The supper party given by Mr. Julius Hersheimmer to a few friends on theevening of the 30th will long be remembered in catering1 circles. It tookplace in a private room, and Mr. Hersheimmer’s orders were brief andforcible. He gave carte blanche — and when a millionaire gives carteblanche he usually gets it!
Every delicacy2 out of season was duly provided. Waiters carried bottlesof ancient and royal vintage with loving care. The floral decorations de-fied the seasons, and fruits of the earth as far apart as May and Novemberfound themselves miraculously3 side by side. The list of guests was smalland select. The American Ambassador, Mr. Carter, who had taken theliberty, he said, of bringing an old friend, Sir William Beresford, with him,Archdeacon Cowley, Dr. Hall, those two youthful adventurers, MissPrudence Cowley and Mr. Thomas Beresford, and last, but not least, asguest of honour, Miss Jane Finn.
Julius had spared no pains to make Jane’s appearance a success. A mys-terious knock had brought Tuppence to the door of the apartment she wassharing with the American girl. It was Julius. In his hand he held a cheque.
“Say, Tuppence,” he began, “will you do me a good turn? Take this, andget Jane regularly togged up for this evening. You’re all coming to supperwith me at the Savoy. See? Spare no expense. You get me?”
“Sure thing,” mimicked5 Tuppence. “We shall enjoy ourselves! It will be apleasure dressing6 Jane. She’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Hersheimmer fervently7.
His fervour brought a momentary8 twinkle to Tuppence’s eye.
“By the way, Julius,” she remarked demurely9, “I—haven’t given you myanswer yet.”
“Answer?” said Julius. His face paled.
“You know—when you asked me to—marry you,” faltered10 Tuppence,her eyes downcast in the true manner of the early Victorian heroine, “andwouldn’t take no for an answer. I’ve thought it well over—”
“Yes?” said Julius. The perspiration11 stood on his forehead.
Tuppence relented suddenly.
“You great idiot!” she said. “What on earth induced you to do it? I couldsee at the time you didn’t care a twopenny dip for me!”
“Not at all. I had—and still have—the highest sentiments of esteem12 andrespect—and admiration13 for you—”
“H’m!” said Tuppence. “Those are the kind of sentiments that very soongo to the wall when the other sentiment comes along! Don’t they, oldthing?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Julius stiffly, but a large and burn-ing blush overspread his countenance14.
“Shucks!” retorted Tuppence. She laughed and closed the door, reopen-ing it to add with dignity: “Morally, I shall always consider I have beenjilted!”
“What was it?” asked Jane as Tuppence rejoined her.
“Julius.”
“What did he want?”
“Really, I think, he wanted to see you, but I wasn’t going to let him. Notuntil tonight, when you’re going to burst upon everyone like King So-lomon in his glory! Come on! We’re going to shop!”
To most people the 29th, the much-heralded “Labour Day,” had passedmuch as any other day. Speeches were made in the Park and TrafalgarSquare. Straggling processions, singing The Red Flag, wandered throughthe streets in a more or less aimless manner. Newspapers which had hin-ted at a general strike, and the inauguration15 of a reign16 of terror, wereforced to hide their diminished heads. The bolder and more astute17 amongthem sought to prove that peace had been effected by following theircounsels. In the Sunday papers a brief notice of the sudden death of SirJames Peel Edgerton, the famous K.C., had appeared. Monday’s paperdealt appreciatively with the dead man’s career. The exact manner of hissudden death was never made public.
Tommy had been right in his forecast of the situation. It had been a one-man show. Deprived of their chief, the organization fell to pieces. Kra-menin had made a precipitate18 return to Russia, leaving England early onSunday morning. The gang had fled from Astley Priors in a panic, leavingbehind, in their haste, various damaging documents which compromisedthem hopelessly. With these proofs of conspiracy19 in their hands, aided fur-ther by a small brown diary, taken from the pocket of the dead man whichhad contained a full and damning résumé of the whole plot, the Govern-ment had called an eleventh-hour conference. The Labour leaders wereforced to recognize that they had been used as a cat’s paw. Certain conces-sions were made by the Government, and were eagerly accepted. It was tobe Peace, not War!
But the Cabinet knew by how narrow a margin20 they had escaped utterdisaster. And burnt in on Mr. Carter’s brain was the strange scene whichhad taken place in the house in Soho the night before.
He had entered the squalid room to find that great man, the friend of alifetime, dead — betrayed out of his own mouth. From the dead man’spocketbook he had retrieved21 the ill-omened draft treaty, and then andthere, in the presence of the other three, it had been reduced to ashes .?.?.
England was saved!
And now, on the evening of the 30th, in a private room at the Savoy, Mr.
Julius P. Hersheimmer was receiving his guests.
Mr. Carter was the first to arrive. With him was a choleric-looking oldgentleman, at sight of whom Tommy flushed up to the roots of his hair. Hecame forward.
“Ha!” said the old gentleman surveying him apoplectically22. “So you’remy nephew, are you? Not much to look at—but you’ve done good work, itseems. Your mother must have brought you up well after all. Shall we letbygones be bygones, eh? You’re my heir, you know; and in future I pro-pose to make you an allowance—and you can look upon Chalmers Park asyour home.”
“Thank you, sir, it’s awfully23 decent of you.”
“Where’s this young lady I’ve been hearing such a lot about?”
Tommy introduced Tuppence.
“Ha!” said Sir William, eyeing her. “Girls aren’t what they used to be inmy young days.”
“Yes, they are,” said Tuppence. “Their clothes are different, perhaps, butthey themselves are just the same.”
“Well, perhaps you’re right. Minxes then—minxes now!”
“That’s it,” said Tuppence. “I’m a frightful25 minx myself.”
“I believe you,” said the old gentleman, chuckling26, and pinched her earin high goodhumour. Most young women were terrified of the “old bear,”
as they termed him. Tuppence’s pertness delighted the old misogynist27.
Then came the timid archdeacon, a little bewildered by the company inwhich he found himself, glad that his daughter was considered to havedistinguished herself, but unable to help glancing at her from time to timewith nervous apprehension28. But Tuppence behaved admirably. She for-bore to cross her legs, set a guard upon her tongue, and steadfastly29 re-fused to smoke.
Dr. Hall came next, and he was followed by the American Ambassador.
“We might as well sit down,” said Julius, when he had introduced all hisguests to each other. “Tuppence, will you—”
He indicated the place of honour with a wave of his hand.
But Tuppence shook her head.
“No—that’s Jane’s place! When one thinks of how she’s held out all theseyears, she ought to be made the queen of the feast tonight.”
Julius flung her a grateful glance, and Jane came forward shyly to the al-lotted seat. Beautiful as she had seemed before, it was as nothing to theloveliness that now went fully24 adorned30. Tuppence had performed her partfaithfully. The model gown supplied by a famous dressmaker had beenentitled “A tiger lily.” It was all golds and reds and browns, and out of itrose the pure column of the girl’s white throat, and the bronze masses ofhair that crowned her lovely head. There was admiration in every eye, asshe took her seat.
Soon the supper party was in full swing, and with one accord Tommywas called upon for a full and complete explanation.
“You’ve been too darned close about the whole business,” Julius accusedhim. “You let on to me that you were off to the Argentine—though I guessyou had your reasons for that. The idea of both you and Tuppence castingme for the part of Mr. Brown just tickles31 me to death!”
“The idea was not original to them,” said Mr. Carter gravely. “It was sug-gested, and the poison very carefully instilled32, by a past master in the art.
The paragraph in the New York paper suggested the plan to him, and bymeans of it he wove a web that nearly enmeshed you fatally.”
“I never liked him,” said Julius. “I felt from the first that there was some-thing wrong about him, and I always suspected that it was he who si-lenced Mrs. Vandemeyer so appositely. But it wasn’t till I heard that theorder for Tommy’s execution came right on the heels of our interviewwith him that Sunday that I began to tumble to the fact that he was the bigbug himself.”
“I never suspected it at all,” lamented33 Tuppence. “I’ve always thought Iwas so much cleverer than Tommy—but he’s undoubtedly34 scored over mehandsomely.”
Julius agreed.
“Tommy’s been the goods this trip! And, instead of sitting there as dumbas a fish, let him banish35 his blushes, and tell us all about it.”
“Hear! hear!”
“There’s nothing to tell,” said Tommy, acutely uncomfortable. “I was anawful mug—right up to the time I found that photograph of Annette, andrealized that she was Jane Finn. Then I remembered how persistently36 shehad shouted out that word ‘Marguerite’—and I thought of the pictures,and—well, that’s that. Then of course I went over the whole thing to seewhere I’d made an ass4 of myself.”
“Go on,” said Mr. Carter, as Tommy showed signs of taking refuge in si-lence once more.
“That business about Mrs. Vandemeyer had worried me when Juliustold me about it. On the face of it, it seemed that he or Sir James must havedone the trick. But I didn’t know which. Finding that photograph in thedrawer, after that story of how it had been got from him by InspectorBrown, made me suspect Julius. Then I remembered that it was Sir Jameswho had discovered the false Jane Finn. In the end, I couldn’t make up mymind—and just decided37 to take no chances either way. I left a note for Ju-lius, in case he was Mr. Brown, saying I was off to the Argentine, and Idropped Sir James’s letter with the offer of the job by the desk so that hewould see it was a genuine stunt38. Then I wrote my letter to Mr. Carter andrang up Sir James. Taking him into my confidence would be the best thingeither way, so I told him everything except where I believed the papers tobe hidden. The way he helped me to get on the track of Tuppence and An-nette almost disarmed39 me, but not quite. I kept my mind open betweenthe two of them. And then I got a bogus note from Tuppence—and then Iknew!”
“But how?”
Tommy took the note in question from his pocket and passed it roundthe table.
“It’s her handwriting all right, but I knew it wasn’t from her because ofthe signature. She’d never spell her name ‘Twopence,’ but anyone who’dnever seen it written might quite easily do so. Julius had seen it — heshowed me a note of hers to him once—but Sir James hadn’t! After thateverything was plain sailing. I sent off Albert posthaste to Mr. Carter. Ipretended to go away, but doubled back again. When Julius came burstingup in his car, I felt it wasn’t part of Mr. Brown’s plan—and that therewould probably be trouble. Unless Sir James was actually caught in theact, so to speak, I knew Mr. Carter would never believe it of him on mybare word—”
“I didn’t,” interposed Mr. Carter ruefully.
“That’s why I sent the girls off to Sir James. I was sure they’d fetch up atthe house in Soho sooner or later. I threatened Julius with the revolver,because I wanted Tuppence to repeat that to Sir James, so that he wouldn’tworry about us. The moment the girls were out of sight I told Julius todrive like hell for London, and as we went along I told him the wholestory. We got to the Soho house in plenty of time and met Mr. Carter out-side. After arranging things with him we went in and hid behind the cur-tain in the recess40. The policemen had orders to say, if they were asked,that no one had gone into the house. That’s all.”
And Tommy came to an abrupt41 halt.
There was silence for a moment.
“By the way,” said Julius suddenly, “you’re all wrong about that photo-graph of Jane. It was taken from me, but I found it again.”
“Where?” cried Tuppence.
“In that little safe on the wall in Mrs. Vandermeyer’s bedroom.”
“I knew you found something,” said Tuppence reproachfully. “To tellyou the truth, that’s what started me off suspecting you. Why didn’t yousay?”
“I guess I was a mite42 suspicious too. It had been got away from me once,and I determined43 I wouldn’t let on I’d got it until a photographer hadmade a dozen copies of it!”
“We all kept back something or other,” said Tuppence thoughtfully. “Isuppose secret service work makes you like that!”
In the pause that ensued, Mr. Carter took from his pocket a small shabbybrown book.
“Beresford has just said that I would not have believed Sir James PeelEdgerton to be guilty unless, so to speak, he was caught in the act. That isso. Indeed, not until I read the entries in this little book could I bring my-self fully to credit the amazing truth. This book will pass into the posses-sion of Scotland Yard, but it will never be publicly exhibited. Sir James’slong association with the law would make it undesirable44. But to you, whoknow the truth, I propose to read certain passages which will throw somelight on the extraordinary mentality45 of this great man.”
He opened the book, and turned the thin pages.
“.?.?. It is madness to keep this book. I know that. It is documentary evid-ence against me. But I have never shrunk from taking risks. And I feel anurgent need for self-expression .?.?. The book will only be taken from mydead body. .?.?.
“.?.?. From an early age I realized that I had exceptional abilities. Only afool underestimates his capabilities46. My brain power was greatly abovethe average. I know that I was born to succeed. My appearance was theonly thing against me. I was quiet and insignificant—utterly nondescript.
.?.?.
“.?.?. When I was a boy I heard a famous murder trial. I was deeply im-pressed by the power and eloquence47 of the counsel for the defence. Forthe first time I entertained the idea of taking my talents to that particularmarket .?.?. Then I studied the criminal in the dock .?.?. The man was a fool—he had been incredibly, unbelievably stupid. Even the eloquence of hiscounsel was hardly likely to save him .?.?. I felt an immeasurable contemptfor him .?.?. Then it occurred to me that the criminal standard was a lowone. It was the wastrels48, the failures, the general riffraff of civilizationwho drifted into crime .?.?. Strange that men of brains had never realizedits extraordinary opportunities .?.?. I played with the idea .?.?. What a mag-nificent field—what unlimited49 possibilities! It made my brain reel. .?.?.
“.?.?. I read standard works on crime and criminals. They all confirmedmy opinion. Degeneracy, disease—never the deliberate embracing of a ca-reer by a farseeing man. Then I considered. Supposing my utmost ambi-tions were realized—that I was called to the bar, and rose to the height ofmy profession? That I entered politics—say, even, that I became PrimeMinister of England? What then? Was that power? Hampered50 at everyturn by my colleagues, fettered51 by the democratic system of which Ishould be the mere52 figurehead! No—the power I dreamed of was absolute!
An autocrat53! A dictator! And such power could only be obtained by work-ing outside the law. To play on the weaknesses of human nature, then onthe weaknesses of nations—to get together and control a vast organiza-tion, and finally to overthrow54 the existing order, and rule! The thought in-toxicated me. .?.?.
“.?.?. I saw that I must lead two lives. A man like myself is bound to at-tract notice. I must have a successful career which would mask my trueactivities .?.?. Also I must cultivate a personality. I modelled myself uponfamous K.C.’s. I reproduced their mannerisms, their magnetism55. If I hadchosen to be an actor, I should have been the greatest actor living! No dis-guises—no greasepaint—no false beards! Personality! I put it on like aglove! When I shed it, I was myself, quiet, unobtrusive, a man like everyother man. I called myself Mr. Brown. There are hundreds of men calledBrown—there are hundreds of men looking just like me. .?.?.
“.?.?. I succeeded in my false career. I was bound to succeed. I shall suc-ceed in the other. A man like me cannot fail. .?.?.
“.?.?. I have been reading a life of Napoleon. He and I have much in com-mon. .?.?.
“.?.?. I make a practice of defending criminals. A man should look afterhis own people. .?.?.
“.?.?. Once or twice I have felt afraid. The first time was in Italy. Therewas a dinner given. Professor D—, the great alienist, was present. The talkfell on insanity56. He said, ‘A great many men are mad, and no one knows it.
They do not know it themselves.’ I do not understand why he looked at mewhen he said that. His glance was strange .?.?. I did not like it. .?.?.
“.?.?. The war has disturbed me .?.?. I thought it would further my plans.
The Germans are so efficient. Their spy system, too, was excellent. Thestreets are full of these boys in khaki. All empty-headed young fools .?.?.
Yet I do not know .?.?. They won the war .?.?. It disturbs me. .?.?.
“.?.?. My plans are going well .?.?. A girl butted57 in—I do not think shereally knew anything .?.?. But we must give up the Esthonia .?.?. No risksnow. .?.?.
“.?.?. All goes well. The loss of memory is vexing58. It cannot be a fake. Nogirl could deceive me!. .?.?.
“.?.?. The 29th .?.?. That is very soon .?.?.” Mr. Carter paused.
“I will not read the details of the coup59 that was planned. But there arejust two small entries that refer to the three of you. In the light of whathappened they are interesting.
“.?.?. By inducing the girl to come to me of her own accord, I have suc-ceeded in disarming60 her. But she has intuitive flashes that might be dan-gerous .?.?. She must be got out of the way .?.?. I can do nothing with theAmerican. He suspects and dislikes me. But he cannot know. I fancy myarmour is impregnable .?.?. Sometimes I fear I have underestimated theother boy. He is not clever, but it is hard to blind his eyes to facts. .?.?.”
Mr. Carter shut the book.
“A great man,” he said. “Genius, or insanity, who can say?”
There was silence.
Then Mr. Carter rose to his feet.
“I will give you a toast. The Joint61 Venture which has so amply justified62 it-self by success!”
It was drunk with acclamation.
“There’s something more we want to hear,” continued Mr. Carter. Helooked at the American Ambassador. “I speak for you also, I know. We’llask Miss Jane Finn to tell us the story that only Miss Tuppence has heardso far—but before we do so we’ll drink her health. The health of one of thebravest of America’s daughters, to whom is due the thanks and gratitudeof two great countries!”
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1
catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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inauguration
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| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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apoplectically
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| Apoplectically | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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misogynist
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| n.厌恶女人的人 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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wastrels
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| n.无用的人，废物( wastrel的名词复数 )；浪子 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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53
autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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54
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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55
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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56
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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57
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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58
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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59
coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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60
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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61
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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62
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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