Chapter VI. A Plan of Campaign

by Agatha Christie

　　A veil might with profit be drawn over the events of the nexthalf-hour. Suffice it to say that no such person as "InspectorBrown" was known to Scotland Yard. The photograph of Jane Finn,which would have been of the utmost value to the police intracing her, was lost beyond recovery. Once again "Mr. Brown" hadtriumphed.The immediate result of this set back was to effect arapprochement between Julius Hersheimmer and the YoungAdventurers. All barriers went down with a crash, and Tommy andTuppence felt they had known the young American all their lives.They abandoned the discreet reticence of "private inquiryagents," and revealed to him the whole history of the jointventure, whereat the young man declared himself "tickled todeath."He turned to Tuppence at the close of the narration."I've always had a kind of idea that English girls were just amite moss-grown. Old-fashioned and sweet, you know, but scared tomove round without a footman or a maiden aunt. I guess I'm a bitbehind the times!"The upshot of these confidential relations was that Tommy andTuppence took up their abode forthwith at the Ritz, in order, asTuppence put it, to keep in touch with Jane Finn's only livingrelation. "And put like that," she added confidentially to Tommy,"nobody could boggle at the expense!"Nobody did, which was the great thing."And now," said the young lady on the morning after theirinstallation, "to work!"Mr. Beresford put down the Daily Mail, which he was reading, andapplauded with somewhat unnecessary vigour. He was politelyrequested by his colleague not to be an ass."Dash it all, Tommy, we've got to do something for our money."Tommy sighed."Yes, I fear even the dear old Government will not support us atthe Ritz in idleness for ever.""Therefore, as I said before, we must do something.""Well," said Tommy, picking up the Daily Mail again, "do it. Ishan't stop you.""You see," continued Tuppence. "I've been thinking----"She was interrupted by a fresh bout of applause."It's all very well for you to sit there being funny, Tommy. Itwould do you no harm to do a little brain work too.""My union, Tuppence, my union! It does not permit me to workbefore 11 a.m.""Tommy, do you want something thrown at you? It is absolutelyessential that we should without delay map out a plan ofcampaign.""Hear, hear!""Well, let's do it."Tommy laid his paper finally aside. "There's something of thesimplicity of the truly great mind about you, Tuppence. Fireahead. I'm listening.""To begin with," said Tuppence, "what have we to go upon?""Absolutely nothing," said Tommy cheerily."Wrong!" Tuppence wagged an energetic finger. "We have twodistinct clues.""What are they?""First clue, we know one of the gang.""Whittington?""Yes. I'd recognize him anywhere.""Hum," said Tommy doubtfully, "I don't call that much of a clue.You don't know where to look for him, and it's about a thousandto one against your running against him by accident.""I'm not so sure about that," replied Tuppence thoughtfully."I've often noticed that once coincidences start happening theygo on happening in the most extraordinary way. I dare say it'ssome natural law that we haven't found out. Still, as you say, wecan't rely on that. But there are places in London where simplyevery one is bound to turn up sooner or later. Piccadilly Circus,for instance. One of my ideas was to take up my stand thereevery day with a tray of flags.""What about meals?" inquired the practical Tommy."How like a man! What does mere food matter?""That's all very well. You've just had a thundering goodbreakfast. No one's got a better appetite than you have,Tuppence, and by tea-time you'd be eating the flags, pins andall. But, honestly, I don't think much of the idea. Whittingtonmayn't be in London at all.""That's true. Anyway, I think clue No. 2 is more promising.""Let's hear it.""It's nothing much. Only a Christian name--Rita. Whittingtonmentioned it that day.""Are you proposing a third advertisement: Wanted, female crook,answering to the name of Rita?""I am not. I propose to reason in a logical manner. That man,Danvers, was shadowed on the way over, wasn't he? And it's morelikely to have been a woman than a man----""I don't see that at all.""I am absolutely certain that it would be a woman, and agood-looking one," replied Tuppence calmly."On these technical points I bow to your decision," murmured Mr.Beresford."Now, obviously this woman, whoever she was, was saved.""How do you make that out?""If she wasn't, how would they have known Jane Finn had got thepapers?""Correct. Proceed, O Sherlock!""Now there's just a chance, I admit it's only a chance, that thiswoman may have been 'Rita.' ""And if so?""If so, we've got to hunt through the survivors of the Lusitaniatill we find her.""Then the first thing is to get a list of the survivors.""I've got it. I wrote a long list of things I wanted to know,and sent it to Mr. Carter. I got his reply this morning, andamong other things it encloses the official statement of thosesaved from the Lusitania. How's that for clever littleTuppence?""Full marks for industry, zero for modesty. But the great pointis, is there a 'Rita' on the list?""That's just what I don't know," confessed Tuppence."Don't know?""Yes. Look here." Together they bent over the list. "You see,very few Christian names are given. They're nearly all Mrs. orMiss."Tommy nodded."That complicates matters," he murmured thoughtfully.Tuppence gave her characteristic "terrier" shake."Well, we've just got to get down to it, that's all. We'll startwith the London area. Just note down the addresses of any of thefemales who live in London or roundabout, while I put on my hat."Five minutes later the young couple emerged into Piccadilly, anda few seconds later a taxi was bearing them to The Laurels,Glendower Road, N.7, the residence of Mrs. Edgar Keith, whosename figured first in a list of seven reposing in Tommy'spocket-book.The Laurels was a dilapidated house, standing back from the roadwith a few grimy bushes to support the fiction of a front garden.Tommy paid off the taxi, and accompanied Tuppence to the frontdoor bell. As she was about to ring it, he arrested her hand."What are you going to say?""What am I going to say? Why, I shall say--Oh dear, I don'tknow. It's very awkward.""I thought as much," said Tommy with satisfaction. "How like awoman! No foresight! Now just stand aside, and see how easilythe mere male deals with the situation." He pressed the bell.Tuppence withdrew to a suitable spot.A slatternly looking servant, with an extremely dirty face and apair of eyes that did not match, answered the door.Tommy had produced a notebook and pencil."Good morning," he said briskly and cheerfully. "From theHampstead Borough Council. The new Voting Register. Mrs. EdgarKeith lives here, does she not?""Yaas," said the servant."Christian name?" asked Tommy, his pencil poised."Missus's? Eleanor Jane.""Eleanor," spelt Tommy. "Any sons or daughters over twenty-one?""Naow.""Thank you." Tommy closed the notebook with a brisk snap. "Goodmorning."The servant volunteered her first remark:"I thought perhaps as you'd come about the gas," she observedcryptically, and shut the door.Tommy rejoined his accomplice."You see, Tuppence," he observed. "Child's play to the masculinemind.""I don't mind admitting that for once you've scored handsomely. Ishould never have thought of that.""Good wheeze, wasn't it? And we can repeat it ad lib."Lunch-time found the young couple attacking a steak and chips inan obscure hostelry with avidity. They had collected a GladysMary and a Marjorie, been baffled by one change of address, andhad been forced to listen to a long lecture on universal suffragefrom a vivacious American lady whose Christian name had proved tobe Sadie."Ah!" said Tommy, imbibing a long draught of beer, "I feelbetter. Where's the next draw?"The notebook lay on the table between them. Tuppence picked itup."Mrs. Vandemeyer," she read, "20 South Audley Mansions. MissWheeler, 43 Clapington Road, Battersea. She's a lady's maid, asfar as I remember, so probably won't be there, and, anyway, she'snot likely.""Then the Mayfair lady is clearly indicated as the first port ofcall.""Tommy, I'm getting discouraged.""Buck up, old bean. We always knew it was an outside chance.And, anyway, we're only starting. If we draw a blank in London,there's a fine tour of England, Ireland and Scotland before us.""True," said Tuppence, her flagging spirits reviving. "And allexpenses paid! But, oh, Tommy, I do like things to happenquickly. So far, adventure has succeeded adventure, but thismorning has been dull as dull.""You must stifle this longing for vulgar sensation, Tuppence.Remember that if Mr. Brown is all he is reported to be, it's awonder that he has not ere now done us to death. That's a goodsentence, quite a literary flavour about it.""You're really more conceited than I am--with less excuse! Ahem!But it certainly is queer that Mr. Brown has not yet wreakedvengeance upon us. (You see, I can do it too.) We pass on our wayunscathed.""Perhaps he doesn't think us worth bothering about," suggestedthe young man simply.Tuppence received the remark with great disfavour."How horrid you are, Tommy. Just as though we didn't count.""Sorry, Tuppence. What I meant was that we work like moles inthe dark, and that he has no suspicion of our nefarious schemes.Ha ha!""Ha ha!" echoed Tuppence approvingly, as she rose.South Audley Mansions was an imposing-looking block of flats justoff Park Lane. No. 20 was on the second floor.Tommy had by this time the glibness born of practice. He rattledoff the formula to the elderly woman, looking more like ahousekeeper than a servant, who opened the door to him."Christian name?""Margaret."Tommy spelt it, but the other interrupted him."No, G U E.""Oh, Marguerite; French way, I see." He paused, then plungedboldly. "We had her down as Rita Vandemeyer, but I suppose that'sincorrect?""She's mostly called that, sir, but Marguerite's her name.""Thank you. That's all. Good morning."Hardly able to contain his excitement, Tommy hurried down thestairs. Tuppence was waiting at the angle of the turn."You heard?""Yes. Oh, Tommy!"Tommy squeezed her arm sympathetically."I know, old thing. I feel the same.""It's--it's so lovely to think of things--and then for themreally to happen!" cried Tuppence enthusiastically.Her hand was still in Tommy's. They had reached the entrancehall. There were footsteps on the stairs above them, and voices.Suddenly, to Tommy's complete surprise, Tuppence dragged him intothe little space by the side of the lift where the shadow wasdeepest."What the----""Hush!"Two men came down the stairs and passed out through the entrance.Tuppence's hand closed tighter on Tommy's arm."Quick--follow them. I daren't. He might recognize me. I don'tknow who the other man is, but the bigger of the two wasWhittington."