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The Secret Adversary

4. Who Is Jane Finn?
THE next day passed slowly. It was necessary to curtail expenditure. Carefully
husbanded, forty pounds will last a long time. Luckily the weather was fine, and "walking
is cheap," dictated Tuppence. An outlying picture house provided them with recreation
for the evening.
The day of disillusionment had been a Wednesday. On Thursday the advertisement had
duly appeared. On Friday letters might be expected to arrive at Tommy's rooms.
He had been bound by an honourable promise not to open any such letters if they did
arrive, but to repair to the National Gallery, where his colleague would meet him at ten
o'clock.
Tuppence was first at the rendezvous. She ensconced herself on a red velvet seat, and
gazed at the Turners with unseeing eyes until she saw the familiar figure enter the room.
"Well?"
"Well," returned Mr. Beresford provokingly. "Which is your favourite picture?"
"Don't be a wretch. Aren't there ANY answers?"
Tommy shook his head with a deep and somewhat overacted melancholy.
"I didn't want to disappoint you, old thing, by telling you right off. It's too bad. Good
money wasted." He sighed. "Still, there it is. The advertisement has appeared, and--there
are only two answers!"
"Tommy, you devil!" almost screamed Tuppence. "Give them to me. How could you be
so mean!"
"Your language, Tuppence, your language! They're very particular at the National
Gallery. Government show, you know. And do remember, as I have pointed out to you
before, that as a clergyman's daughter----"
"I ought to be on the stage!" finished Tuppence with a snap.
"That is not what I intended to say. But if you are sure that you have enjoyed to the full
the reaction of joy after despair with which I have kindly provided you free of charge, let
us get down to our mail, as the saying goes."
Tuppence snatched the two precious envelopes from him unceremoniously, and
scrutinized them carefully.
 
 
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