the person she was looking at. Her exquisite figure was enhanced
by a wonderful gown of indigo charmeuse. And yet, despite her
swaying grace, and the almost ethereal beauty of her face, you
felt instinctively the presence of something hard and menacing, a
kind of metallic strength that found expression in the tones of
her voice and in that gimlet-like quality of her eyes.

For the first time Tuppence felt afraid. She had not feared
Whittington, but this woman was different. As if fascinated, she
watched the long cruel line of the red curving mouth, and again
she felt that sensation of panic pass over her. Her usual
self-confidence deserted her. Vaguely she felt that deceiving
this woman would be very different to deceiving Whittington. Mr.
Carter's warning recurred to her mind. Here, indeed, she might
expect no mercy.

Fighting down that instinct of panic which urged her to turn tail
and run without further delay, Tuppence returned the lady's gaze
firmly and respectfully.

As though that first scrutiny had been satisfactory, Mrs.
Vandemeyer motioned to a chair.

"You can sit down. How did you hear I wanted a
house-parlourmaid?"


"Through a friend who knows the lift boy here. He thought the
place might suit me."