"How about the Ritz?"

"On second thoughts, I prefer the Piccadilly.  It's nearer. We
shan't have to take another taxi.  Come along."

"Is this a new brand of humour?  Or is your brain really
unhinged?" inquired Tommy.

"Your last supposition is the correct one.  I have come into
money, and the shock has been too much for me!  For that
particular form of mental trouble an eminent physician recommends
unlimited Hors d'oeuvre, Lobster a l'americane, Chicken Newberg,
and Peche Melba!  Let's go and get them!"

"Tuppence, old girl, what has really come over you?"

"Oh, unbelieving one!"  Tuppence wrenched open her bag. "Look
here, and here, and here!"

"Great Jehosaphat!  My dear girl, don't wave Fishers aloft like
that!"

"They're not Fishers.  They're five times better than Fishers,
and this one's ten times better!"

Tommy groaned.

"I must have been drinking unawares!  Am I dreaming, Tuppence, or
do I really behold a large quantity of five-pound notes being
waved about in a dangerous fashion?"

"Even so, O King!  Now, will you come and have lunch?"

"I'll come anywhere.  But what have you been doing? Holding up a
bank?"

"All in good time.  What an awful place Piccadilly Circus is.
There's a huge bus bearing down on us.  It would be too terrible
if they killed the five-pound notes!"

"Grill room?" inquired Tommy, as they reached the opposite
pavement in safety.

"The other's more expensive," demurred Tuppence.

"That's mere wicked wanton extravagance.  Come on below."

"Are you sure I can get all the things I want there?"

"That extremely unwholesome menu you were outlining just now? Of
course you can--or as much as is good for you, anyway."

"And now tell me," said Tommy, unable to restrain his pent-up
curiosity any longer, as they sat in state surrounded by the many
hors d'oeuvre of Tuppence's dreams.

Miss Cowley told him.

"And the curious part of it is," she ended, "that I really did
invent the name of Jane Finn!  I didn't want to give my own
because of poor father--in case I should get mixed up in anything
shady."

"Perhaps that's so," said Tommy slowly.  "But you didn't invent
it."

"What?"

"No. I told it to you.  Don't you remember, I said yesterday I'd
overheard two people talking about a female called Jane Finn? 
That's what brought the name into your mind so pat."

"So you did.  I remember now.  How extraordinary----" Tuppence
tailed off into silence.  Suddenly she aroused herself.  "Tommy!"

"Yes?"

"What were they like, the two men you passed?"

Tommy frowned in an effort at remembrance.

"One was a big fat sort of chap.  Clean shaven, I think--and
dark."

"That's him," cried Tuppence, in an ungrammatical squeal. "That's
Whittington!  What was the other man like?"

"I can't remember.  I didn't notice him particularly. It was
really the outlandish name that caught my attention."

"And people say that coincidences don't happen!" Tuppence tackled
her Peche Melba happily.

But Tommy had become serious.

"Look here, Tuppence, old girl, what is this going to lead to?"

"More money," replied his companion.