Agatha Christie - N or M

Mrs Perenna moved along the hall after her. She seemed bigger than usual. Tuppence was conscious of her as a strong athletic woman.

She said:

"I must get my things off," and hurried up the stairs. As she turned the corner of the landing 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."

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 had remained empty for some years, being let with a modicum of furniture to summer visitors.

"Then in 1926," explained Haydock, "it was sold to a man called Hahn. He was a German, and if you ask me, he was neither more nor less than a spy."

Tommy's ears quickened.

"That's interesting," he said, putting down the glass from which he had been sipping sherry.

"Damned thorough fellows they are," said Haydock. "Getting ready even then for this show - at least that is my opinion. Look at the situation of this place. Perfect for signalling out to sea. Cove below where you could land a motor-boat. Completely isolated, owing to the contour of the cliff. Oh, yes, don't tell me that fellow Hahn wasn't a German agent."

Major Bletchley said:

"Of course he was."

"What happened to him?" asked Tommy.

"Ah!" said Haydock, "thereby hangs a tale. Hahn spent a lot of money on this place. He had a way cut down to the beach for one thing - concrete steps - expensive business. Then he had the whole of the house done over - bathrooms, every expensive gadget you can imagine. And who did he set to do all this? Not local men. No, a firm from London, so it was said - but a lot of the men who came down were foreigners. Some of them didn't speak a word of English. Don't you agree with me that that sounds extremely fishy?"

"A little odd, certainly," agreed Tommy.

"I was in the neighbourhood myself at the time, living in a bungalow, and I got interested in what this fellow was up to. I used to hang about to watch the workmen. Now I'll tell you this - they didn't like it - they didn't like it at all. Once or twice they were quite threatening about it. Why should they be if everything was all square and above board?"

Bletchley nodded agreement.

"You ought to have gone to the authorities," he said.

"Just what I did do, my dear fellow. Made a positive nuisance of myself pestering the police."

He poured himself out another drink.

"And what did I get for my pains? Polite inattention. Blind and deaf, that's what we were in this country. Another war with Germany was out of the question - there was peace in Europe - our relations with Germany were excellent. Natural sympathy between us nowadays. I was regarded as an old fossil, a war maniac, a diehard old sailor. What was the good of pointing out to people that the Germans were building the finest Air Force in Europe and not just to fly round and have picnics!"

Major Bletchley said explosively:

"Nobody believed it! Damned fools! 'Peace in our time.' 'Appeasement.' All a lot of blah!"

Haydock said, his face redder than usual with suppressed anger: "A warmonger, that's what they called me. The sort of chap, they said, who was an obstacle to peace. Peace! I knew what our Hun friends were at! And mind this, they prepare things a long time beforehand. I was convinced that Mr Hahn was up to no good. I didn't like his foreign workmen. I didn't like the way he was spending money on this place. I kept on badgering away at people."

"Stout fellow," said Bletchley appreciatively.

"And finally," said the Commander, "I began to make an impression. We had a new Chief Constable down here - retired soldier. And he had the sense to listen to me. His fellows began to nose around. Sure enough, Hahn decamped. Just slipped out and disappeared one fine night. The police went over this place with a search warrant. In a safe which had been built-in in the dining room they found a wireless transmitter and some pretty damaging documents. Also a big store place under the garage for petrol - great tanks. I can tell you I was cock-a-hoop over that. Fellows at the club used to rag me about my German Spy complex. They dried up after that. Trouble with us in this country is that we're so absurdly unsuspicious."