Read The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection Online
Authors: Agatha Christie
The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection (89 page)
“Whilst I was there I played the part of Carl von Deinim and never relaxed. I found arrangements had been made for me to work in the chemical factory there. At first I thought that the idea was I should be compelled to do work for the Nazis. I realised later that the part for which my poor friend had been cast was that of scapegoat.
“When I was arrested on faked evidence, I said nothing. I wanted to leave the revelation of my own identity as late as possible. I wanted to see what would happen.
“It was only a few days ago that I was recognised by one of our people and the truth came out.”
Sheila said reproachfully:
“You should have told me.”
He said gently:
“If you feel like thatâI am sorry.”
His eyes looked into hers. She looked at him angrily and proudlyâthen the anger melted. She said:
“I suppose you had to do what you did . . .”
“Darlingâ”
He caught himself up.
“Come and dance . . .”
They moved off together.
Tuppence sighed.
“What's the matter?” said Tommy.
“I do hope Sheila will go on caring for him now that he isn't a German outcast with everyone against him.”
“She looks as though she cares all right.”
“Yes, but the Irish are terribly perverse. And Sheila is a born rebel.”
“Why did he search your room that day? That's what led us up the garden path so terribly.”
Tommy gave a laugh.
“I gather he thought Mrs. Blenkensop wasn't a very convincing person. In factâwhile we were suspecting him he was suspecting us.”
“Hallo, you two,” said Derek Beresford as he and his partner danced past his parents' table. “Why don't you come and dance?”
He smiled encouragingly at them.
“They are so kind to us, bless 'em,” said Tuppence.
Presently the twins and their partners returned and sat down.
Derek said to his father:
“Glad you got a job all right. Not very interesting, I suppose?”
“Mainly routine,” said Tommy.
“Never mind, you're doing something. That's the great thing.”
“And I'm glad Mother was allowed to go and work too,” said Deborah. “She looks ever so much happier. It wasn't too dull, was it, Mother?”
“I didn't find it at all dull,” said Tuppence.
“Good,” said Deborah. She added: “When the war's over, I'll be able to tell you something about my job. It's really frightfully interesting, but very confidential.”
“How thrilling,” said Tuppence.
“Oh, it is! Of course, it's not so thrilling as flyingâ”
She looked enviously at Derek.
She said, “He's going to be recommended forâ”
Derek said quickly:
“Shut up, Deb.”
Tommy said:
“Hallo, Derek, what have you been up to?”
“Oh, nothing muchâsort of show all of us are doing. Don't know why they pitched on me,” murmured the young airman, his face scarlet. He looked as embarrassed as though he had been accused of the most deadly of sins.
He got up and the fair-haired girl got up too.
Derek said:
“Mustn't miss any of thisâlast night of my leave.”
“Come on, Charles,” said Deborah.
The two of them floated away with their partners.
Tuppence prayed inwardly:
“Oh let them be safeâdon't let anything happen to them . . .”
She looked up to meet Tommy's eyes. He said, “About that childâshall we?”
“Betty? Oh, Tommy, I'm glad you've thought of it, too! I thought it was just me being maternal. You really mean it?”
“That we should adopt her? Why not? She's had a raw deal, and it will be fun for us to have something young growing up.”
“Oh Tommy!”
She stretched out her hand and squeezed his. They looked at each other.
“We always do want the same things,” said Tuppence happily.
Deborah, passing Derek on the floor, murmured to him:
“Just look at those twoâactually holding hands! They're rather sweet, aren't they? We must do all we can to make up to them for having such a dull time in this war. . . .”
By the Pricking
of My Thumbs
A Tommy and Tuppence Mystery
This book is dedicated to the many readers in this and other countries who write to me asking: “What has happened to Tommy and Tuppence? What are they doing now?” My best wishes to you all, and I hope you will enjoy meeting Tommy and Tuppence again, years older, but with spirit unquenched!
By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes.
                             âMacbeth
Contents
      Â
Dedication
      Â
Epigraph
      Â
Sunny Ridge
 Â
2
Â
Was it your Poor Child?
 Â
4
Â
Picture of a House
 Â
5
Â
Disappearance of an Old Lady
 Â
6
Â
Tuppence on the Trail
      Â
The House on the Canal
 Â
7
Â
The Friendly Witch
 Â
8
Â
Sutton Chancellor
 Â
9
Â
A Morning in Market Basing
      Â
MissingâA Wife
11
Â
Bond Street and Dr. Murray
      Â
Here is a Church and here is the Steeple
      Â
Open the Doors and there are the People
M
r. and Mrs. Beresford were sitting at the breakfast table. They were an ordinary couple. Hundreds of elderly couples just like them were having breakfast all over England at that particular moment. It was an ordinary sort of day too, the kind of day that you get five days out of seven. It looked as though it might rain but wasn't quite sure of it.
Mr. Beresford had once had red hair. There were traces of the red still, but most of it had gone that sandy-cum-grey colour that red-headed people so often arrive at in middle life. Mrs. Beresford had once had black hair, a vigorous curling mop of it. Now the black was adulterated with streaks of grey laid on, apparently at random. It made a rather pleasant effect. Mrs. Beresford had once thought of dyeing her hair, but in the end she had decided that she liked herself better as nature had made her. She had decided instead to try a new shade of lipstick so as to cheer herself up.
An elderly couple having breakfast together. A pleasant couple, but nothing remarkable about them. So an onlooker would have said. If the onlooker had been young he or she would have added, “Oh yes, quite pleasant, but deadly dull, of course, like all old people.”
However, Mr. and Mrs. Beresford had not yet arrived at the time of life when they thought of themselves as old. And they had no idea that they and many others were automatically pronounced deadly dull solely on that account. Only by the young of course, but then, they would have thought indulgently, young people knew nothing about life. Poor dears, they were always worrying about examinations, or their sex life, or buying some extraordinary clothes, or doing extraordinary things to their hair to make them more noticeable. Mr. and Mrs. Beresford from their own point of view were just past the prime of life. They liked themselves and liked each other and day succeeded day in a quiet but enjoyable fashion.
There were, of course, moments, everyone has moments. Mr. Beresford opened a letter, glanced through it and laid it down, adding it to the small pile by his left hand. He picked up the next letter but forbore to open it. Instead he stayed with it in his hand. He was not looking at the letter, he was looking at the toast rack. His wife observed him for a few moments before saying,