Chapter IV. Who is Jane Finn?

by Agatha Christie

　　The next day passed slowly. It was necessary to curtailexpenditure. Carefully husbanded, forty pounds will last a longtime. Luckily the weather was fine, and "walking is cheap,"dictated Tuppence. An outlying picture house provided them withrecreation for the evening.The day of disillusionment had been a Wednesday. On Thursday theadvertisement had duly appeared. On Friday letters might beexpected to arrive at Tommy's rooms.He had been bound by an honourable promise not to open any suchletters if they did arrive, but to repair to the NationalGallery, where his colleague would meet him at ten o'clock.Tuppence was first at the rendezvous. She ensconced herself on ared velvet seat, and gazed at the Turners with unseeing eyesuntil she saw the familiar figure enter the room."Well?""Well," returned Mr. Beresford provokingly. "Which is yourfavourite picture?""Don't be a wretch. Aren't there any answers?"Tommy shook his head with a deep and somewhat overactedmelancholy."I didn't want to disappoint you, old thing, by telling you rightoff. It's too bad. Good money wasted." He sighed. "Still,there it is. The advertisement has appeared, and--there are onlytwo answers!""Tommy, you devil!" almost screamed Tuppence. "Give them to me.How could you be so mean!""Your language, Tuppence, your language! They're very particularat the National Gallery. Government show, you know. And doremember, as I have pointed out to you before, that as aclergyman's daughter----""I ought to be on the stage!" finished Tuppence with a snap."That is not what I intended to say. But if you are sure thatyou have enjoyed to the full the reaction of joy after despairwith which I have kindly provided you free of charge, let us getdown to our mail, as the saying goes."Tuppence snatched the two precious envelopes from himunceremoniously, and scrutinized them carefully."Thick paper, this one. It looks rich. We'll keep it to thelast and open the other first.""Right you are. One, two, three, go!"Tuppence's little thumb ripped open the envelope, and sheextracted the contents."Dear Sir,"Referring to your advertisement in this morning's paper, I maybe able to be of some use to you. Perhaps you could call and seeme at the above address at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning."Yours truly,"A. Carter."27 Carshalton Gardens," said Tuppence, referring to the address."That's Gloucester Road way. Plenty of time to get there if wetube.""The following," said Tommy, "is the plan of campaign. It is myturn to assume the offensive. Ushered into the presence of Mr.Carter, he and I wish each other good morning as is customary. Hethen says: 'Please take a seat, Mr.--er?' To which I replypromptly and significantly: 'Edward Whittington!' whereupon Mr.Carter turns purple in the face and gasps out: 'How much?'Pocketing the usual fee of fifty pounds, I rejoin you in the roadoutside, and we proceed to the next address and repeat theperformance.""Don't be absurd, Tommy. Now for the other letter. Oh, this isfrom the Ritz!""A hundred pounds instead of fifty!""I'll read it:"Dear Sir,"Re your advertisement, I should be glad if you would call roundsomewhere about lunch-time."Yours truly,"Julius P. Hersheimmer.""Ha!" said Tommy. "Do I smell a Boche? Or only an Americanmillionaire of unfortunate ancestry? At all events we'll call atlunch-time. It's a good time--frequently leads to free food fortwo."Tuppence nodded assent."Now for Carter. We'll have to hurry."Carshalton Terrace proved to be an unimpeachable row of whatTuppence called "ladylike looking houses." They rang the bell atNo. 27, and a neat maid answered the door. She looked sorespectable that Tuppence's heart sank. Upon Tommy's request forMr. Carter, she showed them into a small study on the groundfloor where she left them. Hardly a minute elapsed, however,before the door opened, and a tall man with a lean hawklike faceand a tired manner entered the room."Mr. Y. A.?" he said, and smiled. His smile was distinctlyattractive. "Do sit down, both of you."They obeyed. He himself took a chair opposite to Tuppence andsmiled at her encouragingly. There was something in the qualityof his smile that made the girl's usual readiness desert her.As he did not seem inclined to open the conversation, Tuppencewas forced to begin."We wanted to know--that is, would you be so kind as to tell usanything you know about Jane Finn?""Jane Finn? Ah!" Mr. Carter appeared to reflect. "Well, thequestion is, what do you know about her?"Tuppence drew herself up."I don't see that that's got anything to do with it.""No? But it has, you know, really it has." He smiled again inhis tired way, and continued reflectively. "So that brings usdown to it again. What do you know about Jane Finn?"Come now," he continued, as Tuppence remained silent. "You mustknow something to have advertised as you did?" He leaned forwarda little, his weary voice held a hint of persuasiveness. "Supposeyou tell me . . ."There was something very magnetic about Mr. Carter's personality.Tuppence seemed to shake herself free of it with an effort, asshe said:"We couldn't do that, could we, Tommy?"But to her surprise, her companion did not back her up. His eyeswere fixed on Mr. Carter, and his tone when he spoke held anunusual note of deference."I dare say the little we know won't be any good to you, sir. Butsuch as it is, you're welcome to it.""Tommy!" cried out Tuppence in surprise.Mr. Carter slewed round in his chair. His eyes asked a question.Tommy nodded."Yes, sir, I recognized you at once. Saw you in France when Iwas with the Intelligence. As soon as you came into the room, Iknew----"Mr. Carter held up his hand."No names, please. I'm known as Mr. Carter here. It's mycousin's house, by the way. She's willing to lend it to mesometimes when it's a case of working on strictly unofficiallines. Well, now"--he looked from one to the other--"who's goingto tell me the story?""Fire ahead, Tuppence," directed Tommy. "It's your yarn.""Yes, little lady, out with it."And obediently Tuppence did out with it, telling the whole storyfrom the forming of the Young Adventurers, Ltd., downwards.Mr. Carter listened in silence with a resumption of his tiredmanner. Now and then he passed his hand across his lips as thoughto hide a smile. When she had finished he; nodded gravely."Not much. But suggestive. Quite suggestive. If you'll excusemy saying so, you're a curious young couple. I don't know--youmight succeed where others have failed . . . I believe in luck,you know--always have...."He paused a moment, and then went on."Well, how about it? You're out for adventure. How would youlike to work for me? All quite unofficial, you know. Expensespaid, and a moderate screw?"Tuppence gazed at him, her lips parted, her eyes growing widerand wider."What should we have to do?" she breathed.Mr. Carter smiled."Just go on with what you're doing now. Find Jane Finn.""Yes, but--who is Jane Finn?"Mr. Carter nodded gravely."Yes, you're entitled to know that, I think."He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, brought the tipsof his fingers together, and began in a low monotone:"Secret diplomacy (which, by the way, is nearly always badpolicy!) does not concern you. It will be sufficient to say thatin the early days of 1915 a certain document came into being. Itwas the draft of a secret agreement--treaty--call it what youlike. It was drawn up ready for signature by the variousrepresentatives, and drawn up in America--at that time a neutralcountry. It was dispatched to England by a special messengerselected for that purpose, a young fellow called Danvers. It washoped that the whole affair had been kept so secret that nothingwould have leaked out. That kind of hope is usuallydisappointed. Somebody always talks!"Danvers sailed for England on the Lusitania. He carried theprecious papers in an oilskin packet which he wore next his skin.It was on that particular voyage that the Lusitania was torpedoedand sunk. Danvers was among the list of those missing.Eventually his body was washed ashore, and identified beyond anypossible doubt. But the oilskin packet was missing!"The question was, had it been taken from him, or had he himselfpassed it on into another's keeping? There were a few incidentsthat strengthened the possibility of the latter theory. After thetorpedo struck the ship, in the few moments during the launchingof the boats, Danvers was seen speaking to a young American girl.No one actually saw him pass anything to her, but he might havedone so. It seems to me quite likely that he entrusted the papersto this girl, believing that she, as a woman, had a greaterchance of bringing them safely to shore."But if so, where was the girl, and what had she done with thepapers? By later advice from America it seemed likely thatDanvers had been closely shadowed on the way over. Was this girlin league with his enemies? Or had she, in her turn, beenshadowed and either tricked or forced into handing over theprecious packet?"We set to work to trace her out. It proved unexpectedlydifficult. Her name was Jane Finn, and it duly appeared among thelist of the survivors, but the girl herself seemed to havevanished completely. Inquiries into her antecedents did little tohelp us. She was an orphan, and had been what we should callover here a pupil teacher in a small school out West. Herpassport had been made out for Paris, where she was going to jointhe staff of a hospital. She had offered her servicesvoluntarily, and after some correspondence they had beenaccepted. Having seen her name in the list of the saved from theLusitania, the staff of the hospital were naturally verysurprised at her not arriving to take up her billet, and at nothearing from her in any way."Well, every effort was made to trace the young lady--but all invain. We tracked her across Ireland, but nothing could be heardof her after she set foot in England. No use was made of thedraft treaty--as might very easily have been done--and wetherefore came to the conclusion that Danvers had, after all,destroyed it. The war entered on another phase, the diplomaticaspect changed accordingly, and the treaty was never redrafted.Rumours as to its existence were emphatically denied. Thedisappearance of Jane Finn was forgotten and the whole affair waslost in oblivion."Mr. Carter paused, and Tuppence broke in impatiently:"But why has it all cropped up again? The war's over."A hint of alertness came into Mr. Carter's manner."Because it seems that the papers were not destroyed after all,and that they might be resurrected to-day with a new and deadlysignificance."Tuppence stared. Mr. Carter nodded."Yes, five years ago, that draft treaty was a weapon in ourhands; to-day it is a weapon against us. It was a giganticblunder. If its terms were made public, it would meandisaster.... It might possibly bring about another war--not withGermany this time! That is an extreme possibility, and I do notbelieve in its likelihood myself, but that document undoubtedlyimplicates a number of our statesmen whom we cannot afford tohave discredited in any way at the present moment. As a partycry for Labour it would be irresistible, and a Labour Governmentat this juncture would, in my opinion, be a grave disability forBritish trade, but that is a mere nothing to the real danger."He paused, and then said quietly:"You may perhaps have heard or read that there is Bolshevistinfluence at work behind the present Labour unrest?"Tuppence nodded."That is the truth. Bolshevist gold is pouring into this countryfor the specific purpose of procuring a Revolution. And there isa certain man, a man whose real name is unknown to us, who isworking in the dark for his own ends. The Bolshevists are behindthe Labour unrest--but this man is behind the Bolshevists. Whois he? We do not know. He is always spoken of by the unassumingtitle of 'Mr. Brown.' But one thing is certain, he is the mastercriminal of this age. He controls a marvellous organization.Most of the Peace propaganda during the war was originated andfinanced by him. His spies are everywhere.""A naturalized German?" asked Tommy."On the contrary, I have every reason to believe he is anEnglishman. He was pro-German, as he would have been pro-Boer.What he seeks to attain we do not know--probably supreme powerfor himself, of a kind unique in history. We have no clue as tohis real personality. It is reported that even his own followersare ignorant of it. Where we have come across his tracks, he hasalways played a secondary part. Somebody else assumes the chiefrole. But afterwards we always find that there has been somenonentity, a servant or a clerk, who has remained in thebackground unnoticed, and that the elusive Mr. Brown has escapedus once more.""Oh!" Tuppence jumped. "I wonder----""Yes?""I remember in Mr. Whittington's office. The clerk--he calledhim Brown. You don't think----"Carter nodded thoughtfully."Very likely. A curious point is that the name is usuallymentioned. An idiosyncrasy of genius. Can you describe him atall?""I really didn't notice. He was quite ordinary--just like anyoneelse."Mr. Carter sighed in his tired manner."That is the invariable description of Mr. Brown! Brought atelephone message to the man Whittington, did he? Notice atelephone in the outer office?"Tuppence thought."No, I don't think I did.""Exactly. That 'message' was Mr. Brown's way of giving an orderto his subordinate. He overheard the whole conversation ofcourse. Was it after that that Whittington handed you over themoney, and told you to come the following day?"Tuppence nodded."Yes, undoubtedly the hand of Mr. Brown!" Mr. Carter paused."Well, there it is, you see what you are pitting yourselvesagainst? Possibly the finest criminal brain of the age. I don'tquite like it, you know. You're such young things, both of you.I shouldn't like anything to happen to you.""It won't," Tuppence assured him positively."I'll look after her, sir," said Tommy."And I'll look after you," retorted Tuppence, resenting the manlyassertion."Well, then, look after each other," said Mr. Carter, smiling."Now let's get back to business. There's something mysteriousabout this draft treaty that we haven't fathomed yet. We've beenthreatened with it--in plain and unmistakable terms. TheRevolutionary element as good as declare that it's in theirhands, and that they intend to produce it at a given moment. Onthe other hand, they are clearly at fault about many of itsprovisions. The Government consider it as mere bluff on theirpart, and, rightly or wrongly, have stuck to the policy ofabsolute denial. I'm not so sure. There have been hints,indiscreet allusions, that seem to indicate that the menace is areal one. The position is much as though they had got hold of anincriminating document, but couldn't read it because it was incipher--but we know that the draft treaty wasn't incipher--couldn't be in the nature of things--so that won't wash.But there's something. Of course, Jane Finn may be dead for allwe know--but I don't think so. The curious thing is that they'retrying to get information about the girl from us""What?""Yes. One or two little things have cropped up. And your story,little lady, confirms my idea. They know we're looking for JaneFinn. Well, they'll produce a Jane Finn of their own--say at apensionnat in Paris." Tuppence gasped, and Mr. Carter smiled."No one knows in the least what she looks like, so that's allright. She's primed with a trumped-up tale, and her real businessis to get as much information as possible out of us. See theidea?""Then you think"--Tuppence paused to grasp the suppositionfully--"that it was as Jane Finn that they wanted me to go toParis?"Mr. Carter smiled more wearily than ever."I believe in coincidences, you know," he said.