N or M_ - Agatha Christie [60]
‘Oh, bother,’ said Tuppence, concerned. ‘How did she find out?’
Tony Marsdon explained. He went on rather diffidently:
‘Deborah, of course, has no idea of what you’re really doing.’
He paused discreetly, and then went on:
‘It’s important, I imagine, that she shouldn’t know. My job, actually, is rather the same line. I’m supposed to be just a beginner in the coding department. Really my instructions are to express views that are mildly Fascist–admiration of the German system, insinuations that a working alliance with Hitler wouldn’t be a bad thing–all that sort of thing–just to see what response I get. There’s a good deal of rot going on, you see, and we want to find out who’s at the bottom of it.’
‘Rot everywhere,’ thought Tuppence.
‘But as soon as Deb told me about you,’ continued the young man, ‘I thought I’d better come straight down and warn you so that you can cook up a likely story. You see, I happen to know what you are doing and that it’s of vital importance. It would be fatal if any hint of who you are got about. I thought perhaps you could make it seem as though you’d joined Captain Beresford in Scotland or wherever he is. You might say that you’d been allowed to work with him there.’
‘I might do that, certainly,’ said Tuppence thoughtfully.
Tony Marsdon said anxiously:
‘You don’t think I’m butting in?’
‘No, no, I’m very grateful to you.’
Tony said rather inconsequentially:
‘I’m–well–you see–I’m rather fond of Deborah.’
Tuppence flashed him an amused quick glance.
How far away it seemed, that world of attentive young men and Deb with her rudeness to them that never seemed to put them off. This young man was, she thought, quite an attractive specimen.
She put aside what she called to herself ‘peace-time thoughts’ and concentrated on the present situation.
After a moment or two she said slowly:
‘My husband isn’t in Scotland.’
‘Isn’t he?’
‘No, he’s down here with me. At least he was! Now–he’s disappeared.’
‘I say, that’s bad–or isn’t it? Was he on to something?’
Tuppence nodded.
‘I think so. That’s why I don’t think that his disappearing like this is really a bad sign. I think, sooner or later, he’ll communicate with me–in his own way.’ She smiled a little.
Tony said, with some slight embarrassment:
‘Of course, you know the game well, I expect. But you ought to be careful.’
Tuppence nodded.
‘I know what you mean. Beautiful heroines in books are always easily decoyed away. But Tommy and I have our methods. We’ve got a slogan,’ she smiled. ‘Penny plain and tuppence coloured.’
‘What?’ The young man stared at her as though she had gone mad.
‘I ought to explain that my family nickname is Tuppence.’
‘Oh, I see.’ The young man’s brow cleared. ‘Ingenious–what?’
‘I hope so.’
‘I don’t want to butt in–but couldn’t I help in any way?’
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence thoughtfully. ‘I think perhaps you might.’
Chapter 12
After long aeons of unconsciousness, Tommy began to be aware of a fiery ball swimming in space. In the centre of the fiery ball was a core of pain, the universe shrank, the fiery ball swung more slowly–he discovered suddenly that the nucleus of it was his own aching head.
Slowly he became aware of other things–of cold cramped limbs, of hunger, of an inability to move his lips.
Slower and slower swung the fiery ball…It was now Thomas Beresford’s head and it was resting on solid ground. Very solid ground. In fact something suspiciously like stone.
Yes, he was lying on hard stones, and he was in pain, unable to move, extremely hungry, cold and uncomfortable.
Surely, although Mrs Perenna’s beds had never been unduly soft, this could not be–
Of course–Haydock! The wireless! The German waiter! Turning in at the gates of Sans Souci…
Someone, creeping up behind him, had struck him down. That was the reason of his aching head.
And he’d thought he’d got away with it all right! So Haydock, after all, hadn’t been quite such a fool?
Haydock? Haydock had gone back into Smugglers’ Rest, and closed the door. How had he managed to get down the hill