The Complete Tommy and Tuppence

  Keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the other’s face, Tuppence replied quietly:

  “Money—”

  Mrs. Vandemeyer started. Clearly, the reply was unexpected.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell you. You said just now that you had a long memory. A long memory isn’t half as useful as a long purse! I daresay it relieves your feelings a good deal to plan out all sorts of dreadful things to do to me, but is that practical? Revenge is very unsatisfactory. Everyone always says so. But money”—Tuppence warmed to her pet creed—“well, there’s nothing unsatisfactory about money, is there?”

  “Do you think,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer scornfully, “that I am the kind of woman to sell my friends?”

  “Yes,” said Tuppence promptly, “if the price was big enough.”

  “A paltry hundred pounds or so!”

  “No,” said Tuppence. “I should suggest—a hundred thousand!”

  Her economical spirit did not permit her to mention the whole million dollars suggested by Julius.

  A flush crept over Mrs. Vandemeyer’s face.

  “What did you say?” she asked, her fingers playing nervously with a brooch on her breast. In that moment Tuppence knew that the fish was hooked, and for the first time she felt a horror of her own money-loving spirit. It gave her a dreadful sense of kinship to the woman fronting her.

  “A hundred thousand pounds,” repeated Tuppence.

  The light died out of Mrs. Vandemeyer’s eyes. She leaned back in her chair.

  “Bah!” she said. “You haven’t got it.”

  “No,” admitted Tuppence, “I haven’t—but I know someone who has.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend of mine.”

  “Must be a millionaire,” remarked Mrs. Vandemeyer unbelievingly.

  “As a matter of fact he is. He’s an American. He’ll pay you that without a murmur. You can take it from me that it’s a perfectly genuine proposition.”

  Mrs. Vandemeyer sat up again.

  “I’m inclined to believe you,” she said slowly.

  There was silence between them for some time, then Mrs. Vandemeyer looked up.

  “What does he want to know, this friend of yours?”

  Tuppence want through a momentary struggle, but it was Julius’s money, and his interests must come first.

  “He wants to know where Jane Finn is,” she said boldly.

  Mrs. Vandemeyer showed no surprise.

  “I’m not sure where she is at the present moment,” she replied.

  “But you could find out?”

  “Oh, yes,” returned Mrs. Vandemeyer carelessly. “There would be no difficulty about that.”

  “Then”—Tuppence’s voice shook a little—“there’s a boy, a friend of mine. I’m afraid something’s happened to him, through your pal, Boris.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Tommy Beresford.”

  “Never heard of him. But I’ll ask Boris. He’ll tell me anything he knows.”

  “Thank you.” Tuppence felt a terrific rise in her spirits. It impelled her to more audacious efforts. “There’s one thing more.”

  “Well?”

  Tuppence leaned forward and lowered her voice.

  “Who is Mr. Brown?”

  Her quick eyes saw the sudden paling of the beautiful face. With an effort Mrs. Vandemeyer pulled herself together and tried to resume her former manner. But the attempt was a mere parody.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “You can’t have learnt much about us if you don’t know that nobody knows who Mr. Brown is. . . .”

  “You do,” said Tuppence quietly.

  Again the colour deserted the other’s face.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know,” said the girl truthfully. “But I’m sure.”

  Mrs. Vandemeyer stared in front of her for a long time.

  “Yes,” she said hoarsely, at last, “I know. I was beautiful, you see—very beautiful—”

  “You are still,” said Tuppence with admiration.

  Mrs. Vandemeyer shook her head. There was a strange gleam in her electric-blue eyes.

  “Not beautiful enough,” she said in a soft dangerous voice. “Not—beautiful—enough! And sometimes, lately, I’ve been afraid . . . It’s dangerous to know too much!” She leaned forward across the table. “Swear that my name shan’t be brought into it—that no one shall ever know.”

  “I swear it. And, once he’s caught, you’ll be out of danger.”

  A terrified look swept across Mrs. Vandemeyer’s face.

  “Shall I? Shall I ever be?” She clutched Tuppence’s arm. “You’re sure about the money?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “When shall I have it? There must be no delay.”

  “This friend of mine will be here presently. He may have to send cables, or something like that. But there won’t be any delay—he’s a terrific hustler.”

  A resolute look settled on Mrs. Vandemeyer’s face.

  “I’ll do it. It’s a great sum of money, and besides”—she gave a curious smile—“it is not—wise to throw over a woman like me!”

  For a moment or two, she remained smiling, and lightly tapping her fingers on the table. Suddenly she started, and her face blanched.

  “What was that?”

  “I heard nothing.”

  Mrs. Vandemeyer gazed round her fearfully.

  “If there should be someone listening—”

  “Nonsense. Who could there be?”

  “Even the walls might have ears,” whispered the other. “I tell you I’m frightened. You don’t know him!”

  “Think of the hundred thousand pounds,” said Tuppence soothingly.

  Mrs. Vandemeyer passed her tongue over her dried lips.

  “You don’t know him,” she reiterated hoarsely. “He’s—ah!”

  With a shriek of terror she sprang to her feet. Her outstretched hand pointed over Tuppence’s head. Then she swayed to the ground in a dead faint.

  Tuppence looked round to see what had startled her.

  In the doorway were Sir James Peel Edgerton and Julius Hersheimmer.

  Thirteen

  THE VIGIL

  Sir James brushed past Julius and hurriedly bent over the fallen woman.

  “Heart,” he said sharply. “Seeing us so suddenly must have given her a shock. Brandy—and quickly, or she’ll slip through our fingers.”

  Julius hurried to the washstand.

  “Not here,” said Tuppence over her shoulder. “In the tantalus in the dining room. Second door down the passage.”

  Between them Sir James and Tuppence lifted Mrs. Vandemeyer and carried her to the bed. There they dashed water on her face, but with no result. The lawyer fingered her pulse.

  “Touch and go,” he muttered. “I wish that young fellow would hurry up with the brandy.”

  At that moment Julius re-entered the room, carrying a glass half full of the spirit which he handed to Sir James. While Tuppence lifted her head the lawyer tried to force a little of the spirit between her closed lips. Finally the woman opened her eyes feebly. Tuppence held the glass to her lips.

  “Drink this.”

  Mrs. Vandemeyer complied. The brandy brought the colour back to her white cheeks, and revived her in a marvellous fashion. She tried to sit up—then fell back with a groan, her hand to her side.

  “It’s my heart,” she whispered. “I mustn’t talk.”

  She lay back with closed eyes.

  Sir James kept his finger on her wrist a minute longer, then withdrew it with a nod.

  “She’ll do now.”

  All three moved away, and stood together talking in low voices. One and all were conscious of a certain feeling of anticlimax. Clearly any scheme for cross-questioning the lady was out of the question for the moment. For the time being they were baffled, and could do nothing.

  Tuppence related how Mrs. Vandemeyer had declared herself willing
to disclose the identity of Mr. Brown, and how she had consented to discover and reveal to them the whereabouts of Jane Finn. Julius was congratulatory.

  “That’s all right, Miss Tuppence. Splendid! I guess that hundred thousand pounds will look just as good in the morning to the lady as it did overnight. There’s nothing to worry over. She won’t speak without the cash anyway, you bet!”

  There was certainly a good deal of common sense in this, and Tuppence felt a little comforted.

  “What you say is true,” said Sir James meditatively. “I must confess, however, that I cannot help wishing we had not interrupted at the minute we did. Still, it cannot be helped, it is only a matter of waiting until the morning.”

  He looked across at the inert figure on the bed. Mrs. Vandemeyer lay perfectly passive with closed eyes. He shook his head.

  “Well,” said Tuppence, with an attempt at cheerfulness, “we must wait until the morning, that’s all. But I don’t think we ought to leave the flat.”

  “What about leaving that bright boy of yours on guard?”

  “Albert? And suppose she came round again and hooked it. Albert couldn’t stop her.”

  “I guess she won’t want to make tracks away from the dollars.”

  “She might. She seemed very frightened of ‘Mr. Brown.’ ”

  “What? Real plumb scared of him?”

  “Yes. She looked round and said even walls had ears.”

  “Maybe she meant a dictaphone,” said Julius with interest.

  “Miss Tuppence is right,” said Sir James quietly. “We must not leave the flat—if only for Mrs. Vandemeyer’s sake.”

  Julius stared at him.

  “You think he’d get after her? Between now and tomorrow morning. How could he know, even?”

  “You forget your own suggestion of a dictaphone,” said Sir James dryly. “We have a very formidable adversary. I believe, if we exercise all due care, that there is a very good chance of his being delivered into our hands. But we must neglect no precaution. We have an important witness, but she must be safeguarded. I would suggest that Miss Tuppence should go to bed, and that you and I, Mr. Hersheimmer, should share the vigil.”

  Tuppence was about to protest, but happening to glance at the bed she saw Mrs. Vandemeyer, her eyes half open, with such an expression of mingled fear and malevolence on her face that it quite froze the words on her lips.

  For a moment she wondered whether the faint and the heart attack had been a gigantic sham, but remembering the deadly pallor she could hardly credit the supposition. As she looked the expression disappeared as by magic, and Mrs. Vandemeyer lay inert and motionless as before. For a moment the girl fancied she must have dreamt it. But she determined nevertheless to be on the alert.

  “Well,” said Julius, “I guess we’d better make a move out of here anyway.”

  The others fell in with his suggestion. Sir James again felt Mrs. Vandemeyer’s pulse.

  “Perfectly satisfactory,” he said in a low voice to Tuppence. “She’ll be absolutely all right after a night’s rest.”

  The girl hesitated a moment by the bed. The intensity of the expression she had surprised had impressed her powerfully. Mrs. Vandemeyer lifted her eyelids. She seemed to be struggling to speak. Tuppence bent over her.

  “Don’t—leave—” she seemed unable to proceed, murmuring something that sounded like “sleepy.” Then she tried again.

  Tuppence bent lower still. It was only a breath.

  “Mr.—Brown—” The voice stopped.

  But the half-closed eyes seemed still to send an agonized message.

  Moved by a sudden impulse, the girl said quickly:

  “I shan’t leave the flat. I shall sit up all night.”

  A flash of relief showed before the lids descended once more. Apparently Mrs. Vandemeyer slept. But her words had awakened a new uneasiness in Tuppence. What had she meant by that low murmur. “Mr. Brown?” Tuppence caught herself nervously looking over her shoulder. The big wardrobe loomed up in a sinister fashion before her eyes. Plenty of room for a man to hide in that . . .

  Half-ashamed of herself Tuppence pulled it open and looked inside. No one—of course! She stooped down and looked under the bed. There was no other possible hiding place.

  Tuppence gave her familiar shake of the shoulders. It was absurd, this giving way to nerves! Slowly she went out of the room. Julius and Sir James were talking in a low voice. Sir James turned to her.

  “Lock the door on the outside, please, Miss Tuppence, and take out the key. There must be no chance of anyone entering that room.”

  The gravity of his manner impressed them, and Tuppence felt less ashamed of her attack of “nerves.”

  “Say,” remarked Julius suddenly, “there’s Tuppence’s bright boy. I guess I’d better go down and ease his young mind. That’s some lad, Tuppence.”

  “How did you get in, by the way?” asked Tuppence suddenly. “I forgot to ask.”

  “Well, Albert got me on the phone all right. I ran round for Sir James here, and we came right on. The boy was on the lookout for us, and was just a mite worried about what might have happened to you. He’d been listening outside the door of the flat, but couldn’t hear anything. Anyhow he suggested sending us up in the coal lift instead of ringing the bell. And sure enough we landed in the scullery and came right along to find you. Albert’s still below, and must be hopping mad by this time.” With which Julius departed abruptly.

  “Now then, Miss Tuppence,” said Sir James, “you know this place better than I do. Where do you suggest we should take up our quarters?”

  Tuppence considered for a moment or two.

  “I think Mrs. Vandemeyer’s boudoir would be the most comfortable,” she said at last, and led the way there.

  Sir James looked round approvingly.

  “This will do very well, and now, my dear young lady, do go to bed and get some sleep.”

  Tuppence shook her head resolutely.

  “I couldn’t, thank you, Sir James. I should dream of Mr. Brown all night!”

  “But you’ll be so tired, child.”

  “No, I shan’t. I’d rather stay up—really.”

  The lawyer gave in.

  Julius reappeared some minutes later, having reassured Albert and rewarded him lavishly for his services. Having in his turn failed to persuade Tuppence to go to bed, he said decisively:

  “At any rate, you’ve got to have something to eat right away. Where’s the larder?”

  Tuppence directed him, and he returned in a few minutes with a cold pie and three plates.

  After a hearty meal, the girl felt inclined to pooh-pooh her fancies of half an hour before. The power of the money bribe could not fail.

  “And now, Miss Tuppence,” said Sir James, “we want to hear your adventures.”

  “That’s so,” agreed Julius.

  Tuppence narrated her adventures with some complacence. Julius occasionally interjected an admiring “Bully.” Sir James said nothing until she had finished, when his quiet “Well done, Miss Tuppence,” made her flush with pleasure.

  “There’s one thing I don’t get clearly,” said Julius. “What put her up to clearing out?”

  “I don’t know,” confessed Tuppence.

  Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “The room was in great disorder. That looks as though her flight was unpremeditated. Almost as though she got a sudden warning to go from someone.”

  “Mr. Brown, I suppose,” said Julius scoffingly.

  The lawyer looked at him deliberately for a minute or two.

  “Why not?” he said. “Remember, you yourself have once been worsted by him.”

  Julius flushed with vexation.

  “I feel just mad when I think of how I handed out Jane’s photograph to him like a lamb. Gee, if I ever lay hands on it again, I’ll freeze on to it—like hell!”

  “That contingency is likely to be a remote one,” said the other dryly.

  “I guess you
’re right,” said Julius frankly. “And, in any case, it’s the original I’m out after. Where do you think she can be, Sir James?”

  The lawyer shook his head.

  “Impossible to say. But I’ve a very good idea where she has been.”

  “You have? Where?”

  Sir James smiled.

  “At the scene of your nocturnal adventures, the Bournemouth nursing home.”

  “There? Impossible. I asked.”

  “No, my dear sir, you asked if anyone of the name of Jane Finn had been there. Now, if the girl had been placed there it would almost certainly be under an assumed name.”

  “Bully for you,” cried Julius. “I never thought of that!”

  “It was fairly obvious,” said the other.

  “Perhaps the doctor’s in it too,” suggested Tuppence.

  Julius shook his head.

  “I don’t think so. I took to him at once. No, I’m pretty sure Dr. Hall’s 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 hold on them. There were sudden creaks in the furniture, imperceptible rustlings in the curtains. Suddenly Tuppence sprang up with a cry.