"Well, well, that's splendid!"
The colonel's words were unimpeachable, the manner very well done, but an affectionate wife of as many years' standing as Mrs Bantry was not deceived.
She said immediately, "Is anything the matter?"
"No, of course not Dolly.
What should be the matter?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs Bantry vaguely. "Things are so queer, aren't they?" She threw off her coat as she spoke, and Colonel Bantry picked it up carefully and laid it across the back of the sofa.
All exactly as usual, yet not as usual. Her husband, Mrs Bantry thought, seemed to have shrunk. He looked thinner, stooped more, there were pouches under his eyes, and those eyes were not ready to meet hers.
He went on to say, still with that affectation of cheerfulness.
"Well, how did you enjoy your time at Danemouth?"
"Oh, it was great fun.
You ought to have come, Arthur."
"Couldn't get away, my dear. Lot of things to attend to here."
"Still, I think the change would have done you good. And you like the Jeffersons." "Yes, yes, poor fellow. Nice chap. All very sad." "What have you been doing with yourself since I've been away?" "Oh, nothing much; been over the farms, you know. Agreed that Anderson shall have a new roof. Can't patch it up any longer."
"How did the Radfordshire Council meeting go?"
"I - well, as a matter of fact, I didn't go."
"Didn't go?
But you were taking the chair -"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Dolly, seems there was some mistake about that.
Asked me if I'd mind if Thompson took it instead."
"I see," said Mrs Bantry. She peeled off a glove and threw it deliberately into the wastepaper basket.
Her husband went to retrieve it and she stopped him, saying sharply,
"Leave it.
I hate gloves."
Colonel Bantry glanced at her uneasily. Mrs Bantry said sternly,
"Did you go to dinner with the Duffs on Thursday?"
"Oh, that? It was put off. Their cook was ill."
"Stupid people," said Mrs Bantry. She went on, "Did you go to the Naylors' yesterday?"
"I rang up and said I didn't feel up to it; hoped they'd excuse me.
They quite understood."
"They did, did they?" said Mrs Bantry grimly.
She sat down by the desk and absentmindedly picked up a pass of gardening scissors. With them she cut off the fingers, one by one, of her second glove. "What are you doing Dolly?" "Feeling destructive," said Mrs Bantry. She got up.
"Where shall we sit after dinner, Arthur?
In the library?"
"Well... er... I don't think so - eh?
Very nice in here or the drawing room."
"I think," said Mrs Bantry, "that we'll sit in the library." Her steady eyes met his.
Colonel Bantry drew himself up to his full height.
A sparkle came into his eye.
He said, "You're right, my dear. We'll sit in the library!"
Chapter 40
Mrs Bantry put down the telephone receiver with a sigh of annoyance.
She had rung up twice, and each time the answer had been the same. Miss Marple was out.
Of a naturally impatient nature, Mrs Bantry was never one to acquiesce in defeat.
She rang up, in rapid succession, the vicarage, Mrs Price Ridley, Miss Hartnell, Miss Wetherby and, as a last resort, the fishmonger, who by reason of his advantageous geographical position usually knew where everybody was in the village.
The fishmonger was sorry, but he had not seen Miss Marple at all in the village that morning.
She had not been on her usual round.
"Where can the woman be?" demanded Mrs Bantry impatiently, aloud.
There was a deferential cough behind her.
The discreet Lorrimer murmured,
"You were requiring Miss Marple, madam?