At Bertram's Hotel - Christie Agatha (читать хорошую книгу полностью TXT) 📗

26

Canon Pennyfather had been sent on his way in a taxi to the British Museum. Miss Marple had been ensconced in the lounge by the Chief Inspector. Would she mind waiting for him there for about ten minutes? Miss Marple had not minded. She welcomed the opportunity to sit and look around her and think.

Bertram's Hotel. So many memories… The past fused itself with the present. A French phrase came back to her: Plus ca change, pius c'est la meme chose. She reversed the wording. Plus c'est la meme chose, plus ca change. Both true, she thought.

She felt sad-for Bertram's Hotel and for herself. She wondered what Chief Inspector Davy wanted of her next. She sensed in him the excitement of purpose. He was a man whose plans were at last coming to fruition. It was Chief Inspector Davy's D-Day.

The life of Bertram's went on as usual. No, Miss Marple decided, not as usual. There was a difference, though she could not have defined where the difference lay. An underlying uneasiness, perhaps?

The doors swung open once more and this time the big bovine-looking countryman came through them and across to where Miss Marple sat.

"All set?" he inquired genially.

"Where are you taking me now?"

"We're going to pay a call on Lady Sedgwick."

"Is she staying here?"

"Yes. With her daughter."

Miss Marple rose to her feet. She cast a glance round her and murmured, "Poor Bertram's."

"What do you mean-poor Bertram's?"

"I think you know quite well what I mean."

"Well-looking at it from your point of view, perhaps I do."

"It is always sad when a work of art has to be destroyed."

"You call this place a work of art?"

"Certainly I do. So do you."

"I see what you mean," admitted Father.

"It is like when you get ground elder really badly in a border. There's nothing else you can do about it-except dig the whole thing up."

"I don't know much about gardens. But change the metaphor to dry rot and I'd agree."

They went up in the elevator and along a passage to where Lady Sedgwick and her daughter had a corner suite.

Chief Inspector Davy knocked on the door, a voice said Come in, and he entered with Miss Marple behind him.

Bess Sedgwick was sitting in a high-backed chair near the window. She had a book on her knee which she was not reading.

"So it's you again, Chief Inspector." Her eyes went past him towards Miss Marple and she looked slightly surprised.

"This is Miss Marple," explained Chief Inspector Davy. "Miss Marple-Lady Sedgwick."

"I've met you before," said Bess Sedgwick. "You were with Selina Hazy the other day, weren't you? Do sit down," she added. Then she turned towards Chief inspector Davy again. "Have you any news of the man who shot at Elvira?"

"Not actually what you'd call news."

"I doubt if you ever will have. In a fog like that, predatory creatures come out and prowl around looking for women walking alone."

"True up to a point," said Father. "How is your daughter?"

"Oh, Elvira is quite all right again."

"You've got her here with you?"

"Yes. I rang up Colonel Luscombe-her guardian. He was delighted that I was willing to take charge." She gave a sudden laugh. "Dear old boy. He's always been urging a mother-and-daughter reunion act!"

"He may be right at that," said Father.

"Oh no, he isn't. Just at the moment, yes, I think it is the best thing." She turned her head to look out of the window and spoke in a changed voice. "I hear you've arrested a friend of mine-Ladislaus Malinowski. On what charge?"

"Not arrested," Chief Inspector Davy corrected her. "He's just assisting us with our inquiries."

"I've sent my solicitor to look after him."

"Very wise," said Father approvingly. "Anyone who's having a little difficulty with the police is very wise to have a solicitor. Otherwise they may so easily say the wrong thing."

"Even if completely innocent?"

"Possibly it's even more necessary in that case," said Father.

"You're quite a cynic, aren't you? What are you questioning him about, may I ask? Or mayn't I?"

"For one thing we'd like to know just exactly what his movements were on the night when Michael Gorman died."

Bess Sedgwick sat up sharply in her chair.

"Have you got some ridiculous idea that Ladislaus fired those shots at Elvira? They didn't even know each other."

"He could have done it. His car was just round the corner."

"Rubbish," said Lady Sedgwick robustly.

"How much did that shooting business the other night upset you, Lady Sedgwick?"

She looked faintly surprised.

"Naturally I was upset when my daughter had a narrow escape of her life. What do you expect?"

"I didn't mean that. I mean how much did the death of Michael Gorman upset you?"

"I was very sorry about it. He was a brave man."

"Is that all?"

"What more would you expect me to say?"

"You knew him, didn't you?"

"Of course. He worked here."

"You knew him a little better than that, though, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come, Lady Sedgwick. He was your husband, wasn't he?"

She did not answer for a moment or two, though she displayed no signs of agitation or surprise.

"You know a good deal, don't you, Chief inspector?" She sighed and sat back in her chair. "I hadn't seen him for-let me see-a great many years. Twenty-more than twenty. And then I looked out of a window one day, and suddenly recognized Micky."

"And he recognized you?"

"Quite surprising that we did recognize each other," said Bess Sedgwick. "We were only together for about a week. Then my family caught up with us, paid Micky off, and took me home in disgrace."

She sighed.

"I was very young when I ran away with him. I knew very little. Just a fool of a girl with a head full of romantic notions. He was a hero to me, mainly because of the way he rode a horse. He didn't know what fear was. And he was handsome and gay with an Irishman's tongue! I suppose really I ran away with him! I doubt if he'd have thought of it himself. But I was wild and headstrong and madly in love!" She shook her head. "It didn't last long… The first twenty-four hours were enough to disillusion me. He drank and he was coarse and brutal. When my family turned up and took me back with them, I was thankful. I never wanted to see him again."

"Did your family know that you were married to him?"

"No."

"You didn't tell them?"

"I didn't think I was married."

"How did that come about?"

"We were married in Ballygowlan, but when my people turned up, Micky came to me and told me the marriage had been a fake. He and his friends had cooked it up between them, he said. By that time it seemed to me quite a natural thing for him to have done. Whether he wanted the money that was being offered him, or whether he was afraid he'd committed a breach of law by marrying me when I wasn't of age, I don't know. Anyway, I didn't doubt for a moment that what he said was true-not then."

"And later?"

She seemed lost in her thoughts. "It wasn't until- oh, quite a number of years afterwards, when I knew a little more of life, and of legal matters, that it suddenly occurred to me that probably I was married to Micky Gorman after all!"

"In actual fact, then, when you married Lord Coniston, you committed bigamy."

"And when! married Johnny Sedgwick, and again when I married my American husband, Ridgeway Becker." She looked at Chief Inspector Davy and laughed with what seemed like genuine amusement.

"So much bigamy," she said. "It really does seem very ridiculous."

"Did you ever think of getting a divorce?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It all seemed like a silly dream. Why rake it up? I'd told Johnny, of course." Her voice softened and mellowed as she said his name.