Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

Miss Marple enjoyed her time in London with ease.She has done many things, and she has been to the capital before, but because the stay is too short, she has no time to do these things.It must be regrettable that he stated that she did not take part in the wide range of cultural activities that were possible for her.She didn't visit art galleries or museums.She didn't even think about going to a fashion show of any kind.What she did visit were the glass and china and home furnishing departments of the big stores, and bought some upholstery fabrics on sale.After spending what she thought was a modest sum on these household investments, she indulged in many excursions of her own.She visited places and stores she remembered from childhood, sometimes just out of curiosity to see if they were still there.Her fondness for the past is not a hobby, but she never tires of it.She usually took a good nap after lunch, and then went out—avoiding the doorman as much as possible, because he was convinced that an old lady of her age and frailty should go out by taxi—to the bus station. Or walk to the subway station.She bought a brochure about the buses and their routes and an underground map so she could plan her trips carefully.You might see her walking blissfully and nostalgicly in Evelyn Gardens or Onslow Square one afternoon, muttering softly to herself: "Yes, that's Mrs. Van Diren's house. Of course it looks very different now. They Looks like it was remodeled. Omg I see it has four doorbells. I think four units. What a nice old fashioned square it was.”

She visited Mrs. Tussow's house a little timidly--she well remembered how much fun the place had given her as a child.She looked for the Bradley house in Westbourne-Grove but could not find it.Aunt Helen used to go to the Bradleys often for her sealskin jacket. Window shopping in the usual sense did not appeal to Miss Marple, but she took pleasure in collecting patterns of knitting, new varieties of knitting yarn, and other things that brought pleasure.She made a point of visiting Richmond to see the house that had once belonged to Uncle Thomas, a retired admiral.The beautiful balconies are still there, but here too, each house seems to be divided into many units.Even more poignant was the house in Lowndes Square, where a distant cousin, Mrs. Meridow, had lived respectably.A huge skyscraper with a very modern design appeared here.Miss Marple shook her head sadly, and said to herself with certainty: "I think there must be a development. If Cousin Ethel knew, I believe she would be deeply disturbed in her grave."

It was a particularly balmy afternoon when Miss Marple boarded a bus and drove across Battersea Bridge.She intended to combine a double joy: a sentimental look at Prince de Trece House, where a governess of her past had lived, and a visit to Battersea Park.The first part of her plan failed.Miss Ledbury's sundeck has disappeared without a trace, replaced by lots of harsh concrete.Miss Marple went into Battersea Park instead.She used to walk well, but she has to admit that her walking ability is not as good as it used to be.Half a mile was enough to tire her.She figured she could work her way across the park and out to the Chersey Bridge, where there was also a convenient bus line.But her steps became slower and slower, so she was very happy when she suddenly found a small teahouse surrounded by a lake.

Despite the chill of autumn, tea is still served here. There are not many people today, some mothers pushing baby carriages and a few young couples.Miss Marple bought a cup of tea and two soft cakes and put them on a tray.She carefully walked over to a table with the tray and sat down.The tea was just what she needed, hot and strong, and very refreshing.After regaining her spirits, she looked around.Suddenly, her eyes stopped on a table, and she straightened her upper body vigorously on the chair.Really, very strange coincidence, really very strange!First at the Military Consumer Cooperative, and now here.The places chosen by these two people are really unusual!Oh no!She was wrong.Miss Marple took another pair of glasses with stronger prescriptions from her bag.Yes, she was wrong.Of course there are certain similarities.The blond hair was long and straight, but this was not Bess Sedgwick, but a much younger man.Certainly it was the little girl whose daughter had lodged with Mrs. Selina Hartz's friend, Colonel Luscombe, at Bertram's Hotel.But it was the same man who had lunched with Mrs Sedgwick at the Military Consumption Cooperative.Undoubtedly, the same hawkish good looks, the same thinness, the same ravishing masculinity—yes, the same strong masculine appeal.

"Not good!" said Miss Marple. "Not good at all! Cruel! Wicked! I don't like to see it. First the mother, now the daughter. What does it mean?" That means bad.Miss Marple was sure of that.Miss Marple was skeptical of almost everything, and she always expected the worst.Nine times out of ten she was right, she insisted.These two meetings, she was sure, were probably held in secret.Now she watched the way the two men leaned forward across the table, their heads almost touching, and the seriousness with which they talked.The girl's face—Miss Marple took off her glasses, polished them carefully, and put them on again.Yes, the girl was in love, desperately in love, because only young people fall in love.But how could her guardians have her running around London and having these secret appointments in Battersea Park?Such a well-bred, well-mannered girl.So well bred, no doubt about it!People around her probably thought she was in another quiet place.She has to lie.

Miss Marple walked past their table on her way out, walking as slowly as possible without being too obvious.Unfortunately, their voices are too low.She couldn't hear what they said.The man was talking, and the girl was listening, half joyful, half worried. "Perhaps planning to elope together?" thought Miss Marple. "She's not old enough." Miss Marple walked out onto the park walk through the little gate in the fence.There were cars parked along the sidewalk, and she pulled up next to one a moment later.Miss Marple didn't know much about cars, but she didn't see one like this very often, so she noticed it and remembered it.She learned a little about this style of car from an avid grandson.It's a racing car.A foreign brand—she couldn't remember the name now.Nay, she had seen this car, or a car exactly like it, just the previous evening in an alley near Bertram's Hotel.She noticed the car not only because of its large size and its impressively unusual appearance, but also because its license plate evoked a vague memory, a little connection in the memory. FAN2266, which reminds her of her cousin Fanny Godfrey.Poor Fanny once stammered "I have two...two,..."

She walked over to see the number of the car.Yes, she guessed very correctly. FAN2266.It's the same car.Miss Marple came to the other side of the Chercy Bridge thoughtfully.Every step she took felt more painful than the last.By then, she was exhausted, so she resolutely hailed the first taxi she saw.She is plagued by a feeling that she should do something about something?But what kind of thing is that?What should she do?The answers are so vague.Her eyes rested absently on the reading board by the side of the road. "Great progress on train robbery," said one paper. "The story told by the train driver," another newspaper said.well!It seemed to Miss Marple that every day there was a bank robbery, a train robbery, or a wage robbery.

It seems that the criminals are getting more and more rampant.