The Secret Adversary

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Whilst waiting at table, Tuppence listened closely to all that was said.
She remembered that this was one of the men Tommy was shadowing when she
had last seen him. Already, although she would hardly admit it, she was
becoming uneasy about her partner. Where was he? Why had no word of any
kind come from him? She had arranged before leaving the Ritz to have
all letters or messages sent on at once by special messenger to a small
stationer's shop near at hand where Albert was to call in frequently.
True, it was only yesterday morning that she had parted from Tommy, and
she told herself that any anxiety on his behalf would be absurd. Still,
it was strange that he had sent no word of any kind.

But, listen as she might, the conversation presented no clue. Boris and
Mrs. Vandemeyer talked on purely indifferent subjects: plays they had
seen, new dances, and the latest society gossip. After dinner they
repaired to the small boudoir where Mrs. Vandemeyer, stretched on the
divan, looked more wickedly beautiful than ever. Tuppence brought in the
coffee and liqueurs and unwillingly retired. As she did so, she heard