At Bertram's Hotel

"And what did he say?"

"He didn't care. Neither Joh

"Bigamy carries certain penalties, Lady Sedgwick."

She looked at him and laughed.

"Who was ever going to worry about something that had happened in Ireland years ago? The whole thing was over and done with. Micky had taken his money and gone off. Oh, don't you understand? It seemed just a silly little incident. An incident I wanted to forget. I put it aside with the things-the very many things-that don't matter in life."

"And then," said Father, in a tranquil voice, "one day in November, Michael Gorman turned up again and blackmailed you?"

"Nonsense! Who said he blackmailed me?"

Slowly Father's eyes went round to the old lady sitting quietly, very upright, in her chair.

"You." Bess Sedgwick stared at Miss Marple. "What can you know about it?"

Her voice was more curious than accusing.

"The armchairs in this hotel have very high backs," said Miss Marple. "Very comfortable they are. I was sitting in one in front of the fire in the writing room. Just resting before I went out one morning. You came in to write a letter. I suppose you didn't realize there was anyone else in the room. And so-I heard your conversation with this man Gorman."

"You listened?"

"Naturally," said Miss Marple. "Why not? It was a public room. When you threw up the window and called to the man outside, I had no idea that it was going to be a private conversation."

Bess stared at her for a moment, then she nodded her head slowly.

"Fair enough," she said. "Yes, I see. But all the same you misunderstood what you heard. Micky didn't blackmail me. He might have thought of it-but I warned him off before he could try!" Her lips curled up again in that wide generous smile that made her face so attractive. "I frightened him off."

"Yes," agreed Miss Marple. "I think you probably did. You threatened to shoot him. You handled it-if you won't think it impertinent of me to say so-very well indeed."

Bess Sedgwick's eyebrows rose in some amusement. "But I wasn't the only person to hear you," Miss Marple went on.

"Good gracious! Was the whole hotel listening?"

"The other armchair was also occupied."

"By whom?"

Miss Marple closed her lips. She looked at Chief Inspector Davy, and it was almost a pleading glance. "If it must be done, you do it," the glance said, "but I can't…."

"Your daughter was in the other chair," said Chief Inspector Davy.

"Oh, no!" The cry came out sharply. "Oh, no. Not Elvira! I see-yes, I see. She must have thought-"

"She thought seriously enough of what she had overheard to go to Ireland and search for the truth. It wasn't difficult to discover."

Again Bess Sedgwick said softly: "Oh no…" And then: "Poor child! Even now, she's never asked me a thing. She's kept it all to herself. Bottled it up inside herself. If she'd only told me I could have explained it all to her-showed her how it didn't matter."

"She mightn't have agreed with you there," said Chief Inspector Davy. "It's a fu

"You said pretty vehemently just now, Lady Sedgwick, that there could be no reason for Ladislaus Malinowski to attempt your daughter's life. Well, I'll agree with you. I don't think there was. He's the sort of young man who might have a row with a woman, pull out a knife and stick it into her. But I don't think he'd hide in an area, and wait cold-bloodedly to shoot her. But supposing he wanted to shoot someone else. Screams and shots-but what has actually happened is that Michael Gorman is dead. Suppose that was actually what was meant to happen. Malinowski plans it very carefully. He chooses a foggy night, hides in the area and waits until your daughter comes up the street. He knows she's coming because he has managed to arrange it that way. He fires a shot. It's not meant to hit the girl. He's careful not to let the bullet go anywhere near her, but she thinks it's aimed at her all right. She screams. The doorman from the hotel, hearing the shot and the scream, comes rushing down the street and then Malinowski shoots the person he's come to shoot. Michael Gorman."

"I don't believe a word of it! Why on earth should Ladislaus want to shoot Micky Gorman?"

"A little matter of blackmail, perhaps," said Father. "Do you mean that Micky was blackmailing Ladislaus? What about?"

"Perhaps," said Father, "about the things that go on at Bertram's Hotel. Michael Go

"Things that go on at Bertram's Hotel? What do you mean?"

"It's been a good racket," said Father. "Well pla

27

There was silence for about a minute or a half. Then Miss Marple spoke.

"How very interesting," she said conversationally.

Bess Sedgwick turned on her. "You don't seem surprised, Miss Marple."

"I'm not. Not really. There were so many curious, things that didn't seem quite to fit in. It was all too good to be true-if you know what I mean. What they call in theatrical circles, a beautiful performance. But it was a performance-not real.

"And there were a lot of little things, people claiming a friend or an acquaintance-and turning out to be wrong."

"These things happen," said Chief Inspector Davy, "but they happened too often. Is that right, Miss Marple?"

"Yes," agreed Miss Marple. "People like Selina Hazy do make that kind of mistake. But there were so many other people doing it too. One couldn't help noticing it."

"She notices a lot," said Chief Inspector Davy, speaking to Bess Sedgwick as though Miss Marple was his pet performing dog.

Bess Sedgwick turned on him sharply.

"What did you mean when you said this place was the headquarters of a crime syndicate? I should have said that Bertram's Hotel was the most respectable place in the world."

"Naturally," said Father. "It would have to be. A lot of money, time, and thought has been spent on making it just what it is. The genuine and the phony are mixed up very cleverly. You've got a superb actor manager ru