The Secret Adversary
“Do you think I’m afraid?” said Tuppence indignantly, valiantly
repressing memories of the steely glitter in Mrs. Vandemeyer’s eyes.
“I said before you were darned plucky. But that doesn’t alter facts.”
“Oh, bother _me!_” said Tuppence impatiently. “Let’s think about what
can have happened to Tommy. I’ve written to Mr. Carter about it,” she
added, and told him the gist of her letter.
Julius nodded gravely.
“I guess that’s good as far as it goes. But it’s for us to get busy and
do something.”
“What can we do?” asked Tuppence, her spirits rising.
“I guess we’d better get on the track of Boris. You say he’s been to
your place. Is he likely to come again?”
“He might. I really don’t know.”
“I see. Well, I guess I’d better buy a car, a slap-up one, dress as a
chauffeur and hang about outside. Then if Boris comes, you could make
some kind of signal, and I’d trail him. How’s that?”
“Splendid, but he mightn’t come for weeks.”
“We’ll have to chance that. I’m glad you like the plan.” He rose.
“Where are you going?”
“To buy the car, of course,” replied Julius, surprised. “What make do
you like? I guess you’ll do some riding in it before we’ve finished.”
“Oh,” said Tuppence faintly, “I _like_ Rolls-Royces, but----”
“Sure,” agreed Julius. “What you say goes. I’ll get one.”
“But you can’t at once,” cried Tuppence. “People wait ages sometimes.”
“Little Julius doesn’t,” affirmed Mr. Hersheimmer. “Don’t you worry any.
I’ll be round in the car in half an hour.”
Tuppence got up.
“You’re awfully good, Julius. But I can’t help feeling that it’s rather
a forlorn hope. I’m really pinning my faith to Mr. Carter.”
“Then I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Just an idea of mine.”
“Oh; but he must do something. There’s no one else. By the way, I forgot
to tell you of a queer thing that happened this morning.”
And she narrated her encounter with Sir James Peel Edgerton. Julius was
interested.
“What did the guy mean, do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t quite know,” said Tuppence meditatively. “But I think that, in
an ambiguous, legal, without prejudishish lawyer’s way, he was trying to
warn me.”
“Why should he?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Tuppence. “But he looked kind, and
simply awfully clever. I wouldn’t mind going to him and telling him
everything.”
Somewhat to her surprise, Julius negatived the idea sharply.
“See here,” he said, “we don’t want any lawyers mixed up in this. That
guy couldn’t help us any.”
“Well, I believe he could,” reiterated Tuppence obstinately.
“Don’t you think it. So long. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Thirty-five minutes had elapsed when Julius returned. He took Tuppence
by the arm, and walked her to the window.
“There she is.”
“Oh!” said Tuppence with a note of reverence in her voice, as she gazed
down at the enormous car.
“She’s some pace-maker, I can tell you,” said Julius complacently.
“How did you get it?” gasped Tuppence.
“She was just being sent home to some bigwig.”
“Well?”
“I went round to his house,” said Julius. “I said that I reckoned a car
like that was worth every penny of twenty thousand dollars. Then I told
him that it was worth just about fifty thousand dollars to me if he’d
get out.”
“Well?” said Tuppence, intoxicated.
“Well,” returned Julius, “he got out, that’s all.”
CHAPTER XII. A FRIEND IN NEED
FRIDAY and Saturday passed uneventfully. Tuppence had received a brief
answer to her appeal from Mr. Carter. In it he pointed out that the
Young Adventurers had undertaken the work at their own risk, and had
been fully warned of the dangers. If anything had happened to Tommy he
regretted it deeply, but he could do nothing.
This was cold comfort. Somehow, without Tommy, all the savour went out
of the adventure, and, for the first time, Tuppence felt doubtful of
success. While they had been together she had never questioned it for
a minute. Although she was accustomed to take the lead, and to pride
herself on her quick-wittedness, in reality she had relied upon Tommy
more than she realized at the time. There was something so eminently
sober and clear-headed about him, his common sense and soundness of
vision were so unvarying, that without him Tuppence felt much like a
rudderless ship. It was curious that Julius, who was undoubtedly much
cleverer than Tommy, did not give her the same feeling of support. She
had accused Tommy of being a pessimist, and it is certain that he
always saw the disadvantages and difficulties which she herself was
optimistically given to overlooking, but nevertheless she had really
relied a good deal on his judgment. He might be slow, but he was very
sure.
It seemed to the girl that, for the first time, she realized the
sinister character of the mission they had undertaken so lightheartedly.
It had begun like a page of romance. Now, shorn of its glamour, it
seemed to be turning to grim reality. Tommy--that was all that mattered.
Many times in the day Tuppence blinked the tears out of her eyes
resolutely. “Little fool,” she would apostrophize herself, “don’t
snivel. Of course you’re fond of him. You’ve known him all your life.
But there’s no need to be sentimental about it.”
In the meantime, nothing more was seen of Boris. He did not come to the
flat, and Julius and the car waited in vain. Tuppence gave herself over
to new meditations. Whilst admitting the truth of Julius’s objections,
she had nevertheless not entirely relinquished the idea of appealing to
Sir James Peel Edgerton. Indeed, she had gone so far as to look up his
address in the _Red Book_. Had he meant to warn her that day? If so,
why? Surely she was at least entitled to demand an explanation. He had
looked at her so kindly. Perhaps he might tell them something concerning
Mrs. Vandemeyer which might lead to a clue to Tommy’s whereabouts.
Anyway, Tuppence decided, with her usual shake of the shoulders, it was
worth trying, and try it she would. Sunday was her afternoon out. She
would meet Julius, persuade him to her point of view, and they would
beard the lion in his den.
When the day arrived Julius needed a considerable amount of persuading,
but Tuppence held firm. “It can do no harm,” was what she always came
back to. In the end Julius gave in, and they proceeded in the car to
Carlton House Terrace.
The door was opened by an irreproachable butler. Tuppence felt a little
nervous. After all, perhaps it _was_ colossal cheek on her part. She
had decided not to ask if Sir James was “at home,” but to adopt a more
personal attitude.
“Will you ask Sir James if I can see him for a few minutes? I have an
important message for him.”
The butler retired, returning a moment or two later.
“Sir James will see you. Will you step this way?”
He ushered them into a room at the back of the house, furnished as a
library. The collection of books was a magnificent one, and Tuppence
noticed that all one wall was devoted to works on crime and criminology.
There were several deep-padded leather arm-chairs, and an old-fashioned
open hearth. In the window was a big roll-top desk strewn with papers at
which the master of the house was sitting.
He rose as they entered.
“You have a message for me? Ah”--he recognized Tuppence with a
smile--“it’s you, is it? Brought a message from Mrs. Vandemeyer, I
suppose?”
“Not exactly,” said Tuppence. “In fact, I’m afraid I only said that to
be quite sure of getting in. Oh, by the way, this is Mr. Hersheimmer,
Sir James Peel Edgerton.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said the American, shooting out a hand.
“Won’t you both sit down?” asked Sir James. He drew forward two chairs.
“Sir James,” said Tuppence, plunging boldly, “I dare say you will think
it is most awful cheek of me coming here like this. Because, of course,
it’s nothing whatever to do with you, and then you’re a very important
person, and of course Tommy and I are very unimportant.” She paused for
breath.
“Tommy?” queried Sir James, looking across at the American.
“No, that’s Julius,” explained Tuppence. “I’m rather nervous, and that
makes me tell it badly. What I really want to know is what you meant by
what you said to me the other day? Did you mean to warn me against Mrs.
Vandemeyer? You did, didn’t you?”
“My dear young lady, as far as I recollect I only mentioned that there
were equally good situations to be obtained elsewhere.”
“Yes, I know. But it was a hint, wasn’t it?”
“Well, perhaps it was,” admitted Sir James gravely.
“Well, I want to know more. I want to know just _why_ you gave me a
hint.”
Sir James smiled at her earnestness.
“Suppose the lady brings a libel action against me for defamation of
character?”
“Of course,” said Tuppence. “I know lawyers are always dreadfully
careful. But can’t we say ‘without prejudice’ first, and then say just
what we want to.”
“Well,” said Sir James, still smiling, “without prejudice, then, if I
had a young sister forced to earn her living, I should not like to see
her in Mrs. Vandemeyer’s service. I felt it incumbent on me just to give
you a hint. It is no place for a young and inexperienced girl. That is
all I can tell you.”
“I see,” said Tuppence thoughtfully. “Thank you very much. But I’m not
_really_ inexperienced, you know. I knew perfectly that she was a bad
lot when I went there--as a matter of fact that’s _why_ I went----” She
broke off, seeing some bewilderment on the lawyer’s face, and went on:
“I think perhaps I’d better tell you the whole story, Sir James. I’ve a
sort of feeling that you’d know in a minute if I didn’t tell the truth,
and so you might as well know all about it from the beginning. What do
you think, Julius?”
“As you’re bent on it, I’d go right ahead with the facts,” replied the
American, who had so far sat in silence.
“Yes, tell me all about it,” said Sir James. “I want to know who Tommy
is.”
Thus encouraged Tuppence plunged into her tale, and the lawyer listened
with close attention.
“Very interesting,” he said, when she finished. “A great deal of what
you tell me, child, is already known to me. I’ve had certain theories
of my own about this Jane Finn. You’ve done extraordinarily well so
far, but it’s rather too bad of--what do you know him as?--Mr. Carter to
pitchfork you two young things into an affair of this kind. By the
way, where did Mr. Hersheimmer come in originally? You didn’t make that
clear?”
Julius answered for himself.
“I’m Jane’s first cousin,” he explained, returning the lawyer’s keen
gaze.
“Ah!”
“Oh, Sir James,” broke out Tuppence, “what do you think has become of
Tommy?”
“H’m.” The lawyer rose, and paced slowly up and down. “When you arrived,
young lady, I was just packing up my traps. Going to Scotland by the
night train for a few days’ fishing. But there are different kinds of
fishing. I’ve a good mind to stay, and see if we can’t get on the track
of that young chap.”
“Oh!” Tuppence clasped her hands ecstatically.
“All the same, as I said before, it’s too bad of--of Carter to set you
two babies on a job like this. Now, don’t get offended, Miss--er----”
“Cowley. Prudence Cowley. But my friends call me Tuppence.”
“Well, Miss Tuppence, then, as I’m certainly going to be a friend. Don’t
be offended because I think you’re young. Youth is a failing only too
easily outgrown. Now, about this young Tommy of yours----”
“Yes.” Tuppence clasped her hands.
“Frankly, things look bad for him. He’s been butting in somewhere where
he wasn’t wanted. Not a doubt of it. But don’t give up hope.”
“And you really will help us? There, Julius! He didn’t want me to come,”
she added by way of explanation.
“H’m,” said the lawyer, favouring Julius with another keen glance. “And
why was that?”
“I reckoned it would be no good worrying you with a petty little
business like this.”