Postern of Fate (Tommy & Tuppence 5)

'And there are files in newspaper offices that you can read and study.'

'You mean accounts of something - like murders or court cases?'

'Not necessarily, but one has had contact with certain people from time to time. People who know things - one can look them up - ask a few questions - renew old friendships. Like the time we were being a private detective firm in London. There are a few people, I expect, who could give us information or tell us where to go. Things do depend a bit on who you know.'

'Yes,' said Tuppence, 'that's quite true. I know that myself from experience.'

'Our methods aren't the same,' said Tommy. 'I think yours are just as good as mine. I'll never forget the day I came suddenly into that boarding-house, or whatever it was, Sans Souci. The first thing I saw was you sitting there knitting and calling yourself Mrs Blenkinsop.'

'All because I hadn't applied research, or getting anyone to do research for me,' said Tuppence.

'No,' said Tommy, 'you got inside a wardrobe next door to the room where I was being interviewed in a very interesting manner, so you knew exactly where I was being sent and what I was meant to do, and you managed to get there first. Eavesdropping. Neither more nor less. Most dishonourable.'

'With very satisfactory results,' said Tuppence.

'Yes,' said Tommy. 'You have a kind of feeling for success. It seems to happen to you.'

'Well, some day we shall know all about everything here, only it's all such years and years ago. I can't help thinking that the idea of something really important being hidden round here or owned by someone here, or something to do with this house or people who once lived in it being important - I can't just believe it somehow. Oh well, I see what we shall have to do next.'

'What?' said Tommy.

'Believe six impossible things before breakfast, of course,' said Tuppence. 'It's quarter to eleven now, and I want to go to bed. I'm tired. I'm sleepy and extremely dirty because of playing around with all those dusty, ancient toys and things. I expect there are even more things in that place that's called - by the way, why is it called Kay Kay?'

'I don't know. Do you spell it at all?'

'I don't know - I think it's spelt k-a-i. Not just KK.'

'Because it sounds more mysterious?'

'It sounds Japanese,' said Tuppence doubtfully.

'I can't see why it should sound to you like Japanese. It doesn't to me. It sounds more like something you eat. A kind of rice, perhaps.'

'I'm going to bed and to wash thoroughly and to get all the cobwebs off me somehow,' said Tuppence.

'Remember,' said Tommy, 'six impossible things before breakfast.'

'I expect I shall be better at that than you would be,' said Tuppence.

'You're very unexpected sometimes,' said Tommy.

'You're more often right than I am,' said Tuppence. 'That's very annoying sometimes. Well, these things are sent to try us. Who used to say that to us? Quite often, too.'

'Never mind,' said Tommy. 'Go and clean the dust of bygone years off you. Is Isaac any good at gardening?'

'He considers he is,' said Tuppence. 'We might experiment with him -'

'Unfortunately we don't know much about gardening ourselves. Yet another problem.'

Chapter 4

EXPEDITION ON TRUELOVE; OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE

'Six impossible things before breakfast indeed,' said Tuppence as she drained a cup of coffee and considered a fried egg remaining in the dish on the sideboard, flanked by two appetizing-looking kidneys. 'Breakfast is more worthwhile than thinking of impossible things. Tommy is the one who has gone after impossible things. Research indeed. I wonder if he'll get anything out of it all.'

She applied herself to a fried egg and kidneys.

'How nice,' said Tuppence, 'to have a different kind of breakfast.'

For a long time she had managed to regale herself in the morning with a cup of coffee and either orange juice or grapefruit. Although satisfactory so long as any weight problems were thereby solved, the pleasures of this kind of breakfast were not much appreciated. From the force of contrasts, hot dishes on the sideboard animated the digestive juices.

'I expect,' said Tuppence, 'it's what the Parkinsons used to have for breakfast here. Fried eggs or poached eggs and bacon and perhaps -' she threw her mind a good long way back to remembrances of old novels - 'perhaps yes, perhaps cold grouse on the sideboard, delicious! Oh yes, I remember, delicious it sounded. Of course, I suppose children were so unimportant that they only let them have the legs. Legs of game are very good because you can nibble at them.' She paused with the last piece of kidney in her mouth.

Very strange noises seemed to be coming through the doorway.

'I wonder,' said Tuppence. 'It sounds like a concert gone wrong somewhere.'

She paused again, a piece of toast in her hand, and looked up as Albert entered the room.

'What is going on, Albert?' demanded Tuppence. 'Don't tell me that's our workmen playing something? A harmonium or something like that?'

'It's the gentleman what's come to do the piano,' said Albert.

'Come to do what to the piano?'

'To tune it. You said I'd have to get a piano tuner.'

'Good gracious,' said Tuppence, 'you've done it already? How wonderful you are, Albert.'

Albert looked pleased, though at the same time conscious of the fact that he was very wonderful in the speed with which he could usually supply the extraordinary demands made upon him sometimes by Tuppence and sometimes by Tommy.

'He says it needs it very bad,' he said.

'I expect it does,' said Tuppence.

She drank half a cup of coffee, went out of the room and into the drawing-room. A young man was at work at the grand piano, which was revealing to the world large quantities of its inside.

'Good morning, madam,' said the young man.

'Good morning,' said Tuppence. 'I'm so glad you've managed to come.'

'Ah, it needs tuning, it does.'

'Yes,' said Tuppence, 'I know. You see, we've only just moved in and it's not very good for pianos, being moved into houses and things. And it hasn't been tuned for a long time.'

'No, I can soon tell that,' said the young man.

He pressed three different chords in turn, two cheerful ones in a major key, two very melancholy ones in A Minor.

'A beautiful instrument, madam, if I may say so.'

'Yes,' said Tuppence. 'It's an Erard.'

'And a piano you wouldn't get so easily nowadays.'

'It's been through a few troubles,' said Tuppence. 'It's been through bombing in London. Our house there was hit. Luckily we were away, but it was mostly outside that was damaged.'

'Yes. Yes, the works are good. They don't need so very much doing to them.'