Ritz would enjoy the spectacle of the glad reunion.”
Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that Tuppence had not yet returned.
“All the same, I guess I’ll have a look round upstairs,” said Julius. “She
might be in my sitting-room.” He disappeared.
Suddenly a diminutive boy spoke at Tommy’s elbow:
“The young lady–she’s gone away by train, I think, sir,” he murmured
shyly.
“What?” Tommy wheeled round upon him.
The small boy became pinker than before.
“The taxi, sir. I heard her tell the driver Charing Cross and to look
sharp.”
Tommy stared at him, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Emboldened, the
small boy proceeded. “So I thought, having asked for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw.”
Tommy interrupted him:
“When did she ask for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw?”
“When I took her the telegram, sir.”
“A telegram?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When was that?”
“About half-past twelve, sir.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
The small boy drew a long breath.
“I took up a telegram to No. 891–the lady was there. She opened it and
gave a gasp, and then she said, very jolly like: ‘Bring me up a Bradshaw, and an
A.B.C., and look sharp, Henry.’ My name isn’t Henry, but—-”
“Never mind your name,” said Tommy impatiently. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir. I brought them, and she told me to wait, and looked up
something. And then she looks up at the clock, and ‘Hurry up,’ she says. ‘Tell
them to get me a taxi,’ and she begins a-shoving on of her hat in front of the
glass, and she was down in two ticks, almost as quick as I was, and I seed her
going down the steps and into the taxi, and I heard her call out what I told
you.”
The small boy stopped and replenished his lungs. Tommy continued to stare
at him. At that moment Julius rejoined him. He held an open letter in his hand.
“I say, Hersheimmer”–Tommy turned to him–“Tuppence has gone off sleuthing
on her own.”
” Shucks!”
“Yes, she has. She went off in a taxi to Charing Cross in the deuce of a
hurry after getting a telegram.” His eye fell on the letter in Julius’s hand.
“Oh; she left a note for you. That’s all right. Where’s she off to?”
Almost unconsciously, he held out his hand for the letter, but Julius
folded it up and placed it in his pocket. He seemed a trifle embarrassed.
“I guess this is nothing to do with it. It’s about something
else–something I asked her that she was to let me know about.”
“Oh!” Tommy looked puzzled, and seemed waiting for more.
“See here,” said Julius suddenly, “I’d better put you wise. I asked Miss
Tuppence to marry me this morning.”
“Oh!” said Tommy mechanically. He felt dazed. Julius’s words were totally
unexpected. For the moment they benumbed his brain.
“I’d like to tell you,” continued Julius, “that before I suggested anything
of the kind to Miss Tuppence, I made it clear that I didn’t want to butt in in
any way between her and you—-
Tommy roused himself.
“That’s all right,” he said quickly. “Tuppence and I have been pals for
years. Nothing more.” He lit a cigarette with a hand that shook ever so
little. “That’s quite all right. Tuppence always said that she was looking out
for—-”
He stopped abruptly, his face crimsoning, but Julius was in no way
discomposed.
“Oh, I guess it’ll be the dollars that’ll do the trick. Miss Tuppence put
me wise to that right away. There’s no humbug about her. We ought to gee along
together very well.”
Tommy looked at him curiously for a minute, as though he were about to
speak, then changed his mind and said nothing. Tuppence and Julius! Well, why
not? Had she not lamented the fact that she knew no rich men? Had she not
openly avowed her intention of marrying for money if she ever had the chance?
Her meeting with the young American millionaire had given her the chance–and it
was unlikely she would be slow to avail herself of it. She was out for money.
She had always said so. Why blame her because she had been true to her creed?