N or M_ - Agatha Christie [59]
Tuppence clenched her hands.
‘We must get something! I say we because I believe Tommy is on to something, and that that’s why he hasn’t come back. He’s following up a lead. If I could only get something too. I wonder how. If I–’
She frowned, planning a new form of attack.
II
‘You see, Albert, it’s a possibility.’
‘I see what you mean, madam, of course. But I don’t like the idea very much, I must say.’
‘I think it might work.’
‘Yes, madam, but it’s exposing yourself to attack–that’s what I don’t like–and I’m sure the master wouldn’t like it.’
‘We’ve tried all the usual ways. That is to say, we’ve done what we could keeping under cover. It seems to me that now the only chance is to come out into the open.’
‘You are aware, madam, that thereby you may be sacrificing an advantage?’
‘You’re frightfully BBC in your language this afternoon, Albert,’ said Tuppence, with some exasperation.
Albert looked slightly taken aback and reverted to a more natural form of speech.
‘I was listening to a very interesting talk on pond life last night,’ he explained.
‘We’ve no time to think about pond life now,’ said Tuppence.
‘Where’s Captain Beresford, that’s what I’d like to know?’
‘So should I,’ said Tuppence, with a pang.
‘Don’t seem natural, his disappearing without a word. He ought to have tipped you the wink by now. That’s why–’
‘Yes, Albert?’
‘What I mean is, if he’s come out in the open, perhaps you’d better not.’
He paused to arrange his ideas and then went on.
‘I mean, they’ve blown the gaff on him, but they mayn’t know about you–and so it’s up to you to keep under cover still.’
‘I wish I could make up my mind,’ sighed Tuppence.
‘Which way were you thinking of managing it, madam?’
Tuppence murmured thoughtfully:
‘I thought I might lose a letter I’d written–make a lot of fuss about it, seem very upset. Then it would be found in the hall and Beatrice would probably put it on the hall table. Then the right person would get a look at it.’
‘What would be in the letter?’
‘Oh, roughly–that I’d been successful in discovering the identity of the person in question and that I was to make a full report personally tomorrow. Then, you see, Albert, N or M would have to come out in the open and have a shot at eliminating me.’
‘Yes, and maybe they’d manage it, too.’
‘Not if I was on my guard. They’d have, I think, to decoy me away somewhere–some lonely spot. That’s where you’d come in–because they don’t know about you.’
‘I’d follow them up and catch them red-handed, so to speak?’
Tuppence nodded.
‘That’s the idea. I must think it out carefully–I’ll meet you tomorrow.’
III
Tuppence was just emerging from the local lending library with what had been recommended to her as a ‘nice book’ clasped under her arm when she was startled by a voice saying:
‘Mrs Beresford.’
She turned abruptly to see a tall dark young man with an agreeable but slightly embarrassed smile.
He said:
‘Er–I’m afraid you don’t remember me?’
Tuppence was thoroughly used to the formula. She could have predicted with accuracy the words that were coming next.
‘I–er–came to the flat with Deborah one day.’
Deborah’s friends! So many of them, and all, to Tuppence, looking singularly alike! Some dark like this young man, some fair, an occasional red-haired one–but all cast in the same mould–pleasant, well-mannered, their hair, in Tuppence’s view, just slightly too long. (But when this was hinted, Deborah would say, ‘Oh, Mother, don’t be so terribly 1916. I can’t stand short hair.’)
Annoying to have run across and been recognised by one of Deborah’s young men just now. However, she could probably soon shake him off.
‘I’m Anthony Marsdon,’ explained the young man.
Tuppence murmured mendaciously, ‘Oh, of course,’ and shook hands.
Tony Marsdon went on:
‘I’m awfully glad to have found you, Mrs Beresford. You see, I’m working at the same job as Deborah, and as a matter of fact something rather awkward has happened.’
‘Yes?’ said Tuppence. ‘What is it?’
‘Well, you see, Deborah’s found out that you’re not down in Cornwall as she thought, and that makes