Two A POT OF TEA

Mr. and Mrs. Beresford took possession of the offices of the InternationalDetective Agency a few days later. They were on the second floor of asomewhat dilapidated building in Bloomsbury. In the small outer office,Albert relinquished² the role of a Long Island butler, and took up that of of-fice boy, a part which he played to perfection. A paper bag of sweets, inkyhands, and a tousled head was his conception of the character.
From the outer office, two doors led into inner offices. On one door waspainted the legend “Clerks.” On the other “Private.” Behind the latter wasa small comfortable room furnished with an immense business-like desk,a lot of artistically³ labelled files, all empty, and some solid leather-seatedchairs. Behind the desk sat the pseudo Mr. Blunt trying to look as thoughhe had run a Detective Agency all his life. A telephone, of course, stood athis elbow. Tuppence and he had rehearsed several good telephone effects,and Albert also had his instructions.
In the adjoining room was Tuppence, a typewriter, the necessary tablesand chairs of an inferior type to those in the room of the great Chief, and agas ring for making tea.
Nothing was wanting, in fact, save clients.
Tuppence, in the first ecstasies⁴ of initiation⁵, had a few bright hopes.
“It will be too marvellous,” she declared. “We will hunt down murder-ers, and discover the missing family jewels, and find people who’ve disap-peared and detect embezzlers.”
At this point Tommy felt it his duty to strike a more discouraging note.
“Calm yourself, Tuppence, and try to forget the cheap fiction you are inthe habit of reading. Our clientèle, if we have any clientèle at all—will con-sist solely⁶ of husbands who want their wives shadowed, and wives whowant their husbands shadowed. Evidence for divorce is the sole prop⁷ ofprivate inquiry⁸ agents.”

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