Agatha Christie - Tommy and Tuppence 03 by N Or M

Author:N Or M [M, N Or]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-25T21:16:39.489000+00:00

The girl seemed slightly embarrassed.

"Well, what I'd call an odd looking kind of woman. A foreigner she was. Queer clothes. A kind of shawl thing and no hat, and a strange sort of face - queer like, if you know what I mean. I've seen her about once or twice lately, and to tell the truth I thought she was a bit wanting - If you know what I mean," she added helpfully.

In a flash Tuppence remembered the face she had seen that afternoon peering through the bushes and the foreboding that had swept over her.

But she had never thought of the woman in connection with the child, could not understand it now.

She had little time for meditation, however. Mrs Sprot almost collapsed against her.

"Oh, Betty, my little girl. She's been kidnapped. She - what did the woman look like - a gypsy?"

Tuppence shook her head energetically.

"No, she was fair, very fair, a broad face with high cheek bones and blue eyes set very far apart."

She saw Mrs Sprot staring at her and hastened to explain.

"I saw the woman this afternoons - peering through the bushes at the bottom of the garden. And I've noticed her hanging about. Carl von Deinim was speaking to her one day. It must be the same woman."

The servant girl chimed in to say:

"That's right. Fair-haired, she was. And wanting, if you ask me. Didn't understand nothing that was said to her."

"Oh, God," moaned Mrs Sprot. "What shall I do?"

Tuppence passed an arm round her.

"Come back to the house, have a little brandy and then we'll ring up the police. It's all right.

We'll get her back."

Mrs Sprot went with her meekly, murmuring in a dazed fashion:

"I can't imagine how Betty would go like that with a stranger."

"She's very young," said Tuppence. "Not old enough to be shy."

Mrs Sprot cried out weakly:

"Some dreadful German woman, I expect. She'll kill my Betty."

"Nonsense," said Tuppence robustly. "It will be all right. I expect she's just some woman who's not quite right in her head." But she did not believe her own words - did not believe for one moment that that calm blond woman was an irresponsible lunatic.

Carl! Would Carl know? Had Carl something to do with this?

A few minutes later she was inclined to doubt this. Carl von Deinim, like the rest, seemed amazed, unbelieving, completely surprised.

As soon as the facts were made plain. Major Bletchley assumed control.

"Now then, dear lady," he said to Mrs Sprot, "sit down here - just drink a little drop of this -

brandy - it won't hurt you - and I'll get straight on to the police station."

Mrs Sprot murmured:

"Wait a minute - there might be something -"

She hurried up the stairs and along the passage to hers and Betty's room.

A minute or two later they heard her footsteps running wildly along the landing. She rushed down the stairs like a demented woman and clutched Major Bletchley's hand from the telephone receiver, which he was just about to lift.

"No, no," she panted. "You mustn't - you mustn't.

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