Tuppence’s spirits revived still more.  It would be something to see Julius.  Perhaps he could devise some plan for finding out what had become of Tommy.  She wrote her note to Mr. Carter in Julius’s sitting-room, and was just addressing the envelope when the door burst open.

“What the hell——­” began Julius, but checked himself abruptly.  “I beg your pardon, Miss Tuppence.  Those fools down at the office would have it that Beresford wasn’t here any longer—­hadn’t been here since Wednesday.  Is that so?”

Tuppence nodded.

“You don’t know where he is?” she asked faintly.

“I?  How should I know?  I haven’t had one darned word from him, though I wired him yesterday morning.”

“I expect your wire’s at the office unopened.”

“But where is he?”

“I don’t know.  I hoped you might.”

“I tell you I haven’t had one darned word from him since we parted at the depot on Wednesday.”

“What depot?”

“Waterloo.  Your London and South Western road.”

“Waterloo?” frowned Tuppence.

“Why, yes.  Didn’t he tell you?”

“I haven’t seen him either,” replied Tuppence impatiently.  “Go on about Waterloo.  What were you doing there?”

“He gave me a call.  Over the phone.  Told me to get a move on, and hustle.  Said he was trailing two crooks.”

“Oh!” said Tuppence, her eyes opening.  “I see.  Go on.”

“I hurried along right away.  Beresford was there.  He pointed out the crooks.  The big one was mine, the guy you bluffed.  Tommy shoved a ticket into my hand and told me to get aboard the cars.  He was going to sleuth the other crook.”  Julius paused.  “I thought for sure you’d know all this.”

“Julius,” said Tuppence firmly, “stop walking up and down.  It makes me giddy.  Sit down in that armchair, and tell me the whole story with as few fancy turns of speech as possible.”

Mr. Hersheimmer obeyed.

“Sure,” he said.  “Where shall I begin?”

“Where you left off.  At Waterloo.”

“Well,” began Julius, “I got into one of your dear old-fashioned first-class British compartments.  The train was just off.  First thing I knew a guard came along and informed me mighty politely that I wasn’t in a smoking-carriage.  I handed him out half a dollar, and that settled that.  I did a bit of prospecting along the corridor to the next coach.  Whittington was there right enough.  When I saw the skunk, with his big sleek fat face, and thought of poor little Jane in his clutches, I felt real mad that I hadn’t got a gun with me.  I’d have tickled him up some.

“We got to Bournemouth all right.  Whittington took a cab and gave the name of an hotel.  I did likewise, and we drove up within three minutes of each other.  He hired a room, and I hired one too.  So far it was all plain sailing.  He hadn’t the remotest notion that anyone was on to him.  Well, he just sat around in the hotel lounge, reading the papers and so on, till it was time for dinner.  He didn’t hurry any over that either.