N or M tat-3

by Agatha Christie

  "Coo!" said Albert. "That's what it is - S.O.S. - Dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot."

  He looked round him with a quick glance.

  Then, kneeling down, he tapped a soft message on the iron grille of the little window of the cellar.

  Chapter 13

  Although Tuppence went to bed in an optimistic frame of mind, she suffered a severe reaction in those waking hours of early dawn when human morale sinks to its lowest.

  On descending to breakfast, however, her spirits were raised by the sight of a letter on her plate addressed in a painfully backhanded script.

  This was no communication from Douglas, Raymond, or Cyril, or any other of the camouflaged correspondence that arrived punctually for her, and which included this morning a brightly coloured Bonzo postcard with a scrawled "Sorry I haven't written before. All well, Maudie," on it.

  Tuppence thrust this aside and opened the letter.

  Dear Patricia (it ran),

  Auntie Grace is, I am afraid, much worse today. The doctors do not actually say she is sinking, but I am afraid that there cannot be much hope. If you want to see her before the end I think it would be well to come today. If you will take the 10:20 train to Yarrow, a friend will meet you with his car.

  Shall look forward to seeing you again, dear, in spite of the melancholy reason.

  Yours ever,

  Penelope Playne.

  It was all Tuppence could do to restrain her jubilation.

  Good old Penny Playne.

  With some difficulty she assumed a mourning expression - and sighed heavily as she laid the letter down.

  To the two sympathetic listeners present, Mrs O'Rourke and Miss Minton, she imparted the contents of the letter, and enlarged freely on the personality of Aunt Gracie, her indomitable spirit, her indifference to air raids and danger, and her vanquishment by illness. Miss Minton tended to be curious as to the exact nature of Aunt Grace's sufferings and compared them interestedly with the diseases of her own cousin Selina. Tuppence, hovering slightly between dropsy and diabetes, found herself slightly confused, but compromised on complications with the kidneys. Mrs O'Rourke displayed an avid interest as to whether Tuppence would benefit pecuniarily by the old lady's death and learned that dear Cyril had always been Aunt Gracie's favourite grandnephew as well as being her godson.

  After breakfast, Tuppence rang up the tailor's and cancelled a fitting of a coat and skirt for that afternoon, and then sought out Mrs Perenna and explained that she might be away from home for a night or two.

  Mrs Perenna expressed the usual conventional sentiments. She looked tired this morning, and had an anxious harassed expression.

  "Still no news of Mr Meadowes," she said. "It really is most odd, is it not?"

  "I'm sure he must have met with an accident," sighed Mrs Blenkensop. "I always said so."

  "Oh, but surely, Mrs Blenkensop, the accident would have been reported by this time."

  "Well, what do you think?" asked Tuppence.

  Mrs Perenna shook her head.

  "I really don't know what to say. I quite agree that he can't have gone away of his own free will. He would have sent word by now."

  "It was always a most unjustified suggestion," said Mrs Blenkensop warmly. "That horrid Major Bletchley started it. No, if it isn't an accident, it must be loss of memory. I believe that is far more common than is generally known, especially at times of stress like those we are living through now."

  Mrs Perenna nodded her head. She pursed up her lips with rather a doubtful expression. She shot a quick look at Tuppence.

  "You know, Mrs Blenkensop," she said, "we don't know very much about Mr Meadowes, do we?"

  Tuppence said sharply: "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, please don't take me up so sharply. I don't believe it - not for a minute."

  "Don't believe what?"

  "This story that's going around."

  "What story? I haven't heard anything."

  "No - well - perhaps people wouldn't tell you. I don't really know how it started. I've an idea that Mr Cayley mentioned it first. Of course he's rather a suspicious man, if you know what I mean?"

  Tuppence contained herself with as much patience as possible.

  "Please tell me," she said.

  "Well, it was just a suggestion, you know, that Mr Meadowes might be an enemy agent - one of, these dreadful Fifth Column people."

  Tuppence put all she could of an outraged Mrs Blenkensop into her indignant:

  "I never heard of such an absurd idea!"

  "No. I don't think there's anything in it. But, of course, Mr Meadowes was seen about a good deal with that German boy - and I believe he asked a lot of questions about the chemical processes at the factory - and so people think that a perhaps the two of them might have been working together."

  Tuppence said:

  "You don't think there's any doubt about Carl, do you, Mrs Perenna?"

  She saw a quick spasm distort the other woman's face.

  "I wish I could think it was not true."

  Tuppence said gently: "Poor Sheila..."

  Mrs Perenna's eyes flashed.

  "Her heart's broken, the poor child. Why should it be that way? Why couldn't it be someone else she set her heart upon?"

  Tuppence shook her head.

  "Things don't happen that way."

  "You're right." The other spoke in a deep, bitter voice. "It's got to be the way things tear you to pieces... It's got to be sorrow and bitterness and dust and ashes. I'm sick of the cruelty - the unfairness of this world. I'd like to smash it and break it - and let us all start again near to the earth and without these rules and laws and the tyranny of nation over nation. I'd like -"

  A cough interrupted her. A deep, throaty cough. Mrs O'Rourke was standing in the doorway, her vast bulk filling the aperture completely.

  "Am I interrupting now?" she demanded.

  Like a sponge across a slate, all evidence of Mrs Perenna's outburst vanished from her face - leaving in its wake only the mild worried face of the proprietress of a guest house whose guests were causing trouble.

  "No, indeed, Mrs O'Rourke." she said. "We were just talking about what had become of Mr Meadowes. It's amazing the police can find no trace of him."

  "Ah, the police!" said Mrs O'Rourke in tones of easy contempt. "What good would they be? No good at all, at all! Only fit for finding motor cars, and dropping on poor wretches who haven't taken out their dog licenses."

  "What's your theory, Mrs O'Rourke?" asked Tuppence.

  "You'll have been hearing the story that's going about?"

  "About his being a Fascist, and an enemy agent - yes," said Tuppence coldly.

  "It might be true now," said Mrs O'Rourke thoughtfully, "for there's been something about the man that's intrigued me from the beginning. I've watched him, you know." She smiled directly t Tuppence - and like all Mrs O'Rourke's smiles it had a vaguely terrifying quality - the smile of an ogress. "He'd not the look of a man who'd retired from business and had nothing to do with himself. If I was backing my judgment, I'd say he came here with a purpose."

  "And when the police got on his track he disappeared, is that it?" demanded Tuppence.

  "It might be so," said Mrs O'Rourke.

  "What's your opinion, Mrs Perenna?"

  "I don't know," sighed Mrs Perenna. "It's a most vexing thing to happen. It makes so much talk."

  "Ah! talk won't hurt you. They're happy now out there on the terrace wondering and surmising. They'll have it in the end that the quiet inoffensive man was going to blow us all up in our beds with bombs."

  "You haven't told us what you think," said Tuppence.

  Mrs O'Rourke smiled, that same slow ferocious smile.

  "I'm thinking that the man is safe somewhere - quite safe..."

  Tuppence thought:

  "She might say that if she knew... But he isn't where she thinks he is!"

  She went up to her room to get ready. Betty Sprot came running out of the Cayl
eys' bedroom with a smile of mischievous and impish glee on her face.

  "What have you been up to, minx?" demanded Tuppence.

  Betty gurgled,

  "Goosey, goosey gander..."

  Tuppence chanted:

  "Whither will you wander? Upstairs!" She snatched up Betty high over her head. "Downstairs!" She rolled her on the floor -

  At this minute Mrs Sprot appeared and Betty was led off to be attired for her walk.

  "Hide?" said Betty hopefully. "Hide?"

  "You can't play hide and seek now," said Mrs Sprot.

  Tuppence went into her room and donned her hat. (A nuisance having to wear a hat - Tuppence Beresford never did - but Patricia Blenkensop would certainly wear one, Tuppence felt.)

  Somebody, she noted, had altered the position of the hats in her hat cupboard. Had someone been searching her room? Well, let them. They wouldn't find anything to cast doubt on blameless Mrs Blenkensop.

  She left Penelope Playne's letter artistically on the dressing table and went downstairs and out of the house.

  It was ten o'clock as she turned out of the gate. Plenty of time. She looked up at the sky and in doing so stepped into a dark puddle by the gatepost, but without apparently noticing it she went on.

  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 tire dubiously.

  "Isn't this rather flat?"

  "We haven't 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 side track 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 Antony 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 non-sense, 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 L.D.V.'s 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 Road. Dr Binion.'"

  Tuppence looked up. On the hill top 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 L.D.V. 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 tumble-down 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 had 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 beak-like profile. Skillful makeup had added several years to her age, with heavy lines running down e
ach 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'll 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 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 further 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.