Chapter XXII. In Downing Street

by Agatha Christie

　　The Prime Minister tapped the desk in front of him with nervousfingers. His face was worn and harassed. He took up hisconversation with Mr. Carter at the point it had broken off. "Idon't understand," he said. "Do you really mean that things arenot so desperate after all?""So this lad seems to think.""Let's have a look at his letter again."Mr. Carter handed it over. It was written in a sprawling boyishhand."Dear Mr. Carter,"Something's turned up that has given me a jar. Of course I maybe simply making an awful ass of myself, but I don't think so. Ifmy conclusions are right, that girl at Manchester was just aplant. The whole thing was prearranged, sham packet and all, withthe object of making us think the game was up--therefore I fancythat we must have been pretty hot on the scent."I think I know who the real Jane Finn is, and I've even got anidea where the papers are. That last's only a guess, of course,but I've a sort of feeling it'll turn out right. Anyhow, Ienclose it in a sealed envelope for what it's worth. I'm going toask you not to open it until the very last moment, midnight onthe 28th, in fact. You'll understand why in a minute. You see,I've figured it out that those things of Tuppence's are a planttoo, and she's no more drowned than I am. The way I reason isthis: as a last chance they'll let Jane Finn escape in the hopethat she's been shamming this memory stunt, and that once shethinks she's free she'll go right away to the cache. Of courseit's an awful risk for them to take, because she knows all aboutthem--but they're pretty desperate to get hold of that treaty.But if they know that the papers have been recovered by us,neither of those two girls' lives will be worth an hour'spurchase. I must try and get hold of Tuppence before Janeescapes."I want a repeat of that telegram that was sent to Tuppence atthe Ritz. Sir James Peel Edgerton said you would be able tomanage that for me. He's frightfully clever."One last thing--please have that house in Soho watched day andnight."Yours, etc.,"Thomas Beresford."The Prime Minister looked up."The enclosure?"Mr. Carter smiled dryly."In the vaults of the Bank. I am taking no chances.""You don't think"--the Prime Minister hesitated a minute--"thatit would be better to open it now? Surely we ought to secure thedocument, that is, provided the young man's guess turns out to becorrect, at once. We can keep the fact of having done so quitesecret.""Can we? I'm not so sure. There are spies all round us. Onceit's known I wouldn't give that"--he snapped his fingers--"forthe life of those two girls. No, the boy trusted me, and Ishan't let him down.""Well, well, we must leave it at that, then. What's he like,this lad?""Outwardly, he's an ordinary clean-limbed, rather block-headedyoung Englishman. Slow in his mental processes. On the otherhand, it's quite impossible to lead him astray through hisimagination. He hasn't got any--so he's difficult to deceive. Heworries things out slowly, and once he's got hold of anything hedoesn't let go. The little lady's quite different. Moreintuition and less common sense. They make a pretty pair workingtogether. Pace and stamina.""He seems confident," mused the Prime Minister."Yes, and that's what gives me hope. He's the kind of diffidentyouth who would have to be very sure before he ventured anopinion at all."A half smile came to the other's lips."And it is this--boy who will defeat the master criminal of ourtime?""This--boy, as you say! But I sometimes fancy I see a shadowbehind.""You mean?""Peel Edgerton.""Peel Edgerton?" said the Prime Minister in astonishment."Yes. I see his hand in this." He struck the open letter. "He'sthere--working in the dark, silently, unobtrusively. I've alwaysfelt that if anyone was to run Mr. Brown to earth, Peel Edgertonwould be the man. I tell you he's on the case now, but doesn'twant it known. By the way, I got rather an odd request from himthe other day.""Yes?""He sent me a cutting from some American paper. It referred to aman's body found near the docks in New York about three weeksago. He asked me to collect any information on the subject Icould.""Well?"Carter shrugged his shoulders."I couldn't get much. Young fellow about thirty-five--poorlydressed--face very badly disfigured. He was never identified.""And you fancy that the two matters are connected in some way?""Somehow I do. I may be wrong, of course."There was a pause, then Mr. Carter continued:"I asked him to come round here. Not that we'll get anything outof him he doesn't want to tell. His legal instincts are toostrong. But there's no doubt he can throw light on one or twoobscure points in young Beresford's letter. Ah, here he is!"The two men rose to greet the new-comer. A half whimsical thoughtflashed across the Premier's mind. "My successor, perhaps!""We've had a letter from young Beresford," said Mr. Carter,coming to the point at once. "You've seen him, I suppose?""You suppose wrong," said the lawyer."Oh!" Mr. Carter was a little nonplussed.Sir James smiled, and stroked his chin."He rang me up," he volunteered."Would you have any objection to telling us exactly what passedbetween you?""Not at all. He thanked me for a certain letter which I hadwritten to him--as a matter of fact, I had offered him a job.Then he reminded me of something I had said to him at Manchesterrespecting that bogus telegram which lured Miss Cowley away. Iasked him if anything untoward had occurred. He said ithad--that in a drawer in Mr. Hersheimmer's room he had discovereda photograph." The laywer{sic} paused, then continued: "I askedhim if the photograph bore the name and address of a Californianphotographer. He replied: 'You're on to it, sir. It had.' Thenhe went on to tell me something I didn't know. The original ofthat photograph was the French girl, Annette, who saved hislife.""What?""Exactly. I asked the young man with some curiosity what he haddone with the photograph. He replied that he had put it backwhere he found it." The lawyer paused again. "That was good, youknow--distinctly good. He can use his brains, that young fellow.I congratulated him. The discovery was a providential one. Ofcourse, from the moment that the girl in Manchester was proved tobe a plant everything was altered. Young Beresford saw that forhimself without my having to tell it him. But he felt he couldn'ttrust his judgment on the subject of Miss Cowley. Did I thinkshe was alive? I told him, duly weighing the evidence, thatthere was a very decided chance in favour of it. That brought usback to the telegram.""Yes?""I advised him to apply to you for a copy of the original wire.It had occurred to me as probable that, after Miss Cowley flungit on the floor, certain words might have been erased and alteredwith the express intention of setting searchers on a falsetrail."Carter nodded. He took a sheet from his pocket, and read aloud:"Come at once, Astley Priors, Gatehouse, Kent. Greatdevelopments--Tommy."Very simple," said Sir James, "and very ingenious. Just a fewwords to alter, and the thing was done. And the one importantclue they overlooked.""What was that?""The page-boy's statement that Miss Cowley drove to CharingCross. They were so sure of themselves that they took it forgranted he had made a mistake.""Then young Beresford is now?""At Gatehouse, Kent, unless I am much mistaken."Mr. Carter looked at him curiously."I rather wonder you're not there too, Peel Edgerton?""Ah, I'm busy on a case.""I thought you were on your holiday?""Oh, I've not been briefed. Perhaps it would be more correct tosay I'm preparing a case. Any more facts about that Americanchap for me?""I'm afraid not. Is it important to find out who he was?""Oh, I know who he was," said Sir James easily. "I can't proveit yet--but I know."The other two asked no questions. They had an instinct that itwould be mere waste of breath."But what I don't understand," said the Prime-Minister suddenly,"is how that photograph came to be in Mr. Hersheimmer's drawer?""Perhaps it never left it," suggested the lawyer gently."But the bogus inspector? Inspector Brown?""Ah!" said Sir James thoughtfully. He rose to his feet. "Imustn't keep you. Go on with the affairs of the nation. I mustget back to--my case."Two days later Julius Hersheimmer returned from Manchester. Anote from Tommy lay on his table:"Dear Hersheimmer,"Sorry I lost my temper. In case I don't see you again,good-bye. I've been offered a job in the Argentine, and might aswell take it."Yours,"Tommy Beresford."A peculiar smile lingered for a moment on Julius's face. He threwthe letter into the waste-paper basket."The darned fool!" he murmured.