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