At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [56]
“You have your fingers in a lot of pies, I know that.”
“Yes.” Mr. Hoffman smiled a wooden smile. “I pull out many plums, that is what you think? And so you believe I have a connection with this—Bertram’s Hotel?”
“I shouldn’t have said a connection. As a matter of fact, you own it, don’t you?” said Father genially.
This time, Mr. Hoffman definitely did stiffen.
“Now who told you that, I wonder?” he said softly.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” said Chief-Inspector Davy, cheerfully. “Very nice place to own, I should say. In fact, you must be quite proud of it.”
“Oh yes,” said Hoffman. “For the moment—I could not quite remember—you see—” he smiled deprecatingly—“I own quite a lot of property in London. It is a good investment—property. If something comes on the market in what I think is a good position, and there is a chance of snapping it up cheap, I invest.”
“And was Bertram’s Hotel going cheap?”
“As a running concern, it had gone down the hill,” said Mr. Hoffman, shaking his head.
“Well, it’s on its feet now,” said Father. “I was in there just the other day. I was very much struck with the atmosphere there. Nice old-fashioned clientele, comfortable, old-fashioned premises, nothing rackety about it, a lot of luxury without looking luxurious.”
“I know very little about it personally,” explained Mr. Hoffman. “It is just one of my investments—but I believe it is doing well.”
“Yes, you seem to have a first-class fellow running it. What is his name? Humfries? Yes, Humfries.”
“An excellent man,” said Mr. Hoffman. “I leave everything to him. I look at the balance sheet once a year to see that all is well.”
“The place was thick with titles,” said Father. “Rich travelling Americans too.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “Wonderful combination.”
“You say you were in there the other day?” Mr. Hoffman inquired. “Not—not officially, I hope?”
“Nothing serious. Just trying to clear up a little mystery.”
“A mystery? In Bertram’s Hotel?”
“So it seems. The Case of the Disappearing Clergyman, you might label it.”
“That is a joke,” Mr. Hoffman said. “That is your Sherlock Holmes language.”
“This clergyman walked out of the place one evening and was never seen again.”
“Peculiar,” said Mr. Hoffman, “but such things happen. I remember many, many years ago now, a great sensation. Colonel—now let me think of his name—Colonel Fergusson I think, one of the equerries of Queen Mary. He walked out of his club one night and he, too, was never seen again.”
“Of course,” said Father, with a sigh, “a lot of these disappearances are voluntary.”
“You know more about that than I do, my dear Chief-Inspector,” said Mr. Hoffman. He added, “I hope they gave you every assistance at Bertram’s Hotel?”
“They couldn’t have been nicer,” Father assured him. “That Miss Gorringe, she has been with you some time, I believe?”
“Possibly. I really know so very little about it. I take no personal interest, you understand. In fact—” he smiled disarmingly—“I was surprised that you even knew it belonged to me.”
It was not quite a question; but once more there was a slight uneasiness in his eyes. Father noted it without seeming to.
“The ramifications that go on in the City are like a gigantic jigsaw,” he said. “It would make my head ache if I had to deal with that side of things. I gather that a company—Mayfair Holding Trust or some name like that—is the registered owner. They’re owned by another company and so on and so on. The real truth of the matter is that it belongs to you. Simple as that. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I and my fellow directors are what I dare say you’d call behind it, yes,” admitted Mr. Hoffman rather reluctantly.
“Your fellow directors. And who might they be? Yourself and, I believe, a brother of yours?”
“My brother Wilhelm is associated with me in this venture. You must understand that Bertram’s is only a part of a chain of various hotels, offices, clubs and other London properties.”
“Any other directors?”
“Lord Pomfret, Abel Isaacstein.” Hoffman’s voice was suddenly edged. “Do you really need to know all these things? Just because