He said:
"Er - I'm afraid you don't remember me?"
Tuppence was thoroughly used to the formula. She could have predicted with accuracy the words that were coming next.
"I - er - came to the flat with Deborah one day."
Deborah's friends! So many of them, and all, to Tuppence, looking singularly alike! Some dark like this young man, some fair, an occasional red-haired one - but all cast in the same mould - pleasant, well-mannered, their hair, in Tuppence's view, just slightly too long. (But when this was hinted, Deborah would say, "Oh, mother, don't be so terribly 1916. I can't stand short hair.")
Annoying to have run across and been recognized by one of Deborah's young men just now.
However, she could probably soon shake him off.
"I'm Antony Marsdon," explained the young man.
Tuppence murmured mendaciously, "Oh, of course," and shook hands.
Tony Marsdon went on:
"I'm awfully glad to have found you, Mrs Beresford. You see, I'm working at the same job as Deborah, and as a matter of fact something rather awkward has happened."
"Yes?" said Tuppence. "What is it?"
"Well, you see, Deborah's found out that you're not down in Cornwall as she thought, and that makes it a bit awkward, doesn't it, for you?"
"Oh, bother," said Tuppence, concerned. "How did she find out?"
Tony Marsdon explained. He went on rather diffidently:
"Deborah, of course, has no idea of what you're really doing."
He paused discreetly, and then went on:
"It's important, I imagine, that she shouldn't know. My job, actually, is rather the same line. I'm supposed to be just a beginner in the Coding Department. Really my instructions are to express views that are mildly Fascist - admiration of the German system, insinuations that a working alliance with Hitler wouldn't be a bad thing - all that sort of thing - just to see what response I get. There's a good deal of rot going on, you see, and we want to find out who's at the bottom of it."
"Rot everywhere," thought Tuppence.
"But as soon as Deb told me about you," continued the young man, "I thought I'd better come straight down and warn you so that you could cook up a likely story. You see, I happen to know what you are doing and that it's of vital importance. It would be fatal if any hint of who you are got about. I thought perhaps you could make it seem as though you'd joined Captain Beresford in Scotland or wherever he is. You might say that you'd been allowed to work with him there."
"I might do that, certainly," said Tuppence thoughtfully.
Tony Marsdon said anxiously:
"You don't think I'm butting in?"
"No, no, I'm very grateful to you."
Tony said rather inconsequentially:
"I'm - well - you see - I'm rather fond of Deborah."
Tuppence flashed him an amused quick glance.
How far away it seemed, that world of attentive young men and Deb with her rudeness to them that never seemed to put them off. This young man was, she thought, quite an attractive specimen.
She put aside what she called to herself "peace time thoughts" and concentrated on the present situation.
After a moment or two she said slowly:
"My husband isn't in Scotland."
"Isn't he?"
"No, he's down here with me. At least he was! Now - he's disappeared."
"I say, that's bad - or isn't it? Was he on to something?"
Tuppence nodded.
"I think so. That's why I don't think that his disappearing like this is really a bad sign. I think, sooner or later, he'll communicate with me - in his own way." She smiled a little.
Tony said, with some slight embarrassment:
"Of course, you know the game well, I expect. But you ought to be careful."
Tuppence nodded.
"I know what you mean. Beautiful heroines in books are always easily decoyed away. But Tommy and I have our methods. We've got a slogan." She smiled. "Penny Plain and Tuppence coloured."
"What?" The young man stared at her as though she had gone mad.
"I ought to explain that my family nickname is Tuppence."
"Oh, I see." The young man's brow cleared. "Ingenious - what?"
"I hope so."
"I don't want to butt in - but couldn't I help in anyway?"
"Yes," said Tuppence thoughtfully, "I think perhaps you might."
Chapter 12
After long aeons of unconsciousness, Tommy began to be aware of a fiery ball swimming in space. In the centre of the fiery ball was a core of pain, the universe shrank, the fiery ball swung more slowly - he discovered suddenly that the nucleus of it was his own aching head.
Slowly he became aware of other things - of cold cramped limbs, of hunger, of an inability to move his lips.
Slower and slower swung the fiery ball... It was now Thomas Beresford's head and it was resting on solid ground. Very solid ground. In fact on something suspiciously like stone.
Yes, he was lying on hard stones, and he was in pain, unable to move, extremely hungry, cold and uncomfortable.
Surely, although Mrs Perenna's beds had never been unduly soft, this could not be -
Of course - Haydock! The wireless! The German waiter! Turning in at the gates of Sans Souci...
Someone, creeping up behind him, had struck him down. That was the reason of his aching head.
And he'd thought he'd got away with it all right! So Haydock, after all, hadn't been quite such a fool?
Haydock? Haydock had gone back into Smugglers' Rest and closed the door. How had he managed to get down the hill and be waiting for Tommy in the grounds of Sans Souci?
It couldn't be done. Not without Tommy seeing him.
The manservant, then? Had he been sent ahead to lie in wait? But surely, as Tommy had crossed the hall, he had seen Appledore in the kitchen of which the door was slightly ajar. Or did he only fancy he had seen him? Perhaps that was the explanation.
Anyway it didn't matter. The thing to do was to find out where he was now.
His eyes, becoming accustomed to the darkness, picked out a small rectangle of dim light. A window or small grating. The air smelled chill and musty. He was, he fancied, lying in a cellar. His hands and feet were tied and a gag in his mouth was secured by a bandage.
"Seems rather as though I'm for it," thought Tommy.
He tried gingerly to move his limbs or body, but he could not succeed.
At that moment, there was a faint creaking sound and a door somewhere behind him was pushed open. A man with a candle came in. He set down the candle on the floor. Tommy recognized Appledore. The latter disappeared again and then returned carrying a tray on which were a jug of water, a glass and some bread and cheese.
Stooping down he first tested the cords binding the other's limbs. He then touched the gag.
He said in a quiet level voice:
"I am about to take this off. You will then be able to eat and drink. If, however, you make the slightest sound, I shall replace it immediately."
Tommy tried to nod his head, which proved impossible, so he opened and shut his eyes several times instead.
Appledore, taking this for consent, carefully unknotted the bandage.
His mouth freed, Tommy spent some few minutes easing his jaw. Appledore held the glass of water to his lips. He swallowed at first with difficulty, then more easily. The water did him a world of good.
He murmured stiffly:
"That's better. I'm not quite so young as I was. Now for the eats, Fritz - or is it Franz?"
The man said quietly"
"My name here is Appledore."
He held the slice of bread and cheese up and Tommy bit at it hungrily.
The meal washed down with some more water, he then asked:
"And what's the next part of the programme?"
For answer, Appledore picked up the gag again.
Tommy said quickly:
"I want to see Commander Haydock."
Appledore shook his head. Deftly he replaced the gag and went out.
Tommy was left to meditate in darkness. He was awakened from a confused sleep by the sound of the door reopening. This time Haydock and Appledore came in together. The gag was removed and the cords that held his arms were loosened so that he could sit up and stretch his arms.
Haydock had an automatic pistol with him.
Tommy, without much inward confidence, began to play his part.
He said indignantly:
"Look here, Haydock, what's the meaning of all this? I've been set upon - kidnapped -"
The Commander was gently shaking his head.
He said:
"Don't waste your breath. It's not worth it."
"Just because you're a member of our Secret Service, you think you can -"
Again the other shook his head.
"No, no, Meadowes. You weren't taken in by that story. No need to keep up the pretense."
But Tommy showed no signs of discomfiture. He argued to himself that the other could not really be sure. If he continued to play his part -
"Who the devil do you think you are?" he demanded. "However great your powers you've no right to behave like this. I'm perfectly capable of holding my tongue about any of our vital secrets!"
The other said coldly:
"You do your stuff very well, but I may tell you that it's immaterial to me whether you're a member of the British Intelligence, or merely a muddling amateur -"
"Of all the damned cheek -"
"Cut it out, Meadowes."
"I tell you -"
Haydock thrust a ferocious face forwards.
"Be quiet, damn you. Earlier on it would have mattered to find out who you were and who sent you. Now it doesn't matter. The time's short, you see. And you didn't have the chance to report to anyone what you 'd found out."
"The police will be looking for me as soon as I'm reported missing."
Haydock showed his teeth in a sudden gleam.
"I've had the police here this evening. Good fellows - both friends of mine. They asked me all about Mr Meadowes. Very concerned about his disappearance. How he seemed that evening - what he said. They never dreamed, how should they, that the man they were talking about was practically underneath their feet where they were sitting. It's quite clear, you see, that you left this house well and alive. They'd never dream of looking for you here."
"You can't keep me here forever," Tommy said vehemently.
Haydock said with a resumption of his most British manner:
"It won't be necessary, my dear fellow. Only until tomorrow night. There's a boat due in at my little cove - and we're thinking of sending you on a voyage for your health - though actually I don't think you'll be alive, or even on board, when they arrive at their destination."
"I wonder you didn't knock me on the head straightaway."
"It's such hot weather, my dear fellow. Just occasionally our sea communications are interrupted, and if that were to be so - well, a dead body on the premises has a way of announcing its presence."
"I see," said Tommy.
He did see. The issue was perfectly clear. He was to be kept alive until the boat arrived. Then he would be killed - or drugged - and taken out to sea. Nothing would ever connect his body, when found, with Smugglers' Rest.
"I just came along," continued Haydock, speaking in the most natural manner, "to ask whether there is anything we could - er - do for you - afterwards?"
Tommy reflected. Then he said:
"Thanks - but I won't ask you to take a lock of my hair to the little woman in St. John's Wood, or anything of that kind. She'll miss me when pay day comes along - but I daresay she'll soon find a friend elsewhere."
At all costs, he felt, he must create the impression that he was playing a lone hand. So long as no suspicion attached itself to Tuppence then the game might still be won through, though he was not there to play it.
"As you please," said Haydock. "If you did care to send a message to - your friend - we would see that it was delivered."
So he was, after all, anxious to get a little information about this unknown Mr Meadowes? Very well, then. Tommy would keep him guessing.
He shook his head. "Nothing doing," he said.
"Very well." With an appearance of the utmost indifference Haydock nodded to Appledore. The latter replaced the bonds and the gag. The two men went out, locking the door behind them.
Left to his reflections, Tommy felt anything but cheerful. Not only was he faced with the prospect of rapidly approaching death but he had no means of leaving any clue behind him as to the information he had discovered.
His body was completely helpless. His brain felt singularly inactive. Could he, he wondered, have utilized Haydock's suggestion of a message? Perhaps if his brain had been working better... But he could think of nothing helpful.
There was, of course, still Tuppence. But what could Tuppence do? As Haydock had just pointed out, Tommy's disappearance would not be connected with him. Tommy had left Smugglers' Rest alive and well. The evidence of two independent witnesses would confirm that. Whoever Tuppence might suspect, it would not be Haydock. And she might not suspect at all. She might think that he was merely following up a trail.
Damn it all, if only he had been more on his guard -
There was a little light in the cellar. It came through the grating which was high up in one corner. If only he could get his mouth free, could shout for help. Somebody might hear, though it was very unlikely.
For the next half hour he busied himself straining at the cords that bound him and trying to bite through the gag. It was all in vain, however. The people who had adjusted those things knew their business.
It was, he judged, late afternoon. Haydock, he fancied, had gone out, he had heard no sounds from overhead.
Confound it all, he was probably playing golf, speculating at the clubhouse over what could have happened to Meadowes!
"Dined with me night before last - seemed quite normal then. Just vanished into the blue."
Tommy writhed with fury. That hearty English manner! Was everyone blind not to see that bullet-headed Prussian skull? He himself hadn't seen it. Wonderful what a first class actor could get away with.
