N or M by Agatha Christie Page B

Somebody else? Somebody, at least, who was interested in the movements of British armed forces.

N or M
    IV
    Tuppence's plan of campaign had been simple in its outlines. First, a general sizing up of probabilities and possibilities. Second, an experiment to determine whether there was or was not an inmate of Sans Souci who was interested in troop movements and anxious to conceal the fact. Third - who that person was?
    It was concerning that third operation that Tuppence pondered as she lay in bed the following morning. Her train of thought was slightly hampered by Betty Sprot, who had pranced in at an early hour, preceding indeed the cup of somewhat tepid inky liquid known as Morning Tea.
    Betty was both active and voluble. She had taken a great attachment to Tuppence. She climbed up on the bed and thrust an extremely tattered picture book under Tuppence's nose, commanding with brevity:
    “Wead.”
    Tuppence read obediently:
    "Goosey, goosey gander, whither will you wander?
    Upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber."
    Betty rolled with mirth - repeating in an ecstasy:
    “Upstares - upstares - upstares -” and then with a sudden climax: “Down -” and proceeded to roll off the bed with a thump.
    This proceeding was repeated several times until it palled. Then Betty crawled about the floor, playing with Tuppence's shoes and muttering busily to herself in her own particular idiom:
    “Ag do - bah pit - soo - soo dah - putch -”
    Released to fly back to its own perplexities, Tuppence's mind forgot the child. The words of the nursery rhyme seemed to mock at her.
    “Goosey, goosey gander, whither shall ye wander?”
    "Whither indeed? Goosey, that was her, Gander was Tommy. It was, at any rate, what they appeared to be! Tuppence had the heartiest contempt for Mrs Blenkensop. Mr Meadowes, she thought, was a little better - stolid, British, unimaginative - quite incredibly stupid. Both of them, she hoped, fitting nicely into the background of Sans Souci. Both such possible people to be there.
    All the same, one must not relax - a slip was so easy. She had made one the other day - nothing that mattered, but just a sufficient indication to warn her to be careful. Such an easy approach to intimacy and good relations - an indifferent knitter asking for guidance. But she had forgotten that one evening, her fingers had slipped into their own practised efficiency, the needles clicking busily with the even note of the experienced knitter. And Mrs O'Rourke had noticed it. Since then, she had carefully struck a medium course - not so clumsy as she had been at first - but not so rapid as she could be.
    “Ag boo bate?” demanded Betty. She reiterated the question: “Ag boo bate?”
    “Lovely, darling,” said Tuppence absently. “Beautiful.”
    Satisfied, Betty relapsed into murmurs again.
    Her next step, Tuppence thought, could be managed easily enough. That is to say with the connivance of Tommy. She saw exactly how to do it -
    Lying there planning, time slipped by. Mrs Sprot came in, breathless, to seek for Betty.
    “Oh, here she is. I couldn't think where she had got to. Oh, Betty, you naughty girl - Oh, dear, Mrs Blenkensop, I am so sorry.”
    Tuppence sat up in bed. Betty, with an angelic face, was contemplating her handiwork.
    She had removed all the laces from Tuppence's shoes and had immersed them in a glass of water. She was prodding them now with a gleeful finger.
    Tuppence laughed and cut short Mrs Sprot's apologies.
    “How frightfully funny. Don't worry, Mrs Sprot, they'll recover all right. It's my fault. I should have noticed what she was doing. She rather quiet.”
    “I know.” Mrs Sprot sighed. “Whenever they're quiet, it's a bad sign. I'll get you some more laces this morning, Mrs Blenkensop.”
    “Don't bother,” said Tuppence. “They'll dry none the worse.”
    Mrs Sprot bore Betty away and Tuppence got up to put her plan into execution.

N or M
    Chapter 6
    Tommy looked rather gingerly at the packet that