she collided with Mrs O'Rourke, whose vast bulk barred the top of the stairs.
“Dear, dear, now, Mrs Blenkensop, it's a great hurry you seem to be in.”
She did not move aside, just stood there smiling down at Tuppence just below her. There was, as always, a frightening quality about Mrs O'Rourke's smile.
And suddenly, for no reason, Tuppence felt afraid.
The big smiling Irishwoman, with her deep voice, barring her way and below Mrs Perenna closing in at the foot of the stairs.
Tuppence glanced over her shoulder. Was it her fancy that there was something definitely menacing in Mrs Perenna's upturned face? Absurd, she told herself, absurd. In broad daylight - in a commonplace seaside boarding house. But the house was so very quiet. Not a sound. And she herself here on the stairs between the two of them. Surely there was something a little queer in Mrs O'Rourke's smile - some fixed ferocious quality about it. Tuppence thought wildly, “Like a cat with a mouse.”
And then suddenly the tension broke. A little figure darted along the top landing uttering shrill squeals of mirth. Little Betty Sprot in vest and knickers, darting past Mrs O'Rourke, shouting happily “Peek Bo,” as she flung herself on Tuppence.
The atmosphere had changed. Mrs O'Rourke, a big genial figure, was crying out:
“Ah, the darlin'. It's a great girl she's getting.”
Below, Mrs Perenna had turned away to the door that led into the kitchen. Tuppence, Betty's hand clasped in hers, passed Mrs O'Rourke and ran along the passage to where Mrs Sprot was waiting to scold the truant.
Tuppence went in with the child.
She felt a queer sense of relief at the domestic atmosphere - the child's clothes lying about, the woolly toys, the painted crib, the sheeplike and somewhat unattractive face of Mr Sprot in its frame on the dressing- table, the burble of Mrs Sprot's denunciation of laundry prices and really she thought Mrs Perenna was a little unfair in refusing to sanction guests having their own electric irons -
All so normal, so reassuring, so everyday.
And yet - just now - on the stairs.
“Nerves,” said Tuppence to herself. “Just nerves!”
But had it been nerves? Someone had been telephoning from Mrs Perenna's room. Mrs O'Rourke? Surely a very odd thing to do. It ensured, of course, that you would not be overheard by the household.
It must have been, Tuppence thought, a very short conversation. The merest brief exchange of words.
“Everything going well. On the fourth a arranged.”
It might mean nothing - or a good deal.
The fourth. Was that a date? The fourth, say of a month?
Or it might mean the fourth seat, or the fourth lamppost, or the fourth breakwater - impossible to know.
It might just conceivably mean the Fourth Bridge. There had been an attempt to blow that up in the last war.
Did it mean anything at all?
It might quite easily have been the confirmation of some perfectly ordinary appointment. Mrs Perenna might have told Mrs O'Rourke she could use the telephone in her bedroom any time she wanted to do so.
And the atmosphere on the stairs, that tense moment, might have been just her own overwrought nerves...
The quiet house - the feeling that there was something sinister - something evil...
“Stick to facts, Mrs Blenkensop,” said Tuppence sternly. “And get on with your job.”
N or M
Chapter 5
Commander Haydock turned out to be a most genial host. He welcomed Mr Meadowes and Major Bletchley with enthusiasm and insisted on showing the former “all over my little place.”
“Smugglers' Rest” had been originally a couple of coastguards' cottages standing on the cliff overlooking the sea. There was a small cove below, but the access to it was perilous, only to be attempted by adventurous boys.
Then the cottages had been bought by a London business man who had thrown them into one and attempted half-heartedly to make a garden. He had come down occasionally for short periods in summer.
After that the cottages
“Dear, dear, now, Mrs Blenkensop, it's a great hurry you seem to be in.”
She did not move aside, just stood there smiling down at Tuppence just below her. There was, as always, a frightening quality about Mrs O'Rourke's smile.
And suddenly, for no reason, Tuppence felt afraid.
The big smiling Irishwoman, with her deep voice, barring her way and below Mrs Perenna closing in at the foot of the stairs.
Tuppence glanced over her shoulder. Was it her fancy that there was something definitely menacing in Mrs Perenna's upturned face? Absurd, she told herself, absurd. In broad daylight - in a commonplace seaside boarding house. But the house was so very quiet. Not a sound. And she herself here on the stairs between the two of them. Surely there was something a little queer in Mrs O'Rourke's smile - some fixed ferocious quality about it. Tuppence thought wildly, “Like a cat with a mouse.”
And then suddenly the tension broke. A little figure darted along the top landing uttering shrill squeals of mirth. Little Betty Sprot in vest and knickers, darting past Mrs O'Rourke, shouting happily “Peek Bo,” as she flung herself on Tuppence.
The atmosphere had changed. Mrs O'Rourke, a big genial figure, was crying out:
“Ah, the darlin'. It's a great girl she's getting.”
Below, Mrs Perenna had turned away to the door that led into the kitchen. Tuppence, Betty's hand clasped in hers, passed Mrs O'Rourke and ran along the passage to where Mrs Sprot was waiting to scold the truant.
Tuppence went in with the child.
She felt a queer sense of relief at the domestic atmosphere - the child's clothes lying about, the woolly toys, the painted crib, the sheeplike and somewhat unattractive face of Mr Sprot in its frame on the dressing- table, the burble of Mrs Sprot's denunciation of laundry prices and really she thought Mrs Perenna was a little unfair in refusing to sanction guests having their own electric irons -
All so normal, so reassuring, so everyday.
And yet - just now - on the stairs.
“Nerves,” said Tuppence to herself. “Just nerves!”
But had it been nerves? Someone had been telephoning from Mrs Perenna's room. Mrs O'Rourke? Surely a very odd thing to do. It ensured, of course, that you would not be overheard by the household.
It must have been, Tuppence thought, a very short conversation. The merest brief exchange of words.
“Everything going well. On the fourth a arranged.”
It might mean nothing - or a good deal.
The fourth. Was that a date? The fourth, say of a month?
Or it might mean the fourth seat, or the fourth lamppost, or the fourth breakwater - impossible to know.
It might just conceivably mean the Fourth Bridge. There had been an attempt to blow that up in the last war.
Did it mean anything at all?
It might quite easily have been the confirmation of some perfectly ordinary appointment. Mrs Perenna might have told Mrs O'Rourke she could use the telephone in her bedroom any time she wanted to do so.
And the atmosphere on the stairs, that tense moment, might have been just her own overwrought nerves...
The quiet house - the feeling that there was something sinister - something evil...
“Stick to facts, Mrs Blenkensop,” said Tuppence sternly. “And get on with your job.”
N or M
Chapter 5
Commander Haydock turned out to be a most genial host. He welcomed Mr Meadowes and Major Bletchley with enthusiasm and insisted on showing the former “all over my little place.”
“Smugglers' Rest” had been originally a couple of coastguards' cottages standing on the cliff overlooking the sea. There was a small cove below, but the access to it was perilous, only to be attempted by adventurous boys.
Then the cottages had been bought by a London business man who had thrown them into one and attempted half-heartedly to make a garden. He had come down occasionally for short periods in summer.
After that the cottages
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