ned aside from the direct
route and entered a post office. There she pondered for some moments,
a telegraph form in her hand. The thought of a possible five shillings
spent unnecessarily spurred her to action, and she decided to risk the
waste of ninepence.

Disdaining the spiky pen and thick, black treacle which a beneficent
Government had provided, Tuppence drew out Tommy's pencil which she had
retained and wrote rapidly: "Don't put in advertisement. Will explain
to-morrow." She addressed it to Tommy at his club, from which in one
short month he would have to resign, unless a kindly fortune permitted
him to renew his subscription.

"It may catch him," she murmured. "Anyway, it's worth trying."

After handing it over the counter she set out briskly for home, stopping
at a baker's to buy three penny-worth of new buns.

Later, in her tiny cubicle at the top of the house she munched buns and
reflected on the future. What was the Esthonia Glassware Co., and what
earthly need could it have for her services? A pleasurable thrill of
excitement made Tuppence tingle. At any rate, the country vicarage had
retreated into the background again. The morrow held possibilities.

It was a long time before Tuppence went to sleep that night, and, when
at length she did, she dreamed that Mr. Whittington had set her to
washing up a pile of Esthonia Glassware, which bore an unaccountable
resemblance to hospital plates!

It wanted some five minutes to eleven when Tuppence reached the block
of buildings in which the offices of the Esthonia Glassware Co. were
situated. To arrive before the time would look over-eager. So Tuppence
decided to walk to the end of the street and back again. She did so. On
the stroke of eleven she plunged into the recesses of the building.
The Esthonia Glassware Co. was on the top floor. There was a lift, but
Tuppence chose to walk up.

Slightly out of breath, she came to a halt outside the ground glass door
with the legend painted across it "Esthonia Glassware Co."

Tuppence knocked. In response to a voice from within, she turned the
handle and walked into a small rather dirty outer office.

A middle-aged clerk got down from a high stool at a desk near the window
and came towards her inquiringly.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Whittington," said Tuppence.

"Will you come this way, please." He crossed to a partition door with
"Private" on it, knocked, then opened the door and stood aside to let
her pas