The Secret Adversary

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"So you've turned up all right? That's good. Sit down, will you?"

Tuppence sat down on the chair facing him. She looked particularly small
and demure this morning. She sat there meekly with downcast eyes whilst
Mr. Whittington sorted and rustled amongst his papers. Finally he pushed
them away, and leaned over the desk.

"Now, my dear young lady, let us come to business." His large face
broadened into a smile. "You want work? Well, I have work to offer
you. What should you say now to L100 down, and all expenses paid?" Mr.
Whittington leaned back in his chair, and thrust his thumbs into the
arm-holes of his waistcoat.

Tuppence eyed him warily.

"And the nature of the work?" she demanded.