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　　"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."