sleep with his photograph under my pillow, and dream about him all night. It’s
dreadful to feel you’ve been false to your principles.”
Tuppence shook her head sadly, as she reviewed her backsliding.
“I don’t know what to say to Julius, I’m sure. Oh, what a fool I feel!
I’ll have to say SOMETHING–he’s so American and thorough, he’ll insist upon
having a reason. I wonder if he did find anything in that safe—-”
Tuppence’s meditations went off on another tack. She reviewed the events
of last night carefully and persistently. Somehow, they seemed bound up with
Sir James’s enigmatical words….
Suddenly she gave a great start–the colour faded out of her face. Her
eyes, fascinated, gazed in front of her, the pupils dilated.
“Impossible,” she murmured. “Impossible! I must be going mad even to
think of such a thing….”
Monstrous–yet it explained everything….
After a moment’s reflection she sat down and wrote a note, weighing each
word as she did so. Finally she nodded her head as though satisfied, and
slipped it into an envelope which she addressed to Julius. She went down the
passage to his sitting-room and knocked at the door. As she had expected, the
room was empty. She left the note on the table.
A small page-boy was waiting outside her own door when she returned to it.
“Telegram for you, miss.”
Tuppence took it from the salver, and tore it open carelessly. Then she
gave a cry. The telegram was from Tommy!
CHAPTER XVI
FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
FROM a darkness punctuated with throbbing stabs of fire, Tommy dragged his
senses slowly back to life. When he at last opened his eyes, he was conscious
of nothing but an excruciating pain through his temples. He was vaguely aware of
unfamiliar surroundings. Where was he? What had happened? He blinked feebly.
This was not his bedroom at the Ritz. And what the devil was the matter with
his head?
“Damn!” said Tommy, and tried to sit up. He had remembered. He was in that
sinister house in Soho. He uttered a groan and fell back. Through his
almost-closed lids he reconnoitred carefully.
“He is coming to,” remarked a voice very near Tommy’s ear. He recognized it
at once for that of the bearded and efficient German, and lay artistically
inert. He felt that it would be a pity to come round too soon; and until the
pain in his head became a little less acute, he felt quite incapable of
collecting his wits. Painfully he tried to puzzle out what had happened.
Obviously somebody must have crept up behind him as he listened and struck him
down with a blow on the head. They knew him now for a spy, and would in all
probability give him short shrift. Undoubtedly he was in a tight place. Nobody
knew where he was, therefore he need expect no outside assistance, and must
depend solely on his own wits.
“Well, here goes,” murmured Tommy to himself, and repeated his former
remark.
“Damn!” he observed, and this time succeeded in sitting up.
In a minute the German stepped forward and placed a glass to his lips, with
the brief command “Drink.” Tommy obeyed. The potency of the draught made him
choke, but it cleared his brain in a marvellous manner.
He was lying on a couch in the room in which the meeting had been held. On
one side of him was the German, on the other the villainous-faced doorkeeper who
had let him in. The others were grouped together at a little distance away. But
Tommy missed one face. The man known as Number One was no longer of the
company.
“Feel better?” asked the German, as he removed the empty glass.
“Yes, thanks,” returned Tommy cheerfully.
“Ah, my young friend, it is lucky for you your skull is so thick. The good
Conrad struck hard.” He indicated the evil-faced doorkeeper by a nod. The man
grinned.
Tommy twisted his head round with an effort.
“Oh,” he said, “so you’re Conrad, are you? It strikes me the thickness of
my skull was lucky for you too. When I look at you I feel it’s almost a pity
I’ve enabled you to cheat the hangman.”