The Secret Adversary

by Agatha Christie

  CHAPTER XXV. JANE’S STORY

  HER arm through Jane’s, dragging her along, Tuppence reached thestation. Her quick ears caught the sound of the approaching train.

  “Hurry up,” she panted, “or we’ll miss it.”

  They arrived on the platform just as the train came to a standstill.Tuppence opened the door of an empty first-class compartment, and thetwo girls sank down breathless on the padded seats.

  A man looked in, then passed on to the next carriage. Jane startednervously. Her eyes dilated with terror. She looked questioningly atTuppence.

  “Is he one of them, do you think?” she breathed.

  Tuppence shook her head.

  “No, no. It’s all right.” She took Jane’s hand in hers. “Tommy wouldn’thave told us to do this unless he was sure we’d be all right.”

  “But he doesn’t know them as I do!” The girl shivered. “You can’tunderstand. Five years! Five long years! Sometimes I thought I should gomad.”

  “Never mind. It’s all over.”

  “Is it?”

  The train was moving now, speeding through the night at a graduallyincreasing rate. Suddenly Jane Finn started up.

  “What was that? I thought I saw a face--looking in through the window.”

  “No, there’s nothing. See.” Tuppence went to the window, and lifting thestrap let the pane down.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Quite sure.”

  The other seemed to feel some excuse was necessary:

  “I guess I’m acting like a frightened rabbit, but I can’t help it. Ifthey caught me now they’d----” Her eyes opened wide and staring.

  “_Don’t!_” implored Tuppence. “Lie back, and _don’t think_. You can bequite sure that Tommy wouldn’t have said it was safe if it wasn’t.”

  “My cousin didn’t think so. He didn’t want us to do this.”

  “No,” said Tuppence, rather embarrassed.

  “What are you thinking of?” said Jane sharply.

  “Why?”

  “Your voice was so--queer!”

  “I _was_ thinking of something,” confessed Tuppence. “But I don’t wantto tell you--not now. I may be wrong, but I don’t think so. It’s justan idea that came into my head a long time ago. Tommy’s got it too--I’malmost sure he has. But don’t _you_ worry--there’ll be time enough forthat later. And it mayn’t be so at all! Do what I tell you--lie back anddon’t think of anything.”

  “I’ll try.” The long lashes drooped over the hazel eyes.

  Tuppence, for her part, sat bolt upright--much in the attitude of awatchful terrier on guard. In spite of herself she was nervous. Her eyesflashed continually from one window to the other. She noted the exactposition of the communication cord. What it was that she feared, shewould have been hard put to it to say. But in her own mind she wasfar from feeling the confidence displayed in her words. Not that shedisbelieved in Tommy, but occasionally she was shaken with doubts as towhether anyone so simple and honest as he was could ever be a match forthe fiendish subtlety of the arch-criminal.

  If they once reached Sir James Peel Edgerton in safety, all would bewell. But would they reach him? Would not the silent forces of Mr. Brownalready be assembling against them? Even that last picture of Tommy,revolver in hand, failed to comfort her. By now he might be overpowered,borne down by sheer force of numbers.... Tuppence mapped out her plan ofcampaign.

  As the train at length drew slowly into Charing Cross, Jane Finn sat upwith a start.

  “Have we arrived? I never thought we should!”

  “Oh, I thought we’d get to London all right. If there’s going to be anyfun, now is when it will begin. Quick, get out. We’ll nip into a taxi.”

  In another minute they were passing the barrier, had paid the necessaryfares, and were stepping into a taxi.

  “King’s Cross,” directed Tuppence. Then she gave a jump. A man looked inat the window, just as they started. She was almost certain it was thesame man who had got into the carriage next to them. She had a horriblefeeling of being slowly hemmed in on every side.

  “You see,” she explained to Jane, “if they think we’re going to SirJames, this will put them off the scent. Now they’ll imagine we’re goingto Mr. Carter. His country place is north of London somewhere.”

  Crossing Holborn there was a block, and the taxi was held up. This waswhat Tuppence had been waiting for.

  “Quick,” she whispered. “Open the right-hand door!”

  The two girls stepped out into the traffic. Two minutes later they wereseated in another taxi and were retracing their steps, this time directto Carlton House Terrace.

  “There,” said Tuppence, with great satisfaction, “this ought to do them.I can’t help thinking that I’m really rather clever! How that other taximan will swear! But I took his number, and I’ll send him a postal orderto-morrow, so that he won’t lose by it if he happens to be genuine.What’s this thing swerving----Oh!”

  There was a grinding noise and a bump. Another taxi had collided withthem.

  In a flash Tuppence was out on the pavement. A policeman wasapproaching. Before he arrived Tuppence had handed the driver fiveshillings, and she and Jane had merged themselves in the crowd.

  “It’s only a step or two now,” said Tuppence breathlessly. The accidenthad taken place in Trafalgar Square.

  “Do you think the collision was an accident, or done deliberately?”

  “I don’t know. It might have been either.”

  Hand-in-hand, the two girls hurried along.

  “It may be my fancy,” said Tuppence suddenly, “but I feel as thoughthere was some one behind us.”

  “Hurry!” murmured the other. “Oh, hurry!”

  They were now at the corner of Carlton House Terrace, and their spiritslightened. Suddenly a large and apparently intoxicated man barred theirway.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he hiccupped. “Whither away so fast?”

  “Let us pass, please,” said Tuppence imperiously.

  “Just a word with your pretty friend here.” He stretched out an unsteadyhand, and clutched Jane by the shoulder. Tuppence heard other footstepsbehind. She did not pause to ascertain whether they were friends orfoes. Lowering her head, she repeated a manœuvre of childish days,and butted their aggressor full in the capacious middle. The success ofthese unsportsmanlike tactics was immediate. The man sat down abruptlyon the pavement. Tuppence and Jane took to their heels. The house theysought was some way down. Other footsteps echoed behind them. Theirbreath was coming in choking gasps as they reached Sir James’s door.Tuppence seized the bell and Jane the knocker.

  The man who had stopped them reached the foot of the steps. For a momenthe hesitated, and as he did so the door opened. They fell into the halltogether. Sir James came forward from the library door.

  “Hullo! What’s this?”

  He stepped forward, and put his arm round Jane as she swayeduncertainly. He half carried her into the library, and laid her on theleather couch. From a tantalus on the table he poured out a few drops ofbrandy, and forced her to drink them. With a sigh she sat up, her eyesstill wild and frightened.

  “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid, my child. You’re quite safe.”

  Her breath came more normally, and the colour was returning to hercheeks. Sir James looked at Tuppence quizzically.

  “So you’re not dead, Miss Tuppence, any more than that Tommy boy ofyours was!”

  “The Young Adventurers take a lot of killing,” boasted Tuppence.

  “So it seems,” said Sir James dryly. “Am I right in thinking that thejoint venture has ended in success, and that this”--he turned to thegirl on the couch--“is Miss Jane Finn?”

  Jane sat up.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, “I am Jane Finn. I have a lot to tell you.”

  “When you are stronger----”

  “No--now!” Her voice rose a little. “I shall feel safer when I have toldeverything.”

  “As you please,” said the lawyer.<
br />
  He sat down in one of the big arm-chairs facing the couch. In a lowvoice Jane began her story.

  “I came over on the _Lusitania_ to take up a post in Paris. I wasfearfully keen about the war, and just dying to help somehow or other. Ihad been studying French, and my teacher said they were wanting help ina hospital in Paris, so I wrote and offered my services, and they wereaccepted. I hadn’t got any folk of my own, so it made it easy to arrangethings.

  “When the _Lusitania_ was torpedoed, a man came up to me. I’d noticedhim more than once--and I’d figured it out in my own mind that hewas afraid of somebody or something. He asked me if I was a patrioticAmerican, and told me he was carrying papers which were just life ordeath to the Allies. He asked me to take charge of them. I was to watchfor an advertisement in the _Times_. If it didn’t appear, I was to takethem to the American Ambassador.

  “Most of what followed seems like a nightmare still. I see it in mydreams sometimes.... I’ll hurry over that part. Mr. Danvers had told meto watch out. He might have been shadowed from New York, but he didn’tthink so. At first I had no suspicions, but on the boat to Holyhead Ibegan to get uneasy. There was one woman who had been very keen to lookafter me, and chum up with me generally--a Mrs. Vandemeyer. At first I’dbeen only grateful to her for being so kind to me; but all the time Ifelt there was something about her I didn’t like, and on the Irishboat I saw her talking to some queer-looking men, and from the way theylooked I saw that they were talking about me. I remembered that she’dbeen quite near me on the _Lusitania_ when Mr. Danvers gave me thepacket, and before that she’d tried to talk to him once or twice. Ibegan to get scared, but I didn’t quite see what to do.

  “I had a wild idea of stopping at Holyhead, and not going on to Londonthat day, but I soon saw that that would be plumb foolishness. The onlything was to act as though I’d noticed nothing, and hope for the best.I couldn’t see how they could get me if I was on my guard. One thingI’d done already as a precaution--ripped open the oilskin packet andsubstituted blank paper, and then sewn it up again. So, if anyone didmanage to rob me of it, it wouldn’t matter.

  “What to do with the real thing worried me no end. Finally I opened itout flat--there were only two sheets--and laid it between two of theadvertisement pages of a magazine. I stuck the two pages togetherround the edge with some gum off an envelope. I carried the magazinecarelessly stuffed into the pocket of my ulster.

  “At Holyhead I tried to get into a carriage with people that looked allright, but in a queer way there seemed always to be a crowd round meshoving and pushing me just the way I didn’t want to go. There wassomething uncanny and frightening about it. In the end I found myself ina carriage with Mrs. Vandemeyer after all. I went out into the corridor,but all the other carriages were full, so I had to go back and sit down.I consoled myself with the thought that there were other people in thecarriage--there was quite a nice-looking man and his wife sitting justopposite. So I felt almost happy about it until just outside London. Ihad leaned back and closed my eyes. I guess they thought I was asleep,but my eyes weren’t quite shut, and suddenly I saw the nice-looking manget something out of his bag and hand it to Mrs. Vandemeyer, and as hedid so he _winked_....

  “I can’t tell you how that wink sort of froze me through and through. Myonly thought was to get out in the corridor as quick as ever I could. Igot up, trying to look natural and easy. Perhaps they saw something--Idon’t know--but suddenly Mrs. Vandemeyer said ‘Now,’ and flung somethingover my nose and mouth as I tried to scream. At the same moment I felt aterrific blow on the back of my head....”

  She shuddered. Sir James murmured something sympathetically. In a minuteshe resumed:

  “I don’t know how long it was before I came back to consciousness. Ifelt very ill and sick. I was lying on a dirty bed. There was ascreen round it, but I could hear two people talking in the room. Mrs.Vandemeyer was one of them. I tried to listen, but at first I couldn’ttake much in. When at last I did begin to grasp what was going on--I wasjust terrified! I wonder I didn’t scream right out there and then.

  “They hadn’t found the papers. They’d got the oilskin packet with theblanks, and they were just mad! They didn’t know whether _I_‘d changedthe papers, or whether Danvers had been carrying a dummy message,while the real one was sent another way. They spoke of”--she closed hereyes--“torturing me to find out!

  “I’d never known what fear--really sickening fear--was before! Oncethey came to look at me. I shut my eyes and pretended to be stillunconscious, but I was afraid they’d hear the beating of my heart.However, they went away again. I began thinking madly. What could I do?I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand up against torture very long.

  “Suddenly something put the thought of loss of memory into my head. Thesubject had always interested me, and I’d read an awful lot about it.I had the whole thing at my finger-tips. If only I could succeed incarrying the bluff through, it might save me. I said a prayer, and drewa long breath. Then I opened my eyes and started babbling in _French!_

  “Mrs. Vandemeyer came round the screen at once. Her face was so wicked Inearly died, but I smiled up at her doubtfully, and asked her in Frenchwhere I was.

  “It puzzled her, I could see. She called the man she had been talkingto. He stood by the screen with his face in shadow. He spoke to me inFrench. His voice was very ordinary and quiet, but somehow, I don’t knowwhy, he scared me worse than the woman. I felt he’d seen right throughme, but I went on playing my part. I asked again where I was, andthen went on that there was something I _must_ remember--_must_remember--only for the moment it was all gone. I worked myself up tobe more and more distressed. He asked me my name. I said I didn’tknow--that I couldn’t remember anything at all.

  “Suddenly he caught my wrist, and began twisting it. The pain was awful.I screamed. He went on. I screamed and screamed, but I managed to shriekout things in French. I don’t know how long I could have gone on, butluckily I fainted. The last thing I heard was his voice saying: ‘That’snot bluff! Anyway, a kid of her age wouldn’t know enough.’ I guess heforgot American girls are older for their age than English ones, andtake more interest in scientific subjects.

  “When I came to, Mrs. Vandemeyer was sweet as honey to me. She’d had herorders, I guess. She spoke to me in French--told me I’d had a shockand been very ill. I should be better soon. I pretended to be ratherdazed--murmured something about the ‘doctor’ having hurt my wrist. Shelooked relieved when I said that.

  “By and by she went out of the room altogether. I was suspicious still,and lay quite quiet for some time. In the end, however, I got up andwalked round the room, examining it. I thought that even if anyone_was_ watching me from somewhere, it would seem natural enough underthe circumstances. It was a squalid, dirty place. There were no windows,which seemed queer. I guessed the door would be locked, but I didn’ttry it. There were some battered old pictures on the walls, representingscenes from _Faust_.”

  Jane’s two listeners gave a simultaneous “Ah!” The girl nodded.

  “Yes--it was the place in Soho where Mr. Beresford was imprisoned. Ofcourse, at the time I didn’t even know if I was in London. One thing wasworrying me dreadfully, but my heart gave a great throb of relief whenI saw my ulster lying carelessly over the back of a chair. _And themagazine was still rolled up in the pocket!_

  “If only I could be certain that I was not being overlooked! I lookedcarefully round the walls. There didn’t seem to be a peep-hole of anykind--nevertheless I felt kind of sure there must be. All of a sudden Isat down on the edge of the table, and put my face in my hands, sobbingout a ‘Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!’ I’ve got very sharp ears. I distinctly heardthe rustle of a dress, and slight creak. That was enough for me. I wasbeing watched!

  “I lay down on the bed again, and by and by Mrs. Vandemeyer brought mesome supper. She was still sweet as they make them. I guess she’d beentold to win my confidence. Presently she produced the oilskin packet,and asked me if I recognized it, watching me like a l
ynx all the time.

  “I took it and turned it over in a puzzled sort of way. Then I shook myhead. I said that I felt I _ought_ to remember something about it, thatit was just as though it was all coming back, and then, before I couldget hold of it, it went again. Then she told me that I was her niece,and that I was to call her ‘Aunt Rita.’ I did obediently, and she toldme not to worry--my memory would soon come back.

  “That was an awful night. I’d made my plan whilst I was waiting for her.The papers were safe so far, but I couldn’t take the risk of leavingthem there any longer. They might throw that magazine away any minute.I lay awake waiting until I judged it must be about two o’clock in themorning. Then I got up as softly as I could, and felt in the dark alongthe left-hand wall. Very gently, I unhooked one of the pictures from itsnail--Marguerite with her casket of jewels. I crept over to my coat andtook out the magazine, and an odd envelope or two that I had shoved in.Then I went to the washstand, and damped the brown paper at the backof the picture all round. Presently I was able to pull it away. I hadalready torn out the two stuck-together pages from the magazine, and nowI slipped them with their precious enclosure between the picture and itsbrown paper backing. A little gum from the envelopes helped me tostick the latter up again. No one would dream the picture had ever beentampered with. I rehung it on the wall, put the magazine back in mycoat pocket, and crept back to bed. I was pleased with my hiding-place.They’d never think of pulling to pieces one of their own pictures. Ihoped that they’d come to the conclusion that Danvers had been carryinga dummy all along, and that, in the end, they’d let me go.

  “As a matter of fact, I guess that’s what they did think at first, and,in a way, it was dangerous for me. I learnt afterwards that they nearlydid away with me then and there--there was never much chance of their‘letting me go’--but the first man, who was the boss, preferred to keepme alive on the chance of my having hidden them, and being able to tellwhere if I recovered my memory. They watched me constantly for weeks.Sometimes they’d ask me questions by the hour--I guess there was nothingthey didn’t know about the third degree!--but somehow I managed to holdmy own. The strain of it was awful, though....

  “They took me back to Ireland, and over every step of the journey again,in case I’d hidden it somewhere _en route_. Mrs. Vandemeyer and anotherwoman never left me for a moment. They spoke of me as a young relativeof Mrs. Vandemeyer’s whose mind was affected by the shock of the_Lusitania_. There was no one I could appeal to for help withoutgiving myself away to _them_, and if I risked it and failed--and Mrs.Vandemeyer looked so rich, and so beautifully dressed, that I feltconvinced they’d take her word against mine, and think it was part of mymental trouble to think myself ‘persecuted’--I felt that the horrors instore for me would be too awful once they knew I’d been only shamming.”

  Sir James nodded comprehendingly.

  “Mrs. Vandemeyer was a woman of great personality. With that and hersocial position she would have had little difficulty in imposing herpoint of view in preference to yours. Your sensational accusationsagainst her would not easily have found credence.”

  “That’s what I thought. It ended in my being sent to a sanatorium atBournemouth. I couldn’t make up my mind at first whether it was a shamaffair or genuine. A hospital nurse had charge of me. I was a specialpatient. She seemed so nice and normal that at last I determined toconfide in her. A merciful providence just saved me in time from fallinginto the trap. My door happened to be ajar, and I heard her talking tosome one in the passage. _She was one of them!_ They still fancied itmight be a bluff on my part, and she was put in charge of me to makesure! After that, my nerve went completely. I dared trust nobody.

  “I think I almost hypnotized myself. After a while, I almost forgotthat I was really Jane Finn. I was so bent on playing the part of JanetVandemeyer that my nerves began to play me tricks. I became reallyill--for months I sank into a sort of stupor. I felt sure I shoulddie soon, and that nothing really mattered. A sane person shut up in alunatic asylum often ends by becoming insane, they say. I guess I waslike that. Playing my part had become second nature to me. I wasn’t evenunhappy in the end--just apathetic. Nothing seemed to matter. And theyears went on.

  “And then suddenly things seemed to change. Mrs. Vandemeyer came downfrom London. She and the doctor asked me questions, experimented withvarious treatments. There was some talk of sending me to a specialist inParis. In the end, they did not dare risk it. I overheard something thatseemed to show that other people--friends--were looking for me. Ilearnt later that the nurse who had looked after me went to Paris,and consulted a specialist, representing herself to be me. He put herthrough some searching tests, and exposed her loss of memory to befraudulent; but she had taken a note of his methods and reproducedthem on me. I dare say I couldn’t have deceived the specialist for aminute--a man who has made a lifelong study of a thing is unique--butI managed once again to hold my own with them. The fact that I’d notthought of myself as Jane Finn for so long made it easier.

  “One night I was whisked off to London at a moment’s notice. They tookme back to the house in Soho. Once I got away from the sanatorium I feltdifferent--as though something in me that had been buried for a longtime was waking up again.

  “They sent me in to wait on Mr. Beresford. (Of course I didn’t knowhis name then.) I was suspicious--I thought it was another trap. But helooked so honest, I could hardly believe it. However, I was careful inall I said, for I knew we could be overheard. There’s a small hole, highup in the wall.

  “But on the Sunday afternoon a message was brought to the house. Theywere all very disturbed. Without their knowing, I listened. Word hadcome that he was to be killed. I needn’t tell the next part, becauseyou know it. I thought I’d have time to rush up and get the papers fromtheir hiding-place, but I was caught. So I screamed out that he wasescaping, and I said I wanted to go back to Marguerite. I shouted thename three times very loud. I knew the others would think I meantMrs. Vandemeyer, but I hoped it might make Mr. Beresford think of thepicture. He’d unhooked one the first day--that’s what made me hesitateto trust him.”

  She paused.

  “Then the papers,” said Sir James slowly, “are still at the back of thepicture in that room.”

  “Yes.” The girl had sunk back on the sofa exhausted with the strain ofthe long story.

  Sir James rose to his feet. He looked at his watch.

  “Come,” he said, “we must go at once.”

  “To-night?” queried Tuppence, surprised.

  “To-morrow may be too late,” said Sir James gravely. “Besides, bygoing to-night we have the chance of capturing that great man andsuper-criminal--Mr. Brown!”

  There was dead silence, and Sir James continued:

  “You have been followed here--not a doubt of it. When we leave the housewe shall be followed again, but not molested, _for it is Mr. Brown’splan that we are to lead him_. But the Soho house is under policesupervision night and day. There are several men watching it. When weenter that house, Mr. Brown will not draw back--he will risk all, on thechance of obtaining the spark to fire his mine. And he fancies the risknot great--since he will enter in the guise of a friend!”

  Tuppence flushed, then opened her mouth impulsively.

  “But there’s something you don’t know--that we haven’t told you.” Hereyes dwelt on Jane in perplexity.

  “What is that?” asked the other sharply. “No hesitations, Miss Tuppence.We need to be sure of our going.”

  But Tuppence, for once, seemed tongue-tied.

  “It’s so difficult--you see, if I’m wrong--oh, it would be dreadful.” She made a grimace at the unconscious Jane. “Never forgive me,” sheobserved cryptically.

  “You want me to help you out, eh?”

  “Yes, please. _You_ know who Mr. Brown is, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Sir James gravely. “At last I do.”

  “At last?” queried Tuppence doubtfully. “Oh, but I thought----” Shepaused.


  “You thought correctly, Miss Tuppence. I have been morally certain ofhis identity for some time--ever since the night of Mrs. Vandemeyer’smysterious death.”

  “Ah!” breathed Tuppence.

  “For there we are up against the logic of facts. There are only twosolutions. Either the chloral was administered by her own hand, whichtheory I reject utterly, or else----”

  “Yes?”

  “Or else it was administered in the brandy you gave her. Only threepeople touched that brandy--you, Miss Tuppence, I myself, and oneother--Mr. Julius Hersheimmer!”

  Jane Finn stirred and sat up, regarding the speaker with wide astonishedeyes.

  “At first, the thing seemed utterly impossible. Mr. Hersheimmer, as theson of a prominent millionaire, was a well-known figure in America. Itseemed utterly impossible that he and Mr. Brown could be one and thesame. But you cannot escape from the logic of facts. Since the thingwas so--it must be accepted. Remember Mrs. Vandemeyer’s sudden andinexplicable agitation. Another proof, if proof was needed.

  “I took an early opportunity of giving you a hint. From some words ofMr. Hersheimmer’s at Manchester, I gathered that you had understood andacted on that hint. Then I set to work to prove the impossible possible.Mr. Beresford rang me up and told me, what I had already suspected,that the photograph of Miss Jane Finn had never really been out of Mr.Hersheimmer’s possession----”

  But the girl interrupted. Springing to her feet, she cried out angrily:

  “What do you mean? What are you trying to suggest? That Mr. Brown is_Julius?_ Julius--my own cousin!”

  “No, Miss Finn,” said Sir James unexpectedly. “Not your cousin. The manwho calls himself Julius Hersheimmer is no relation to you whatsoever.”