"You know," saidChief-Inspector Davy thoughtfully, "I don't much like that chap Humfries."
"Think there'ssomething wrong with him?" asked Campbell.
"Well –」 Fathersounded apologetic, "you know the sort of feeling one gets.Smarmy sort of chap. I wonder if he's the owner or only themanager."
"I could ask him." Campbelltook a step back towards the desk.
"No, don't ask him,"said Father. "Just find out – quietly."
Campbell looked at him curiously.
"What's on your mind,sir?"
"Nothing in particular," said Father. "I just think I'd like to have a good deal more information about this place. I'd like to know who is behind it, what its financial status is. All that sortof thing."
Campbell shook his head.
"I should have said if there was one place inLondon that was absolutely above suspicion –」
"I know, I know," saidFather. "And what a useful thing it is to have thatreputation!"
Campbell shook his head and left. Father went downthe passage to the smoking-room. General Radley was just waking up. The Times had slippedfrom his knees and disintegrated slightly. Father picked up and reassembled the sheets andhanded it to him.
"Thank ye, sir. Very kind," said General Radley gruffly.
"General Radley?"
"Yes."
"You'll excuse me,"said Father, raising his voice, "but I wantto speak to you about Canon Pennyfather."
"Eh – what's that?" the General approached a hand to hisear.
"Canon Pennyfather," bellowedFather.
"My father? Dead years ago."
"Canon Pennyfather."
"Oh. What about him? Saw him the other day. He wasstaying here."
"There was an address he was going to give me.Said he'd leave it with you."
This was rather more difficult to get over but hesucceeded in the end.
"Never gave me any address. Must have mixed me upwith somebody else. Muddle-headed old fool. Always was. Scholarly sort of chap, you know.They're always absent-minded."
Father persevered for a little longer but soondecided that conversation with General Radley was practically impossible and almostcertainly unprofitable. He went and sat down in the lounge at a table adjacent to that ofMiss Jane Marple.
"Tea, sir?"
Father looked up. He was impressed, as everyone wasimpressed by Henry's personality. Though such a large andportly man he had appeared, as it were, like some vast travesty of Ariel who couldmaterialise and vanish at will. Father ordered tea.
"Did I see you've gotmuffins here?" he asked.
Henry smiled benignly.
"Yes, sir. Very good indeed our muffins are, if Imay say so. Everyone enjoys them. Shall I order you muffins, sir? Indian or China tea?"
"Indian," said Father."Or Ceylon if you've got it."
"Certainly we have Ceylon, sir."
Henry made the faintest gesture with a finger andthe pale young man who was hi minion departed in search of Ceylon tea and muffins. Henrymoved graciously elsewhere.
"You're Someone, youare," thought Father. "I wonderwhere they got hold of you and what they pay you. A packet, I bet, and you'd be worth it." He watched Henry bending in afatherly manner over an elderly lady. He wondered what Henry thought, if he thoughtanything, about Father. Father considered that he fitted into Bertram's Hotel reasonablywell. He might have been a prosperous gentleman farmer or he might have been a peer of therealm with a resemblance to a bookmaker. Father knew two peers who were very like that. "On the whole," he thought, he passed muster, buthe also thought it possible that he had not deceived Henry. "Yes,you're Someone you are," Fatherthought again.
Tea came and the muffins. Father bit deeply. Butterran down his chin. He wiped it off with a large handkerchief. He drank two cups of teawith plenty of sugar. Then he leaned forward and spoke to the lady sitting in the chairnext to him.
"Excuse me," he said, "but aren't you Miss Jane Marple?"
Miss Marple transferred her gaze from her knittingto Chief Detective-Inspector Davy.
"Yes," she said, "I am Miss Marple."
"I hope you don't mindmy 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 paternalfashion.
"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 absent-minded clergyman, that's all. I think he's a friend of yours. CanonPennyfather."
"Oh, Canon Pennyfather. He was here only the otherday. Yes, I've known him slightly for many years. As you say,he is very absent-minded." 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 MissMarple. "Where ought he to be?"
"Back at home in his Cathedral Close," said Father, "but he isn't."
"He told me," saidMiss Marple, "he was going to a conference at Lucerne.Something to do with the Dead Sea scrolls, I believe. He's agreat 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 doing."
"Do you mean he didn'tturn up there?"
"No," said Father, "he didn't turn up."
"Oh, well," said MissMarple, "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 wentto have tea with him in Chadminster once. He was actually absent from home. Hishousekeeper told me then how very absent-minded he was."
"He didn't sayanything 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 thisLucerne 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 thedate particularly. I mean –」 like most old ladies, MissMarple here became slightly involved 「– I thought he saidthe 19th and he might have said the 19th, but at the same time hemight have meant the 19th and it might really have been the 20th. Imean, he may have thought the 20th was the 19th or he may havethought the 19th was the 20th."
"Well –」 saidFather, slightly dazed.
"I'm putting it badly,"said Miss Marple, "but I mean people likeCanon Pennyfather, if they say they're going somewhere on aThursday, one is quite prepared to find that they didn't meanThursday, it may be Wednesday or Friday they really mean. Usually they find out in timebut sometimes they just don't. I thought at the time thatsomething like that must have happened."
Father looked slightly puzzled.
"You speak as though you knew already, MissMarple, that Canon Pennyfather hadn't gone to Lucerne."
"I knew he wasn't inLucerne 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, itwas really Friday he meant. He certainly left here on Thursday evening carrying he B.E.A.bag."
"Quite so."
"I took it he was going off to the airport then,"said Miss Marple. "That's why I was so surprised to see he was back again."
"I beg your pardon, what do you mean by 'back again'?"
"Well, that he was back here again, I mean."
"Now, let's get thisquite clear," said Father, careful to speak in an agreeableand reminiscent voice, and not as though it was really important. "You saw the old idio – you saw the Canon, that isto say, leave as you thought for that airport with his overnight bag, fairly early in theevening. Is that right?"
"Yes. About half-past six, I would say, or quarterto seven."
"But you say he came back."
"Perhaps he missed the plane. That would accountfor it."
"When did he come back?"
"Well, I don't reallyknow. I didn't see him come back."
"Oh," said Father,taken aback. "I thought you said you did see him."
"Oh, I did see him later," said Miss Marple, "I meant I didn't see him actually come into the hotel."
"You saw him later? When?"
Miss Marple thought.
"Let me see. It was about 3 a.m. I couldn't sleep very well. Something woke me. Some sound. There are so many queernoises in London. I looked at my little clock, it was ten minutes past three. For somereason – I'm not quite sure what –I felt uneasy. Footsteps, perhaps, outside my door. Living in thecountry, if one hears footsteps in the middle of the night it makes one nervous. So I justopened my door and looked out. There was Canon Pennyfather leaving his room – it's next door to mine – and going off down the stairs wearing his overcoat."
"He came out of his room wearing his overcoat andwent down the stairs at 3 a.m. in the morning?"
"Yes," said MissMarple and added: "I thought it odd at the time."
Father looked at her for some moments.
"Miss Marple," hesaid, "why haven't you told anyonethis before?"
"Nobody asked me," saidMiss Marple simply.
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