The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection by Agatha Christie Page A

this is from the Ritz!”
    â€œA hundred pounds instead of fifty!”
    â€œI’ll read it:
    â€œDear Sir,
    â€œRe your advertisement, I should be glad if you would call round somewhere about lunchtime.
    â€œYours truly,
    â€œJulius P. Hersheimmer.”
    â€œHa!” said Tommy. “Do I smell a Boche? Or only an American millionaire of unfortunate ancestry? At all events we’ll call at lunchtime. It’s a good time—frequently leads to free food for two.”
    Tuppence nodded assent.
    â€œNow for Carter. We’ll have to hurry.”
    Carshalton Terrace proved to be an unimpeachable row of what Tuppence called “ladylike-looking houses.” They rang the bell at No. 27, and a neat maid answered the door. She looked so respectable that Tuppence’s heart sank. Upon Tommy’s request for Mr. Carter, she showed them into a small study on the ground floor, where she left them. Hardly a minute elapsed, however, before the door opened, and a tall man with a lean hawklike face and a tired manner entered the room.
    â€œMr. Y.A.?” he said, and smiled. His smile was distinctly attractive. “Do sit down, both of you.”
    They obeyed. He himself took a chair opposite to Tuppence and smiled at her encouragingly. There was something in the quality of his smile that made the girl’s usual readiness desert her.
    As he did not seem inclined to open the conversation, Tuppence was forced to begin.
    â€œWe wanted to know—that is, would you be so kind as to tell us anything you know about Jane Finn?”
    â€œJane Finn? Ah!” Mr. Carter appeared to reflect. “Well, the question is, what do you know about her?”
    Tuppence drew herself up.
    â€œI don’t see that that’s got anything to do with it.”
    â€œNo? But it has, you know, really it has.” He smiled again in his tired way, and continued reflectively. “So that brings us down to it again. What do you know about Jane Finn?”
    â€œCome now,” he continued, as Tuppence remained silent. “You must know something to have advertised as you did?” He leaned forward a little, his weary voice held a hint of persuasiveness. “Suppose you tell me. . . .”
    There was something very magnetic about Mr. Carter’s personality. Tuppence seemed to shake herself free of it with an effort, as she said:
    â€œWe couldn’t do that, could we, Tommy?”
    But to her surprise, her companion did not back her up. His eyes were fixed on Mr. Carter, and his tone when he spoke held an unusual note of deference.
    â€œI daresay the little we know won’t be any good to you, sir. But such as it is, you’re welcome to it.”
    â€œTommy!” cried out Tuppence in surprise.
    Mr. Carter slewed round in his chair. His eyes asked a question.
    Tommy nodded.
    â€œYes, sir, I recognized you at once. Saw you in France when I was with the Intelligence. As soon as you came into the room, I knew—”
    Mr. Carter held up his hand.
    â€œNo names, please. I’m known as Mr. Carter here. It’s my cousin’s house, by the way. She’s willing to lend it to me sometimes when it’s a case of working on strictly unofficial lines. Well, now,”—he looked from one to the other—“who’s going to tell me the story?”
    â€œFire ahead, Tuppence,” directed Tommy. “It’s your yarn.”
    â€œYes, little lady, out with it.”
    And obediently Tuppence did out with it, telling the whole story from the forming of the Young Adventurers, Ltd., downwards.
    Mr. Carter listened in silence with a resumption of his tired manner. Now and then he passed his hand across his lips as though to hide a smile. When she had finished he nodded gravely.
    â€œNot much. But suggestive. Quite suggestive. If you’ll excuse me saying so, you’re a curious young couple. I don’t know—you might succeed where others