“Even I did not find it very convincing,” admitted her husband.
“Did you see his eyes on the letter? Tommy, he’s one of the gang. They’ve got wise to the fact that you’re not the real Mr. Blunt, and they’re out for our blood.”
“In that case,” said Tommy, opening the side cupboard, and surveying his rows of books with an affectionate eye. “Our role is easy to select. We are the brothers Okewood! And I am Desmond,” he added firmly.
Tuppence shrugged her shoulders.
“All right. Have it your own way. I’d just as soon be Francis. Francis was much the more intelligent of the two. Desmond always gets into a mess, and Francis turns up as the gardener or something in the nick of time, and saves the situation.”
“Ah!” said Tommy, “but I shall be a super Desmond! When I arrive at The Larches—”
Tuppence interrupted him unceremoniously.
“You’re not going to Hampstead tonight?”
“Why not?”
“Walk into a trap with your eyes shut!”
“No, my dear girl, walk into a trap with my eyes open. There’s a lot of difference. I think our friend Dr. Bower will get a little surprise.”
“I don’t like it,” said Tuppence. “You know what happens when Desmond disobeys the Chief’s orders, and acts on his own. Our orders were quite clear. To send on the letters at once and to report immediately on anything that happened.”