Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

"Daddy" took a deep breath. "No," he said, "no, I don't think anyone will ask you. It's as simple as that." He fell silent again. "You think something has happened to him, don't you?" asked Miss Marple. "It's been more than a week," said "Father." "He hasn't had a stroke and died in the street, and he hasn't been in a traffic accident and ended up in the hospital. So where is he? His disappearance has been reported in the media. But no one has come forward to provide any information." "They probably haven't seen the news. I haven't."

"Looks—really looks—" Father was gathering his thoughts—"as if he disappeared on purpose. Leaving the place like that in the middle of the night. You're pretty sure of that, aren't you? he asked sharply, "are you dreaming?" "I'm absolutely sure," asserted Miss Marple. "Father" stood up with difficulty. "I'd better go see the housekeeper," he said. "Father" saw Rose Sheldon working, and then looked at the friendly-looking her with scrutiny. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he said, "I know you've seen our Sergeant. About the missing gentleman, Father Canon Penny."

"Oh, yes, sir, a very nice gentleman. He lives here a lot." "Absent," said Father. There was a decent smile on Rose Sheldon's falsely respectful face. "Let me see," said "Pop," pretending to check some records, "the last time you saw Canon Pennyfather was at..." "Thursday morning, sir. Thursday the nineteenth. He told me he wasn't coming back that night, and probably not the next day. He was going, I think, to Geneva. Somebody in Switzerland anyway. place. He gave me two shirts to do the laundry, and I said they would be ready by the next morning."

"That's the last time you saw him, ugh?" "Yes, sir. I don't work in the afternoon, you know. I don't come back to work until six o'clock sharp. By then he must have left, or, anyway, he'd be downstairs and not in his room. He stayed Two suitcases unloaded." "Yes," said "Poppa."The contents of the crates have been examined, but nothing useful has been found.He continued: "Did you call him the next morning?" "Call him? No, sir, he's gone." "What do you usually do—bring him morning tea? Breakfast?"

"Morning tea, sir. He often has breakfast downstairs." "So you didn't go into his room at all the next day?" "Oh, I'm in, sir." Ross sounded a little shocked. "I went into his room as usual. For one thing I took his shirt in. And of course I cleaned his room. Clean all the rooms." "Ever slept in the bed?" She stared at him. "Bed, sir? Oh, no." "Is the bed messy—are there any wrinkles?" She shook her head. "Where's the bathroom?" "There's a wet hand towel, sir, I presume it was used the night before. He probably washed his hands, the last thing he did before he set off."

"No sign of him coming back to the room? Maybe late—after midnight?" She stared at him in some bewilderment. "Father" opened his mouth, then closed it again.Either she doesn't know anything about Mr. Canon's return, or she's a high-level actress. "Where's his clothes—the suits. Are they all packed in the suitcase?" "No, sir, they're all hanging in the closet. He kept his room, you know, sir." "Who put them up?" "Miss Gorringe ordered, sir. The room was to be vacated for a new lady." A candid and consistent narrative.If the old lady was right when she saw Canon Pennyfather leave his room at three o'clock on Friday morning, he must have returned to that room at some point.But no one saw him enter the hotel.Was he, for some reason, deliberately hiding it from others?He also left no trace in the room.He wasn't even in bed.Had the whole thing been dreamed up by Miss Marple?At her age, it is very possible.He figured out a way.

"What about the airport bag?" "Can you repeat that, sir?" "A small bag, dark blue—a BEA bag or BOAC bag, you must have seen it?" "Oh, that—yes, sir. But of course he'll take it abroad." "But he didn't go abroad, he didn't go to Switzerland at all. So he must have left it, or he came back and put it here with the rest of his luggage." "Yes, yes...I think...I'm not sure...I think he did." Thoughts like this instinctively crossed Papa's mind: They didn't provide you with material on this, did they? Rose Sheldon was calm and competent by this time, but the question had disturbed her.She didn't know the right answer, but she should know.

Mr. Canon took his bag to the airport and walked away from the airport.If it came back to Bertram, the bag would follow him.But Miss Marple doesn't mention it when she describes Mr. Canon leaving his room and going down the stairs. It may have been left in the bedroom, but it wasn't in the luggage room with the case.Why not?Because Mr. Canon is supposed to have gone to Switzerland? He thanked Rose graciously and went downstairs again. Canon Pennyfather!The enigmatic Canon Pennyfather.Talked about going to Switzerland, confused things and didn't go to Switzerland, sneaked back to the hotel without being seen by anyone, and left the hotel again in the wee hours of the morning. (Where are you going? What are you doing?)

Could absent-mindedness explain all this? If not, what the hell is Canon Penney Father doing?More importantly, where is he? "Father" glanced suspiciously at the people in the lounge from the stairs, wondering if everyone was what they appeared to be.He has reached that stage!Old, middle-aged (never too young) are well-bred old-school folks, almost all very rich, all very respectable.Soldiers, lawyers, priests; an American couple by the door, a French family by the fireplace.No one was too conspicuous, no one was out of place; most of them were enjoying a traditional English afternoon tea.Could there really be anything seriously wrong with a place serving old fashioned afternoon tea?

The French man made a comment to his wife that fit the circumstances perfectly. Le five-o-clock, (French, meaning: five minutes.—Annotation.)” he said, “Cest bien Anglais Ca, nest ce pas? "(French, meaning: That's very British, isn't it?—Annotation.) He looked around approvingly. Le-five-oclock," thought Papa, walking through the hotel door to the street. "That guy doesn't know 'le-five-o-clock' is dead!".Outside, huge assortment of American suitcases and suitcases are being loaded into a taxi.It looks like the Elmer Cabots are on their way to the Hotel Vendôme in Paris.

On the curb next to him, Mrs. Elmer Cabot was making a point of view to her husband: "The Pendlebury couple are quite right about this place, Elmer. It's what England used to be. Such a beautiful Edwardian character. I almost feel that Edward VII will walk in at any moment and sit there drinking Afternoon tea. I want to come back next year - I really do." "Unless we have a million dollars or so left," said her husband dryly. "Come, Elmer, it's not so bad." When the luggage was packed, the tall doorman helped them into the car, murmuring "Thank you, sir" when Mr Cabot made the expected gesture.The taxi drove away.The doorman turned his attention to Father. "Need a taxi, sir?" "Father" looked up at him. Over six feet tall, good-looking, kind of decadent, ex-military, lots of decorations - probably real.A little tricky?Very good wine. He said loudly, "A retired soldier?" "Yes, sir. Irish Guards." "Military medal, I saw it. Where did you get it?" "Myanmar." "what's your name?" "Michael Gorman. A sergeant." "Is it a good job here?" "It's a quiet place." "You don't want to go to Hilton?" "I don't want to. I like the work here. It's nice people who come here, and a lot of gentlemen betting on the races—they go to Ascot and Newbury. I get good tips from them all the time. " "Oh, so you're an Irishman and like to gamble, aren't you?" "Hmph! Now, what kind of life would it be if you didn't gamble?" "Peaceful and dull," said Chief Inspector Davy, "like my life." "Really, sir?" "Can you guess what I do?" asked Father. The Irishman grinned. "Not to offend you, sir, but if I could guess you were a policeman." "That's right," said Chief Inspector Davy. "You remember Canon Pennyfather?" "Canon Pennyfather, well, I don't seem to care about names..." "An elderly priest." Michael Gorman laughed. "Ah, now, there are as many priests in there as there are peas in a pod." "This one is missing from here." "Oh, that one!" The doorman seemed a little surprised. "do you know him?" "I wouldn't have thought of him if someone hadn't asked me about him, all I know is I put him in a taxi and he went to the 'Temple of Athena' club. That was the last time I Saw him. I was told he went to Switzerland, but I heard he never went there. He seemed lost." "You didn't see him again after that day?" "Later... no, indeed no." "When are you off work?" "At half past eleven." Chief Inspector Davy nodded and walked slowly down Bond Street instead of asking for a taxi.A car roared by the curb beside him and stopped outside Bertram's Hotel, screeching brakes.Chief Inspector David looked back with a serious face and noticed the license plate: FAN2266.The number reminded him of something, but he couldn't recall it for a moment. He slowly turned back the way he came, and just as he reached the entrance, the rider who had entered the gate of the hotel not long ago came out again.He was a good match for the car.It was a white racing car with streaks of white light emitting from its long body.The young man had the same eager greyhound look, and he had a handsome face without an inch of fat on his body. The doorman pulled the door open, and the young man jumped in, threw a coin to the doorman, and drove away, the car's engine roaring loudly. "Do you know who he is?" Michael Gorman said to Papa. "Whoever it is is a dangerous driver." "Ladislaus Malinowski. Won the Grand Prix two years ago - he's a world champion. He was badly injured last year and he's said to be fine now." "Don't tell me he's staying at Bertram's Hotel. It's very inappropriate." Michael Gorman grinned. "He doesn't live here, no. But one of his friends does—" He blinked. A waiter in a striped apron came out bearing more American luxury travel equipment. Uncle stood there distraught watching these things being put into a Daimler-Haier sedan, trying to recall what he knew of Ladislaus Malinowski.An impudent fellow--supposedly connected to some famous woman--what's her name?Still staring at a beautiful trunk, he was about to turn away when he changed his mind and went into the hotel again. He went to the counter and asked Miss Gorringe for the register.Miss Gorringe, busy with the departing Americans, pushed the book across the counter toward him.He flipped through the register.Mrs Selina Hartz, The Cottage, Merrifield, Hants; Mr and Mrs Hennessy King, Eldbury, Essex; Sir John Woodstock, Beaumont--Cray 5 Centre, Cheltenham; Lady Sedgwick, Hursting House, Northumberland; Elmer and Mrs Cabot, Connecticut; General Radley, 14 Green, Chichester; Woolmer Pilkingtons, Marblehead, Connecticut; La Comtessede Beauville, Les Sapins, St Germain en Laye; (French. Meaning: Someone from somewhere.—Annotation .) Miss Jane Marple, St Mary Mead, Much Bellham; Colonel Luscombe, Little Green, Suffolk; The Honorable Mrs Carpenter; Elvira Black; Canon.Father Penny, Cross, Chadminster; Mrs., Mr., Miss Audrey, Manorhouse, Commenton; Mr. and Mrs. Raiseville, Valley Forge , Pennsylvania; Duke of Barnstaple, Castle Doune, North Devon... They were typical of those who stayed at Bertram's Inn.They formed, he thought, a kind of sample... As he closed the register, a name on the front page caught his eye: Sir William Ludgrove. Mr Judge Ludgrove, a trainee policeman had seen him near the scene of a bank robbery.Mr. Judge Ludgrove, and Canon Pennyfather, they are patrons of Bertram's Hotel. . . . "How's your tea, sir? Like it?" It was Henry standing beside him.He spoke with politeness and a little wistfulness of the perfect host. "It's the best tea I've had in years," said Chief Inspector Davy. He remembered that he hadn't paid the bill yet.When he was about to do this, Henry raised his hand to stop him. "Oh, no, sir. I've been told that your tea money is charged to the hotel account. Mr. Humphreys ordered it." Henry walked away. "Daddy" stayed there wondering if he should have given Henry a tip just now.It pained him to think that Henry knew the answer to this social question better than he did. He walked on the street for a while and stopped suddenly.He took out his notebook and wrote down a name and address—he had to hurry.He walked into a phone booth.He decided to stick to the end, no matter how difficult it was, he planned to find out all this with his intuition.