CHAPTER 11-2

　　"But he didn‘t arrive.Well, of course that wasn’t really surprising. He had bookedhis room on – booked it, that is, until yesterday. He didn‘t come back yesterday or send any word and his things are still here. Themajor part of his baggage. We hadn’t been quite sure what todo about it. Of course," Miss Gorringe went on hastily, "we know the Canon is, well – somewhat forgetfulsometimes."

　　"You may well say that!"

　　"It makes it a little difficult for us. We are sofully booked up. His room is actually booked for another guest." She added: "You have no idea where he is?"

　　With bitterness Mrs. McCrae said:

　　"The man might be an

　　ere!" She pulled herself together. "Well, thank you,Miss Gorringe."

　　"Anything I can do –” Miss Gorringe suggested helpfully.

　　"I dare say I‘ll hearsoon enough," said Mrs. McCrae. She thanked Miss Gorringeagain and rang off.

　　She sat by the telephone, looking upset. She did notfear for the Canon’s personal safety. If he had had anaccident she would by now have been notified. She felt sure of that. On the whole theCanon was not what one would call accident-prone. He was what Mrs. McCrae called toherself "one of the scatty ones," andthe scatty ones seemed always to be looked after by a special providence. Whilst taking nocare or thought, they could still survive even a Panda crossing. No, she did not visualiseCanon Pennyfather as lying groaning in a hospital. He was somewhere, no doubt innocentlyand happily prattling with some friend or other. Maybe he was abroad still. The difficultywas that Archdeacon Simmons was arriving this evening and Archdeacon Simmons would expectto find a host to receive him. She couldn‘t put ArchdeaconSimmons off because she didn’t know where he was. It was allvery difficult, but it had, like most difficulties, its bright spot. Its bright spot wasArchdeacon Simmons. Archdeacon Simmons would know what to do. She would place the matterin his hands.

　　Archdeacon Simmons was a complete contrast to heremployer. He knew where he was going, and what he was doing, and was always cheerfullysure of knowing the right thing to be done and doing it. A confident cleric. ArchdeaconSimmons, when he arrived, to be met by Mrs. McCrae‘sexplanations, apologies and perturbation, was a tower of strength. He, too, was notalarmed.

　　"Now don’t you worry,Mrs. McCrae," he said in his genial fashion, as he sat down tothe meal she had prepared for his arrival. "We‘ll hunt the absent-minded fellow down. Ever heard that story aboutChesterton? G. K. Chesterton, you know, the writer. Wired to his wife when he’d gone on a lecture tour ‘Am at Crewe Station.Where ought I to be?’"

　　He laughed. Mrs. McCrae smiled dutifully. She didnot think it was very funny because it was so exactly the sort of thing that CanonPennyfather might have done.

　　"Ah," said ArchdeaconSimmons, with appreciation, "one of your excellent vealcutlets! You‘re a marvellous cook, Mrs. McCrae. I hope my oldfriend appreciates you."

　　Veal cutlets having been succeeded by some smallcastle puddings with a blackberry sauce which Mrs. McCrae had remembered was one of theArchdeacon’s favourite sweets, the good man applied himself inearnest to the tracking down of his missing friend. He addressed himself to the telephonewith vigour and a complete disregard for expense, which made Mrs. McCrae purse her lipsanxiously, although not really disapproving, because definitely her master had got to betracked down.

Having first dutifully tried the Canon‘s sister who took little notice of her brother’sgoings and comings and as usual had not the faintest idea where he was or might be, theArchdeacon spread his net farther afield. He addressed himself once more to Bertram‘sHotel and got details as precisely as possible. The Canon had definitely left there on theearly evening of the 19th. He had with him a small B.E.A. handbag, but hisother luggage had remained behind in his room, which he had duly retained. He hadmentioned that he was going to a conference of some kind at Lucerne. He had not gonedirect to the airport from the hotel. The commissionaire, who knew him well by sight, hadput him into a taxi and had directed it as told by the Canon, to the Athenaeum Club. Thatwas the last time that anyone at Bertram’s Hotel had seen Canon Pennyfather. Oh yes, asmall detail – he had omitted to leave his key behind but hadtaken it with him. It was not the first time that that had happened.