offer refused–if pay is good.’ How’s that?”
“I shouldn’t mention pay again. It looks rather eager.”
“It couldn’t look as eager as I feel! But perhaps you are right. Now I’ll
read it straight through. ‘Two young adventurers for hire. Willing to do
anything, go anywhere. Pay must be good. No unreasonable offer refused.’ How
would that strike you if you read it?”
“It would strike me as either being a hoax, or else written by a lunatic.”
“It’s not half so insane as a thing I read this morning beginning ‘Petunia’
and signed ‘Best Boy.’ ” She tore out the leaf and handed it to Tommy. “There
you are. Times, I think. Reply to Box so-and-so. I expect it will be about five
shillings. Here’s half a crown for my share.”
Tommy was holding the paper thoughtfully. His faced burned a deeper red.
“Shall we really try it?” he said at last. “Shall we, Tuppence? Just for
the fun of the thing?”
“Tommy, you’re a sport! I knew you would be! Let’s drink to success.” She
poured some cold dregs of tea into the two cups.
“Here’s to our joint venture, and may it prosper!”
“The Young Adventurers, Ltd.!” responded Tommy.
They put down the cups and laughed rather uncertainly. Tuppence rose.
“I must return to my palatial suite at the hostel.”
“Perhaps it is time I strolled round to the Ritz,” agreed Tommy with a
grin. “Where shall we meet? And when?”
“Twelve o’clock to-morrow. Piccadilly Tube station. Will that suit you?”
“My time is my own,” replied Mr. Beresford magnificently.
“So long, then.”
“Good-bye, old thing.”
The two young people went off in opposite directions. Tuppence’s hostel was
situated in what was charitably called Southern Belgravia. For reasons of
economy she did not take a bus.
She was half-way across St. James’s Park, when a man’s voice behind her
made her start.
“Excuse me,” it said. “But may I speak to you for a moment?”
CHAPTER II
MR. WHITTINGTON’S OFFER
TUPPENCE turned sharply, but the words hovering on the tip of her tongue
remained unspoken, for the man’s appearance and manner did not bear out her
first and most natural assumption. She hesitated. As if he read her thoughts,
the man said quickly:
“I can assure you I mean no disrespect.”
Tuppence believed him. Although she disliked and distrusted him
instinctively, she was inclined to acquit him of the particular motive which she
had at first attributed to him. She looked him up and down. He was a big man,
clean shaven, with a heavy jowl. His eyes were small and cunning, and shifted
their glance under her direct gaze.
“Well, what is it?” she asked.
The man smiled.
“I happened to overhear part of your conversation with the young gentleman
in Lyons’.”
“Well–what of it?”
“Nothing–except that I think I may be of some use to you.”
Another inference forced itself into Tuppence’s mind:
“You followed me here?”
“I took that liberty.”
“And in what way do you think you could be of use to me?”
The man took a card from his pocket and handed it to her with a bow.
Tuppence took it and scrutinized it carefully. It bore the inscription,
“Mr. Edward Whittington.” Below the name were the words “Esthonia Glassware
Co.,” and the address of a city office. Mr. Whittington spoke again:
“If you will call upon me to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, I will lay
the details of my proposition before you.”
“At eleven o’clock?” said Tuppence doubtfully.
“At eleven o’clock.”
Tuppence made up her mind.
“Very well. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you. Good evening.”
He raised his hat with a flourish, and walked away. Tuppence remained for
some minutes gazing after him. Then she gave a curious movement of her
shoulders, rather as a terrier shakes himself.
“The adventures have begun,” she murmured to herself. “What does he want me
to do, I wonder? There’s something about you, Mr. Whittington, that I don’t
like at all. But, on the other hand, I’m not the least bit afraid of you. And as
I’ve said before, and shall doubtless say again, little Tuppence can look after
herself, thank you!”
And with a short, sharp nod of her head she walked briskly onward. As a