Mrs. Thomas Beresford shifted on the couch and looked out of the window wearily.The view outside the window is not far, blocked by a small row of houses across the street.Mrs. Beresford sighed, and yawned again. "I wish," she said, "something happened." Her husband glared up at her. Tuppence sighed again, and closed her eyes in bewilderment. "Tommy and Tuppence are still married," she said poetically, "and are happily married. Six years later, they're still in harmony. It's incredible. Anything The ending is something you never expected."

"What a fine line, Tuppence. It's a pity there's nothing original about it. Famous poets and still more famous clergymen have said it in the past, and if you will pardon me, they have said it better than you. " "Six years ago," continued Tuppence, "I swore that if I had money enough to buy things, and if I had you as a husband, my whole life should be one brilliant, sweet poem. Some poet you seem to know said so." "Is it me, or is it the money that bores you?" asked Tommy coldly. "Bored? You misplaced the word," said Tuppence kindly. "I'm just used to my own prayers, that's all. Just as a man never realizes how great it is to be able to breathe freely through his nose until he has a headache." Cozy."

"Will you leave me alone?" Tommy suggested. "You'd better find some other woman around here and take her to a nightclub. Things like that are up to you." "It's no use," said Tuppence, "and you'll only see me with other men there. I should be completely dissatisfied that I don't mind other women, and you'd never believe that I used to Other men don't care. Women are just like that, reasonable." "Men tend to get the highest grades only out of modesty," whispered her husband. "Tuppence, what's the matter with you? Why can't you forget your troubles?"

"I can't tell. I just want something to happen. Exciting. Tommy, don't you want to go after German spies anymore? Think of all the dangers we've been through Exciting days. Of course, I know you're still more or less in the spy service, but it's purely office work." "You mean you'd rather they send me to the darkest part of Russia, dressed as a Bolshevik liquor smuggler, or something like that." "That's not ideal," said Tuppence. "There's no way they'd let me go with you. And I'm one of those very restless types. Whatever he is, he's got something to do. That's what I'm all about." God keeps talking."

"It's really a woman's opinion." Tommy mocked and waved his hand. "Twenty minutes after breakfast every day, I can keep everything perfect. You can't complain, can you?" "Tuppence, your housework is impeccable. It is down to simplicity and uniformity." "I do like people being thankful," Tuppence said. "Of course you're busy with your work," she went on, "but, Tommy, please tell me the truth, you really don't secretly crave a little thrill, expect something to happen?" "No," denied Tommy, "at least I don't think so. It's perfectly reasonable to want something to happen, but what happens can be unpleasant."

"I don't think you can be so far-sighted," sighed Tuppence. "Don't you have any strong desire for romance, for adventure, for life at all?" "What the hell have you been reading lately, Tuppence?" asked Tommy. "Think how exciting it would be," continued Tuppence, "if we heard a knocking at the door, went to open it, and a dead body waddled in. .” "If it was a corpse, it would be impossible to waddle and walk," said Tommy critically. "You should know what I mean," pleaded Tuppence, "and they always stagger before you before they die, and can only gasp out a few unintelligible words, 'Dalmatians ’, or something like that.”

"I suggest you take a serious philosophy course from Schopenhauer or Emmanuel Kanter," said Tommy. ① Schopenhauer (SchopenhaLjer): German idealist philosopher. ——Annotation. "Yes, it suits you very well," retorted Tuppence. "You're getting potbellied and having nothing to do." "Who said," said Tommy indignantly, "that you have the time to do bodybuilding to keep yourself slim." "Everybody does," said Tuppence. "When I say you're getting potbellied, it's just a metaphor. What I really mean is that you're getting fatter and smarter."

"I don't know what it is that possesses you," said her husband. "Adventurousness," said Tuppence in a low voice, "is more exciting than longing for romance. Of course, sometimes I seek romance. I dream of meeting a man, a handsome man—" "You just met me. Can't I satisfy you?" said Tommy. "A brown-skinned, lean, and exceptionally strong man, who can control everything in the world, and can harness all wild horses—" Tuppence murmured to herself in her dreams. "And sheepskin pants and a wide-brimmed denim hat," Tommy put in sarcastically.

"Besides, he has lived in the deserted wilderness for a long time," Tarpen ignored. "I want him to fall in love with me at first sight and fall madly in love. As for me, of course, I must maintain my chastity and categorically refuse his courtship. I will definitely keep my wedding vows. However, my heart will be with him in secret." "Wonderful," Tommy went on, "I've always wished I'd met an incomparable, blond, beautiful girl who fell madly in love. Unlike you, I didn't would have turned her down flat - and, frankly, I'm pretty sure I'd never do that."

"That belongs to the coarse nature," said Tuppence. "What's the matter with you, Tuppence? You don't usually speak in that tone," asked Tommy, puzzled. "Nothing, it's just that I've been boiling inside me for a long time," said Tuppence, "and how dangerous it is to have everything you want, and that includes having enough money to buy things. You Look, there are always so many hats for sale in the store." "Haven't you got about forty hats?" said Tommy, "and they're all pretty much the same style." "Hats like that, they're really different, they're all slightly different from each other. I saw a pretty nice one at Violet's this morning."

"You can't do anything more interesting than keep buying hats that don't do you any good..." "Exactly," said Tuppence, "you are quite true to what you say. If I had something more interesting to do, I believe I should be in order. Well: Tommy, I wish there was something exciting." Happened. I think—I really think it would be good for us all. If we could find a genie—” "Hmph: It's so incomprehensible what you say!" said Tommy. He stood up and went to the desk.He opened a drawer, took out a small snapshot, and gave it to Tuppence. "Ah! I didn't expect you to develop them all. What is this one? Is it the one you took of the room, or the one I took?" "Of course it was the one I took. You can't develop yours. You always underexpose your pictures." "It's a great thing," said Tuppence, "that you can think of one thing you can do better than I can." "Absurd remarks!" said Tommy disapprovingly, "but I'll leave you alone for the time being. I want you to see this." He pointed to a small streak of white spots on the photo. "What's the matter? It's just a scratch on the film." Tuppence disapproved. "You're all wrong, Tuppence. It's an elf." "Tommy, what nonsense are you talking about?" "See for yourself!" He handed her a magnifying glass.Tuppence examined the photograph carefully through the magnifying glass.Yes, with a little imagination, that streak in the photograph does show a small, winged elf standing over the fender. "It has wings," exclaimed Tuppence, "what a surprise we should have elves in our room. Oh! Tommy, should we write to Conan Doyle? Do you think she Will you wish us well?" "You'll find out soon enough," said Tommy, "you've been wanting something to happen all afternoon, haven't you?" Just then, the door opened.A tall, thin boy of about fifteen walked in.Judging from his appearance, it was really hard to tell whether he was a manservant or a footman.He asked very politely: "Are you free, ma'am? Someone rang at the front door just now." "I hope Albert you won't go to the movies." Tuppence sighed.After she nodded in approval, Albert walked out the door. "He's doing the same thing as a Long Island valet now. Thank God: I've finally got rid of his habit of asking guests for business cards and giving them to me on a tray." The door opened again, and Albert said solemnly, "It's Mr. Carter." From his tone, the visitor seemed to be a member of the royal family. "It's the Chief of Police!" whispered Tommy, rather surprised. Tuppence jumped up in ecstasy, and ran to meet her visitor.The visitor was tall, with gray hair, sharp eyes, and a weary smile on his face. "Mr. Carter, it's really, really good to see you." "Thank you very much, Mrs. Tommy. Now please answer my question: How is your daily life?" "Very satisfactory, but too dull," replied Tuppence, with a twinkle in her eyes. "That's all the better!" said Mr. Carter. "I've evidently noticed that you're in the right mood." "Yes! How exciting your words sound," said Tuppence. Albert still brought in the tea in the Long Island manservant's manner.When he had done this work irreproachably, he quietly closed the door and went out.At this point Tuppence said again: "Mr. Carter, you really have something for us to do, don't you? You're going to send us on some mission into the darkest part of Russia?" "Not really," said Mr. Carter. "But there's something going on after all." "Yes—something. I suppose you're not the type to avoid danger, are you, Mrs. Tommy?" Tuppence's eyes shone with excitement. "We do have a bit of work to do in the Scouting Service—I suppose—and I've just thought of it—that it might suit the two of you." "Please tell us quickly." Tuppence was impatient. "I see you have a subscription to the Daily Tribune," continued Mr. Carter, picking up the paper casually from the table. He turned to the billboard, pointed to one, and pushed the newspaper across the table to Tommy. "Read it aloud, please," he said. Tommy read aloud: "International Detective Agency, Director: Theodore Brent; provides private detective services. We have a large number of strictly confidential and skilled agents. Absolutely clear. Free consultation. Address: 118 Holham Street, ZIP Code W.C." Tommy looked suspiciously at Mr. Carter, who nodded. "The detective agency has been on the verge of closing down for a while," he murmured. "A friend of mine bought it for a bargain. We're trying to get it working again—say, for six months at first. In the meantime, The detective agency must have a director." "Why doesn't Mr. Theodore Brent go on?" asked Tommy. "I think Mr Blunt has acted too recklessly. In fact, the Metropolitan Police have intervened in the matter. Her Majesty has authorized his detention, and he will naturally not say a word about what we want to know." "I know that, sir," said Tommy, "at least, I think I do." "I propose that you take a six-month leave of absence from your office. The reason is ill health. Of course, if you wish to open a detective agency in Theodore Brent's name, I have nothing to do with it." Tommy looked at his superior firmly. "Any other instructions, sir?" "I believe Mr. Blunt has had a few foreign affairs. You will pay special attention to the letters in the blue envelopes with the Russian stamps on them. They are all from a ham merchant who is eager to find a few years ago. Asylum wife from our country. You get the stamp wet and you find the number sixteen written on the back of the stamp. You copy the letters and send me the original. More importantly, if anyone comes to your office to mention The number sixteen, no matter who it is, you must notify me immediately." "I'll do it, sir!" said Tommy. "Is that all?" Mr. Carter took his gloves from the table, and was about to take his leave. "You can manage the detective agency as you like. I also think." He blinked his eyes slyly. "This work may satisfy the curiosity of Mrs. Madam. She can try her hand at some ordinary detective work."