The Secret Adversary

‘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 sweetly, ‘I’m not 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, ‘someone’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 tomorrow 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 business-like 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 3 (#ulink_2693d71d-8ebb-51f8-af1b-7651f139b894)

A Setback (#ulink_2693d71d-8ebb-51f8-af1b-7651f139b894)

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 à l’américaine, chicken Newberg, and pêche 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!’

‘My dear girl, don’t wave pound notes aloft like that!’

‘They’re not pound notes. They’re five times better, 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?’