CHAPTER XV. TUPPENCE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL

JULIUS sprang up.

“What?”

“I thought you were aware of that.”

“When did she leave?”

“Let me see. To-day is Monday, is it not? It must have been last

Wednesday--why, surely--yes, it was the same evening that you--er--fell

out of my tree.”

“That evening? Before, or after?”

“Let me see--oh yes, afterwards. A very urgent message arrived from Mrs.

Vandemeyer. The young lady and the nurse who was in charge of her left

by the night train.”

Julius sank back again into his chair.

“Nurse Edith--left with a patient--I remember,” he muttered. “My God, to

have been so near!”

Dr. Hall looked bewildered.

“I don’t understand. Is the young lady not with her aunt, after all?”

Tuppence shook her head. She was about to speak when a warning glance

from Sir James made her hold her tongue. The lawyer rose.

“I’m much obliged to you, Hall. We’re very grateful for all you’ve

told us. I’m afraid we’re now in the position of having to track Miss

Vandemeyer anew. What about the nurse who accompanied her; I suppose you

don’t know where she is?”

The doctor shook his head.

“We’ve not heard from her, as it happens. I understood she was to remain

with Miss Vandemeyer for a while. But what can have happened? Surely the

girl has not been kidnapped.”

“That remains to be seen,” said Sir James gravely.

The other hesitated.

“You do not think I ought to go to the police?”

“No, no. In all probability the young lady is with other relations.”

The doctor was not completely satisfied, but he saw that Sir James was

determined to say no more, and realized that to try and extract

more information from the famous K.C. would be mere waste of labour.

Accordingly, he wished them goodbye, and they left the hotel. For a few

minutes they stood by the car talking.

“How maddening,” cried Tuppence. “To think that Julius must have been

actually under the same roof with her for a few hours.”

“I was a darned idiot,” muttered Julius gloomily.

“You couldn’t know,” Tuppence consoled him. “Could he?” She appealed to

Sir James.

“I should advise you not to worry,” said the latter kindly. “No use

crying over spilt milk, you know.”

“The great thing is what to do next,” added Tuppence the practical.

Sir James shrugged his shoulders.

“You might advertise for the nurse who accompanied the girl. That is

the only course I can suggest, and I must confess I do not hope for much

result. Otherwise there is nothing to be done.”

“Nothing?” said Tuppence blankly. “And--Tommy?”

“We must hope for the best,” said Sir James. “Oh yes, we must go on

hoping.”

But over her downcast head his eyes met Julius’s, and almost

imperceptibly he shook his head. Julius understood. The lawyer

considered the case hopeless. The young American’s face grew grave. Sir

James took Tuppence’s hand.

“You must let me know if anything further comes to light. Letters will

always be forwarded.”

Tuppence stared at him blankly.

“You are going away?”

“I told you. Don’t you remember? To Scotland.”

“Yes, but I thought----” The girl hesitated.

Sir James shrugged his shoulders.

“My dear young lady, I can do nothing more, I fear. Our clues have all

ended in thin air. You can take my word for it that there is nothing

more to be done. If anything should arise, I shall be glad to advise you

in any way I can.”

His words gave Tuppence an extraordinarily desolate feeling.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Anyway, thank you very much for

trying to help us. Good-bye.”

Julius was bending over the car. A momentary pity came into Sir James’s

keen eyes, as he gazed into the girl’s downcast face.

“Don’t be too disconsolate, Miss Tuppence,” he said in a low voice.

“Remember, holiday-time isn’t always all playtime. One sometimes manages

to put in some work as well.”

Something in his tone made Tuppence glance up sharply. He shook his head

with a smile.

“No, I shan’t say any more. Great mistake to say too much. Remember

that. Never tell all you know--not even to the person you know best.

Understand? Good-bye.”

He strode away. Tuppence stared after him. She was beginning to

understand Sir James’s methods. Once before he had thrown her a hint

in the same careless fashion. Was this a hint? What exactly lay

behind those last brief words? Did he mean that, after all, he had not

abandoned the case; that, secretly, he would be working on it still

while----

Her meditations were interrupted by Julius, who adjured her to “get

right in.”

“You’re looking kind of thoughtful,” he remarked as they started off.

“Did the old guy say anything more?”

Tuppence opened her mouth impulsively, and then shut it again. Sir

James’s words sounded in her ears: “Never tell all you know--not even

to the person you know best.” And like a flash there came into her mind

another memory. Julius before the safe in the flat, her own question and

the pause before his reply, “Nothing.” Was there really nothing? Or

had he found something he wished to keep to himself? If he could make a

reservation, so could she.

“Nothing particular,” she replied.

She felt rather than saw Julius throw a sideways glance at her.

“Say, shall we go for a spin in the park?”

“If you like.”

For a while they ran on under the trees in silence. It was a beautiful

day. The keen rush through the air brought a new exhilaration to

Tuppence.

“Say, Miss Tuppence, do you think I’m ever going to find Jane?”

Julius spoke in a discouraged voice. The mood was so alien to him that

Tuppence turned and stared at him in surprise. He nodded.

“That’s so. I’m getting down and out over the business. Sir James to-day

hadn’t got any hope at all, I could see that. I don’t like him--we don’t

gee together somehow--but he’s pretty cute, and I guess he wouldn’t quit

if there was any chance of success--now, would he?”

Tuppence felt rather uncomfortable, but clinging to her belief that

Julius also had withheld something from her, she remained firm.

“He suggested advertising for the nurse,” she reminded him.

“Yes, with a ‘forlorn hope’ flavour to his voice! No--I’m about fed up.

I’ve half a mind to go back to the States right away.”

“Oh no!” cried Tuppence. “We’ve got to find Tommy.”

“I sure forgot Beresford,” said Julius contritely. “That’s so. We must

find him. But after--well, I’ve been day-dreaming ever since I started

on this trip--and these dreams are rotten poor business. I’m quit of

them. Say, Miss Tuppence, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“You and Beresford. What about it?”

“I don’t understand you,” replied Tuppence with dignity, adding rather

inconsequently: “And, anyway, you’re wrong!”

“Not got a sort of kindly feeling for one another?”

“Certainly not,” said Tuppence with warmth. “Tommy and I are

friends--nothing more.”

“I guess every pair of lovers has said that sometime or another,”

observed Julius.

“Nonsense!” snapped Tuppence. “Do I look the sort of girl that’s always

falling in love with every man she meets?”

“You do not. You look the sort of girl that’s mighty often getting

fallen in love with!”

“Oh!” said Tuppence, rather taken aback. “That’s a compliment, I

suppose?”

“Sure. Now let’s get down to this. Supposing we never find Beresford

and--and----”

“All right--say it! I can face facts. Supposing he’s--dead! Well?”

“And all this business fiddles out. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Tuppence forlornly.

“You’ll be darned lonesome, you poor kid.”

“I shall be all right,” snapped Tuppence with her usual resentment of

any kind of pity.

“What about marriage?” inquired Julius. “Got any views on the subject?”

“I intend to marry, of course,” replied Tuppence. “That is, if”--she

paused, knew a momentary longing to draw back, and then stuck to her

guns bravely--“I can find some one rich enough to make it worth my

while. That’s frank, isn’t it? I dare say you despise me for it.”

“I never despise business instinct,” said Julius. “What particular

figure have you in mind?”

“Figure?” asked Tuppence, puzzled. “Do you mean tall or short?”

“No. Sum--income.”

“Oh, I--I haven’t quite worked that out.”

“What about me?”

_“You?”_

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, I couldn’t!”

“Why not?”

“I tell you I couldn’t.”

“Again, why not?”

“It would seem so unfair.”

“I don’t see anything unfair about it. I call your bluff, that’s all. I

admire you immensely, Miss Tuppence, more than any girl I’ve ever met.

You’re so darned plucky. I’d just love to give you a real, rattling good

time. Say the word, and we’ll run round right away to some high-class

jeweller, and fix up the ring business.”

“I can’t,” gasped Tuppence.

“Because of Beresford?”

“No, no, _no!_”

“Well then?”

Tuppence merely continued to shake her head violently.

“You can’t reasonably expect more dollars than I’ve got.”

“Oh, it isn’t that,” gasped Tuppence with an almost hysterical laugh.

“But thanking you very much, and all that, I think I’d better say no.”

“I’d be obliged if you’d do me the favour to think it over until

to-morrow.”

“It’s no use.”

“Still, I guess we’ll leave it like that.”

“Very well,” said Tuppence meekly.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the _Ritz_.

Tuppence went upstairs to her room. She felt morally battered to the

ground after her conflict with Julius’s vigorous personality. Sitting

down in front of the glass, she stared at her own reflection for some

minutes.

“Fool,” murmured Tuppence at length, making a grimace. “Little fool.

Everything you want--everything you’ve ever hoped for, and you go and

bleat out ‘no’ like an idiotic little sheep. It’s your one chance. Why

don’t you take it? Grab it? Snatch at it? What more do you want?”

As if in answer to her own question, her eyes fell on a small snapshot

of Tommy that stood on her dressing-table in a shabby frame. For a

moment she struggled for self-control, and then abandoning all presence,

she held it to her lips and burst into a fit of sobbing.

“Oh, Tommy, Tommy,” she cried, “I do love you so--and I may never see

you again....”

At the end of five minutes Tuppence sat up, blew her nose, and pushed

back her hair.

“That’s that,” she observed sternly. “Let’s look facts in the face. I

seem to have fallen in love--with an idiot of a boy who probably doesn’t

care two straws about me.” Here she paused. “Anyway,” she resumed, as

though arguing with an unseen opponent, “I don’t _know_ that he does.

He’d never have dared to say so. I’ve always jumped on sentiment--and

here I am being more sentimental than anybody. What idiots girls are!

I’ve always thought so. I suppose I shall sleep with his photograph

under my pillow, and dream about him all night. It’s dreadful to feel

you’ve been false to your principles.”

Tuppence shook her head sadly, as she reviewed her backsliding.

“I don’t know what to say to Julius, I’m sure. Oh, what a fool I feel!

I’ll have to say _something_--he’s so American and thorough, he’ll

insist upon having a reason. I wonder if he did find anything in that

safe----”

Tuppence’s meditations went off on another tack. She reviewed the events

of last night carefully and persistently. Somehow, they seemed bound up

with Sir James’s enigmatical words....

Suddenly she gave a great start--the colour faded out of her face. Her

eyes, fascinated, gazed in front of her, the pupils dilated.

“Impossible,” she murmured. “Impossible! I must be going mad even to

think of such a thing....”

Monstrous--yet it explained everything....

After a moment’s reflection she sat down and wrote a note, weighing each

word as she did so. Finally she nodded her head as though satisfied, and

slipped it into an envelope which she addressed to Julius. She went

down the passage to his sitting-room and knocked at the door. As she had

expected, the room was empty. She left the note on the table.

A small page-boy was waiting outside her own door when she returned to

it.

“Telegram for you, miss.”

Tuppence took it from the salver, and tore it open carelessly. Then she

gave a cry. The telegram was from Tommy!