“May I be permitted a word or two of advice? Stick as near to the truth as possible–it minimizes the danger of ‘slips.’ I suggest that you should represent yourself to be what you are, a former V.A.D., who has chosen domestic service as a profession. There are many such at the present time. That explains away any incongruities of voice or manner which otherwise might awaken suspicion.
“Whichever way you decide, good luck to you. “Your sincere friend, “MR. CARTER.”
Tuppence’s spirits rose mercurially. Mr. Carter’s warnings passed unheeded. The young lady had far too much confidence in herself to pay any heed to them.
With some reluctance she abandoned the interesting part she had sketched out for herself. Although she had no doubts of her own powers to sustain a role indefinitely, she had too much common sense not to recognize the force of Mr. Carter’s arguments.
There was still no word or message from Tommy, but the morning post brought a somewhat dirty postcard with the words: “It’s O.K.” scrawled upon it.
At ten-thirty Tuppence surveyed with pride a slightly battered tin trunk containing her new possessions. It was artistically corded. It was with a slight blush that she rang the bell and ordered it to be placed in a taxi. She drove to Paddington, and left the box in the cloak room. She then repaired with a handbag to the fastnesses of the ladies’ waiting-room. Ten minutes later a metamorphosed Tuppence walked demurely out of the station and entered a bus.
It was a few minutes past eleven when Tuppence again entered the hall of South Audley Mansions. Albert was on the look-out, attending to his duties in a somewhat desultory fashion. He did not immediately recognize Tuppence. When he did, his admiration was unbounded.
“Blest if I’d have known you! That rig-out’s top-hole.”
“Glad you like it, Albert,” replied Tuppence modestly. “By the way, am I your cousin, or am I not?”
“Your voice too,” cried the delighted boy. “It’s as English as anything! No, I said as a friend of mine knew a young gal. Annie wasn’t best pleased. She’s stopped on till to-day–to oblige, SHE said, but really it’s so as to put you against the place.”
“Nice girl,” said Tuppence.
Albert suspected no irony.
“She’s style about her, and keeps her silver a treat–but, my word, ain’t she got a temper. Are you going up now, miss? Step inside the lift. No. 20 did you say?” And he winked.
Tuppence quelled him with a stern glance, and stepped inside.
As she rang the bell of No. 20 she was conscious of Albert’s eyes slowly descending beneath the level of the floor.
A smart young woman opened the door.
“I’ve come about the place,” said Tuppence.
“It’s a rotten place,” said the young woman without hesitation. “Regular old cat–always interfering. Accused me of tampering with her letters. Me! The flap was half undone anyway. There’s never anything in the waste-paper basket–she burns everything. She’s a wrong ‘un, that’s what she is. Swell clothes, but no class. Cook knows something about her–but she won’t tell–scared to death of her. And suspicious! She’s on to you in a minute if you as much as speak to a fellow. I can tell you—-”
But what more Annie could tell, Tuppence was never destined to learn, for at that moment a clear voice with a peculiarly steely ring to it called:
“Annie!”
The smart young woman jumped as if she had been shot.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“It’s a young woman about the situation, ma’am.”
“Show her in then. At once.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tuppence was ushered into a room on the right of the long passage. A woman was standing by the fireplace. She was no longer in her first youth, and the beauty she undeniably possessed was hardened and coarsened. In her youth she must have been dazzling. Her pale gold hair, owing a slight assistance to art, was coiled low on her neck, her eyes, of a piercing electric blue, seemed to possess a faculty of boring into the very soul of the person she was looking at. Her exquisite figure was enhanced by a wonderful gown of indigo charmeuse. And yet, despite her swaying grace, and the almost ethereal beauty of her face, you felt instinctively the presence of something hard and menacing, a kind of metallic strength that found expression in the tones of her voice and in that gimletlike quality of her eyes.