Partners in Crime

"Well," said Tommy, "I often wish that I may meet a really beautiful girl. A girl with corn-colored hair who will fall desperately in love with me. Only I don't think I rebuff her-in fact I am quite sure I don't."

"That," said Tuppence, "is naughty temper."

"What," said Tommy, "is really the matter with you, Tuppence? You have never talked like this before."

"No, but I have been boiling up inside for a long time," said Tuppence. "You see it is very dangerous to have everything you want-including enough money to buy things. Of course there are always hats."

"You have got about forty hats already," said Tommy "and they all look alike."

"Hats are like that," said Tuppence. "They are not really alike. There are nuances in them. I saw rather a nice one in Violette's this morning."

"If you haven't anything better to do than going on buying hats you don't need-"

"That's it," said Tuppence. "That's exactly it. If I had something better to do. I suppose I ought to take up good works. Oh, Tommy, I do wish something exciting would happen. I feel-I really do feel it would be good for us. If we could find a fairy-"

"Ah!" said Tommy. "It is curious your saying that."

He got up and crossed the room. Opening a drawer of the writing table he took out a small snapshot print and brought it to Tuppence.

"Oh!" said Tuppence, "So you have got them developed. Which is this, the one you took of this room or the one I took?"

"The one I took. Yours didn't come out. You under exposed it. You always do."

"It is nice for you," said Tuppence, "to think that there is one thing you can do better than me."

"A foolish remark," said Tommy, "but I will let it pass for the moment. What I wanted to show you was this."

He pointed to a small white speck on the photograph.

"That is a scratch on the film," said Tuppence.

"Not at all," said Tommy. "That, Tuppence, is a fairy."

"Tommy, you idiot."

"Look for yourself."

He handed her a magnifying glass. Tuppence studied the print attentively through it. Seen thus by a slight stretch of fancy the scratch on the film could be imagined to represent a small winged creature perched on the fender

"It has got wings!" cried Tuppence. "What fun, a real live fairy in our flat. Shall we write to Conan Doyle about it? Oh, Tommy. Do you think she'll give us wishes?"

"You will soon know," said Tommy. "You have been wishing hard enough for something to happen all the afternoon."

At that minute the door opened, and a tall lad of fifteen who seemed undecided as to whether he was a footman or a page boy inquired in a truly magnificent manner:

"Are you at Home, Madam? The front door bell has just rung."

"I wish Albert wouldn't go to the Pictures," sighed Tuppence after she had signified her assent, and Albert had withdrawn. "He's copying a Long Island butler now. Thank goodness I've cured him of asking for people's cards and bringing them to me on a salver."

The door opened again, and Albert announced: "Mr. Carter," much as though it were a Royal title.

"The Chief," muttered Tommy, in great surprise.

Tuppence jumped up with a glad exclamation, and greeted a tall gray-haired man with piercing eyes and a tired smile.

"Mr. Carter, I am glad to see you."

"That's good, Mrs. Tommy. Now answer me a question. How's life generally?"

"Satisfactory, but dull," replied Tuppence with a twinkle.

"Better and better," said Mr. Carter. "I'm evidently going to find you in the right mood."

"This," said Tuppence, "sounds exciting."

Albert, still copying the Long Island butler, brought in tea. When this operation was completed without mishap and the door had closed behind him Tuppence burst out once more.

"You did mean something, didn't you Mr. Carter? Are you going to send us on a mission into darkest Russia?"

"Not exactly that," said Mr. Carter.

"But there is something."

"Yes-there is something. I don't think you are the kind who shrinks from risks, are you, Mrs. Tommy?"

Tuppence's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"There is certain work to be done for the Department-and I fancied-I just fancied-that it might suit you two."

"Go on," said Tuppence.

"I see that you take the Daily Leader," continued Mr. Carter, picking up that journal from the table.

He turned to the advertisement column and indicating a certain advertisement with his finger pushed the paper across to Tommy.

"Read that out," he said.

Tommy complied.

"The International Detective Agency. Theodore Blunt, Manager. Private Inquiries. Large staff of confidential and highly skilled Inquiry Agents. Utmost discretion. Consultations free. 118 Haleham St. W.C."

He looked inquiringly at Mr. Carter. The latter nodded.

"That detective agency has been on its last legs for some time," he murmured. "Friend of mine acquired it for a mere song. We're thinking of setting it going again-say, for a six months' trial. And during that time, of course, it will have to have a Manager."

"What about Mr. Theodore Blunt?" asked Tommy.