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
adduced rang true. It was a simple and effective method of getting her out of
the way for the time being. Nevertheless, the girl did not take kindly to the
idea of being tamely put to sleep without as much as one bid for freedom. She
felt that once Mrs. Vandemeyer gave them the slip, the last hope of finding
Tommy would be gone.
Tuppence was quick in her mental processes. All these reflections passed
through her mind in a flash, and she saw where a chance, a very problematical
chance, lay, and she determined to risk all in one supreme effort.
Accordingly, she lurched suddenly off the bed and fell on her knees before
Mrs. Vandemeyer, clutching her skirts frantically.
“I don’t believe it,” she moaned. “It’s poison–I know it’s poison. Oh,
don’t make me drink it”–her voice rose to a shriek–“don’t make me drink it!”
Mrs. Vandemeyer, glass in hand, looked down with a curling lip at this
sudden collapse.
“Get up, you little idiot! Don’t go on drivelling there. How you ever had
the nerve to play your part as you did I can’t think.” She stamped her foot.
“Get up, I say.”
But Tuppence continued to cling and sob, interjecting her sobs with
incoherent appeals for mercy. Every minute gained was to the good. Moreover, as
she grovelled, she moved imperceptibly nearer to her objective.
Mrs. Vandemeyer gave a sharp impatient exclamation, and jerked the girl to
her knees.
“Drink it at once!” Imperiously she pressed the glass to the girl’s lips.
Tuppence gave one last despairing moan.
“You swear it won’t hurt me?” she temporized.
“Of course it won’t hurt you. Don’t be a fool.”
“Will you swear it?”
“Yes, yes,” said the other impatiently. “I swear it.”
Tuppence raised a trembling left hand to the glass.
“Very well.” Her mouth opened meekly.
Mrs. Vandemeyer gave a sigh of relief, off her guard for the moment. Then,
quick as a flash, Tuppence jerked the glass upward as hard as she could. The
fluid in it splashed into Mrs. Vandemeyer’s face, and during her momentary gasp,
Tuppence’s right hand shot out and grasped the revolver where it lay on the edge
of the washstand. The next moment she had sprung back a pace, and the revolver
pointed straight at Mrs. Vandemeyer’s heart, with no unsteadiness in the hand
that held it.
In the moment of victory, Tuppence betrayed a somewhat unsportsmanlike
triumph.
“Now who’s on top and who’s underneath?” she crowed.
The other’s face was convulsed with rage. For a minute Tuppence thought
she was going to spring upon her, which would have placed the girl in an
unpleasant dilemma, since she meant to draw the line at actually letting off the
revolver. However, with an effort Mrs. Vandemeyer controlled herself, and at
last a slow evil smile crept over her face.
“Not a fool, then, after all! You did that well, girl. But you shall pay