“My plan is this,” Tuppence went on calmly, “I’ll go alone tomorrow. I’ll put him off again like I did today. It doesn’t matter if I don’t get any more money at once. Fifty pounds ought to last us a few days.”
“Or even longer!”
“You’ll hang about outside. When I come out I shan’t speak to you in case he’s watching. But I’ll take up my stand somewhere near, and when he comes out of the building I’ll drop a handkerchief or something, and off you go!”
“Off I go where?”
“Follow him, of course, silly! What do you think of the idea?”
“Sort of thing one reads about in books. I somehow feel that in real life one will feel a bit of an ass standing in the street for hours with nothing to do. People will wonder what I’m up to.”
“Not in the city. Everyone’s in such a hurry. Probably no one will even notice you at all.”
“That’s the second time you’ve made that sort of remark. Never mind, I forgive you. Anyway, it will be rather a lark. What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Well,” said Tuppence meditatively. “I had thought of hats! Or perhaps silk stockings! Or perhaps—”
“Hold hard,” admonished Tommy. “There’s a limit to fifty pounds! But let’s do dinner and a show tonight at all events.”
“Rather.”
The day passed pleasantly. The evening even more so. Two of the five-pound notes were now irretrievably dead.