Chapter I. The Young Adventurers, Ltd.

by Agatha Christie

　　"Tommy, old thing!""Tuppence, old bean!"The two young people greeted each other affectionately, andmomentarily blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. Theadjective "old" was misleading. Their united ages wouldcertainly not have totalled forty-five."Not seen you for simply centuries," continued the young man."Where are you off to? Come and chew a bun with me. We'regetting a bit unpopular here--blocking the gangway as it were.Let's get out of it."The girl assenting, they started walking down Dover Streettowards Piccadilly."Now then," said Tommy, "where shall we go?"The very faint anxiety which underlay his tone did not escape theastute ears of Miss Prudence Cowley, known to her intimatefriends for some mysterious reason as "Tuppence." She pounced atonce."Tommy, you're stony!""Not a bit of it," declared Tommy unconvincingly. "Rolling incash.""You always were a shocking liar," said Tuppence severely,"though you did once persuade Sister Greenbank that the doctorhad ordered you beer as a tonic, but forgotten to write it on thechart. Do you remember?"Tommy chuckled."I should think I did! Wasn't the old cat in a rage when shefound out? Not that she was a bad sort really, old MotherGreenbank! Good old hospital--demobbed like everything else, Isuppose?"Tuppence sighed."Yes. You too?"Tommy nodded."Two months ago.""Gratuity?" hinted Tuppence."Spent.""Oh, Tommy!""No, old thing, not in riotous dissipation. No such luck! Thecost of living--ordinary plain, or garden living nowadays is, Iassure you, if you do not know----""My dear child," interrupted Tuppence, "there is nothing I do notknow about the cost of living. Here we are at Lyons', and wewill each of us pay for our own. That's it!" And Tuppence ledthe way upstairs.The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table,catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so."And--do you know, she sat down and cried when I told her shecouldn't have the flat after all." "It was simply a bargain, mydear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris----""Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy. "I passed twoJohnnies in the street to-day talking about some one called JaneFinn. Did you ever hear such a name?"But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels,and Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats.Tommy ordered tea and buns. Tuppence ordered tea and butteredtoast."And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely.Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock ofexquisitely slicked-back red hair. His face was pleasantlyugly--nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and asportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near theend of its tether.They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there.Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character andcharm in the elfin lines of her little face, with its determinedchin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked mistily out fromunder straight, black brows. She wore a small bright green toqueover her black bobbed hair, and her extremely short and rathershabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly dainty ankles. Herappearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness.The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit ofmeditation, poured it out."Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's getup-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time inhospital in 1916.""Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to butteredtoast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifthdaughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk.Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home lifeearly in the war and came up to London, where she entered anofficers' hospital. First month: Washed up six hundred andforty-eight plates every day. Second month: Promoted to dryingaforesaid plates. Third month: Promoted to peeling potatoes.Fourth month: Promoted to cutting bread and butter. Fifth month:Promoted one floor up to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail.Sixth month: Promoted to waiting at table. Seventh month:Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking that am promotedto waiting on the Sisters! Eighth month: Slight check in career.Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row! Wardmaidclearly to blame! Inattention in such important matters cannotbe too highly censured. Mop and pail again! How are the mightyfallen! Ninth month: Promoted to sweeping out wards, where Ifound a friend of my childhood in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford(bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for five long years. Themeeting was affecting! Tenth month: Reproved by matron forvisiting the pictures in company with one of the patients,namely: the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford.Eleventh and twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed withentire success. At the end of the year left hospital in a blazeof glory. After that, the talented Miss Cowley drovesuccessively a trade delivery van, a motor-lorry and a general!"The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!""What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy. "Perfectly sickeningthe way those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy,and from the Savoy to the War Office!""I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence. "To resume,that was in a way the apex of my career. I next entered aGovernment office. We had several very enjoyable tea parties. Ihad intended to become a land girl, a postwoman, and a busconductress by way of rounding off my career--but the Armisticeintervened! I clung to the office with the true limpet touch formany long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since thenI've been looking for a job. Now then--your turn.""There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully,"and a great deal less variety. I went out to France again, asyou know. Then they sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got woundedfor the second time, and went into hospital out there. Then I gotstuck in Egypt till the Armistice happened, kicked my heels theresome time longer, and, as I told you, finally got demobbed. And,for ten long, weary months I've been job hunting! There aren'tany jobs! And, if there were, they wouldn't give 'em to me. Whatgood am I? What do I know about business? Nothing."Tuppence nodded gloomily."What about the colonies?" she suggested.Tommy shook his head."I shouldn't like the colonies--and I'm perfectly certain theywouldn't like me!""Rich relations?"Again Tommy shook his head."Oh, Tommy, not even a great-aunt?""I've got an old uncle who's more or less rolling, but he's nogood.""Why not?""Wanted to adopt me once. I refused.""I think I remember hearing about it," said Tuppence slowly. "Yourefused because of your mother----"Tommy flushed."Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater. As you know,I was all she had. Old boy hated her--wanted to get me away fromher. Just a bit of spite.""Your mother's dead, isn't she?" said Tuppence gently.Tommy nodded.Tuppence's large grey eyes looked misty."You're a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it.""Rot!" said Tommy hastily. "Well, that's my position. I'm justabout desperate.""So am I! I've hung out as long as I could. I've touted round.I've answered advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessedthing. I've screwed and saved and pinched! But it's no good. Ishall have to go home!""Don't you want to?""Of course I don't want to! What's the good of beingsentimental? Father's a dear--I'm awfully fond of him--but you'veno idea how I worry him! He has that delightful early Victorianview that short skirts and smoking are immoral. You can imaginewhat a thorn in the flesh I am to him! He just heaved a sigh ofrelief when the war took me off. You see, there are seven of usat home. It's awful! All housework and mothers' meetings! Ihave always been the changeling. I don't want to go back,but--oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?"Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and thenTuppence burst out:"Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon andnight! I dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!""Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling."I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too,"continued Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, tomarry it, or to make it. First is ruled out. I haven't got anyrich elderly relatives. Any relatives I have are in homes fordecayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over crossings,and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turnout to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has everasked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' "There was a pause."Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. Imade up my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Anythinking girl would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused."Come now, you can't say I'm sentimental," she added sharply."Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever thinkof sentiment in connection with you.""That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say youmean it all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--butI never meet any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hardup as I am.""What about the general?" inquired Tommy."I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explainedTuppence. "No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl.""I'm like you. I don't know any.""That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if Isee a man in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up tohim and say: 'Look here, you're rich. I'd like to know you.' ""Do you suggest that I should do that to a similarly garbedfemale?""Don't be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up herhandkerchief, or something like that. If she thinks you want toknow her she's flattered, and will manage it for you somehow.""You overrate my manly charms," murmured Tommy."On the other hand," proceeded Tuppence, "my millionaire wouldprobably run for his life! No--marriage is fraught withdifficulties. Remains--to make money!""We've tried that, and failed," Tommy reminded her."We've tried all the orthodox ways, yes. But suppose we try theunorthodox. Tommy, let's be adventurers!""Certainly," replied Tommy cheerfully. "How do we begin?""That's the difficulty. If we could make ourselves known, peoplemight hire us to commit crimes for them.""Delightful," commented Tommy. "Especially coming from aclergyman's daughter!""The moral guilt," Tuppence pointed out, "would be theirs--notmine. You must admit that there's a difference between stealing adiamond necklace for yourself and being hired to steal it.""There wouldn't be the least difference if you were caught!""Perhaps not. But I shouldn't be caught. I'm so clever.""Modesty always was your besetting sin," remarked Tommy."Don't rag. Look here, Tommy, shall we really? Shall we form abusiness partnership?""Form a company for the stealing of diamond necklaces?""That was only an illustration. Let's have a--what do you callit in book-keeping?""Don't know. Never did any.""I have--but I always got mixed up, and used to put creditentries on the debit side, and vice versa--so they fired me out.Oh, I know--a joint venture! It struck me as such a romanticphrase to come across in the middle of musty old figures. It'sgot an Elizabethan flavour about it--makes one think of galleonsand doubloons. A joint venture!""Trading under the name of the Young Adventurers, Ltd.? Is thatyour idea, Tuppence?""It's all very well to laugh, but I feel there might be somethingin it.""How do you propose to get in touch with your would-beemployers?""Advertisement," replied Tuppence promptly. "Have you got a bitof paper and a pencil? Men usually seem to have. Just like wehave hairpins and powder-puffs."Tommy handed over a rather shabby green notebook, and Tuppencebegan writing busily."Shall we begin: 'Young officer, twice wounded in the war--' ""Certainly not.""Oh, very well, my dear boy. But I can assure you that that sortof thing might touch the heart of an elderly spinster, and shemight adopt you, and then there would be no need for you to be ayoung adventurer at all.""I don't want to be adopted.""I forgot you had a prejudice against it. I was only raggingyou! The papers are full up to the brim with that type of thing.Now listen--how's this? 'Two young adventurers for hire. Willingto do anything, go anywhere. Pay must be good.' (We might aswell make that clear from the start.) Then we might add: 'Noreasonable offer refused'--like flats and furniture.""I should think any offer we get in answer to that would be apretty unreasonable one!""Tommy! You're a genius! That's ever so much more chic. 'Nounreasonable 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 forhire. Willing to do anything, go anywhere. Pay must be good. Nounreasonable offer refused.' How would that strike you if youread it?""It would strike me as either being a hoax, or else written by alunatic.""It's not half so insane as a thing I read this morning beginning'Petunia' and signed 'Best Boy.' " She tore out the leaf andhanded it to Tommy. "There you are. Times, I think. Reply toBox so-and-so. I expect it will be about five shillings. Here'shalf a crown for my share."Tommy was holding the paper thoughtfully. His faced burned adeeper 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 tosuccess." 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. Tuppencerose."I must return to my palatial suite at the hostel.""Perhaps it is time I strolled round to the Ritz," agreed Tommywith a grin. "Where shall we meet? And when?""Twelve o'clock to-morrow. Piccadilly Tube station. Will thatsuit 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'shostel was situated in what was charitably called SouthernBelgravia. For reasons of economy she did not take a bus.She was half-way across St. James's Park, when a man's voicebehind her made her start."Excuse me," it said. "But may I speak to you for a moment?"