'She had a temper, though.'

'Yes, indeed. But it's the whining kind that gets you down, all complaints and moans. Miss Fanshawe was never dull. Grand stories she'd tell you of the old days. Rode a horse once up the staircase of a country house when she was a girl-or so she said. Would that be true now?'

'Well, I wouldn't put it past her,' said Tommy.

'You never know what you can believe here. The tales the old dears come and tell you. Criminals that they've recognized-we must notify the police at once-if not, we're all in danger.'

'Somebody was being poisoned last time we were here, I remember,' said Tuppence.

'Ah! that was only Mrs. Lockett. It happens to her every day. But it's not the police she wants, it's a doctor to be called-she's that crazy about doctors.'

'And somebody-a little woman-calling out for cocoa-'

'That would be Mrs. Moody. Poor soul she's gone.'

'You mean left here-gone away?'

'No-it was a thrombosis took her-very sudden. She was one who was very devoted to your Aunt-not that Miss Fanshawe always had time for her-always talking nineteen to the dozen, as she did-'

'Mrs. Lancaster has left, I hear.'

'Yes, her folk came for her. She didn't want to go, poor thing.'

'What was the story she told me-about the fireplace in the sitting room?'

'Ah! she'd lots of stories, that one-about the things that happened to her-and the secrets she knew-'

'There was something about a child-a kidnapped child or a murdered child-'

'It's strange it is, the things they think up. It's the TV as often as not that gives them the ideas-'

'Do you find it a strain, working here with all these old people? It must be tiring.'

'Oh no. I like old people. That's why I took up Geriatric work-'

'You've been here long?'

'A year and a half-' She paused. 'But I'm leaving next month.'

'Oh! why?'

For the first time a certain constraint came into Nurse O'Keefe's manner.

'Well, you see, Mrs. Beresford, one needs a change…'

'But you'll be doing the same kind of work?'

'Oh yes!' She picked up the fur stole. 'I'm thanking you again very much-and I'm glad, too, to have something to remember Miss Fanshawe by. She was a grand old lady. You don't find many like her nowadays.'

Aunt Ada's things arrived in due course. The desk was installed and admired. The little worktable dispossessed the whatnot which was relegated to a dark corner of the hall. And the picture of the pale pink house by the canal bridge Tuppence hung over the mantelpiece in her bedroom where she could see it every morning when drinking her early morning tea.

Since her conscience still troubled her a little, Tuppence wrote a letter explaining how the picture had come into their possession but that if Mrs. Lancaster would like it returned, she had only got to let them know. This she dispatched to Mrs. Lancaster, c/o Mrs. Johnson, at the Cleveland Hotel, George Street, London, W. 1.

To this there was no reply, but a week later the letter was returned with 'Not known at this address' scrawled on it.

'How tiresome,' said Tuppence.

'Perhaps they only stayed for a night or two,' suggested Tommy.

'You'd think they'd have left a forwarding address…'

'Did you put "Please forward" on it?'

'Yes, I did. I know, I'll ring them up and ask. They must have put an address in the hotel register…'

'I'd let it go if I were you,' said Tommy. 'Why make all this fuss? I expect the old pussy has forgotten all about the picture.'

'I might as well try.'

Tuppence sat down at the telephone and was presently connected to the Cleveland Hotel.

She rejoined Tommy in his study a few minutes later.

'It's rather curious, Tommy-they haven't even been there. No Mrs. Johnson-no Mrs. Lancaster-no rooms booked for them-or any trace of their having stayed there before.'

'I expect Miss Packard got the name of the hotel wrong. Wrote it down in a hurry-and then perhaps lost it-or remembered it wrong. Things like that often happen, you know.'

'I shouldn't have thought it would at Sunny Ridge. Miss Packard is so efficient always.'

'Perhaps they didn't book beforehand at the hotel and it was full, so they had to go somewhere else. You know what accommodation in London is like. Must you go on fussing?'

Tuppence retired.

Presently she came back.

'I know what I'm going to do. I'll ring up Miss Packard and I'll get the address of the lawyers.'

'What lawyers?'

'Don't you remember she said something about a firm of solicitors who made all the arrangements because the Johnsons were abroad?'

Tommy, who was busy over a speech he was drafting for a conference he was shortly to attend, and murmuring under his breath-'the proper policy if such a contingency should arise' said: 'How do you spell contingency, Tuppence?'

'Did you hear what I was saying?'

'Yes, very good idea-splendid-excellent-you do that.'

Tuppence went out-stuck her head in again and said: 'Consistency.'

'Can't be-you've got the wrong word.'

'What are you writing about?'

'The Paper I'm reading next at the I.U.A.S. and I do wish you'd let me do it in peace.'

'Sorry.'

Tuppence removed herself. Tommy continued to write sentences and then scratch them out. His face was just brightening, as the pace of his writing increased-when once more the door opened.

'Here it is,' said Tuppence. 'Partingdale, Harris, Lockeridge and Partingdale, 32 Lincoln Terrace, W.C.2. Tel. Holborn 051386. The operative member of the firm is Mr. Eccles.' She placed a sheet of paper by Tommy's elbow. 'Now you take on.'

'No!' said Tommy firmly.

'Yes! She's your Aunt Ada.'

'Where does Aunt Ada come in? Mrs. Lancaster is no aunt of mine.'

'But it's lawyers,' Tuppence insisted. 'It's a man's job always to deal with lawyers. They just think women are silly and don't pay attention.'

'A very sensible point of view,' said Tommy.

'Oh! Tommy-do help. You go and telephone and I'll find the dictionary and look how to spell contingency.'

Tommy gave her a look, but departed.

He returned at last and spoke firmly-'This matter is now closed, Tuppence.'

'You got Mr. Eccles?'

'Strictly speaking I got a Mr. Wills who is doubtless the dogsbody of the firm of Partingford, Lockjaw and Harrison. But he was fully informed and glib. All letters and communications go via the Southern Counties Bank, Hammersmith branch, who will forward all communications. And there, Tuppence, let me tell you, the trail stops. Banks will forward things-but they won't yield any addresses to you or anyone else who asks. They have their code of rules and they'll stick to them. Their lips are sealed like our more pompous Prime Minister's.'

'All right, I'll send a letter care of the Bank.'

'Do that-and for goodness' sake, leave me alone-or I shall never get my speech done.'

'Thank you, darling,' said Tuppence. 'I don't know what I'd do without you.' She kissed the top of his head.

'It's the best butter,' said Tommy.

It was not until the following Thursday evening that Tommy asked suddenly, 'By the way, did you ever get any answer to the letter you sent care of the Bank to Mrs. Johnson?'

'It's nice of you to ask,' said Tuppence sarcastically. 'No, I didn't.' She added meditatively, 'I don't think I shall, either.'

'Why not?'

'You're not really interested,' said Tuppence coldly.

'Look here, Tuppence-I know I've been rather preoccupied. It's all this I.U.A.S… It's only once a year, thank goodness.'

'It starts on Monday, doesn't it? For five days-'

'Four days.'

'And you all go down to a Hush Hush, top secret house in the country somewhere, and make speeches and read Papers and vet young men for Super Secret assignments in Europe and beyond. I've forgotten what I.U.A.S. stands for. All these initials they have nowadays…'

'International Union of Associated Security.'

'What a mouthful! Quite ridiculous. And I expect the whole place is bugged, and everybody knows everybody else's most secret conversations.'

'Highly likely,' said Tommy with a grin.

'And I suppose you enjoy it?'

'Well, I do in a way. One sees a lot of old friends.'

'All quite ga-ga by now, I expect. Does any of it do any good?'

'Heavens, what a question! Can one ever let oneself believe that you can answer that by a plain Yes or No?'

'And are any of the people any good?'

'I'd answer Yes to that. Some of them are very good indeed.'

'Will old Josh be there?'

[Unreadable]

'Arsenic in the cup?' suggested Tommy cheerfully. 'Bash them on the head. Push them down the staircase?'

[Unreadable]

A nice respectable Home for Elderly Ladies. You'd pay a visit to it, calling yourself Mrs. Johnson or Mrs. Robinson-or you would get some unsuspecting third party to make arrangements. You'd fix the financial arrangements through a firm of reliable solicitors. You've already hinted, perhaps, that your elderly relative has fancies and mild delusions sometimes-so do a good many of the other old ladies. Nobody will think it odd if she cackles on about poisoned milk, or dead children behind a fireplace, or a sinister kidnapping; nobody will really listen. They'll just think it's old Mrs. So-and-So having her fancies again-nobody will take any notice at all.'

'Except Mrs. Thomas Beresford,' said Tommy.

'All right, yes,' said Tuppence. 'I've taken notice!'

'But why did you?'

'I don't quite know,' said Tuppence slowly. 'It's like the fairy stories. By the pricking of my thumbs/Something evil this way comes. I felt suddenly scared. I'd always thought of Sunny Ridge as such a normal happy place-and suddenly I began to wonder… That's the only way I can put it. I wanted to find out more. And now poor old Mrs. Lancaster has disappeared. Somebody's spirited her away.'

'But why should they?'

'I can only think because she was getting worse-worse from their point of view-remembering more, perhaps, talking to people more, or perhaps she recognized someone-or someone recognized her-or told her something that gave her new ideas about something that had once happened. Anyway, for some reason or other she became dangerous to someone.'

'Look here, Tuppence, this whole thing is all somethings and someones. It's just an idea you've thought up. You don't want to go mixing yourself up in things that are no business of yours-'