THE SECRET ADVERSARY BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

Tommy thanked him. They soon found the post office, which was also a sweet

and general fancy shop, and knocked at the door of the cottage next to it. A

clean, wholesome-looking woman opened it. She readily produced the key of the

Moat House.

“Though I doubt if it’s the kind of place to suit you, sir. In a terrible

state of repair. Ceilings leaking and all. ‘Twould need a lot of money spent on

it.”

“Thanks,” said Tommy cheerily. “I dare say it’ll be a washout, but houses

are scarce nowadays.”

“That they are,” declared the woman heartily. “My daughter and son-in-law

have been looking for a decent cottage for I don’t know how long. It’s all the

war. Upset things terribly, it has. But excuse me, sir, it’ll be too dark for

you to see much of the house. Hadn’t you better wait until to-morrow?”

“That’s all right. We’ll have a look around this evening, anyway. We’d

have been here before only we lost our way. What’s the best place to stay at

for the night round here?”

Mrs. Sweeny looked doubtful.

“There’s the Yorkshire Arms, but it’s not much of a place for gentlemen

like you.”

“Oh, it will do very well. Thanks. By the way, you’ve not had a young

lady here asking for this key to-day?”

The woman shook her head.

“No one’s been over the place for a long time.”

“Thanks very much.”

They retraced their steps to the Moat House. As the front door swung back

on its hinges, protesting loudly, Julius struck a match and examined the floor

carefully. Then he shook his head.

“I’d swear no one’s passed this way. Look at the dust. Thick. Not a sign

of a footmark.”

They wandered round the deserted house. Everywhere the same tale. Thick

layers of dust apparently undisturbed.

“This gets me,” said Julius. “I don’t believe Tuppence was ever in this

house.”

“She must have been.”

Julius shook his head without replying.

“We’ll go over it again to-morrow,” said Tommy. “Perhaps we’ll see more in

the daylight.”

On the morrow they took up the search once more, and were reluctantly

forced to the conclusion that the house had not been invaded for some

considerable time. They might have left the village altogether but for a

fortunate discovery of Tommy’s. As they were retracing their steps to the gate,

he gave a sudden cry, and stooping, picked something up from among the leaves,

and held it out to Julius. It was a small gold brooch.

“That’s Tuppence’s!”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ve often seen her wear it.”

Julius drew a deep breath.

“I guess that settles it. She came as far as here, anyway. We’ll make

that pub our head-quarters, and raise hell round here until we find her.

Somebody MUST have seen her.”

Forthwith the campaign began. Tommy and Julius worked separately and

together, but the result was the same. Nobody answering to Tuppence’s

description had been seen in the vicinity. They were baffled–but not

discouraged. Finally they altered their tactics. Tuppence had certainly not

remained long in the neighbourhood of the Moat House. That pointed to her

having been overcome and carried away in a car. They renewed inquiries. Had

anyone seen a car standing somewhere near the Moat House that day? Again they

met with no success.

Julius wired to town for his own car, and they scoured the neighbourhood

daily with unflagging zeal. A grey limousine on which they had set high hopes

was traced to Harrogate, and turned out to be the property of a highly

respectable maiden lady!

Each day saw them set out on a new quest. Julius was like a hound on the

leash. He followed up the slenderest clue. Every car that had passed through

the village on the fateful day was tracked down. He forced his way into country

properties and submitted the owners of the motors to a searching

cross-examination. His apologies were as thorough as his methods, and seldom

failed in disarming the indignation of his victims; but, as day succeeded day,

they were no nearer to discovering Tuppence’s whereabouts. So well had the

abduction been planned that the girl seemed literally to have vanished into thin