There was a hum in the sky. The plane was arriving. Things were somewhat informal here. There was no “taking your place by Channel 8” or Channel 9. You just walked out from the little flower-covered pavilion on to the tarmac.
“Goodbye, darling Miss Marple.” Molly kissed her.
“Goodbye. Do try and come and visit us.” Miss Prescott shook her warmly by the hand.
“It has been a great pleasure to know you,” said the Canon. “I second my sister’s invitation most warmly.”
“All the best. Madam,” said Jackson, “and remember any time you want any massage free, just you send me a line and we’ll make an appointment.”
Only Esther Walters turned slightly away when the time came for goodbyes. Miss Marple did not force one upon her. Mr. Rafter came last. He took her hand. “Ave Caesar, nos morituri te salutamus,” he said.
“I’m afraid,” said Miss Marple, “I don’t know very much Latin.”
“But you understand that?”
“Yes.” She said no more. She knew quite well what he was telling her. “It has been a great pleasure to know you,” she said.
Then she walked across the tarmac and got into the plane.