At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [45]
Tea came and the muffins. Father bit deeply. Butter ran down his chin. He wiped it off with a large handkerchief. He drank two cups of tea with plenty of sugar. Then he leaned forward and spoke to the lady sitting in the chair next to him.
“Excuse me,” he said, “but aren’t you Miss Jane Marple?”
Miss Marple transferred her gaze from her knitting to Chief Detective-Inspector Davy.
“Yes,” she said, “I am Miss Marple.”
“I hope you don’t mind my speaking to you. As a matter of fact I am a police officer.”
“Indeed? Nothing seriously wrong here, I hope?”
Father hastened to reassure her in his best paternal fashion.
“Now, don’t you worry, Miss Marple,” he said. “It’s not the sort of thing you mean at all. No burglary or anything like that. Just a little difficulty about an absentminded clergyman, that’s all. I think he’s a friend of yours. Canon Pennyfather.”
“Oh, Canon Pennyfather. He was here only the other day. Yes, I’ve known him slightly for many years. As you say, he is very absentminded.” She added, with some interest, “What has he done now?”
“Well, as you might say in a manner of speaking, he’s lost himself.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple. “Where ought he to be?”
“Back at home in his Cathedral Close,” said Father, “but he isn’t.”
“He told me,” said Miss Marple, “he was going to a conference at Lucerne. Something to do with the Dead Sea Scrolls, I believe. He’s a great Hebrew and Aramaic scholar, you know.”
“Yes,” said Father. “You’re quite right. That’s where he—well, that’s where he was supposed to be going.”
“Do you mean he didn’t turn up there?”
“No,” said Father, “he didn’t turn up.”
“Oh, well,” said Miss Marple, “I expect he got his dates wrong.”
“Very likely, very likely.”
“I’m afraid,” said Miss Marple, “that that’s not the first time that that’s happened. I went to have tea with him in Chadminster once. He was actually absent from home. His housekeeper told me then how very absentminded he was.”
“He didn’t say anything to you when he was staying here that might give us a clue, I suppose?” asked Father, speaking in an easy and confidential way. “You know the sort of thing I mean, any old friend he’d met or any plans he’d made apart from this Lucerne Conference?”
“Oh no. He just mentioned the Lucerne Conference. I think he said it was on the 19th. Is that right?”
“That was the date of the Lucerne Conference, yes.”
“I didn’t notice the date particularly. I mean—” like most old ladies, Miss Marple here became slightly involved—“I thought he said the 19th and he might have said the 19th, but at the same time he might have meant the 19th and it might really have been the 20th. I mean, he may have thought the 20th was the 19th or he may have thought the 19th was the 20th.”
“Well—” said Father, slightly dazed.
“I’m putting it badly,” said Miss Marple, “but I mean people like Canon Pennyfather, if they say they’re going somewhere on a Thursday, one is quite prepared to find that they didn’t mean Thursday, it may be Wednesday or Friday they really mean. Usually they find out in time but sometimes they just don’t. I thought at the time that something like that must have happened.”
Father looked slightly puzzled.
“You speak as though you knew already, Miss Marple, that Canon Pennyfather hadn’t gone to Lucerne.”
“I knew he wasn’t in Lucerne on Thursday,” said Miss Marple. “He was here all day—or most of the day. That’s why I thought, of course, that though he may have said Thursday to me, it was really Friday he meant. He certainly left here on Thursday evening carrying his BEA bag.”
“Quite so.”
“I took it he was going off to the airport then,” said Miss Marple. “That