Nemesis - Agatha Christie [58]
Again the lightning glance of Sister Barker went over Miss Marple. This time a faint inclination of the head showed satisfaction.
‘It is kind of you,’ she said, ‘and I am sure that if there is any help you can give, we can rely on you to give it. If Professor Wanstead likes to sit in the waiting-room downstairs, we can call him at any moment if it should be necessary. Now, Miss Marple, perhaps you will accompany me.’
Miss Marple followed Sister along a passage and into a small well appointed single room. In the bed there, in a dimly-lighted room since the blinds were half drawn, lay Elizabeth Temple. She lay there like a statue, yet she did not give the impression of being asleep. Her breath came uncertainly in slight gasps. Sister Barker bent to examine her patient, motioned Miss Marple into a chair beside the bed. She then crossed the room to the door again. A young man with a notebook in his hand came from behind the screen there.
‘Doctor’s orders, Mr Reckitt,’ said Sister Barker.
A nurse also appeared. She had been sitting in the opposite corner of the room.
‘Call me if necessary, Nurse Edmonds,’ said Sister Barker, ‘and get Miss Marple anything she may need.’
Miss Marple loosened her coat. The room was warm. The nurse approached and took it from her. Then she retired to her former position, Miss Marple sat down in the chair. She looked at Elizabeth Temple thinking, as she had thought before when looking at her in the coach, what a fine shaped head she had. Her grey hair drawn back from it, fitted her face in a perfect cap-like effect. A handsome woman, and a woman of personality. Yes, a thousand pities, Miss Marple thought, a thousand pities if the world was going to lose Elizabeth Temple.
Miss Marple eased the cushion at her back, moved the chair a fraction of an inch and sat quietly to wait. Whether to wait in vain or to some point, she had no idea. Time passed. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour, thirty-five minutes. Then suddenly, quite unexpectedly as it were, a voice came. Low, but distinct, slightly husky. None of the resonance it had once held. ‘Miss Marple.’
Elizabeth Temple’s eyes were open now. They were looking at Miss Marple. They looked competent, perfectly sensible. She was studying the face of the woman who was sitting by her bed, studying her without any sign of emotion, of surprise. Only, one would say, of scrutiny. Fully conscious scrutiny. And the voice spoke again.
‘Miss Marple. You are Jane Marple?’
‘That is right. Yes,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Jane Marple.’
‘Henry often spoke of you. He said things about you.’
The voice stopped. Miss Marple said with a slight query in her voice,
‘Henry?’
‘Henry Clithering, an old friend of mine — very old friend.’
‘An old friend of mine too,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Henry Clithering.’
Her mind went back to the many years she had known him, Sir Henry Clithering, the things he had said to her, the assistance he had asked from her sometimes, and the assistance that she had asked from him. A very old friend.
‘I remembered your name. On the passenger list. I thought it must be you. You could help. That’s what he — Henry, yes — would say if he were here. You might be able to help. To find out. It’s important. Very important although — it’s a long time ago now — a — long — time — ago.’
Her voice faltered a little, her eyes half closed. Nurse got up, came across the room, picked up a small glass and held it to Elizabeth Temple’s lips. Miss Temple took a sip, nodded her head dismissively. Nurse put down the glass and went back to her chair.
‘If I can help, I will,’ said Miss Marple. She asked no further questions.
Miss Temple said, ‘Good,’ and after a minute or two, again, ‘Good.’
For two or three minutes she lay with her eyes closed. She might have been asleep or unconscious. Then her eyes opened again suddenly.
‘Which,’ she said, ‘which of them? That’s what one has got to know. Do you know what I am talking about?’
‘I think so. A girl who died — Nora