The Secret Adversary
“I see.” He paused a moment. “This petty little business, as you call
it, bears directly on a very big business, bigger perhaps than either
you or Miss Tuppence know. If this boy is alive, he may have very
valuable information to give us. Therefore, we must find him.”
“Yes, but how?” cried Tuppence. “I’ve tried to think of everything.”
Sir James smiled.
“And yet there’s one person quite near at hand who in all probability
knows where he is, or at all events where he is likely to be.”
“Who is that?” asked Tuppence, puzzled.
“Mrs. Vandemeyer.”
“Yes, but she’d never tell us.”
“Ah, that is where I come in. I think it quite likely that I shall be
able to make Mrs. Vandemeyer tell me what I want to know.”
“How?” demanded Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide.
“Oh, just by asking her questions,” replied Sir James easily. “That’s
the way we do it, you know.”
He tapped with his finger on the table, and Tuppence felt again the
intense power that radiated from the man.
“And if she won’t tell?” asked Julius suddenly.
“I think she will. I have one or two powerful levers. Still, in that
unlikely event, there is always the possibility of bribery.”
“Sure. And that’s where I come in!” cried Julius, bringing his fist down
on the table with a bang. “You can count on me, if necessary, for one
million dollars. Yes, sir, one million dollars!”
Sir James sat down and subjected Julius to a long scrutiny.
“Mr. Hersheimmer,” he said at last, “that is a very large sum.”
“I guess it’ll have to be. These aren’t the kind of folk to offer
sixpence to.”
“At the present rate of exchange it amounts to considerably over two
hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”
“That’s so. Maybe you think I’m talking through my hat, but I can
deliver the goods all right, with enough over to spare for your fee.”
Sir James flushed slightly.
“There is no question of a fee, Mr. Hersheimmer. I am not a private
detective.”
“Sorry. I guess I was just a mite hasty, but I’ve been feeling bad about
this money question. I wanted to offer a big reward for news of Jane
some days ago, but your crusted institution of Scotland Yard advised me
against it. Said it was undesirable.”
“They were probably right,” said Sir James dryly.
“But it’s all O.K. about Julius,” put in Tuppence. “He’s not pulling
your leg. He’s got simply pots of money.”
“The old man piled it up in style,” explained Julius. “Now, let’s get
down to it. What’s your idea?”
Sir James considered for a moment or two.
“There is no time to be lost. The sooner we strike the better.” He
turned to Tuppence. “Is Mrs. Vandemeyer dining out to-night, do you
know?”
“Yes, I think so, but she will not be out late. Otherwise, she would
have taken the latchkey.”
“Good. I will call upon her about ten o’clock. What time are you
supposed to return?”
“About nine-thirty or ten, but I could go back earlier.”
“You must not do that on any account. It might arouse suspicion if you
did not stay out till the usual time. Be back by nine-thirty. I will
arrive at ten. Mr. Hersheimmer will wait below in a taxi perhaps.”
“He’s got a new Rolls-Royce car,” said Tuppence with vicarious pride.
“Even better. If I succeed in obtaining the address from her, we can
go there at once, taking Mrs. Vandemeyer with us if necessary. You
understand?”
“Yes.” Tuppence rose to her feet with a skip of delight. “Oh, I feel so
much better!”
“Don’t build on it too much, Miss Tuppence. Go easy.”
Julius turned to the lawyer.
“Say, then. I’ll call for you in the car round about nine-thirty. Is
that right?”
“Perhaps that will be the best plan. It would be unnecessary to have two
cars waiting about. Now, Miss Tuppence, my advice to you is to go and
have a good dinner, a _really_ good one, mind. And don’t think ahead
more than you can help.”
He shook hands with them both, and a moment later they were outside.
“Isn’t he a duck?” inquired Tuppence ecstatically, as she skipped down
the steps. “Oh, Julius, isn’t he just a duck?”
“Well, I allow he seems to be the goods all right. And I was wrong about
its being useless to go to him. Say, shall we go right away back to the
_Ritz?_”
“I must walk a bit, I think. I feel so excited. Drop me in the park,
will you? Unless you’d like to come too?”
“I want to get some petrol,” he explained. “And send off a cable or
two.”
“All right. I’ll meet you at the _Ritz_ at seven. We’ll have to dine
upstairs. I can’t show myself in these glad rags.”
“Sure. I’ll get Felix help me choose the menu. He’s some head waiter,
that. So long.”
Tuppence walked briskly along towards the Serpentine, first glancing at
her watch. It was nearly six o’clock. She remembered that she had had no
tea, but felt too excited to be conscious of hunger. She walked as
far as Kensington Gardens and then slowly retraced her steps, feeling
infinitely better for the fresh air and exercise. It was not so easy to
follow Sir James’s advice, and put the possible events of the evening
out of her head. As she drew nearer and nearer to Hyde Park corner, the
temptation to return to South Audley Mansions was almost irresistible.
At any rate, she decided, it would do no harm just to go and _look_
at the building. Perhaps, then, she could resign herself to waiting
patiently for ten o’clock.
South Audley Mansions looked exactly the same as usual. What Tuppence
had expected she hardly knew, but the sight of its red brick stolidity
slightly assuaged the growing and entirely unreasonable uneasiness
that possessed her. She was just turning away when she heard a piercing
whistle, and the faithful Albert came running from the building to join
her.
Tuppence frowned. It was no part of the programme to have attention
called to her presence in the neighbourhood, but Albert was purple with
suppressed excitement.
“I say, miss, she’s a-going!”
“Who’s going?” demanded Tuppence sharply.
“The crook. Ready Rita. Mrs. Vandemeyer. She’s a-packing up, and she’s
just sent down word for me to get her a taxi.”
“What?” Tuppence clutched his arm.
“It’s the truth, miss. I thought maybe as you didn’t know about it.”
“Albert,” cried Tuppence, “you’re a brick. If it hadn’t been for you
we’d have lost her.”
Albert flushed with pleasure at this tribute.
“There’s no time to lose,” said Tuppence, crossing the road. “I’ve got
to stop her. At all costs I must keep her here until----” She broke off.
“Albert, there’s a telephone here, isn’t there?”
The boy shook his head.
“The flats mostly have their own, miss. But there’s a box just round the
corner.”
“Go to it then, at once, and ring up the _Ritz Hotel_. Ask for Mr.
Hersheimmer, and when you get him tell him to get Sir James and come on
at once, as Mrs. Vandemeyer is trying to hook it. If you can’t get him,
ring up Sir James Peel Edgerton, you’ll find his number in the book, and
tell him what’s happening. You won’t forget the names, will you?”
Albert repeated them glibly. “You trust to me, miss, it’ll be all right.
But what about you? Aren’t you afraid to trust yourself with her?”
“No, no, that’s all right. _But go and telephone_. Be quick.”
Drawing a long breath, Tuppence entered the Mansions and ran up to the
door of No. 20. How she was to detain Mrs. Vandemeyer until the two men
arrived, she did not know, but somehow or other it had to be done, and
she must accomplish the task single-handed. What had occasioned this
precipitate departure? Did Mrs. Vandemeyer suspect her?
Speculations were idle. Tuppence pressed the bell firmly. She might
learn something from the cook.
Nothing happened and, after waiting some minutes, Tuppence pressed the
bell again, keeping her finger on the button for some little while.
At last she heard footsteps inside, and a moment later Mrs. Vandemeyer
herself opened the door. She lifted her eyebrows at the sight of the
girl.
“You?”
“I had a touch of toothache, ma’am,” said Tuppence glibly. “So thought
it better to come home and have a quiet evening.”
Mrs. Vandemeyer said nothing, but she drew back and let Tuppence pass
into the hall.
“How unfortunate for you,” she said coldly. “You had better go to bed.”
“Oh, I shall be all right in the kitchen, ma’am. Cook will----”
“Cook is out,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer, in a rather disagreeable tone. “I
sent her out. So you see you had better go to bed.”
Suddenly Tuppence felt afraid. There was a ring in Mrs. Vandemeyer’s
voice that she did not like at all. Also, the other woman was slowly
edging her up the passage. Tuppence turned at bay.
“I don’t want----”
Then, in a flash, a rim of cold steel touched her temple, and Mrs.
Vandemeyer’s voice rose cold and menacing:
“You damned little fool! Do you think I don’t know? No, don’t answer. If
you struggle or cry out, I’ll shoot you like a dog.”
The rim of steel pressed a little harder against the girl’s temple.
“Now then, march,” went on Mrs. Vandemeyer. “This way--into my room. In
a minute, when I’ve done with you, you’ll go to bed as I told you to.
And you’ll sleep--oh yes, my little spy, you’ll sleep all right!”
There was a sort of hideous geniality in the last words which Tuppence
did not at all like. For the moment there was nothing to be done, and
she walked obediently into Mrs. Vandemeyer’s bedroom. The pistol never
left her forehead. The room was in a state of wild disorder, clothes
were flung about right and left, a suit-case and a hat box, half-packed,
stood in the middle of the floor.
Tuppence pulled herself together with an effort. Her voice shook a
little, but she spoke out bravely.
“Come now,” she said. “This is nonsense. You can’t shoot me. Why, every
one in the building would hear the report.”
“I’d risk that,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer cheerfully. “But, as long as you
don’t sing out for help, you’re all right--and I don’t think you will.
You’re a clever girl. You deceived _me_ all right. I hadn’t a suspicion
of you! So I’ve no doubt that you understand perfectly well that this
is where I’m on top and you’re underneath. Now then--sit on the bed. Put
your hands above your head, and if you value your life don’t move them.”
Tuppence obeyed passively. Her good sense told her that there was
nothing else to do but accept the situation. If she shrieked for help
there was very little chance of anyone hearing her, whereas there was
probably quite a good chance of Mrs. Vandemeyer’s shooting her. In the
meantime, every minute of delay gained was valuable.
Mrs. Vandemeyer laid down the revolver on the edge of the washstand
within reach of her hand, and, still eyeing Tuppence like a lynx in case
the girl should attempt to move, she took a little stoppered bottle from
its place on the marble and poured some of its contents into a glass
which she filled up with water.
“What’s that?” asked Tuppence sharply.
“Something to make you sleep soundly.”
Tuppence paled a little.
“Are you going to poison me?” she asked in a whisper.
“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer, smiling agreeably.
“Then I shan’t drink it,” said Tuppence firmly. “I’d much rather be
shot. At any rate that would make a row, and some one might hear it. But
I won’t be killed off quietly like a lamb.”
Mrs. Vandemeyer stamped her foot.
“Don’t be a little fool! Do you really think I want a hue and cry for
murder out after me? If you’ve any sense at all, you’ll realize that
poisoning you wouldn’t suit my book at all. It’s a sleeping draught,
that’s all. You’ll wake up to-morrow morning none the worse. I simply
don’t want the bother of tying you up and gagging you. That’s the
alternative--and you won’t like it, I can tell you! I can be very rough
if I choose. So drink this down like a good girl, and you’ll be none the
worse for it.”
In her heart of hearts Tuppence believed her. The arguments she had