The Man Who Was No. 16: An Agatha Christie Short Story. Agatha Christie

it is,’ said Tuppence. She lowered her voice impressively. ‘This is our last case. When they have laid the super spy by the heels, the great detectives intend to retire and take to bee keeping or vegetable marrow growing. It’s always done.’

      ‘Tired of it, eh?’

      ‘Ye-es, I think I am. Besides, we’re so successful now – the luck might change.’

      ‘Who’s talking about luck now?’ asked Tommy triumphantly.

      At that moment they turned in at the doorway of the block of buildings in which the International Detective Bureau had its offices, and Tuppence did not reply.

      Albert was on duty in the outer office, employing his leisure in balancing, or endeavouring to balance, the office ruler upon his nose.