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You see, Tuppence," he observed. "Child's play to the masculine mind."

I don't mind admitting that for once you've scored handsomely. I should never

have thought of that."

Good wheeze, wasn't it? And we can repeat it ad lib."

Lunch-time found the young couple attacking a steak and chips in an obscure

hostelry with avidity. They had collected a Gladys Mary and a Marjorie, been

baffled by one change of address, and had been forced to listen to a long lecture

on universal suffrage from a vivacious American lady whose Christian name had

proved to be Sadie.

"Ah!" said Tommy, imbibing a long draught of beer, "I feel better. Where's the next

draw?"

The notebook lay on the table between them. Tuppence picked it up.

"Mrs. Vandemeyer," she read, "20 South Audley Mansions. Miss Wheeler, 43

Clapington Road, Battersea. She's a lady's maid, as far as I remember, so

probably won't be there, and, anyway, she's not likely."

Then the Mayfair lady is clearly indicated as the first port of call."

Tommy, I'm getting discouraged."

Buck up, old bean. We always knew it was an outside chance. And, anyway,

we're only starting. If we draw a blank in London, there's a fine tour of England,

Ireland and Scotland before us."

True," said Tuppence, her flagging spirits reviving. "And all expenses paid! But,

oh, Tommy, I do like things to happen quickly. So far, adventure has succeeded

adventure, but this morning has been dull as dull."

"You must stifle this longing for vulgar sensation, Tuppence. Remember that if

Mr. Brown is all he is reported to be, it's a wonder that he has not ere now done

us to death. That's a good sentence, quite a literary flavour about it."

You're really more conceited than I am--with less excuse! Ahem! But it certainly

is queer that Mr. Brown has not yet wreaked vengeance upon us. (You see, I can

do it too.) We pass on our way unscathed."

The Secret Adversary