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Tuppence was in a dilemma. So far she had fooled Whittington with complete
success, but to mention a palpably impossible sum might awaken his suspicions.
An idea flashed across her brain.
"
Suppose we say a little something down, and a fuller discussion of the matter
later?"
Whittington gave her an ugly glance.
"
Blackmail, eh?"
Tuppence smiled sweetly.
Oh no! Shall we say payment of services in advance?"
Whittington grunted.
"
"You see," explained Tuppence still sweetly, "I'm so very fond of money!"
"You're about the limit, that's what you are," growled Whittington, with a sort of
unwilling admiration. "You took me in all right. Thought you were quite a meek
little kid with just enough brains for my purpose."
"Life," moralized Tuppence, "is full of surprises."
"All the same," continued Whittington, "some one's been talking. You say it isn't
Rita. Was it----? Oh, come in."
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."
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