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PARTNERS IN CRIME by Agatha Christie

Tuppence opened the door of the adjoining office and Tommy followed her.

A tall girl with lovely auburn hair, and a pleasant face, put down the steaming kettle in her hand, and turned with a smile that disclosed an even row of white teeth.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Nurse Cowley-Mrs. Beresford, I mean. I thought that very likely you’d be quite ready for a cup of tea yourself. Many’s the pot of tea you’ve made for me in the Hospital at three o’clock in the morning.”

“Tommy,” said Tuppence. “Let me introduce you to my old friend, Nurse Smith.”

“Smith, did you say? How curious!” said Tommy, shaking hands. “Eh? Oh! nothing-a little monograph that I was thinking of Writing.”

“Pull yourself together, Tommy,” said Tuppence.

She poured him out a cup of tea.

“Now, then, let’s all drink together. Here’s to the success of the International Detective Agency. Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives! May they never know failure!”

3. THE AFFAIR OF THE PINK PEARL

“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Tuppence, as she entered the inner sanctum of the International Detective Agency-(Slogan-Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives) and discovered her lord and master prone on the floor in a sea of books.

Tommy struggled to his feet.

“I was trying to arrange these books on the top shelf of that cupboard,” he complained. “And the damned chair gave way.”

“What are they, anyway?” asked Tuppence, picking up a volume. “‘The Hound of the Baskervilles.’ I wouldn’t mind reading that again some time.”

“You see the idea?” said Tommy, dusting himself with care. “Half hours with the Great Masters-that sort of thing. You see, Tuppence, I can’t help feeling that we are more or less amateurs at this business-of course amateurs in one sense we cannot help being, but it would do no harm to acquire the technique, so to speak. These books are detective stories by the leading masters of the art. I intend to try different styles, and compare results.”

“H’m,” said Tuppence. “I often wonder how those detectives would have got on in real life.” She picked up another volume. “You’ll find a difficulty in being a Thorndyke. You’ve no medical experience, and less legal, and I never heard that science was your strong point.”

“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But at any rate I’ve bought a very good camera, and I shall photograph footprints and enlarge the negatives and all that sort of thing. Now, mon ami, use your little grey cells-what does this convey to you?”

He pointed to the bottom shelf of the cupboard. On it lay a somewhat futuristic dressing gown, a turkish slipper, and a violin.

“Obvious, my dear Watson,” said Tuppence.

“Exactly,” said Tommy. “The Sherlock Holmes touch.”

He took up the violin and drew the bow idly across the strings, causing Tuppence to give a wail of agony.

At that moment the buzzer rang on the desk, a sign that a client had arrived in the outer office and was being held in parley by Albert, the office boy.

Tommy hastily replaced the violin in the cupboard and kicked the books behind the desk.

“Not that there’s any great hurry,” he remarked. “Albert will be handing them out the stuff about my being engaged with Scotland Yard on the phone. Get into your office and start typing, Tuppence. It makes the office sound busy and active. No, on second thoughts, you shall be taking notes in shorthand from my dictation. Let’s have a look before we get Albert to send the victim in.”

They approached the peephole which had been artistically contrived so as to command a view of the outer office.

The client was a girl of about Tuppence’s age, tall and dark with a rather haggard face and scornful eyes.

“Clothes cheap and striking,” remarked Tuppence. “Have her in, Tommy.”

In another minute the girl was shaking hands with the celebrated Mr. Blunt, whilst Tuppence sat by with eyes demurely downcast, and pad and pencil in hand.

“My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Mr. Blunt with a wave of the hand. “You may speak freely before her.” Then he lay back for a minute, half closed his eyes and remarked in a tired tone: “You must find traveling in a bus very crowded at this time of day.”

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Categories: Christie, Agatha
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