Page 24 of N or M? (Tommy & Tuppence 3)

"The late Vanda Polonska?"

"Yes. The first time I saw her her face seemed vaguely familiar."

"Do you think you had come across her somewhere else?"

"No, I'm sure I hadn't."

"Mrs Perenna and Sheila are a totally different type."

"Oh, yes, it wasn't them. You know. Tommy, about those two. I've been thinking."

"To any good purpose?"

"I'm not sure. It's about that note - the one Mrs Sprot found on the floor in her room when Betty was kidnapped."

"Well?"

"All that about its being wrapped round a stone and thrown through the window is rubbish. It was put there by someone - ready for Mrs Sprot to find - and I think it was Mrs Perenna who put it there."

"Mrs Perenna, Carl, Vanda Polonska - all working together."

"Yes. Did you notice how Mrs Perenna came in just at the critical moment and clinched things - not to ring up the police? She took command of the whole situation."

"So she's still your selection for M?"

"Yes, isn't she yours?"

"I suppose so," said Tommy slowly.

"Why, Tommy, have you got another idea?"

"It's probably an awfully dud one."

"Tell me."

"No, I'd rather not. I've nothing to go on. Nothing whatever. But if I'm right, it's not M we're up against, but N."

He thought to himself.

"Bletchley. I suppose he's all right. Why shouldn't he be? He's a true enough type - almost too true, and after all, it was he who wanted to ring up the police. Yes, but he could have been pretty sure that the child's mother wouldn't stand for the idea. The threatening note made sure of that. He could afford to urge the opposite point of view -"

And that brought him back again to the vexing, teasing problem to which as yet he could find no answer.

Why kidnap Betty Sprot?

III

There was a car standing outside Sans Souci bearing the word Police on it.

Absorbed in her own thoughts Tuppence took little notice of that. She turned in at the drive and entering the front door went straight upstairs to her own room.

She stopped, taken aback, on the threshold, as a tall figure turned away from the window.

"Dear me," said Tuppence. "Sheila?"

The girl came straight towards her. Now Tuppence saw her more clearly, saw the blazing eyes deep set in the white tragic face.

Sheila said:

"I'm glad you've come. I've been waiting for you."

"What's the matter?"

The girl's voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. She said:

"They have arrested Carl!"

"The police?"

"Yes."

"Oh, dear," said Tuppence. She felt inadequate to the situation. Quiet as Sheila's voice had been, Tuppence was under no misapprehension as to what lay behind it.

Whether they were fellow conspirators or not, this girl loved Carl von Deinim, and Tuppence felt her heart aching in sympathy with this tragic young creature.

Sheila said:

"What shall I do?"

The simple forlorn question made Tuppence wince. She said helplessly:

"Oh, my dear."

Sheila said, and her voice was like a mourning harp:

"They've taken him away. I shall never see him again."

She cried out:

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" And flinging herself down on her knees by the bed, she wept her heart out.

Tuppence stroked the dark head. She said presently, in a weak voice:

"It - it may not be true. Perhaps they are only going to intern him. After all, he is an enemy alien, you know."

"That's not what they said. They're searching his room now."

Tuppence said slowly, "Well, if they find nothing -"

"They will find nothing, of course! What should they find?"

"I don't know. I thought perhaps you might?"

"I?"

Her scorn, her amazement were too real to be feigned. Any suspicions Tuppence had had that Sheila Perenna was involved died at this moment. The girl knew nothing, had never known anything.

Tuppence said:

"If he is innocent -"

Sheila interrupted her.

"What does that matter? The police will make a case against him."

Tuppence said sharply:

"Nonsense, my dear child, that really isn't true."

"The English police will do anything. My Mother says so."

"Your Mother may say so, but she's wrong. I assure you that it isn't so."

Sheila looked at her doubtfully for a minute or two. Then she said:

"Very well. If you say so. I trust you."

Tuppence felt very uncomfortable. She said sharply:

"You trust too much, Sheila. You may have been unwise to trust Carl."

"Are you against him, too? I thought you liked him. He thinks so, too."

Touching young things - with their faith in one's liking for them. And it was true - she had liked Carl - she did like him.

Rather wearily she said:

"Listen, Sheila, liking or not liking has nothing to do with facts. This country and Germany are at war. There are many ways of serving one's country. One of them is to get information - and to work behind the lines. It is a brave thing to do, for when you are caught, it is -" her voice broke a little - "the end."

Sheila said:

"You think Carl -" "Might be working for his country that way? It is a possibility, isn't it?"

"No," said Sheila.

"It would be his job, you see, to come over here as a refugee, to appear to be violently anti-Nazi and then to gather information."

Sheila said quietly:

"It's not true. I know Carl. I know his heart and his mind. He cares most for science - for his work - for the truth and the knowledge in it. He is grateful to England for letting him work here. Sometimes, when people say cruel things, he feels German and bitter. But he hates the Nazis always, and what they stand for - their denial of freedom."

Tuppence said: "He would say so, of course."

Sheila turned reproachful eyes upon her.

"So you believe he is a spy?"

"I think it is -" Tuppence hesitated - "a possibility."

Sheila walked to the door.

"I see. I'm sorry I came to ask you to help us."

"But what did you think I could do, dear child?"

"You know people. Your sons are in the Army and Navy and I've heard you say more than once that they knew influential people. I thought perhaps you could get them to - to do - something?"

Tuppence thought of those mythical creatures, Douglas and Raymond and Cyril.

"I'm afraid," she said, "that they couldn't do anything."

Sheila flung her head up. She said passionately:

"Then there's no hope for us. They'll take him away and shut him up, and one day, early in the morning, they'll stand him against a wall and shoot him - and that will be the end."

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