THE SECRET ADVERSARY

IT was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915. The Lusitania had been struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking rapidly, while the boats were being launched with all possible speed. The women and children were being lined up awaiting their turn.

One girl stood alone, slightly apart from the rest. She was quite young, not more than eighteen. She did not seem afraid, and her grave, persistent eyes looked straight ahead.

"I beg your pardon."

A man's voice beside her made her start and turn. She had noticed the speaker more than once amongst the first-class passengers.

She noticed now that he was greatly agitated.

"Yes?" Her grave eyes met his inquiringly.

"I'm carrying papers—vitally important papers. They may make all the difference to the Allies in the war. You understand? These papers have GOT to be saved! They've more chance with you than with me. Will you take them?"

The girl held out her hand.

What am I to do with them afterwards?"

Secret Adversary, 1922

"Watch the newspapers! I'll advertise in the personal column of the Times, beginning 'Shipmate.' At the end of three days if there's nothing—well, you'll know I'm down and out. Then take the packet to the American Embassy, and deliver it into the Ambassador's own hands. Is that clear?"

"Quite clear."

"Then be ready—I'm going to say good-bye." He took her hand in his. "Good-bye. Good luck to you," he said in a louder tone.

Her hand closed on the oilskin packet that had lain in his palm.

The Lusitania settled with a more decided list to starboard. In answer to a quick command, the girl went forward to take her place in the boat…

***

"TOMMY, old thing!"

"Tuppence, old bean!"

The two young people greeted each other affectionately, and momentarily blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. The adjective "old" was misleading. Their united ages would certainly not have totalled forty-five.

"Not seen you for simply centuries," continued the young man. "Where are you off to? Come and chew a bun with me. We're getting a bit unpopular here—blocking the gangway as it were. Let's get out of it."

buns, wikipedia

Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock of exquisitely smooth-back red hair. His face was pleasantly ugly—nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the end of its life.

They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there. Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and charm in the tiny lines of her little face, with its determined chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked unclearly out from under straight, black brows. She wore a small bright green hat over her black short hair, and her extremely short and rather untidy skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly refined ankles. Her appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness.

"Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get up-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in hospital in 1916."

"Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered toast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth daughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk. Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home life early in the war and came up to London, where she entered an officers' hospital... (from The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie)

Vocabulary

Starboard: the right side of a ship as perceived by a person on board facing the bow

Drudgeries: hard work

Artículos relacionados

Agatha Christie

De la web

Isn´t it strange for such a powerful country to have people unable to bring bread home?

USDA: Hunger Threatens 1 in 7 Americans