At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [19]
As it happened, however, they were on this particular morning both occupied. An old lady was in one and a young girl in the other. The young girl rose to her feet. She stood a moment looking uncertainly towards the door through which Lady Sedgwick had passed out, then she moved slowly towards it. Elvira Blake’s face was deadly pale.
It was another five minutes before the old lady moved. Then Miss Marple decided that the little rest which she always took after dressing and coming downstairs had lasted quite long enough. It was time to go out and enjoy the pleasures of London. She might walk as far as Piccadilly, and take a No. 9 bus to High Street, Kensington, or she might walk along to Bond Street and take a 25 bus to Marshall & Snelgrove’s, or she might take a 25 the other way which as far as she remembered would land her up at the Army & Navy Stores. Passing through the swing doors she was still savouring these delights in her mind. The Irish commissionaire, back on duty, made up her mind for her.
“You’ll be wanting a taxi, Ma’am,” he said with firmness.
“I don’t think I do,” said Miss Marple. “I think there’s a 25 bus I could take quite near here—or a 2 from Park Lane.”
“You’ll not be wanting a bus,” said the commissionaire firmly. “It’s very dangerous springing on a bus when you’re getting on in life. The way they start and stop and go on again. Jerk you off your feet, they do. No heart at all, these fellows, nowadays. I’ll whistle you along a taxi and you’ll go to wherever you want to like a queen.”
Miss Marple considered and fell.
“Very well then,” she said, “perhaps I had better have a taxi.”
The commissionaire had no need even to whistle. He merely clicked his thumb and a taxi appeared like magic. Miss Marple was helped into it with every possible care and decided on the spur of the moment to go to Robinson & Cleaver’s and look at their splendid offer of real linen sheets. She sat happily in her taxi feeling indeed as the commissionaire had promised her, just like a queen. Her mind was filled with pleasurable anticipation of linen sheets, linen pillowcases and proper glass and kitchen cloths without pictures of bananas, figs or performing dogs and other pictorial distractions to annoy you when you were washing up.
IV
Lady Sedgwick came up to the Reception desk.
“Mr. Humfries in his office?”
“Yes, Lady Sedgwick.” Miss Gorringe looked startled.
Lady Sedgwick passed behind the desk, tapped on the door and went in without waiting for any response.
Mr. Humfries looked up startled.
“What—”
“Who engaged the man Michael Gorman?”
Mr. Humfries spluttered a little.
“Parfitt left—he had a car accident a month ago. We had to replace him quickly. This man seemed all right. References OK—ex-Army—quite good record—not very bright perhaps—but that’s all the better sometimes—you don’t know anything against him, do you?”
“Enough not to want him here.”
“If you insist,” Humfries said slowly, “we’ll give him his notice—”
“No,” said Lady Sedgwick slowly. “No—it’s too late for that—Never mind.”
Chapter Six
I
“Elvira.”
“Hallo, Bridget.”
The Hon. Elvira Blake pushed her way through the front door of 180 Onslow Square, which her friend Bridget had rushed down to open for her, having been watching through the window.
“Let’s go upstairs,” said Elvira.
“Yes, we’d better. Otherwise we’ll get entangled by Mummy.”
The two girls rushed up the stairs, thereby circumventing Bridget’s mother, who came out onto the landing from her own bedroom just too late.
“You really are lucky not to have a mother,” said Bridget, rather breathlessly as she took her friend into her bedroom and shut the door firmly. “I mean, Mummy’s quite a pet and all that, but the questions she asks! Morning, noon and night. Where are you going, and who have you met? And are they cousins of somebody else of the same name in Yorkshire? I mean, the futility of it all.”
“I suppose they have nothing else to think about,” said Elvira vaguely. “Look here, Bridget, there’s something terribly important