The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection (86 page)

Her heart was dancing wildly. Success—success—they were going to succeed.

II

Yarrow was a small country station where the village was some distance from the railway.

Outside the station a car was waiting. A good-looking young man was driving it. He touched his peaked cap to Tuppence, but the gesture seemed hardly natural.

Tuppence kicked the off-side tyre dubiously.

“Isn't this rather flat?”

“We haven't got far to go, madam.”

She nodded and got in.

They drove, not towards the village, but towards the downs. After winding up over a hill, they took a sidetrack that dropped sharply into a deep cleft. From the shadow of a small copse of trees a figure stepped out to meet them.

The car stopped and Tuppence, getting out, went to meet Anthony Marsdon.

“Beresford's all right,” he said quickly. “We located him yesterday. He's a prisoner—the other side got him—and for good reasons he's remaining put for another twelve hours. You see, there's a small boat due in at a certain spot—and we want to catch her badly. That's why Beresford's lying low—we don't want to give the show away until the last minute.”

He looked at her anxiously.

“You do understand, don't you?”

“Oh, yes!” Tuppence was staring at a curious tangled mass of canvas material half-hidden by the trees.

“He'll be absolutely all right,” continued the young man earnestly.

“Of course Tommy will be all right,” said Tuppence impatiently. “You needn't talk to me as though I were a child of two. We're both ready to run a few risks. What's that thing over there?”

“Well—” The young man hesitated. “That's just it. I've been ordered to put a certain proposition before you. But—but well, frankly, I don't like doing it. You see—”

Tuppence treated him to a cold stare.

“Why don't you like doing it?”

“Well—dash it—you're Deborah's mother. And I mean—what would Deb say to me if—if—”

“If I got it in the neck?” inquired Tuppence. “Personally, if I were you, I shouldn't mention it to her. The man who said explanations were a mistake was quite right.”

Then she smiled kindly at him.

“My dear boy, I know exactly how you feel. That it's all very well for you and Deborah and the young generally to run risks, but that the mere middle-aged must be shielded. All complete nonsense, because if anyone is going to be liquidated it is much better it should be the middle-aged, who have had the best part of their lives. Anyway, stop looking upon me as that sacred object, Deborah's mother, and just tell me what dangerous and unpleasant job there is for me to do.”

“You know,” said the young man with enthusiasm, “I think you're splendid, simply splendid.”

“Cut out the compliments,” said Tuppence. “I'm admiring myself a good deal, so there's no need for you to chime in. What exactly
is
the big idea?”

Tony indicated the mass of crumpled material with a gesture.

“That,” he said, “is the remains of a parachute.”

“Aha,” said Tuppence. Her eyes sparkled.

“There was just an isolated parachutist,” went on Marsdon. “Fortunately the LDVs around here are quite a bright lot. The descent was spotted, and they got her.”

“Her?”

“Yes,
her!
Woman dressed as a hospital nurse.”

“I'm sorry she wasn't a nun,” said Tuppence. “There have been so many good stories going around about nuns paying their fares in buses with hairy muscular arms.”

“Well, she wasn't a nun and she wasn't a man in disguise. She was a woman of medium height, middle-aged, with dark hair and of slight build.”

“In fact,” said Tuppence, “a woman not unlike me?”

“You've hit it exactly,” said Tony.

“Well?” said Tuppence.

Marsdon said slowly:

“The next part of it is up to you.”

Tuppence smiled. She said:

“I'm
on
all right. Where do I go and what do I do?”

“I say, Mrs. Beresford, you really
are
a sport. Magnificent nerve you've got.”

“Where do I go and what do I do?” repeated Tuppence, impatiently.

“The instructions are very meagre, unfortunately. In the woman's pocket there was a piece of paper with these words on it in German. ‘Walk to Leatherbarrow—due east from the stone cross. 14 St. Asalph's Rd. Dr. Binion.' ”

Tuppence looked up. On the hilltop nearby was a stone cross.

“That's it,” said Tony. “Signposts have been removed, of course. But Leatherbarrow's a biggish place, and walking due east from the cross you're bound to strike it.”

“How far?”

“Five miles at least.”

Tuppence made a slight grimace.

“Healthy walking exercise before lunch,” she commented. “I hope Dr. Binion offers me lunch when I get there.”

“Do you know German, Mrs. Beresford?”

“Hotel variety only. I shall have to be firm about speaking English—say my instructions were to do so.”

“It's an awful risk,” said Marsdon.

“Nonsense. Who's to imagine there's been a substitution? Or does everyone know for miles round that there's been a parachutist brought down?”

“The two LDV men who reported it are being kept by the Chief Constable. Don't want to risk their telling their friends how clever they have been!”

“Somebody else may have seen it—or heard about it?”

Tony smiled.

“My dear Mrs. Beresford, every single day word goes round that one, two, three, four, up to a hundred parachutists have been seen!”

“That's probably quite true,” agreed Tuppence. “Well, lead me to it.”

Tony said:

“We've got the kit here—and a policewoman who's an expert in the art of makeup. Come with me.”

Just inside the copse there was a tumbledown shed. At the door of it was a competent-looking middle-aged woman.

She looked at Tuppence and nodded approvingly.

Inside the shed, seated on an upturned packing case, Tuppence submitted herself to expert ministrations. Finally the operator stood back, nodded approvingly and remarked:

“There, now, I think we've made a very nice job of it. What do you think, sir?”

“Very good indeed,” said Tony.

Tuppence stretched out her hand and took the mirror the other woman held. She surveyed her own face earnestly and could hardly repress a cry of surprise.

The eyebrows had been trimmed to an entirely different shape, altering the whole expression. Small pieces of adhesive plaster hidden by curls pulled forward over the ears that tightened the skin of the face and altered its contours. A small amount of nose putty had altered the shape of the nose, giving Tuppence an unexpectedly beaklike profile. Skilful makeup had added several years to her age, with heavy lines running down each side of the mouth. The whole face had a complacent, rather foolish look.

“It's frightfully clever,” said Tuppence admiringly. She touched her nose gingerly.

“You must be careful,” the other woman warned her. She produced two slices of thin india rubber. “Do you think you could bear to wear these in your cheeks?”

“I suppose I shall have to,” said Tuppence gloomily.

She slipped them in and worked her jaws carefully.

“It's not really too uncomfortable,” she had to admit.

Tony then discreetly left the shed and Tuppence shed her own clothing and got into the nurse's kit. It was not too bad a fit, though inclined to strain a little over the shoulders. The dark blue bonnet put the final touch to her new personality. She rejected, however, the stout square-toed shoes.

“If I've got to walk five miles,” she said decidedly, “I do it in my own shoes.”

They both agreed that this was reasonable—particularly as Tuppence's own shoes were dark blue brogues that went well with the uniform.

She looked with interest into the dark blue handbag—powder; no lipstick; two pounds fourteen and sixpence in English money; a handkerchief and an identity card in the name of Freda Elton, 4 Manchester Road, Sheffield.

Tuppence transferred her own powder and lipstick and stood up, prepared to set out.

Tony Marsdon turned his head away. He said gruffly:

“I feel a swine letting you do this.”

“I know just how you feel.”

“But, you see, it's absolutely vital—that we should get some idea of just where and how the attack will come.”

Tuppence patted him on the arm. “Don't you worry, my child. Believe it or not, I'm enjoying myself.”

Tony Marsdon said again:

“I think you're simply wonderful!”

III

Somewhat weary, Tuppence stood outside 14 St. Asalph's Road and noted that Dr. Binion was a dental surgeon and not a doctor.

From the corner of her eye she noted Tony Marsdon. He was sitting in a racy-looking car outside a house farther down the street.

It had been judged necessary for Tuppence to walk to Leatherbarrow exactly as instructed, since if she had been driven there in a car the fact might have been noted.

It was certainly true that two enemy aircraft had passed over the downs, circling low before making off, and they could have noted the nurse's lonely figure walking across country.

Tony, with the expert policewoman, had driven off in the opposite direction and had made a big detour before approaching Leatherbarrow and taking up his position in St. Asalph's Road. Everything was now set.

“The arena doors open,” murmured Tuppence. “Enter one Christian
en route
for the lions. Oh, well, nobody can say I'm not seeing life.”

She crossed the road and rang the bell, wondering as she did so exactly how much Deborah liked that young man. The door was opened by an elderly woman with a stolid peasant face—not an English face.

“Dr. Binion?” said Tuppence.

The woman looked her slowly up and down.

“You will be Nurse Elton, I suppose.”

“Yes.”

“Then you will come up to the doctor's surgery.”

She stood back, the door closed behind Tuppence, who found herself standing in a narrow linoleum-lined hall.

The maid preceded her upstairs and opened a door on the first floor.

“Please to wait. The doctor will come to you.”

She went out, shutting the door behind her.

A very ordinary dentist's surgery—the appointments somewhat old and shabby.

Tuppence looked at the dentist's chair and smiled to think that for once it held none of the usual terrors. She had the “dentist feeling” all right—but from quite different causes.

Presently the door would open and “Dr. Binion” would come in. Who would Dr. Binion be? A stranger? Or someone she had seen before? If it was the person she was half expecting to see—

The door opened.

The man who entered was not at all the person Tuppence had half fancied she might see! It was someone she had never considered as a likely starter.

It was Commander Haydock.

Fourteen

A
flood of wild surmises as to the part Commander Haydock had played in Tommy's disappearance surged through Tuppence's brain, but she thrust them resolutely aside. This was a moment for keeping all her wits about her.

Would or would not the Commander recognise her? It was an interesting question.

She had so steeled herself beforehand to display no recognition or surprise herself, no matter whom she might see, that she felt reasonably sure that she herself had displayed no signs untoward to the situation.

She rose now to her feet and stood there, standing in a respectable attitude, as befitted a mere German woman in the presence of a Lord of creation.

“So you have arrived,” said the Commander.

He spoke in English and his manner was precisely the same as usual.

“Yes,” said Tuppence, and added, as though presenting her credentials: “Nurse Elton.”

Haydock smiled as though at a joke.

“Nurse Elton! Excellent.”

He looked at her approvingly.

“You look absolutely right,” he said kindly.

Tuppence inclined her head, but said nothing. She was leaving the initiative to him.

“You know, I suppose, what you have to do?” went on Haydock. “Sit down, please.”

Tuppence sat down obediently. She replied:

“I was to take detailed instructions from you.”

“Very proper,” said Haydock. There was a faint suggestion of mockery in his voice.

He said:

“You know the day?”

“The fourth.”

Haydock looked startled. A heavy frown creased his forehead.

“So you know that, do you?” he muttered.

There was a pause, then Tuppence said:

“You will tell me, please, what I have to do?”

Haydock said:

“All in good time, my dear.”

He paused a minute, and then asked:

“You have heard, no doubt, of Sans Souci?”

“No,” said Tuppence.

“You haven't?”

“No,” said Tuppence firmly.

“Let's see how you deal with this one!” she thought.

There was a queer smile on the Commander's face. He said:

“So you haven't heard of Sans Souci? That surprises me very much—since I was under the impression, you know,
that you'd been living there for the last month
. . .”

There was a dead silence. The Commander said:

“What about that, Mrs. Blenkensop?”

“I don't know what you mean, Dr. Binion. I landed by parachute this morning.”

Again Haydock smiled—definitely an unpleasant smile.

He said:

“A few yards of canvas thrust into a bush create a wonderful illusion. And I am not Dr. Binion, dear lady. Dr. Binion is, officially, my dentist—he is good enough to lend me his surgery now and again.”