Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories. Agatha Christie

Take this magnifying glass.’

      At the end of five minutes’ coaching both Tommy and Tuppence were fairly expert.

      ‘What do you want us to do, Inspector Marriot?’ asked Tuppence. ‘Just keep our eyes open for these things?’

      ‘A great deal more than that, Mrs Beresford. I’m pinning my faith on you to get to the bottom of the matter. You see, we’ve discovered that the notes are being circulated from the West End. Somebody pretty high up in the social scale is doing the distributing. They’re passing them the other side of the Channel as well. Now there’s a certain person who is interesting us very much. A Major Laidlaw – perhaps you’ve heard the name?’

      ‘I think I have,’ said Tommy. ‘Connected with racing, isn’t that it?’

      ‘Yes. Major Laidlaw is pretty well known in connection with the Turf. There’s nothing actually against him, but there’s a general impression that he’s been a bit too smart over one or two rather shady transactions. Men in the know look queer when he’s mentioned. Nobody knows much of his past or where he came from. He’s got a very attractive French wife who’s seen about everywhere with a train of admirers. They must spend a lot of money, the Laidlaws, and I’d like to know where it comes from.’

      ‘Possibly from the train of admirers,’ suggested Tommy.

      ‘That’s the general idea. But I’m not so sure. It may be coincidence, but a lot of notes have been forthcoming from a certain very smart little gambling club which is much frequented by the Laidlaws and their set. This racing, gambling set get rid of a lot of loose money in notes. There couldn’t be a better way of getting it into circulation.’

      ‘And where do we come in?’

      ‘This way. Young St Vincent and his wife are friends of yours, I understand? They’re pretty thick with the Laidlaw set – though not as thick as they were. Through them it will be easy for you to get a footing in the same set in a way that none of our people could attempt. There’s no likelihood of their spotting you. You’ll have an ideal opportunity.’

      ‘What have we got to find out exactly?’

      ‘Where they get the stuff from, if they are passing it.’

      ‘Quite so,’ said Tommy. ‘Major Laidlaw goes out with an empty suitcase. When he returns it is crammed to the bursting point with Treasury notes. How is it done? I sleuth him and find out. Is that the idea?’

      ‘More or less. But don’t neglect the lady, and her father, M. Heroulade. Remember the notes are being passed on both sides of the Channel.’

      ‘My dear Marriot,’ exclaimed Tommy reproachfully, ‘Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives do not know the meaning of the word neglect.’

      The Inspector rose.

      ‘Well, good luck to you,’ he said, and departed.

      ‘Slush,’ said Tuppence enthusiastically.

      ‘Eh?’ said Tommy, perplexed.

      ‘Counterfeit money,’ explained Tuppence. ‘It is always called slush. I know I’m right. Oh, Tommy, we have got an Edgar Wallace case. At last we are Busies.’

      ‘We are,’ said Tommy. ‘And we are out to get the Crackler, and we will get him good.’

      ‘Did you say the Cackler or the Crackler?’

      ‘The Crackler.’

      ‘Oh, what is a Crackler?’

      ‘A new word that I have coined,’ said Tommy. ‘Descriptive of one who passes false notes into circulation. Banknotes crackle, therefore he is called a crackler. Nothing could be more simple.’

      ‘That is rather a good idea,’ said Tuppence. ‘It makes it seem more real. I like the Rustler myself. Much more descriptive and sinister.’

      ‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘I said the Crackler first, and I stick to it.’

      ‘I shall enjoy this case,’ said Tuppence. ‘Lots of night clubs and cocktails in it. I shall buy some eyelash-black tomorrow.’

      ‘Your eyelashes are black already,’ objected her husband.

      ‘I could make them blacker,’ said Tuppence. ‘And cherry lipstick would be useful too. That ultra-bright kind.’

      ‘Tuppence,’ said Tommy, ‘you’re a real rake at heart. What a good thing it is that you are married to a sober steady middle-aged man like myself.’

      ‘You wait,’ said Tuppence. ‘When you have been to the Python Club a bit, you won’t be so sober yourself.’

      Tommy produced from a cupboard various bottles, two glasses, and a cocktail shaker.

      ‘Let’s start now,’ he said. ‘We are after you, Crackler, and we mean to get you.’

      Making the acquaintance of the Laidlaws proved an easy affair. Tommy and Tuppence, young, well-dressed, eager for life, and with apparently money to burn, were soon made free of that particular coterie in which the Laidlaws had their being.

      Major Laidlaw was a tall, fair man, typically English in appearance, with a hearty sportsmanlike manner, slightly belied by the hard lines round his eyes and the occasional quick sideways glance that assorted oddly with his supposed character.

      He was a very dexterous card player, and Tommy noticed that when the stakes were high he seldom rose from the table a loser.

      Marguerite Laidlaw was quite a different proposition. She was a charming creature, with the slenderness of a wood nymph and the face of a Greuze picture. Her dainty broken English was fascinating, and Tommy felt that it was no wonder most men were her slaves. She seemed to take a great fancy to Tommy from the first, and playing his part, he allowed himself to be swept into her train.

      ‘My Tommee,’ she would say; ‘but positively I cannot go without my Tommee. His ’air, eet ees the colour of the sunset, ees eet not?’

      Her father was a more sinister figure. Very correct, very upright, with his little black beard and his watchful eyes.

      Tuppence was the first to report progress. She came to Tommy with ten one pound notes.

      ‘Have a look at these. They’re wrong ’uns, aren’t they?’

      Tommy examined them and confirmed Tuppence’s diagnosis.

      ‘Where did you get them from?’

      ‘That boy, Jimmy Faulkener. Marguerite Laidlaw gave them to him to put on a horse for her. I said I wanted small notes and gave him a tenner in exchange.’

      ‘All new and crisp,’ said Tommy thoughtfully. ‘They can’t have passed through many hands. I suppose young Faulkener is all right?’

      ‘Jimmy? Oh, he’s a dear. He and I are becoming great friends.’

      ‘So I have noticed,’ said Tommy coldly. ‘Do you really think it is necessary?’

      ‘Oh, it isn’t business,’ said Tuppence cheerfully. ‘It’s pleasure. He’s such a nice boy. I’m glad to get him out of that woman’s clutches. You’ve no idea of the amount of money she’s cost him.’

      ‘It looks to me as though he were getting rather a pash for you, Tuppence.’

      ‘I’ve thought the same myself sometimes. It’s nice to know one’s still young and attractive, isn’t it?’

      ‘Your moral tone, Tuppence, is deplorably low. You look at these things from the wrong point of view.’

      ‘I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for years,’ declared Tuppence shamelessly. ‘And anyway, what about you? Do I ever see you nowadays? Aren’t you always living in Marguerite Laidlaw’s pocket?’

      ‘Business,’ said Tommy crisply.

      ‘But