The Man Who Was No. 16
Tommy and Tuppence were closeted with the Chief in his private room. His commendation had been warm and sincere.
“You have succeeded admirably. Thanks to you we have laid our hands on no less than five very interesting personages, and from them we have received much valuable information. Meanwhile I learn from a creditable source that headquarters in Moscow have taken alarm at the failure of their agents to report. I think, that in spite of all our precautions, they have begun to suspect that all is not well at what I may call the distributing centre—the office of Mr. Theodore Blunt—the International Detective Bureau.”
“Well,” said Tommy. “I suppose they were bound to tumble to it sometime or other, sir.”
“As you say, it was only to be expected. But I am a little worried—about Mrs. Tommy.”
“I can look after her all right, sir,” said Tommy, at exactly the same minute as Tuppence said, “I can take care of myself.”
“H’m,” said Mr. Carter. “Excessive self-confidence was always a characteristic of you two. Whether your immunity is entirely due to your own superhuman cleverness, or whether a small percentage of luck creeps in, I’m not prepared to say. But luck changes, you know. However, I won’t argue the point. From my extensive knowledge of Mrs. Tommy, I suppose it’s quite useless to ask her to keep out of the limelight for the next week or two?”