all right.”
“Hall, did you say?” asked Sir James. “That is curious–really very
curious.”
“Why?” demanded Tuppence.
“Because I happened to meet him this morning. I’ve known him slightly on
and off for some years, and this morning I ran across him in the street.
Staying at the Metropole, he told me.” He turned to Julius. “Didn’t he tell you
he was coming up to town?”
Julius shook his head.
“Curious,” mused Sir James. “You did not mention his name this afternoon,
or I would have suggested your going to him for further information with my card
as introduction.”
“I guess I’m a mutt,” said Julius with unusual humility. “I ought to have
thought of the false name stunt.”
“How could you think of anything after falling out of that tree?” cried
Tuppence. “I’m sure anyone else would have been killed right off.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway,” said Julius. “We’ve got
Mrs. Vandemeyer on a string, and that’s all we need.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, but there was a lack of assurance in her voice.
A silence settled down over the party. Little by little the magic of the
night began to gain a hold on them. There were sudden creaks of the furniture,
imperceptible rustlings in the curtains. Suddenly Tuppence sprang up with a cry.
“I can’t help it. I know Mr. Brown’s somewhere in the flat! I can FEEL
him.”
“Sure, Tuppence, how could he be? This door’s open into the hall. No one
could have come in by the front door without our seeing and hearing him.”
“I can’t help it. I FEEL he’s here!”
She looked appealingly at Sir James, who replied gravely:
“With due deference to your feelings, Miss Tuppence (and mine as well for
that matter), I do not see how it is humanly possible for anyone to be in the
flat without our knowledge.”
The girl was a little comforted by his wards.
“Sitting up at night is always rather jumpy,” she confessed.
“Yes,” said Sir James. “We are in the condition of people holding a
seance. Perhaps if a medium were present we might get some marvellous results.”
“Do you believe in spiritualism?” asked Tuppence, opening her eyes wide.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“There is some truth in it, without a doubt. But most of the testimony
would not pass muster in the witness-box.”
The hours drew on. With the first faint glimmerings of dawn, Sir James
drew aside the curtains. They beheld, what few Londoners see, the slow rising
of the sun over the sleeping city. Somehow, with the coming of the light, the
dreads and fancies of the past night seemed absurd. Tuppence’s spirits revived
to the normal.
“Hooray!” she said. “It’s going to be a gorgeous day. And we shall find
Tommy. And Jane Finn. And everything will be lovely. I shall ask Mr. Carter if
I can’t be made a Dame!”
At seven o’clock Tuppence volunteered to go and make some tea. She returned
with a tray, containing the teapot and four cups.
“Who’s the other cup for?” inquired Julius.
“The prisoner, of course. I suppose we might call her that?”
“Taking her tea seems a kind of anticlimax to last night,” said Julius
thoughtfully.
“Yes, it does,” admitted Tuppence. “But, anyway, here goes. Perhaps you’d
both come, too, in case she springs on me, or anything. You see, we don’t know
what mood she’ll wake up in.”
Sir James and Julius accompanied her to the door.
“Where’s the key? Oh, of course, I’ve got it myself.”
She put it in the lock, and turned it, then paused.
“Supposing, after all, she’s escaped?” she murmured in a whisper.
“Plumb impossible,” replied Julius reassuringly.
But Sir James said nothing.
Tuppence drew a long breath and entered. She heaved a sigh of relief as
she saw that Mrs. Vandemeyer was lying on the bed.
“Good morning,” she remarked cheerfully. “I’ve brought you some tea.”
Mrs. Vandemeyer did not reply. Tuppence put down the cup on the table by
the bed and went across to draw up the blinds. When she turned, Mrs. Vandemeyer
still lay without a movement. With a sudden fear clutching at her heart,
Tuppence ran to the bed. The hand she lifted was cold as ice…. Mrs. Vandemeyer