“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.