The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection (129 page)

‘You have an appointment with Mr Robinson? At what time, did you say? Ah, three forty-five.' He consulted a ledger. ‘Mr Thomas Beresford, is that right?'

‘Yes,' said Tommy.

‘Ah. Just sign your name here, please.'

Tommy signed his name where he was told.

‘Johnson.'

A nervous-looking young man of about twenty-three
seemed like an apparition rising out of a glass partitioned desk. ‘Yes, sir?'

‘Take Mr Beresford up to the fourth floor to Mr Robinson's office.'

‘Yes, sir.'

He led Tommy to a lift, the kind of lift that always seemed to have its own idea of how it should deal with those who came into it. The doors rolled open. Tommy passed in, the doors very nearly pinched him in doing so and just managed to slam themselves shut about an inch from his spine.

‘Cold afternoon,' said Johnson, showing a friendly attitude to someone who was clearly being allowed to approach the high one in the highest.

‘Yes,' said Tommy, ‘it always seems to be cold in the afternoons.'

‘Some say it's pollution, some say it's all the natural gas they're taking out of the North Sea,' said Johnson.

‘Oh, I haven't heard that,' said Tommy.

‘Doesn't seem likely to me,' said Johnson.

They passed the second floor and the third floor and finally arrived at the fourth floor. Johnson led Tommy, again escaping the closing doors by a mere inch, along a passage to a door. He knocked, was told to enter, held the door open, insinuated Tommy across the threshold, and said:

‘Mr Beresford, sir. By appointment.'

He went out and shut the door behind him. Tommy advanced. The room seemed to be mainly filled by an enormous desk. Behind the desk sat a rather enormous man, a man of great weight and many inches. He had, as Tommy had been prepared for by his friend, a very large and yellow face. What nationality he was Tommy had no idea. He might have been anything. Tommy had a feeling he was probably foreign. A German, perhaps? Or an Austrian? Possibly a Japanese. Or else he might be very decidedly English.

‘Ah. Mr Beresford.'

Mr Robinson got up, shook hands.

‘I'm sorry if I come taking a lot of your time,' said Tommy.

He had a feeling he had once seen Mr Robinson before or had had Mr Robinson pointed out to him. Anyway on the occasion, whatever it had been, he had been rather shy about it because obviously Mr Robinson was someone very important, and, he now gathered (or rather felt at once) he was still very important.

‘There's something you want to know about, I gather. Your friend, What's-his-name, just gave me a brief résumé.'

‘I don't suppose–I mean, it's something perhaps I oughtn't to bother you about. I don't suppose it's anything of any importance. It was just–just–'

‘Just an idea?'

‘Partly my wife's idea.'

‘I've heard about your wife. I've heard about you, too. Let me see, the last time was M or N wasn't it? Or N or M. Mm. I remember. Remember all the facts and things. You got that Commander chap, didn't you? The one who was in the English Navy supposedly but was actually a very important Hun. I still call them Huns occasionally, you know. Of course I know we're all different now we're in the Common Market. All in the nursery school together, as you might say. I know. You did a good bit of work there. Very good bit indeed. And so did your missus. My word. All those children's books. I remember. Goosey, Goosey Gander wasn't it–the one that gave the show away? Where do you wander? Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber.'

‘Fancy you remembering that,' said Tommy, with great respect.

‘Yes, I know. One's always surprised when one remembers something. It just came back to me at that minute. So silly, you know, that really you'd never have suspected it of being anything else, would you?'

‘Yes, it was a good show.'

‘Now, what's the matter now? What are you up against?'

‘Well, it's nothing, really,' said Tommy. ‘It's just–'

‘Come on, put it in your own words. You needn't make a thing of it. Just tell me the story. Sit down. Take the weight off your feet. Don't you know–or you will know, when you're some years older–resting your feet is important.'

‘I'm old enough already, I should think,' said Tommy. ‘There can't be much ahead of me now except a coffin, in due course.'

‘Oh I wouldn't say that. I tell you, once you get above a certain age you can go on living practically for ever. Now then, what's all this about?'

‘Well,' said Tommy, ‘briefly, my wife and I went into a new house and there was all the fuss of getting into a new house–'

‘I know,' said Mr Robinson, ‘yes, I know the sort of thing. Electricians all over the floor. They pick holes and you fall into them and–'

‘There were some books there the people moving out wanted to sell. A lot of children's books, all sorts of things. You know, Henty and things like that.'

‘I remember. I remember Henty from my own youth.'

‘And in one book my wife was reading we found a passage underlined. The letters were underlined and it made a sentence when you put it together. And–this sounds awfully silly, what I'm going to say next–'

‘Well, that's hopeful,' said Mr Robinson. ‘If a thing sounds silly, I always want to hear about it.'

‘It said,
Mary Jordan did not die naturally. It must have been one of us
.'

‘Very, very interesting,' said Mr Robinson. ‘I've never come across anything like that before. It said that, did it? Mary Jordan did not die a natural death. And who was it who wrote it? Any clue of that?'

‘Apparently a boy of school age. Parkinson was the family's name. They lived in this house and he was one of the Parkinsons, we gathered. Alexander Parkinson. At least, anyway, he's buried there in the churchyard.'

‘Parkinson,' said Mr Robinson. ‘Wait a bit. Let me think. Parkinson–yes, you know there was a name like that connected with things, but you don't always remember who or what and where.'

‘And we've been very keen to learn who Mary Jordan was.'

‘Because she didn't die a natural death. Yes, I suppose that would be rather your line of country. But it seems very odd. What did you find out about her?'

‘Absolutely nothing,' said Tommy. ‘Nobody seems to remember her there much, or say anything about her. At least somebody did say she was what we'd call an
au pair
girl nowadays or a governess or something like that. They couldn't remember. A Mamselle or a Frowline, they said. It's all very difficult, you see.'

‘And she died–what did she die of?'

‘Somebody brought a few foxglove leaves in with some spinach from the garden, by accident, and then they ate it. Mind you, that probably wouldn't kill you.'

‘No,' said Mr Robinson. ‘Not enough of it. But if you then put a strong dose of digitalin alkaloid in the coffee and just made sure that Mary Jordan got it in her coffee, or in a cocktail earlier, then–then, as you say, the foxglove leaves would be blamed and it would all be taken to be an accident. But Alexander Parker, or whatever the schoolboy's name was, was too sharp for that. He had other ideas, did he? Anything else, Beresford? When was this? First World War, Second World War, or before that?'

‘Before. Rumours passed down through elderly ancestors say she was a German spy.'

‘I remember that case–made a big sensation. Any German working in England before 1914 was always said to be a spy. The English officer involved was one always said to be “above suspicion”. I always look very hard at anyone who is above suspicion. It's all a long time ago, I don't think it's ever been written up in recent years. I mean, not in the way that things are occasionally for public enjoyment when they release a bit of stuff from the records.'

‘Yes, but it's all rather sketchy.'

‘Yes, it would be by now. It's always been associated, of course, with the submarine secrets that were stolen
around then. There was some aviation news as well. A lot of that side of it, and that's what caught the public interest, as you might say. But there are a lot of things, you know. There was the political side to it, too. A lot of our prominent politicians. You know, the sort of chaps people say, “Well,
he
has
real
integrity.” Real integrity is just as dangerous as being above suspicion in the Services. Real integrity my foot,' said Mr Robinson. ‘I remember it with this last war. Some people haven't got the integrity they are credited with. One chap lived down near here, you know. He had a cottage on the beach, I think. Made a lot of disciples, you know, praising Hitler. Saying our only chance was to get in with him. Really the fellow seemed such a noble man. Had some wonderful ideas. Was so terribly keen to abolish all poverty and difficulties and injustice–things of that kind. Oh yes. Blew the Fascist trumpet without calling it Fascism. And Spain too, you know. Was in with Franco and all that lot to begin with. And dear old Mussolini, naturally, spouting away. Yes, there are always a lot of side-lines to it just before wars. Things that never came out and nobody ever really knew about.'

‘You seem to know everything,' said Tommy. ‘I beg your pardon. Perhaps that's rather rude of me. But it really is very exciting to come across someone who does seem to know about everything.'

‘Well, I've often had a finger in the pie, as you might say. You know, come into things on the side-lines, or in the background. One hears a good deal. One hears a good deal from one's old cronies too, who were in it up to the neck and who knew the lot. I expect you begin to find that, don't you?'

‘Yes,' said Tommy, ‘it's quite true. I meet old friends, you know, and they've seen other old friends and there're quite a lot of things that, well, one's friends knew and you knew. You didn't get together just then but now you
do
hear about them and they're very interesting sometimes.'

‘Yes,' said Mr Robinson. ‘I see where you're going–where you're tending, you might say. It's interesting that you should come across this.'

‘The trouble is,' said Tommy, ‘that I don't really know–I mean, perhaps we're being rather silly. I mean, we bought this house to live in, the sort of house we wanted. We've done it up the way we want and we're trying to get the garden in some kind of shape. But I mean, I don't want to get tied up in this sort of stuff again. It's just pure curiosity on our part. Something that happened long ago and you can't help thinking about it or wanting to know why. But there's no point in it. It's not going to do anybody any good.'

‘I know. You just want to
know
. Well, that's the way the human being is made. That's what leads us
to explore things, to go and fly to the moon, to bother about underwater discoveries, to find natural gas in the North Sea, to find oxygen supplied to us by the sea and not by the trees and forests. Quite a lot of things they're always finding out about. Just through curiosity. I suppose without curiosity a man would be a tortoise. Very comfortable life, a tortoise has. Goes to sleep all the winter and doesn't eat anything more than grass as far as I know, to live all the summer. Not an interesting life perhaps, but a very peaceful one. On the other hand–'

‘On the other hand one might say man is more like a mongoose.'

‘Good. You're a reader of Kipling. I'm so glad. Kipling's not appreciated as much as he should be nowadays. He was a wonderful chap. A wonderful person to read nowadays. His short stories, amazingly good, they are. I don't think it's ever been realized enough.'

‘I don't want to make a fool of myself,' said Tommy. ‘I don't want to mix myself up with a lot of things which have nothing to do with me. Not anything to do with anybody nowadays, I should say.'

‘That you never know,' said Mr Robinson.

‘I mean, really,' said Tommy, who was now completely swamped in a cloud of guilt for having disturbed a very important man, ‘I mean, I'm not just trying to find out things.'

‘Got to try and find out things just to satisfy your wife, I suppose. Yes, I've heard of her. I've never had the pleasure of meeting her, I don't think. Rather wonderful person, isn't she?'

‘I think so,' said Tommy.

‘That's good hearing. I like people who stick together and enjoy their marriage and go on enjoying it.'

‘Really, I'm like the tortoise, I suppose. I mean, there we are. We're old and we're tired, and although we've got very good health for our age, we don't want to be mixed up in anything nowadays. We're not trying to butt into anything. We just–'

‘I know. I know,' said Mr Robinson. ‘Don't keep apologizing for it. You want to know. Like the mongoose, you want to know. And Mrs Beresford, she wants to know. Moreover, I should say from all I've heard of her and been told of her, I should say she will get to know somehow.'

‘You think she's more likely to do it than I am?'

‘Well, I don't think perhaps you're quite as keen on finding out things as she is, but I think you're just as likely to get on to it because I think you're rather good at finding sources. It's not easy to find sources for something as long ago as that.'

‘That's why I feel awful about having come and disturbed you. But I wouldn't have done it on my own. It was only Mutton-Chop. I mean–'

‘I know who you mean. Had mutton-chop whiskers and was rather pleased with them at one time. That's why he was called that. A nice chap. Done good work in his time. Yes. He sent you to me because he knew that I am interested in anything like that. I started quite early, you know. Poking about, I mean, and finding out things.'

‘And now,' said Tommy, ‘now you're the tops.'