THE SECRET ADVERSARY BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

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

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *