Read N or M for Free Online

jumped.
    “Oh, what do I think? What - what do you mean?”
    “Do you think it will last as long as six years?”
    Mrs Cayley said doubtfully:
    “Oh, I hope not. It's a very long time, isn't it?”
    “Yes, a long time. What do you really think?”
    Mrs Cayley seemed quite alarmed by the question. She said:
    “Oh, I - I don't know. I don't know at all. Alfred says it will.”
    “But you don't think so?”
    “Oh, I don't know. It's difficult to say, isn't it?”
    Tuppence felt a wave of exasperation. The chirruping Miss Minton, the dictatorial Mr Cayley, the nit-witted Mrs Cayley - were these people really typical of her fellow countrymen? Was Mrs Sprot any better with her slightly vacant face and boiled gooseberry eyes? What could she, Tuppence, ever find out here? Not one of these people, surely -
    Her thought was checked. She was aware of a shadow. Someone behind her who stood between her and the sun. She turned her head.
    Mrs Perenna, standing on the terrace, her eyes on the group. And something in those eyes - scorn, was it? A kind of withering contempt. Tuppence thought:
    I must find out more about Mrs Perenna.

N or M
    II
    Tommy was establishing the happiest of relationships with Major Bletchley.
    “Brought down some golf clubs with you, didn't you, Meadowes?”
    Tommy pleaded guilty.
    “Ha! I can tell you, my eyes don't miss much. Splendid! We must have a game together. Ever played on the links here?”
    Tommy replied in the negative.
    “They're not bad - not bad at all. Bit on the short side, perhaps, but lovely view over the sea and all that. And never very crowded. Look here, what about coming along with me this morning? We might have a game.”
    “Thanks very much. I'd like it.”
    “Must say I'm glad you've arrived,” remarked Bletchley as they were trudging up the hill. “Too many women in that place. Gets on one's nerves. Glad I've got another fellow to keep me in countenance. You can't count Cayley - the man's a kind of walking chemist's shop. Talks of nothing but his health and the treatment he's tried and the drugs he's taking. If he threw away all his little pillboxes and went out for a good ten mile walk every day he'd be a different man. The only other male in the place is von Deinim, and to tell you the truth, Meadowes, I'm not too easy in my mind about him.”
    “No?” said Tommy.
    “No. You take my word for it, this refugee business is dangerous. If I had my way I'd intern the lot of them. Safety first.”
    “A bit drastic, perhaps.”
    “Not at all. War's war. And I've got my suspicions of Master Carl. For one thing, he's clearly not a Jew. Then he came over here just a month - only a month, mind you - before war broke out. That's a bit suspicious.”
    Tommy said invitingly:
    “Then you think -”
    “Spying - that's his little game!”
    “But surely there's nothing of great military or naval importance hereabouts?”
    “Ah, old man, that's where the artfulness comes in! If he were anywhere near Plymouth or Portsmouth he'd be under supervision. In a sleepy place like this, nobody bothers. But it's on the coast, isn't it? The truth of it is the Government is a great deal too easy with these enemy aliens. Any one who cared could come over here and pull a a long face and talk about their brothers in concentration camps. Look at that young man - arrogance in every line of him. He's a Nazi - that's what he is - a Nazi.”
    “What we really need in this country is a witch doctor or two,” said Tommy pleasantly.
    “Eh, what's that?”
    “To smell out the spies,” Tommy explained gravely.
    “Ha, very good that - very good. Smell 'em out - yes, of course.”
    Further conversation was brought to an end, for they had arrived at the clubhouse.
    Tommy's name was put up as a temporary member, he was introduced to the secretary, a vacant-looking elderly man, and the subscription duly paid. Tommy and the Major started on their round.
    Tommy was a mediocre golfer. He was glad to find that his