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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 220 pages of information about Secret Adversary.

The clerk followed his discreet knock into the room, and laid a paper at his master’s elbow.

“Telephone message just come for you, sir.”

Whittington snatched it up and read it.  A frown gathered on his brow.

“That’ll do, Brown.  You can go.”

The clerk withdrew, closing the door behind him.  Whittington turned to Tuppence.

“Come to-morrow at the same time.  I’m busy now.  Here’s fifty to go on with.”

He rapidly sorted out some notes, and pushed them across the table to Tuppence, then stood up, obviously impatient for her to go.

The girl counted the notes in a businesslike manner, secured them in her handbag, and rose.

“Good morning, Mr. Whittington,” she said politely.  “At least, au revoir, I should say.”

“Exactly.  Au revoir!” Whittington looked almost genial again, a reversion that aroused in Tuppence a faint misgiving.  “Au revoir, my clever and charming young lady.”

Tuppence sped lightly down the stairs.  A wild elation possessed her.  A neighbouring clock showed the time to be five minutes to twelve.

“Let’s give Tommy a surprise!” murmured Tuppence, and hailed a taxi.

The cab drew up outside the tube station.  Tommy was just within the entrance.  His eyes opened to their fullest extent as he hurried forward to assist Tuppence to alight.  She smiled at him affectionately, and remarked in a slightly affected voice: 

“Pay the thing, will you, old bean?  I’ve got nothing smaller than a five-pound note!”

CHAPTER III

A SET BACK

The moment was not quite so triumphant as it ought to have been.  To begin with, the resources of Tommy’s pockets were somewhat limited.  In the end the fare was managed, the lady recollecting a plebeian twopence, and the driver, still holding the varied assortment of coins in his hand, was prevailed upon to move on, which he did after one last hoarse demand as to what the gentleman thought he was giving him?

“I think you’ve given him too much, Tommy,” said Tuppence innocently.  “I fancy he wants to give some of it back.”

It was possibly this remark which induced the driver to move away.

“Well,” said Mr. Beresford, at length able to relieve his feelings, “what the—­dickens, did you want to take a taxi for?”

“I was afraid I might be late and keep you waiting,” said Tuppence gently.

“Afraid—­you—­might—­be—­late!  Oh, Lord, I give it up!” said Mr. Beresford.

“And really and truly,” continued Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide, “I haven’t got anything smaller than a five-pound note.”

“You did that part of it very well, old bean, but all the same the fellow wasn’t taken in—­not for a moment!”

“No,” said Tuppence thoughtfully, “he didn’t believe it.  That’s the curious part about speaking the truth.  No one does believe it.  I found that out this morning.  Now let’s go to lunch.  How about the Savoy?”

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