At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [49]
He went to the desk and asked Miss Gorringe for the hotel register. Miss Gorringe was busy with departing Americans, and pushed the book along the counter towards him. He turned the pages.
Lady Selina Hazy, Little Cottage, Merryfield, Hants.
Mr. and Mrs. Hennessey King, Elderberries, Essex.
Sir John Woodstock, 5 Beaumont Crescent, Cheltenham.
Lady Sedgwick, Hurstings House, Northumberland.
Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Cabot, Connecticut.
General Radley, 14, The Green, Chichester.
Mr. and Mrs. Woolmer Pickington, Marble Head, Connecticut.
La Comtesse de Beauville, Les Sapins, St. Germain en Laye.
Miss Jane Marple, St. Mary Mead, Much Benham.
Colonel Luscombe, Little Green, Suffolk.
Mrs. Carpenter, The Hon. Elvira Blake.
Canon Pennyfather, The Close, Chadminster.
Mrs. Holding, Mr. Holding, Miss Audrey Holding, The Manor House, Carmanton.
Mr. and Mrs. Ryesville, Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.
The Duke of Barnstable, Doone Castle, N. Devon….
A cross section of the kind of people who stayed at Bertram’s Hotel. They formed, he thought, a kind of pattern….
As he shut the book, a name on an earlier page caught his eye. Sir William Ludgrove.
Mr. Justice Ludgrove who had been recognized by a probation officer near the scene of a bank robbery. Mr. Justice Ludgrove—Canon Pennyfather—both patrons of Bertram’s Hotel….
“I hope you enjoyed your tea, sir?” It was Henry, standing at his elbow. He spoke courteously, and with the slight anxiety of the perfect host.
“The best tea I’ve had for years,” said Chief-Inspector Davy.
He remembered he hadn’t paid for it. He attempted to do so; but Henry raised a deprecating hand.
“Oh no, sir. I was given to understand that your tea was on the house. Mr. Humfries’ orders.”
Henry moved away. Father was left uncertain whether he ought to have offered Henry a tip or not. It was galling to think that Henry knew the answer to that social problem much better than he did!
As he moved away along the street, he stopped suddenly. He took out his notebook and put down a name and an address—no time to lose. He went into a telephone box. He was going to stick out his neck. Come hell or high water, he was going all out on a hunch.
Chapter Sixteen
It was the wardrobe that worried Canon Pennyfather. It worried him before he was quite awake. Then he forgot it and he fell asleep again. But when his eyes opened once more, there the wardrobe still was in the wrong place. He was lying on his left side facing the window and the wardrobe ought to have been there between him and the window on the left wall. But it wasn’t. It was on the right. It worried him. It worried him so much that it made him feel tired. He was conscious of his head aching badly, and on top of that, to have the wardrobe in the wrong place. At this point once more his eyes closed.
There was rather more light in the room the next time he woke. It was not daylight yet. Only the faint light of dawn. “Dear me,” said Canon Pennyfather to himself, suddenly solving the problem of the wardrobe. “How stupid I am! Of course, I’m not at home.”
He moved gingerly. No, this wasn’t his own bed. He was away from home. He was—where was he? Oh, of course. He’d gone to London, hadn’t he? He was in Bertram’s Hotel and—but no, he wasn’t in Bertram’s Hotel. In Bertram’s Hotel his bed was facing the window. So that was wrong, too.
“Dear me, where can I be?” said Canon Pennyfather.
Then he remembered that he was going to Lucerne. “Of course,” he said to himself, “I’m in Lucerne.” He began thinking about the paper he was going to read. He didn’t think about it long. Thinking about his paper seemed to make his head ache so he went to sleep again.
The next time he woke his head was a great deal clearer. Also there was a good deal more light in the room. He was not at home, he was not at Bertram’s Hotel and he was fairly sure that he was not in Lucerne. This wasn’t a hotel bedroom at all.