The Mirror Crack'd - Agatha Christie [84]
‘She had, of course, to take messages on the telephone,’ said Miss Marple, ‘and she wasn’t very good at it. She used to get the general sense right, if you know what I mean, but the way she wrote it down used to make quite nonsense of it sometimes. I suppose really, because her grammar was so bad. The result was that some very unfortunate incidents occurred. I remember one in particular. A Mr Burroughs, I think it was, rang up and said he had been to see Mr Elvaston about the fence being broken down but he said that the fence wasn’t his business at all to repair. It was on the other side of the property and he said he would like to know if that was really the case before proceeding further as it would depend on whether he was liable or not and it was important for him to know the proper lie of the land before instructing solicitors. A very obscure message, as you see. It confused rather than enlightened.’
‘If you’re talking about parlourmaids,’ said Miss Knight with a little laugh, ‘that must have been a very long time ago. I’ve never heard of a parlourmaid for many years now.’
‘It was a good many years ago,’ said Miss Marple, ‘but nevertheless human nature was very much the same then as it is now. Mistakes were made for very much the same reasons. Oh dear,’ she added, ‘I am thankful that that girl is safely in Bournemouth.’
‘The girl? What girl?’ asked Dermot.
‘That girl who did dressmaking and went up to see Giuseppe that day. What was her name — Gladys something.’
‘Gladys Dixon?’
‘Yes, that’s the name.’
‘She’s in Bournemouth, do you say? How on earth do you know that?’
‘I know,’ said Miss Marple, ‘because I sent her there.’
‘What?’ Dermot stared at her. ‘You? Why?’
‘I went out to see her,’ said Miss Marple, ‘and I gave her some money and told her to take a holiday and not to write home.’
‘Why on earth did you do that?’
‘Because I didn’t want her to be killed, of course,’ said Miss Marple, and blinked at him placidly.
Chapter 22
‘Such a sweet letter from Lady Conway,’ Miss Knight said two days later as she deposited Miss Marple’s breakfast tray. ‘You remember my telling you about her? Just a little, you know —’ she tapped her forehead — ‘wanders sometimes. And her memory’s bad. Can’t recognize her relations always and tells them to go away.’
‘That might be shrewdness really,’ said Miss Marple, ‘rather than a loss of memory.’
‘Now, now,’ said Miss Knight, ‘aren’t we being naughty to make suggestions like that? She’s spending the winter at the Belgrave Hotel at Llandudno. Such a nice residential hotel. Splendid grounds and a very nice glassed-in terrace. She’s most anxious for me to come and join her there.’ She sighed.
Miss Marple sat herself upright in bed.
‘But please,’ she said, ‘if you are wanted — if you are needed there and would like to go —’
‘No, no, I couldn’t hear of it,’ cried Miss Knight. ‘Oh, no, I never meant anything like that. Why, what would Mr Raymond West say? He explained to me that being here might turn out to be a permanency. I should never dream of not fulfilling my obligations. I was only just mentioning the fact in passing, so don’t worry, dear,’ she added, patting Miss Marple on the shoulder. ‘We’re not going to be deserted! No, no, indeed we’re not! We’re going to be looked after and cosseted and made very happy and comfortable always.’
She went out of the room. Miss Marple sat with an air of determination, staring at her tray and failing to eat anything. Finally she picked up the receiver of the telephone and dialled with vigour.
‘Dr Haydock?’
‘Yes?’
‘Jane Marple here.’
‘And what’s the matter with you? In need of my professional services?’
‘No,’ said Miss Marple. ‘But I want to see you as soon as possible.’
When Dr Haydock came, he found Miss Marple still in bed waiting for him.
‘You look the picture of health,’ he complained.
‘That is why I wanted to see you,’ said Miss Marple. ‘To tell you that I am perfectly well.’
‘An unusual reason for sending for the doctor.’
‘I’m quite strong, I’m quite fit, and it’s absurd to have anybody living