At Bertram's Hotel by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

that nice little dollop of heroin addicts have to have every so often to make life seem bright-coloured and worth living. Well, that's all right. That's my funeral - or not - as the case may be. I've never taken drugs - never needed them. Danger has been my drug. But people who live as I do can be a source of harm to others. Now don't be an obstinate old fool, Derek. You keep that girl well away from me. I can do her no good. Only harm. If possible, don't even let her know I was staying in the same hotel. Ring up the Melfords and take her down there today. Make some excuse about a sudden emergency -”
    Colonel Luscombe hesitated, pulling his moustache.
    “I think you're making a mistake, Bess.” He sighed. “She asked where you were. I told her you were abroad.”
    “Well, I shall be in another twelve hours, so that all fits very nicely.”
    She came up to him, kissed him on the point of his chin, turned him smartly around as though they were about to play blind man's buff, opened the door, gave him a gentle little propelling shove out of it. As the door shut behind him, Colonel Luscombe noticed an old lady turning the corner from the stairs. She was muttering to herself as she looked into her handbag. “Dear, dear me. I suppose I must have left it in my room. Oh dear.”
    She passed Colonel Luscombe without paying much attention to him apparently, but as he went on down the stairs Miss Marple paused by her room door and directed a piercing glance after him. Then she looked towards Bess Sedgwick's door. “So that's who she was waiting for,” said Miss Marple to herself. “I wonder why.”

At Bertram's Hotel
    III
    Canon Pennyfather, fortified by breakfast, wandered across the lounge, remembered to leave his key at the desk, pushed his way through the swinging doors, and was neatly inserted into a taxi by the Irish commissionaire who existed for this purpose.
    “Where to, sir?”
    “Oh dear,” said Canon Pennyfather in sudden dismay. “Now let me see - where was I going?”
    The traffic in Pond Street was held up for some minutes whilst Canon Pennyfather and the commissionaire debated this knotty point. Finally Canon Pennyfather had a brainwave and the taxi was directed to go to the British Museum.
    The commissionaire was left on the pavement with a broad grin on his face, and since no other exits seemed to be taking place, he strolled a little way along the façade of the hotel whistling an old tune in a muted manner.
    One of the windows on the ground floor of Bertram's was flung up - but the commissionaire did not even turn his head until a voice spoke unexpectedly through the open window.
    “So this is where you've landed up, Micky. What on earth brought you to this place?”
    He swung round, startled - and stared.
    Lady Sedgwick thrust her head through the open window.
    “Don't you know me?” she demanded.
    A sudden gleam of recognition came across the man's face.
    “Why, if it isn't little Bessie now! Fancy that! After all these years. Little Bessie.”
    “Nobody but you ever called me Bessie. It's a revolting name. What have you been doing all these years?”
    “This and that,” said Micky with some reserve. “I've not been in the news like you have. I've read of your doings in the paper time and again.”
    Bess Sedgwick laughed. “Anyway, I've worn better than you have,” she said. “You drink too much. You always did.”
    “You've worn well because you've always been in the money.”
    “Money wouldn't have done you any good. You'd have drunk even more and gone to the dogs completely. Oh yes, you would! What brought you here? That's what I want to know. How did you ever get taken on at this place?”
    “I wanted a job. I had these -” His hand flicked over the row of medals.
    “Yes, I see.” She was thoughtful. “All genuine too, aren't they?”
    “Sure they're genuine. Why shouldn't they be?”
    “Oh I believe you. You always had courage. You've always been a good fighter. Yes, the Army