III
It was a grey morning with the wind blowing coldly from the sea. Tup-pence was alone at the far end of the beach.
She took from her bag two letters that she had just called for at a smallnewsagent’s in the town.
They had taken some time in coming since they had been readdressedthere, the second time to a Mrs. Spender. Tuppence liked crossing hertracks. Her children believed her to be in Cornwall with an old aunt.
She opened the first letter.
“Dearest Mother,
“Lots of funny things I could tell you only I mustn’t. We’reputting up a good show, I think. Five German planes be-fore breakfast is today’s market quotation¹. Bit of a mess atthe moment and all that, but we’ll get there all right in theend.
“It’s the way they machine-gun the poor civilian² devils onthe roads that gets me. It makes us all see red. Gus andTrundles want to be remembered to you. They’re still go-ing strong.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m all right. Wouldn’t havemissed this show for the world. Love to old Carrot Top—have the W.O. given him a job yet?
“Yours ever,
“Derek.”
Tuppence’s eyes were very bright and shining as she read and rereadthis.
Then she opened the other letter.
“Dearest Mum,
“How’s old Aunt Gracie? Going strong? I think you’re won-derful to stick it. I couldn’t.
“No news. My job is very interesting, but so hush-hush Ican’t tell you about it. But I really do feel I’m doing some-thing worthwhile. Don’t fret³ about not getting any warwork to do—it’s so silly all these elderly women rushingabout wanting to do things. They only really want peoplewho are young and efficient. I wonder how Carrots is get-ting on at his job up in Scotland? Just filling up forms, Isuppose. Still he’ll be happy to feel he is doing something.
“Lots of love,
“Deborah.”
Tuppence smiled.
She folded the letters, smoothed them lovingly, and then under the shel-ter of a breakwater she struck a match and set them on fire. She waiteduntil they were reduced to ashes.
Taking out her fountain pen and a small writing pad, she wrote rapidly.
“Langherne,
Cornwall.
“Dearest Deb,
“It seems so remote from the war here that I can hardly be-lieve there is a war going on. Very glad to get your letterand know that your work is interesting.

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