `
` Tuppence knew the name well. Nothing could have been more `
` select. She had had several American friends there. She was more `
` than ever puzzled. `
` `
` "You want me to go to Madame Colombier's? For how long?" `
` `
` "That depends. Possibly three months." `
` `
` "And that is all? There are no other conditions?" `
` `
` "None whatever. You would, of course, go in the character of my `
` ward, and you would hold no communication with your friends. I `
` should have to request absolute secrecy for the time being. By `
` the way, you are English, are you not?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Yet you speak with a slight American accent?" `
` `
` "My great pal in hospital was a little American girl. I dare say `
` I picked it up from her. I can soon get out of it again." `
` `
` "On the contrary, it might be simpler for you to pass as an `
` American. Details about your past life in England might be more `
` difficult to sustain. Yes, I think that would be decidedly `
` better. Then----" `
` `
` "One moment, Mr. Whittington! You seem to be taking my consent `
` for granted." `
` `
` Whittington looked surprised. `
` `
` "Surely you are not thinking of refusing? I can assure you that `
` Madame Colombier's is a most high-class and orthodox `
` establishment. And the terms are most liberal." `
` `
` "Exactly," said Tuppence. "That's just it. The terms are almost `
` too liberal, Mr. Whittington. I cannot see any way in which I `
` can be worth that amount of money to you." `
` `
` "No?" said Whittington softly. "Well, I will tell you. I could `
` doubtless obtain some one else for very much less. What I am `
` willing to pay for is a young lady with sufficient intelligence `
` and presence of mind to sustain her part well, and also one who `
` will have sufficient discretion not to ask too many questions." `
` `
` Tuppence smiled a little. She felt that Whittington had scored. `
` `
` "There's another thing. So far there has been no mention of Mr. `
` Beresford. Where does he come in?" `
` `
` "Mr. Beresford?" `
` `
` "My partner," said Tuppence with dignity. "You saw us together `
` yesterday." `
` `
` "Ah, yes. But I'm afraid we shan't require his services." `
` `
` "Then it's off!" Tuppence rose. "It's both or neither. `
` Sorry--but that's how it is. Good morning, Mr. Whittington." `
` `
` "Wait a minute. Let us see if something can't be managed. Sit `
` down again, Miss----" He paused interrogatively. `
` `
` Tuppence's conscience gave her a passing twinge as she remembered `
` the archdeacon. She seized hurriedly on the first name that came `
` into her head. `
` `
` "Jane Finn," she said hastily; and then paused open-mouthed at `
` the effect of those two simple words. `
` `
` All the geniality had faded out of Whittington's face. It was `
` purple with rage, and the veins stood out on the forehead. And `
` behind it all there lurked a sort of incredulous dismay. He `
` leaned forward and hissed savagely: `
` `
` "So that's your little game, is it?" `
` `
` Tuppence, though utterly taken aback, nevertheless kept her head. `
`