The passage as it is.

THE SECRET

ADVERSARY

AGATHA CHRISTIE

TO ALL THOSE WHO LEAD

MONOTONOUS LIVES

IN THE HOPE THAT THEY MAY EXPERIENCE

AT SECOND HAND

THE DELIGHTS AND DANGERS OF

ADVENTURE

CONTENTS

Prologue

I
The Young Adventurers, Ltd.

II
Mr. Whittington's Offer

III    A
Set Back

IV
Who Is Jane Finn?

V
Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer

VI
A Plan of Campaign

VII    The
House in Soho

VIII   The
Adventures of Tommy

IX
Tuppence Enters Domestic Service

X
Enter Sir James Peel Edgerton

XI
Julius Tells a Story

XII    A
Friend in Need

XIII   The Vigil

XIV    A
Consultation

XV
Tuppence Receives a Proposal

XVI
Further Adventures of Tommy

XVII   Annette

XVIII  The Telegram

XIX    Jane
Finn

XX
Too Late

XXI
Tommy Makes a Discovery

XXII   In Downing Street

XXIII  A Race Against
Time

XXIV   Julius
Takes a Hand

XXV
Jane's Story

XXVI   Mr. Brown

XXVII  A Supper Party
at the Savoy

XXVIII And After

PROLOGUE

IT was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915.  The Lusitania had

been struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking

rapidly, while the boats were being launched with all possible

speed. The women and children were being lined up awaiting their

turn. Some still clung desperately to husbands and fathers;

others clutched their children closely to their breasts. One
girl

stood alone, slightly apart from the rest. She was quite young,

not more than eighteen.
She did not seem afraid, and her grave,

steadfast eyes looked straight ahead.

"I beg your pardon."

A man's voice beside her made her start and turn.  She had

noticed the speaker more than once amongst the first-class

passengers. There had been a hint of mystery about him which had

appealed to her imagination.  He spoke to no one. If anyone spoke

to him he was quick to rebuff the overture. Also he had a
nervous

way of looking over his shoulder with a swift, suspicious glance.

She noticed now that he was greatly agitated.  There were beads

of perspiration on his brow.  He was evidently in a state of

overmastering fear. And yet he did not strike her as the kind of

man who would be afraid to meet death!

"Yes?"
Her grave eyes met his inquiringly.

He stood looking at her with a kind of desperate irresolution.

"It must be!" he muttered to himself.  "Yes--it is the only way."

Then aloud he said abruptly:  "You are an American?"

"Yes."

"A patriotic one?"

The girl flushed.

"I guess you've no right to ask such a thing!  Of course I am!"

"Don't be offended.  You wouldn't be if you knew how much
there

was at stake. But I've got to trust some one--and it must be a

woman."

"Why?"

"Because of 'women and children first.'  " He looked round and

lowered his voice.
"I'm carrying papers--vitally important

papers. They may make all the difference to the Allies in the

war. You understand?
These papers have GOT to be saved! They've

more chance with you than with me.  Will you take them?"

The girl held out her hand.

"Wait--I must warn you.  There may be a risk--if I've been

followed. I don't think I have, but one never knows.  If so,

there will be danger. Have you the nerve to go through with it?"

The girl smiled.

"I'll go through with it all right.  And I'm real proud to be

chosen! What am I to do with them afterwards?"

"Watch the newspapers!  I'll advertise in the personal column of

the Times, beginning 'Shipmate.' At the end of three days if

there's nothing--well, you'll know I'm down and out. Then take

the packet to the American Embassy, and deliver it into the

Ambassador's own hands.
Is that clear?"

"Quite clear."

"Then be ready--I'm going to say good-bye." He
took her hand in

his. "Good-bye. Good luck to you," he said in a louder
tone.

Her hand closed on the oilskin packet that had lain in his palm.

The Lusitania
settled with a more decided list to starboard. In

answer to a quick command, the girl went forward to take her

place in the boat.

CHAPTER I

THE YOUNG ADVENTURERS, LTD.

"TOMMY, old thing!"

"Tuppence, old bean!"

The two young people greeted each other affectionately, and

momentarily blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. The

adjective "old" was misleading.  Their united ages would

certainly not have totalled forty-five.

"Not seen you for simply centuries," continued
the young man.

"Where are you off to?  Come and chew a bun with me. We're

getting a bit unpopular here--blocking the gangway as it were.

Let's get out of it."

The girl assenting, they started walking down Dover Street

towards Piccadilly.

"Now then," said Tommy, "where shall we go?"

The very faint anxiety which underlay his tone did not escape
the

astute ears of Miss Prudence Cowley, known to her intimate

friends for some mysterious reason as "Tuppence."  She pounced at

once.

"Tommy, you're stony!"

"Not a bit of it," declared Tommy
unconvincingly. "Rolling in

cash."

"You always were a shocking liar," said Tuppence
severely,

"though you did once persuade Sister Greenbank that
the doctor

had ordered you beer as a tonic, but forgotten to write it on
the

chart. Do you remember?"

Tommy chuckled.

"I should think I did!  Wasn't the old cat in a rage when she

found out? Not that she was a bad sort really, old Mother

Greenbank!  Good old
hospital--demobbed like everything else, I

suppose?"

Tuppence sighed.

"Yes.  You
too?"

Tommy nodded.

"Two months ago."

"Gratuity?" hinted Tuppence.

"Spent."

"Oh, Tommy!"

"No, old thing, not in riotous dissipation.  No such luck! The

cost of living--ordinary plain, or garden living nowadays is, I

assure you, if you do not know----"

"My dear child," interrupted Tuppence,
"there is nothing I do NOT

know about the cost of living.  Here we are at Lyons', and we

will each of us pay for our own.  That's it!" And Tuppence led

the way upstairs.

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."

"You overrate my manly charms," murmured Tommy.

"On the other hand," proceeded Tuppence,
"my millionaire would

probably run for his life!
No--marriage is fraught with

difficulties.
Remains--to MAKE money!"

"We've tried that, and failed," Tommy reminded her.

"We've tried all the orthodox ways, yes.  But suppose we try the

unorthodox. Tommy, let's be adventurers!"

"Certainly," replied Tommy cheerfully.  "How do we begin?"

"That's the difficulty.  If we could make ourselves known, people

might hire us to commit crimes for them."

"Delightful," commented Tommy.  "Especially coming from a

clergyman's daughter!"

"The moral guilt," Tuppence pointed out,
"would be theirs--not

mine. You must admit that there's a difference between stealing
a

diamond necklace for yourself and being hired to steal it."

"There wouldn't be the least difference if you were
caught!"

"Perhaps not.
But I shouldn't be caught.
I'm so clever."

"Modesty always was your besetting sin,"
remarked Tommy.

"Don't rag.
Look here, Tommy, shall we really?
Shall we form a

business partnership?"

"Form a company for the stealing of diamond necklaces?"

"That was only an illustration.  Let's have a--what do you call

it in book-keeping?"

"Don't know.
Never did any."

"I have--but I always got mixed up, and used to put
credit

entries on the debit side, and vice versa--so they fired me out.

Oh, I know--a joint venture!  It struck me as such a romantic

phrase to come across in the middle of musty old figures.  It's

got an Elizabethan flavour about it--makes one think of galleons

and doubloons. A joint venture!"

"Trading under the name of the Young Adventurers,
Ltd.? Is that

your idea, Tuppence?"

"It's all very well to laugh, but I feel there might
be something

in it."

"How do you propose to get in touch with your
would-be

employers?"

"Advertisement," replied Tuppence promptly.  "Have you got a bit

of paper and a pencil?
Men usually seem to have. Just like we

have hairpins and powder-puffs."

Tommy handed over a rather shabby green notebook, and Tuppence

began writing busily.

"Shall we begin:
'Young officer, twice wounded in the war--' "

"Certainly not."

"Oh, very well, my dear boy.  But I can assure you that that sort

of thing might touch the heart of an elderly spinster, and she

might adopt you, and then there would be no need for you to be a

young adventurer at all."

"I don't want to be adopted."

"I forgot you had a prejudice against it.  I was only ragging

you! The papers are full up to the brim with that type of thing.

Now listen--how's this?
'Two young adventurers for hire. Willing

to do anything, go anywhere.  Pay must be good.' (We might as

well make that clear from the start.) Then we might add: 'No

reasonable offer refused'--like flats and furniture."

"I should think any offer we get in answer to that
would be a

pretty UNreasonable one!"

"Tommy!
You're a genius!  That's ever
so much more chic. 'No

unreasonable offer refused--if pay is good.'  How's that?"

"I shouldn't mention pay again.  It looks rather eager."

"It couldn't look as eager as I feel!  But perhaps you are right.

Now I'll read it straight through.  'Two young adventurers for

hire. Willing to do anything, go anywhere.  Pay must be good. No

unreasonable offer refused.'  How would that strike you if you

read it?"

"It would strike me as either being a hoax, or else
written by a

lunatic."

"It's not half so insane as a thing I read this
morning beginning

'Petunia' and signed 'Best Boy.' " She tore out
the leaf and

handed it to Tommy.
"There you are.  Times,
I think. Reply to

Box so-and-so. I expect it will be about five shillings. Here's

half a crown for my share."

Tommy was holding the paper thoughtfully.  His faced burned a

deeper red.

"Shall we really try it?" he said at last.  "Shall we, Tuppence?

Just for the fun of the thing?"

"Tommy, you're a sport!  I knew you would be!  Let's drink to

success." She poured some cold dregs of tea into the two
cups.

"Here's to our joint venture, and may it prosper!"

"The Young Adventurers, Ltd.!" responded Tommy.

They put down the cups and laughed rather uncertainly.  Tuppence

rose.

"I must return to my palatial suite at the hostel."

"Perhaps it is time I strolled round to the
Ritz," agreed Tommy

with a grin.
"Where shall we meet?
And when?"

"Twelve o'clock to-morrow. Piccadilly Tube station.
Will that

suit you?"

"My time is my own," replied Mr. Beresford
magnificently.

"So long, then."

"Good-bye, old thing."

The two young people went off in opposite directions. Tuppence's

hostel was situated in what was charitably called Southern

Belgravia.  For reasons of economy she did not take
a bus.

She was half-way across St. James's Park, when a man's voice

behind her made her start.

"Excuse me," it said.  "But may I speak to you for a
moment?"

CHAPTER II

MR.  WHITTINGTON'S
OFFER

TUPPENCE turned sharply, but the words hovering on the tip of
her

tongue remained unspoken, for the man's appearance and manner
did

not bear out her first and most natural assumption.  She

hesitated. As if he read her thoughts, the man said quickly:

"I can assure you I mean no disrespect."

Tuppence believed him.
Although she disliked and distrusted him

instinctively, she was inclined to acquit him of the particular

motive which she had at first attributed to him.  She looked him

up and down.  He was
a big man, clean shaven, with a heavy jowl.

His eyes were small and cunning, and shifted their glance under

her direct gaze.

"Well, what is it?" she asked.

The man smiled.

"I happened to overhear part of your conversation
with the young

gentleman in Lyons'."

"Well--what of it?"

"Nothing--except that I think I may be of some use to
you."

Another inference forced itself into Tuppence's mind:

"You followed me here?"

"I took that liberty."

"And in what way do you think you could be of use to
me?"

The man took a card from his pocket and handed it to her with a

bow.

Tuppence took it and scrutinized it carefully.  It bore the

inscription, "Mr. Edward Whittington."  Below the name were the

words "Esthonia Glassware Co.," and the address of a
city office.

Mr. Whittington spoke again:

"If you will call upon me to-morrow morning at eleven
o'clock, I

will lay the details of my proposition before you."

"At eleven o'clock?" said Tuppence doubtfully.

"At eleven o'clock."

Tuppence made up her mind.

"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.

She had not the faintest comprehension of his meaning, but she

was naturally quick-witted, and felt it imperative to "keep
her

end up" as she phrased it.

Whittington went on:

"Been playing with me, have you, all the time, like a
cat and

mouse? Knew all the time what I wanted you for, but kept up the

comedy. Is that it, eh?"  He was cooling down.  The red colour

was ebbing out of his face.
He eyed her keenly.
"Who's been

blabbing?  Rita?"

Tuppence shook her head.
She was doubtful as to how long she

could sustain this illusion, but she realized the importance of

not dragging an unknown Rita into it.

"No," she replied with perfect truth.  "Rita knows nothing about

me."

His eyes still bored into her like gimlets.

"How much do you know?" he shot out.

"Very little indeed," answered Tuppence, and was
pleased to note

that Whittington's uneasiness was augmented instead of allayed.

To have boasted that she knew a lot might have raised doubts in

his mind.

"Anyway," snarled Whittington, "you knew
enough to come in here

and plump out that name."

"It might be my own name," Tuppence pointed out.

"It's likely, isn't it, then there would be two girls
with a name

like that?"

"Or I might just have hit upon it by chance,"
continued Tuppence,

intoxicated with the success of truthfulness.

Mr. Whittington brought his fist down upon the desk with a bang.

"Quit fooling!
How much do you know?  And
how much do you want?"

The last five words took Tuppence's fancy mightily, especially

after a meagre breakfast and a supper of buns the night before.

Her present part was of the adventuress rather than the

adventurous order, but she did not deny its possibilities. She

sat up and smiled with the air of one who has the situation

thoroughly well in hand.

"My dear Mr. Whittington," she said, "let
us by all means lay our

cards upon the table.
And pray do not be so angry. You heard me

say yesterday that I proposed to live by my wits. It seems to me

that I have now proved I have some wits to live by! I admit I

have knowledge of a certain name, but perhaps my knowledge ends

there."

"Yes--and perhaps it doesn't," snarled
Whittington.

"You insist on misjudging me," said Tuppence,
and sighed gently.

"As I said once before," said Whittington
angrily, "quit fooling,

and come to the point.
You can't play the innocent with me. You

know a great deal more than you're willing to admit."

Tuppence paused a moment to admire her own ingenuity, and then

said softly:

"I shouldn't like to contradict you, Mr. Whittington."

"So we come to the usual question--how much?"

Tuppence was in a dilemma.
So far she had fooled Whittington

with complete success, but to mention a palpably impossible sum

might awaken his suspicions.  An idea flashed across her brain.

"Suppose we say a little something down, and a fuller
discussion

of the matter later?"

Whittington gave her an ugly glance.

"Blackmail, eh?"

Tuppence smiled sweetly.

"Oh no!
Shall we say payment of services in advance?"

Whittington grunted.

"You see," explained Tuppence still sweetly,
"I'm so very fond of

money!"

"You're about the limit, that's what you are,"
growled

Whittington, with a sort of unwilling admiration.  "You took me

in all right. Thought you were quite a meek little kid with just

enough brains for my purpose."

"Life," moralized Tuppence, "is full of
surprises."

"All the same," continued Whittington,
"some one's been talking.

You say it isn't Rita.
Was it----? Oh, come in."

The clerk followed his discreet knock into the room, and laid a

paper at his master's elbow.

"Telephone message just come for you, sir."

Whittington snatched it up and read it.  A frown gathered on his

brow.

"That'll do, Brown.  You can go."

The clerk withdrew, closing the door behind him. Whittington

turned to Tuppence.

"Come to-morrow at the same time.  I'm busy now. Here's fifty to

go on with."

He rapidly sorted out some notes, and pushed them across the

table to Tuppence, then stood up, obviously impatient for her to

go.

The girl counted the notes in a businesslike manner, secured
them

in her handbag, and rose.

"Good morning, Mr. Whittington," she said
politely. "At least, au

revoir, I should say."

"Exactly.
Au revoir!"  Whittington
looked almost genial again, a

reversion that aroused in Tuppence a faint misgiving. "Au
revoir,

my clever and charming young lady."

Tuppence sped lightly down the stairs.  A wild elation possessed

her. A neighbouring clock showed the time to be five minutes to

twelve.

"Let's give Tommy a surprise!" murmured
Tuppence, and hailed a

taxi.

The cab drew up outside the tube station.  Tommy was just within

the entrance.  His
eyes opened to their fullest extent as he

hurried forward to assist Tuppence to alight.  She smiled at him

affectionately, and remarked in a slightly affected voice:

"Pay the thing, will you, old bean?  I've got nothing smaller

than a five-pound note!"

CHAPTER III

A SET BACK

THE moment was not quite so triumphant as it ought to have been.

To begin with, the resources of Tommy's pockets were somewhat

limited. In the end the fare was managed, the lady recollecting
a

plebeian twopence, and the driver, still holding the varied

assortment of coins in his hand, was prevailed upon to move on,

which he did after one last hoarse demand as to what the

gentleman thought he was giving him?

"I think you've given him too much, Tommy," said
Tuppence

innocently. "I fancy he wants to give some of it back."

It was possibly this remark which induced the driver to move

away.

"Well," said Mr. Beresford, at length able to
relieve his

feelings, "what the--dickens, did you want to take a taxi
for?"

"I was afraid I might be late and keep you
waiting," said

Tuppence gently.

"Afraid--you--might--be--late!  Oh, Lord, I give it up!" said Mr.

Beresford.

"And really and truly," continued Tuppence,
opening her eyes very

wide, "I haven't got anything smaller than a five-pound
note."

"You did that part of it very well, old bean, but all
the same

the fellow wasn't taken in--not for a moment!"

"No," said Tuppence thoughtfully, "he
didn't believe it. That's

the curious part about speaking the truth. No one does believe

it.  I found that out
this morning. Now let's go to lunch.
How

about the Savoy?"

Tommy grinned.

"How about the Ritz?"

"On second thoughts, I prefer the Piccadilly.  It's nearer. We

shan't have to take another taxi.  Come along."

"Is this a new brand of humour?  Or is your brain really

unhinged?" inquired Tommy.

"Your last supposition is the correct one.  I have come into

money, and the shock has been too much for me!  For that

particular form of mental trouble an eminent physician
recommends

unlimited Hors d'oeuvre, Lobster a l'americane, Chicken Newberg,

and Peche Melba!
Let's go and get them!"

"Tuppence, old girl, what has really come over you?"

"Oh, unbelieving one!"  Tuppence wrenched open her bag.
"Look

here, and here, and here!"

"Great Jehosaphat!  My dear girl, don't wave Fishers aloft
like

that!"

"They're not Fishers.  They're five times better than Fishers,

and this one's ten times better!"

Tommy groaned.

"I must have been drinking unawares!  Am I dreaming, Tuppence, or

do I really behold a large quantity of five-pound notes being

waved about in a dangerous fashion?"

"Even so, O King!  Now, will you come and have lunch?"

"I'll come anywhere.  But what have you been doing? Holding up
a

bank?"

"All in good time.  What an awful place Piccadilly
Circus is.

There's a huge bus bearing down on us.  It would be too terrible

if they killed the five-pound notes!"

"Grill room?" inquired Tommy, as they reached
the opposite

pavement in safety.

"The other's more expensive," demurred Tuppence.

"That's mere wicked wanton extravagance.  Come on below."

"Are you sure I can get all the things I want there?"

"That extremely unwholesome menu you were outlining
just now? Of

course you can--or as much as is good for you, anyway."

"And now tell me," said Tommy, unable to
restrain his pent-up

curiosity any longer, as they sat in state surrounded by the
many

hors d'oeuvre of Tuppence's dreams.

Miss Cowley told him.

"And the curious part of it is," she ended,
"that I really did

invent the name of Jane Finn!  I didn't want to give my own

because of poor father--in case I should get mixed up in
anything

shady."

"Perhaps that's so," said Tommy slowly.  "But you didn't invent

it."

"What?"

"No. I told it to you.  Don't you remember, I said yesterday I'd

overheard two people talking about a female called Jane Finn?

That's what brought the name into your mind so pat."

"So you did.
I remember now.  How
extraordinary----" Tuppence

tailed off into silence.
Suddenly she aroused herself.
"Tommy!"

"Yes?"

"What were they like, the two men you passed?"

Tommy frowned in an effort at remembrance.

"One was a big fat sort of chap.  Clean shaven, I think--and

dark."

"That's him," cried Tuppence, in an
ungrammatical squeal. "That's

Whittington!  What
was the other man like?"

"I can't remember.  I didn't notice him particularly. It was

really the outlandish name that caught my attention."

"And people say that coincidences don't happen!"
Tuppence tackled

her Peche Melba happily.

But Tommy had become serious.

"Look here, Tuppence, old girl, what is this going to
lead to?"

"More money," replied his companion.

"I know that.
You've only got one idea in your head. What I mean

is, what about the next step?  How are you going to keep the game

up?"

"Oh!"
Tuppence laid down her spoon.
"You're right, Tommy, it is

a bit of a poser."

"After all, you know, you can't bluff him forever.
You're sure to

slip up sooner or later.
And, anyway, I'm not at all sure that

it isn't actionable--blackmail, you know."

"Nonsense.
Blackmail is saying you'll tell unless you are given

money. Now, there's nothing I could tell, because I don't really

know anything."

"Hm," said Tommy doubtfully.  "Well, anyway, what ARE we going to

do? Whittington was in a hurry to get rid of you this morning,

but next time he'll want to know something more before he parts

with his money. He'll want to know how much YOU know, and where

you got your information from, and a lot of other things that
you

can't cope with. What are you going to do about it?"

Tuppence frowned severely.

"We must think.
Order some Turkish coffee, Tommy.
Stimulating

to the brain. Oh, dear, what a lot I have eaten!"

"You have made rather a hog of yourself!  So have I for that

matter, but I flatter myself that my choice of dishes was more

judicious than yours. Two coffees."  (This was to the waiter.)

"One Turkish, one French."

Tuppence sipped her coffee with a deeply reflective air, and

snubbed Tommy when he spoke to her.

"Be quiet.
I'm thinking."

"Shades of Pelmanism!" said Tommy, and relapsed
into silence.

"There!" said Tuppence at last.  "I've got a plan. Obviously what

we've got to do is to find out more about it all."

Tommy applauded.

"Don't jeer.
We can only find out through Whittington.  We must

discover where he lives, what he does--sleuth him, in fact! Now
I

can't do it, because he knows me, but he only saw you for a

minute or two in Lyons'.
He's not likely to recognize you. After

all, one young man is much like another."

"I repudiate that remark utterly.  I'm sure my pleasing features

and distinguished appearance would single me out from any crowd."

"My plan is this," Tuppence went on calmly,
"I'll go alone

to-morrow. I'll put him off again like I did to-day. It doesn't

matter if I don't get any more money at once. Fifty pounds ought

to last us a few days."

"Or even longer!"

"You'll hang about outside.  When I come out I shan't speak to

you in case he's watching.
But I'll take up my stand somewhere

near, and when he comes out of the building I'll drop a

handkerchief or something, and off you go!"

"Off I go where?"

"Follow him, of course, silly!  What do you think of the idea?"

"Sort of thing one reads about in books.  I somehow feel that in

real life one will feel a bit of an ass standing in the street

for hours with nothing to do.  People will wonder what I'm up

to."

"Not in the city.  Every one's in such a hurry.  Probably no one

will even notice you at all."

"That's the second time you've made that sort of
remark. Never

mind, I forgive you.
Anyway, it will be rather a lark. What are

you doing this afternoon?"

"Well," said Tuppence meditatively.  "I HAD thought of hats! Or

perhaps silk stockings!
Or perhaps----"

"Hold hard," admonished Tommy.  "There's a limit to fifty pounds!

But let's do dinner and a show to-night at all events."

"Rather."

The day passed pleasantly.
The evening even more so. Two of the

five-pound notes were now irretrievably dead.

They met by arrangement the following morning and proceeded

citywards. Tommy remained on the opposite side of the road while

Tuppence plunged into the building.

Tommy strolled slowly down to the end of the street, then back

again. Just as he came abreast of the building, Tuppence darted

across the road.

"Tommy!"

"Yes.
What's up?"

"The place is shut.  I can't make anyone hear."

"That's odd."

"Isn't it?
Come up with me, and let's try again."

Tommy followed her.
As they passed the third floor landing a

young clerk came out of an office.  He hesitated a moment, then

addressed himself to Tuppence.

"Were you wanting the Esthonia Glassware?"

"Yes, please."

"It's closed down.  Since yesterday afternoon.  Company being

wound up, they say.
Not that I've ever heard of it myself. But

anyway the office is to let."

"Th--thank you," faltered Tuppence.  "I suppose you don't know

Mr. Whittington's address?"

"Afraid I don't. They left rather suddenly."

"Thank you very much," said Tommy.  "Come on, Tuppence."

They descended to the street again where they gazed at one

another blankly.

"That's torn it," said Tommy at length.

"And I never suspected it," wailed Tuppence.

"Cheer up, old thing, it can't be helped."

"Can't it, though!"  Tuppence's little chin shot out
defiantly.

"Do you think this is the end?  If so, you're wrong. It's just

the beginning!"

"The beginning of what?"

"Of our adventure!  Tommy, don't you see, if they are scared

enough to run away like this, it shows that there must be a lot

in this Jane Finn business!
Well, we'll get to the bottom of it.

We'll run them down!
We'll be sleuths in earnest!"

"Yes, but there's no one left to sleuth."

"No, that's why we'll have to start all over again.
Lend me that

bit of pencil.  Thanks.  Wait a minute--don't interrupt.  There!"

Tuppence handed back the pencil, and surveyed the piece of paper

on which she had written with a satisfied eye:

"What's that?"

"Advertisement."

"You're not going to put that thing in after all?"

"No, it's a different one."  She handed him the slip of paper.

Tommy read the words on it aloud:

"WANTED, any information respecting Jane Finn.  Apply Y.A."

CHAPTER IV

WHO IS JANE FINN?

THE next day passed slowly.
It was necessary to curtail

expenditure. Carefully husbanded, forty pounds will last a long

time. Luckily the weather was fine, and "walking is cheap,"

dictated Tuppence.
An outlying picture house provided them with

recreation for the evening.

The day of disillusionment had been a Wednesday.  On Thursday the

advertisement had duly appeared.  On Friday letters might be

expected to arrive at Tommy's rooms.

He had been bound by an honourable promise not to open any such

letters if they did arrive, but to repair to the National

Gallery, where his colleague would meet him at ten o'clock.

Tuppence was first at the rendezvous.  She ensconced herself on a

red velvet seat, and gazed at the Turners with unseeing eyes

until she saw the familiar figure enter the room.

"Well?"

"Well," returned Mr. Beresford provokingly.  "Which is your

favourite picture?"

"Don't be a wretch.  Aren't there ANY answers?"

Tommy shook his head with a deep and somewhat overacted

melancholy.

"I didn't want to disappoint you, old thing, by
telling you right

off. It's too bad.
Good money wasted."  He
sighed.  "Still,

there it is. The advertisement has appeared, and--there are only

two answers!"

"Tommy, you devil!" almost screamed
Tuppence.  "Give them to me.

How could you be so mean!"

"Your language, Tuppence, your language!  They're very particular

at the National Gallery.
Government show, you know. And do

remember, as I have pointed out to you before, that as a

clergyman's daughter----"

"I ought to be on the stage!" finished Tuppence
with a snap.

"That is not what I intended to say.  But if you are sure that

you have enjoyed to the full the reaction of joy after despair

with which I have kindly provided you free of charge, let us get

down to our mail, as the saying goes."

Tuppence snatched the two precious envelopes from him

unceremoniously, and scrutinized them carefully.

"Thick paper, this one.  It looks rich.  We'll keep it to the

last and open the other first."

"Right you are.
One, two, three, go!"

Tuppence's little thumb ripped open the envelope, and she

extracted the contents.

"DEAR SIR,

"Referring to your advertisement in this morning's
paper, I may

be able to be of some use to you.  Perhaps you could call and see

me at the above address at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning.

"Yours
truly,

"A.
CARTER.

"27 Carshalton Gardens," said Tuppence, referring
to the address.

"That's Gloucester Road way.  Plenty of time to get there if we

tube."

"The following," said Tommy, "is the plan
of campaign. It is my

turn to assume the offensive.  Ushered into the presence of Mr.

Carter, he and I wish each other good morning as is customary.
He

then says:  'Please
take a seat, Mr.--er?'  To which I
reply

promptly and significantly:
'Edward Whittington!' whereupon Mr.

Carter turns purple in the face and gasps out: 'How much?'

Pocketing the usual fee of fifty pounds, I rejoin you in the
road

outside, and we proceed to the next address and repeat the

performance."

"Don't be absurd, Tommy.  Now for the other letter.  Oh, this is

from the Ritz!"

"A hundred pounds instead of fifty!"

"I'll read it:

"DEAR SIR,

"Re your advertisement, I should be glad if you would
call round

somewhere about lunch-time.

"Yours truly,

"JULIUS
P. HERSHEIMMER."

"Ha!" said Tommy.  "Do I smell a Boche?  Or only an American

millionaire of unfortunate ancestry?  At all events we'll call at

lunch-time. It's a good time--frequently leads to free food for

two."

Tuppence nodded assent.

"Now for Carter.
We'll have to hurry."

Carshalton Terrace proved to be an unimpeachable row of what

Tuppence called "ladylike looking houses." They rang
the bell at

No. 27, and a neat maid answered the door. She looked so

respectable that Tuppence's heart sank. Upon Tommy's request for

Mr. Carter, she showed them into a small study on the ground

floor where she left them. Hardly a minute elapsed, however,

before the door opened, and a tall man with a lean hawklike face

and a tired manner entered the room.

"Mr. Y. A.?" he said, and smiled.  His smile was distinctly

attractive. "Do sit down, both of you."

They obeyed.  He
himself took a chair opposite to Tuppence and

smiled at her encouragingly.  There was something in the quality

of his smile that made the girl's usual readiness desert her.

As he did not seem inclined to open the conversation, Tuppence

was forced to begin.

"We wanted to know--that is, would you be so kind as
to tell us

anything you know about Jane Finn?"

"Jane Finn?
Ah!"  Mr. Carter
appeared to reflect. "Well, the

question is, what do you know about her?"

Tuppence drew herself up.

"I don't see that that's got anything to do with it."

"No?  But
it has, you know, really it has."
He smiled again in

his tired way, and continued reflectively.  "So that brings us

down to it again. What do you know about Jane Finn?

"Come now," he continued, as Tuppence remained
silent. "You must

know SOMETHING to have advertised as you did?"  He leaned forward

a little, his weary voice held a hint of persuasiveness.
"Suppose

you tell me . .
."

There was something very magnetic about Mr. Carter's personality.

Tuppence seemed to shake herself free of it with an effort, as

she said:

"We couldn't do that, could we, Tommy?"

But to her surprise, her companion did not back her up. His eyes

were fixed on Mr. Carter, and his tone when he spoke held an

unusual note of deference.

"I dare say the little we know won't be any good to
you, sir. But

such as it is, you're welcome to it."

"Tommy!" cried out Tuppence in surprise.

Mr. Carter slewed round in his chair.  His eyes asked a question.

Tommy nodded.

"Yes, sir, I recognized you at once.  Saw you in France when I

was with the Intelligence.
As soon as you came into the room, I

knew----"

Mr. Carter held up his hand.

"No names, please.  I'm known as Mr. Carter here.  It's my

cousin's house, by the way.
She's willing to lend it to me

sometimes when it's a case of working on strictly unofficial

lines.  Well,
now"--he looked from one to the other--"who's going

to tell me the story?"

"Fire ahead, Tuppence," directed Tommy.  "It's your yarn."

"Yes, little lady, out with it."

And obediently Tuppence did out with it, telling the whole story

from the forming of the Young Adventurers, Ltd., downwards.

Mr. Carter listened in silence with a resumption of his tired

manner. Now and then he passed his hand across his lips as
though

to hide a smile. When she had finished he nodded gravely.

"Not much.
But suggestive.  Quite
suggestive. If you'll excuse

my saying so, you're a curious young couple. I don't know--you

might succeed where others have failed . . . I believe in luck,

you know--always have...."

He paused a moment, and then went on.

"Well, how about it?  You're out for adventure.  How would you

like to work for me?
All quite unofficial, you know. Expenses

paid, and a moderate screw?"

Tuppence gazed at him, her lips parted, her eyes growing wider

and wider.

"What should we have to do?" she breathed.

Mr. Carter smiled.

"Just go on with what you're doing now.  FIND JANE FINN."

"Yes, but--who IS Jane Finn?"

Mr. Carter nodded gravely.

"Yes, you're entitled to know that, I think."

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, brought the tips

of his fingers together, and began in a low monotone:

"Secret diplomacy (which, by the way, is nearly
always bad

policy!) does not concern you.  It will be sufficient to say that

in the early days of 1915 a certain document came into being. It

was the draft of a secret agreement--treaty--call it what you

like. It was drawn up ready for signature by the various

representatives, and drawn up in America--at that time a neutral

country. It was dispatched to England by a special messenger

selected for that purpose, a young fellow called Danvers.  It was

hoped that the whole affair had been kept so secret that nothing

would have leaked out.
That kind of hope is usually

disappointed. Somebody always talks!

"Danvers sailed for England on the Lusitania.  He carried the

precious papers in an oilskin packet which he wore next his skin.

It was on that particular voyage that the Lusitania was torpedoed

and sunk. Danvers
was among the list of those missing.

Eventually his body was washed ashore, and identified beyond any

possible doubt. But the oilskin packet was missing!

"The question was, had it been taken from him, or had
he himself

passed it on into another's keeping?  There were a few incidents

that strengthened the possibility of the latter theory. After
the

torpedo struck the ship, in the few moments during the launching

of the boats, Danvers
was seen speaking to a young American girl.

No one actually saw him pass anything to her, but he might have

done so. It seems to me quite likely that he entrusted the
papers

to this girl, believing that she, as a woman, had a greater

chance of bringing them safely to shore.

"But if so, where was the girl, and what had she done
with the

papers? By later advice from America it seemed likely that

Danvers had been closely shadowed
on the way over.  Was this girl

in league with his enemies? Or had she, in her turn, been

shadowed and either tricked or forced into handing over the

precious packet?

"We set to work to trace her out.  It proved unexpectedly

difficult. Her name was Jane Finn, and it duly appeared among
the

list of the survivors, but the girl herself seemed to have

vanished completely. Inquiries into her antecedents did little
to

help us.  She was an
orphan, and had been what we should call

over here a pupil teacher in a small school out West.  Her

passport had been made out for Paris, where she was going to join

the staff of a hospital.
She had offered her services

voluntarily, and after some correspondence they had been

accepted. Having seen her name in the list of the saved from the

Lusitania, the staff of the hospital
were naturally very

surprised at her not arriving to take up her billet, and at not

hearing from her in any way.

"Well, every effort was made to trace the young
lady--but all in

vain. We tracked her across Ireland, but nothing could be heard

of her after she set foot in England.  No use was made of the

draft treaty--as might very easily have been done--and we

therefore came to the conclusion that Danvers had, after all,

destroyed it. The war entered on another phase, the diplomatic

aspect changed accordingly, and the treaty was never redrafted.

Rumours as to its existence were emphatically denied. The

disappearance of Jane Finn was forgotten and the whole affair
was

lost in oblivion."

Mr. Carter paused, and Tuppence broke in impatiently:

"But why has it all cropped up again?  The war's over."

A hint of alertness came into Mr. Carter's manner.

"Because it seems that the papers were not destroyed
after all,

and that they might be resurrected to-day with a new and deadly

significance."

Tuppence stared.  Mr.
Carter nodded.

"Yes, five years ago, that draft treaty was a weapon
in our

hands; to-day it is a weapon against us.  It was a gigantic

blunder. If its terms were made public, it would mean

disaster.... It might possibly bring about another war--not with

Germany this time! That is an
extreme possibility, and I do not

believe in its likelihood myself, but that document undoubtedly

implicates a number of our statesmen whom we cannot afford to

have discredited in any way at the present moment.  As a party

cry for Labour it would be irresistible, and a Labour Government

at this juncture would, in my opinion, be a grave disability for

British trade, but that is a mere nothing to the REAL danger."

He paused, and then said quietly:

"You may perhaps have heard or read that there is
Bolshevist

influence at work behind the present Labour unrest?"

Tuppence nodded.

"That is the truth.  Bolshevist gold is pouring into this
country

for the specific purpose of procuring a Revolution.  And there is

a certain man, a man whose real name is unknown to us, who is

working in the dark for his own ends. The Bolshevists are behind

the Labour unrest--but this man is BEHIND THE BOLSHEVISTS.  Who

is he?  We do not
know. He is always spoken of by the unassuming

title of 'Mr. Brown.'
But one thing is certain, he is the master

criminal of this age. He controls a marvellous organization.

Most of the Peace propaganda during the war was originated and

financed by him. His spies are everywhere."

"A naturalized German?" asked Tommy.

"On the contrary, I have every reason to believe he
is an

Englishman.  He was
pro-German, as he would have been pro-Boer.

What he seeks to attain we do not know--probably supreme power

for himself, of a kind unique in history. We have no clue as to

his real personality.
It is reported that even his own followers

are ignorant of it.
Where we have come across his tracks, he has

always played a secondary part.  Somebody else assumes the chief

role. But afterwards we always find that there has been some

nonentity, a servant or a clerk, who has remained in the

background unnoticed, and that the elusive Mr. Brown has escaped

us once more."

"Oh!"
Tuppence jumped.  "I
wonder----"

"Yes?"

"I remember in Mr. Whittington's office.  The clerk--he called

him Brown.  You don't
think----"

Carter nodded thoughtfully.

"Very likely.
A curious point is that the name is usually

mentioned. An idiosyncrasy of genius.  Can you describe him at

all?"

"I really didn't notice.  He was quite ordinary--just like anyone

else."

Mr. Carter sighed in his tired manner.

"That is the invariable description of Mr.
Brown!  Brought a

telephone message to the man Whittington, did he? Notice a

telephone in the outer office?"

Tuppence thought.

"No, I don't think I did."

"Exactly.
That 'message' was Mr. Brown's way of giving an order

to his subordinate.
He overheard the whole conversation of

course. Was it after that that Whittington handed you over the

money, and told you to come the following day?"

Tuppence nodded.

"Yes, undoubtedly the hand of Mr. Brown!"  Mr. Carter paused.

"Well, there it is, you see what you are pitting
yourselves

against? Possibly the finest criminal brain of the age.  I don't

quite like it, you know.
You're such young things, both of you.

I shouldn't like anything to happen to you."

"It won't," Tuppence assured him positively.

"I'll look after her, sir," said Tommy.

"And I'll look after YOU," retorted Tuppence,
resenting the manly

assertion.

"Well, then, look after each other," said Mr.
Carter, smiling.

"Now let's get back to business.  There's something mysterious

about this draft treaty that we haven't fathomed yet. We've been

threatened with it--in plain and unmistakable terms. The

Revolutionary element as good as declare that it's in their

hands, and that they intend to produce it at a given
moment.  On

the other hand, they are clearly at fault about many of its

provisions. The Government consider it as mere bluff on their

part, and, rightly or wrongly, have stuck to the policy of

absolute denial. I'm not so sure.  There have been hints,

indiscreet allusions, that seem to indicate that the menace is a

real one.  The
position is much as though they had got hold of an

incriminating document, but couldn't read it because it was in

cipher--but we know that the draft treaty wasn't in

cipher--couldn't be in the nature of things--so that won't wash.

But there's SOMETHING.
Of course, Jane Finn may be dead for all

we know--but I don't think so. The curious thing is that THEY'RE

TRYING TO GET INFORMATION ABOUT THE GIRL FROM US"

"What?"

"Yes.  One
or two little things have cropped up.
And your story,

little lady, confirms my idea.  They know we're looking for Jane

Finn.  Well, they'll
produce a Jane Finn of their own--say at a

pensionnat in Paris."  Tuppence gasped, and Mr. Carter smiled.

"No one knows in the least what she looks like, so
that's all

right. She's primed with a trumped-up tale, and her real
business

is to get as much information as possible out of us. See the

idea?"

"Then you think"--Tuppence paused to grasp the
supposition

fully--"that it WAS as Jane Finn that they wanted me to go
to

Paris?"

Mr. Carter smiled more wearily than ever.

"I believe in coincidences, you know," he said.

CHAPTER V

MR.  JULIUS P.
HERSHEIMMER

"WELL," said Tuppence, recovering herself,
"it really seems as

though it were meant to be."

Carter nodded.

"I know what you mean.  I'm superstitious myself.  Luck, and all

that sort of thing.
Fate seems to have chosen you out to be

mixed up in this."

Tommy indulged in a chuckle.

"My word!
I don't wonder Whittington got the wind up when

Tuppence plumped out that name!  I should have myself. But look

here, sir, we're taking up an awful lot of your time. Have you

any tips to give us before we clear out?"

"I think not.
My experts, working in stereotyped ways, have

failed. You will bring imagination and an open mind to the task.

Don't be discouraged if that too does not succeed. For one thing

there is a likelihood of the pace being forced."

Tuppence frowned uncomprehendingly.

"When you had that interview with Whittington, they
had time

before them. I have information that the big coup was planned
for

early in the new year. But the Government is contemplating

legislative action which will deal effectually with the strike

menace.  They'll get
wind of it soon, if they haven't already,

and it's possible that that may bring things to a head. I hope
it

will myself.  The
less time they have to mature their plans the

better.  I'm just
warning you that you haven't much time before

you, and that you needn't be cast down if you fail.  It's not an

easy proposition anyway.
That's all."

Tuppence rose.

"I think we ought to be businesslike.  What exactly can we count

upon you for, Mr. Carter?"  Mr. Carter's lips twitched slightly,

but he replied succinctly:
"Funds within reason, detailed

information on any point, and NO OFFICIAL RECOGNITION.  I mean

that if you get yourselves into trouble with the police, I can't

officially help you out of it. You're on your own."

Tuppence nodded sagely.

"I quite understand that.  I'll write out a list of the things I

want to know when I've had time to think.  Now--about money----"

"Yes, Miss Tuppence.  Do you want to say how much?"

"Not exactly.
We've got plenty to go with for the present, but

when we want more----"

"It will be waiting for you."

"Yes, but--I'm sure I don't want to be rude about the
Government

if you've got anything to do with it, but you know one really
has

the devil of a time getting anything out of it! And if we have
to

fill up a blue form and send it in, and then, after three months,

they send us a green one, and so on--well, that won't be much

use, will it?"

Mr. Carter laughed outright.

"Don't worry, Miss Tuppence.  You will send a personal demand to

me here, and the money, in notes, shall be sent by return of

post. As to salary, shall we say at the rate of three hundred a

year? And an equal sum for Mr. Beresford, of course."

Tuppence beamed upon him.

"How lovely.
You are kind.  I do love
money!  I'll keep

beautiful accounts of our expenses all debit and credit, and the

balance on the right side, and red line drawn sideways with the

totals the same at the bottom. I really know how to do it when I

think."

"I'm sure you do.  Well, good-bye, and good luck to you
both."

He shook hands with them, and in another minute they were

descending the steps of 27 Carshalton Terrace with their heads
in

a whirl.

"Tommy!
Tell me at once, who is 'Mr. Carter'?"

Tommy murmured a name in her ear.

"Oh!" said Tuppence, impressed.

"And I can tell you, old bean, he's IT!"

"Oh!" said Tuppence again.  Then she added reflectively,

"I like him, don't you?  He looks so awfully tired and bored, and

yet you feel that underneath he's just like steel, all keen and

flashing.
Oh!"  She gave a
skip.  "Pinch me, Tommy, do
pinch me.

I can't believe it's real!"

Mr. Beresford obliged.

"Ow!
That's enough!  Yes, we're
not dreaming.  We've got a job!"

"And what a job!
The joint venture has really begun."

"It's more respectable than I thought it would
be," said Tuppence

thoughtfully.

"Luckily I haven't got your craving for crime!  What time is it?

Let's have lunch--oh!"

The same thought sprang to the minds of each.  Tommy voiced it

first.

"Julius P. Hersheimmer!"

"We never told Mr. Carter about hearing from him."

"Well, there wasn't much to tell--not till we've seen
him. Come

on, we'd better take a taxi."

"Now who's being extravagant?"

"All expenses paid, remember.  Hop in."

"At any rate, we shall make a better effect arriving
this way,"

said Tuppence, leaning back luxuriously.  "I'm sure blackmailers

never arrive in buses!"

"We've ceased being blackmailers," Tommy pointed
out.

"I'm not sure I have," said Tuppence darkly.

On inquiring for Mr. Hersheimmer, they were at once taken up to

his suite. An impatient voice cried "Come in" in
answer to the

page-boy's knock, and the lad stood aside to let them pass in.

Mr. Julius P. Hersheimmer was a great deal younger than either

Tommy or Tuppence had pictured him.  The girl put him down as

thirty-five. He was of middle height, and squarely built to
match

his jaw.  His face
was pugnacious but pleasant. No one could have

mistaken him for anything but an American, though he spoke with

very little accent.

"Get my note?
Sit down and tell me right away all you know about

my cousin."

"Your cousin?"

"Sure thing.
Jane Finn."

"Is she your cousin?"

"My father and her mother were brother and
sister," explained Mr.

Hersheimmer meticulously.

"Oh!" cried Tuppence.  "Then you know where she is?"

"No!"
Mr. Hersheimmer brought down his fist with a bang on the

table. "I'm darned if I do!  Don't you?"

"We advertised to receive information, not to give
it," said

Tuppence severely.

"I guess I know that.  I can read.  But I thought maybe it was

her back history you were after, and that you'd know where she

was now?"

"Well, we wouldn't mind hearing her back
history," said Tuppence

guardedly.

But Mr. Hersheimmer seemed to grow suddenly suspicious.

"See here," he declared.  "This isn't Sicily!
No demanding

ransom or threatening to crop her ears if I refuse. These are
the

British Isles, so quit the funny
business, or I'll just sing out

for that beautiful big British policeman I see out there in

Piccadilly."

Tommy hastened to explain.

"We haven't kidnapped your cousin.  On the contrary, we're trying

to find her.  We're
employed to do so."

Mr. Hersheimmer leant back in his chair.

"Put me wise," he said succinctly.

Tommy fell in with this demand in so far as he gave him a
guarded

version of the disappearance of Jane Finn, and of the
possibility

of her having been mixed up unawares in "some political
show." He

alluded to Tuppence and himself as "private inquiry agents"

commissioned to find her, and added that they would therefore be

glad of any details Mr. Hersheimmer could give them.

That gentleman nodded approval.

"I guess that's all right.  I was just a mite hasty. But London

gets my goat!  I only
know little old New York.  Just trot out

your questions and I'll answer."

For the moment this paralysed the Young Adventurers, but

Tuppence, recovering herself, plunged boldly into the breach
with

a reminiscence culled from detective fiction.

"When did you last see the dece--your cousin, I mean?"

"Never seen her," responded Mr. Hersheimmer.

"What?" demanded Tommy, astonished.

Hersheimmer turned to him.

"No, sir.
As I said before, my father and her mother were

brother and sister, just as you might be"--Tommy did not
correct

this view of their relationship--"but they didn't always
get on

together. And when my aunt made up her mind to marry Amos Finn,

who was a poor school teacher out West, my father was just mad!

Said if he made his pile, as he seemed in a fair way to do,
she'd

never see a cent of it.
Well, the upshot was that Aunt Jane went

out West and we never heard from her again.

"The old man DID pile it up.  He went into oil, and he went into

steel, and he played a bit with railroads, and I can tell you he

made Wall Street sit up!"  He paused.  "Then he died--last

fall--and I got the dollars.  Well, would you believe it, my

conscience got busy!
Kept knocking me up and saying: What

abour{sic} your
Aunt Jane, way out West?  It worried
me some. You

see, I figured it out that Amos Finn would never make good. He

wasn't the sort.  End
of it was, I hired a man to hunt her down.

Result, she was dead, and Amos Finn was dead, but they'd left a

daughter--Jane--who'd been torpedoed in the Lusitania on her way

to Paris.  She was saved all right, but they didn't
seem able to

hear of her over this side. I guessed they weren't hustling any,

so I thought I'd come along over, and speed things up.  I phoned

Scotland Yard and the Admiralty first thing.  The Admiralty

rather choked me off, but Scotland Yard were very civil--said

they would make inquiries, even sent a man round this morning to

get her photograph. I'm off to Paris to-morrow, just to see what

the Prefecture is doing. I guess if I go to and fro hustling

them, they ought to get busy!"

The energy of Mr. Hersheimmer was tremendous.  They bowed before

it.

"But say now," he ended, "you're not after
her for anything?

Contempt of court, or something British?  A proud-spirited young

American girl might find your rules and regulations in war time

rather irksome, and get up against it.  If that's the case, and

there's such a thing as graft in this country, I'll buy her off."

Tuppence reassured him.

"That's good.
Then we can work together.
What about some lunch?

Shall we have it up here, or go down to the restaurant?"

Tuppence expressed a preference for the latter, and Julius bowed

to her decision.

Oysters had just given place to Sole Colbert when a card was

brought to Hersheimmer.

"Inspector Japp, C.I.D. Scotland Yard again.  Another man this

time. What does he expect I can tell him that I didn't tell the

first chap?  I hope
they haven't lost that photograph. That

Western photographer's place was burned down and all his

negatives destroyed--this is the only copy in existence. I got
it

from the principal of the college there."

An unformulated dread swept over Tuppence.

"You--you don't know the name of the man who came
this morning?"

"Yes, I do.
No, I don't. Half a second.
It was on his card.

Oh, I know! Inspector Brown.  Quiet, unassuming sort of chap."

CHAPTER VI

A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN

A veil might with profit be drawn over the events of the next

half-hour. Suffice it to say that no such person as
"Inspector

Brown" was known to Scotland Yard.  The photograph of Jane Finn,

which would have been of the utmost value to the police in

tracing her, was lost beyond recovery. Once again "Mr.
Brown" had

triumphed.

The immediate result of this set back was to effect a

rapprochement between Julius Hersheimmer and the Young

Adventurers.  All
barriers went down with a crash, and Tommy and

Tuppence felt they had known the young American all their lives.

They abandoned the discreet reticence of "private inquiry

agents," and revealed to him the whole history of the joint

venture, whereat the young man declared himself "tickled to

death."

He turned to Tuppence at the close of the narration.

"I've always had a kind of idea that English girls
were just a

mite moss-grown. Old-fashioned and sweet, you know, but scared
to

move round without a footman or a maiden aunt. I guess I'm a bit

behind the times!"

The upshot of these confidential relations was that Tommy and

Tuppence took up their abode forthwith at the Ritz, in order, as

Tuppence put it, to keep in touch with Jane Finn's only living

relation. "And put like that," she added
confidentially to Tommy,

"nobody could boggle at the expense!"

Nobody did, which was the great thing.

"And now," said the young lady on the morning
after their

installation, "to work!"

Mr. Beresford put down the Daily Mail, which he was reading, and

applauded with somewhat unnecessary vigour.  He was politely

requested by his colleague not to be an ass.

"Dash it all, Tommy, we've got to DO something for
our money."

Tommy sighed.

"Yes, I fear even the dear old Government will not
support us at

the Ritz in idleness for ever."

"Therefore, as I said before, we must DO something."

"Well," said Tommy, picking up the Daily Mail
again, "DO it. I

shan't stop you."

"You see," continued Tuppence.  "I've been thinking----"

She was interrupted by a fresh bout of applause.

"It's all very well for you to sit there being funny,
Tommy.  It

would do you no harm to do a little brain work too."

"My union, Tuppence, my union!  It does not permit me to work

before 11 a.m."

"Tommy, do you want something thrown at you?  It is absolutely

essential that we should without delay map out a plan of

campaign."

"Hear, hear!"

"Well, let's do it."

Tommy laid his paper finally aside.  "There's something of the

simplicity of the truly great mind about you, Tuppence.  Fire

ahead.  I'm listening."

"To begin with," said Tuppence, "what have
we to go upon?"

"Absolutely nothing," said Tommy cheerily.

"Wrong!"
Tuppence wagged an energetic finger.  "We have two

distinct clues."

"What are they?"

"First clue, we know one of the gang."

"Whittington?"

"Yes.  I'd
recognize him anywhere."

"Hum," said Tommy doubtfully, "I don't call
that much of a clue.

You don't know where to look for him, and it's about a thousand

to one against your running against him by accident."

"I'm not so sure about that," replied Tuppence
thoughtfully.

"I've often noticed that once coincidences start
happening they

go on happening in the most extraordinary way. I dare say it's

some natural law that we haven't found out. Still, as you say,
we

can't rely on that.
But there ARE places in London
where simply

every one is bound to turn up sooner or later. Piccadilly
Circus,

for instance.  One of
my ideas was to take up my stand there

every day with a tray of flags."

"What about meals?" inquired the practical Tommy.

"How like a man!
What does mere food matter?"

"That's all very well.  You've just had a thundering good

breakfast. No one's got a better appetite than you have,

Tuppence, and by tea-time you'd be eating the flags, pins and

all.  But, honestly,
I don't think much of the idea.
Whittington

mayn't be in London
at all."

"That's true.
Anyway, I think clue No. 2 is more promising."

"Let's hear it."

"It's nothing much.  Only a Christian name--Rita.  Whittington

mentioned it that day."

"Are you proposing a third advertisement:  Wanted, female crook,

answering to the name of Rita?"

"I am not.
I propose to reason in a logical manner. That man,

Danvers, was shadowed on the way
over, wasn't he? And it's more

likely to have been a woman than a man----"

"I don't see that at all."

"I am absolutely certain that it would be a woman,
and a

good-looking one," replied Tuppence calmly.

"On these technical points I bow to your
decision," murmured Mr.

Beresford.

"Now, obviously this woman, whoever she was, was
saved."

"How do you make that out?"

"If she wasn't, how would they have known Jane Finn
had got the

papers?"

"Correct.
Proceed, O Sherlock!"

"Now there's just a chance, I admit it's only a
chance, that this

woman may have been 'Rita.' "

"And if so?"

"If so, we've got to hunt through the survivors of
the Lusitania

till we find her."

"Then the first thing is to get a list of the
survivors."

"I've got it.
I wrote a long list of things I wanted to know,

and sent it to Mr. Carter.
I got his reply this morning, and

among other things it encloses the official statement of those

saved from the Lusitania.  How's that for clever little

Tuppence?"

"Full marks for industry, zero for modesty.  But the great point

is, is there a 'Rita' on the list?"

"That's just what I don't know," confessed
Tuppence.

"Don't know?"

"Yes.
Look here."  Together
they bent over the list. "You see,

very few Christian names are given.  They're nearly all Mrs. or

Miss."

Tommy nodded.

"That complicates matters," he murmured
thoughtfully.

Tuppence gave her characteristic "terrier" shake.

"Well, we've just got to get down to it, that's all.
We'll start

with the London
area.  Just note down the addresses
of any of the

females who live in London
or roundabout, while I put on my hat."

Five minutes later the young couple emerged into Piccadilly, and

a few seconds later a taxi was bearing them to The Laurels,

Glendower Road, N.7, the residence of Mrs.
Edgar Keith, whose

name figured first in a list of seven reposing in Tommy's

pocket-book.

The Laurels was a dilapidated house, standing back from the road

with a few grimy bushes to support the fiction of a front garden.

Tommy paid off the taxi, and accompanied Tuppence to the front

door bell. As she was about to ring it, he arrested her hand.

"What are you going to say?"

"What am I going to say?  Why, I shall say--Oh dear, I don't

know. It's very awkward."

"I thought as much," said Tommy with
satisfaction. "How like a

woman!  No
foresight!  Now just stand aside,
and see how easily

the mere male deals with the situation." He pressed the
bell.

Tuppence withdrew to a suitable spot.

A slatternly looking servant, with an extremely dirty face and a

pair of eyes that did not match, answered the door.

Tommy had produced a notebook and pencil.

"Good morning," he said briskly and
cheerfully.  "From the

Hampstead Borough Council.
The new Voting Register.
Mrs. Edgar

Project to find use of may in
Agatha Chtistie

1      Wait--I must warn you.  There may be
a risk--if I've been follow

2      nt in this
morning's paper, I may be able to be of some use
to y

3      ETHING.  Of course, Jane Finn may be
dead for all we know--but I

4      othing--except
that I think I may be of some use to you."  Anoth

5      , and it's
possible that that may bring things to a head. I
hope

6       renew his
subscription.  "It may
catch him," she murmured.
"An

7      S LIVES IN THE
HOPE THAT THEY MAY EXPERIENCE AT SECOND HAND THE

8      nly a chance,
that this woman may have been 'Rita.' "  "And if s

9
"Excuse me," it said.
"But may I speak to you for a
moment?"

10     e's to our joint
venture, and may it prosper!"  "The Young Adven

11     itally important
papers. They may make all the difference to the

12      and then said
quietly:  "You may
perhaps have heard or read tha

13     as 2 p.m. on the
afternoon of May 7, 1915.  The Lusitania had be