Agatha Christie – Sleeping Murder

“St. Catherine’s. That’s it. Took St. Catherines — six guineas a week — while Mrs. Findeyson was in Egypt. Died there, poor soul. House was put up for auction — who bought it now? Elworthys — that’s it — pack of women — sisters. Changed the name–said St. Catherine’s was Popish.

Very down on anything Popish — Used to send out tracts. Plain women, all of ’em– Took an interest in niggers– Sent ’em out trousers and bibles. Very strong on converting the heathen.” He sighed suddenly and leant back.

“Long time ago,” he said fretfully.

“Can’t remember names. Chap from India –nice chap…. I’m tired, Gladys. I’d like my tea.” Giles and Gwenda thanked him, thanked his daughter, and came away.

“So that’s proved,” said Gwenda. “My father and I were at Hillside. What do we do next?” “I’ve been an idiot,” said Giles. “Somerset House.” “What’s Somerset House?” asked Gwenda.

“It’s a record office where you can look up marriages. I’m going there to look up your father’s marriage. According to your aunt 5 your father was married to his second wife immediately on arriving in England.

Don’t you see, Gwenda — it ought to have occurred to us before — it’s perfectly possible that ‘Helen’ may have been a relation of your stepmother’s — a young sister, perhaps. Anyway, once we know what her surname was, we may be able to get on to someone who knows about the general setup at Hillside. Remember the old boy said they wanted a house in Dillmouth to be near Mrs. Halliday’s people. If her people live near here we may get something.” “Giles,” said Gwenda. cc! think you’re wonderful.” Ill Giles did not, after all, find it necessary to go to London. Though his energetic nature always made him prone to rush hither and thither and try to do everything himself, he admitted that a purely routine inquiry could be delegated.

He put through a trunk call to his office. “Got it,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, when the expected reply arrived.

From the covering letter he extracted a certified copy of a marriage certificate.

“Here we are, Gwenda. Friday, Aug. yth Kensington Registry Office. Kelvin James Halliday to Helen Spenlove Kennedy.” Gwenda cried out sharply!

“Helen?59 They looked at each other.

Giles said slowly: “But — but — it can’t be her. I mean — they separated, and she married again — and went away.” “We don’t know,” said Gwenda, “that she went away…” She looked again at the plainly written name: Helen Spenlove Kennedy.

Helen…

7 DR. KENNEDY

FEW days later Gwenda, walking along the Esplanade in a sharp wind, Lstopped suddenly beside one of the glass shelters which a thoughtful Corporation had provided for the use of its visitors.

At “Miss Marple?” she exclaimed in lively surprise.

For indeed Miss Marple it was, nicely wrapped up in a thick fleecy coat and well wound round with scarves.

“Quite a surprise to you, I’m sure, to find me here,” said Miss Marple briskly.

“But my doctor ordered me away to the seaside for a little change, and your description of Dillmouth sounded so attractive that I decided to come here–especially as the cook and butler of a friend of mine take in boarders.” “But why didn’t you come and see us?” demanded Gwenda.

“Old people can be rather a nuisance, my dear. Newly married young couples should be left to themselves. She smiled at Gwenda’s protest. “I’m sure you’d have made me very welcome. And how are you both? And are you progressing with your mystery?” “We’re hot on the trail,” Gwenda said, sitting beside her.

She detailed their various investigations up to date.

“And now,” she ended, “we’ve put an advertisement in lots of papers — local ones and The Times and the other big dailies. We’ve just said will anyone with any knowledge of Helen Spenlove Halliday, nee Kennedy, communicate, etc. I should think, don’t you, that we’re bound to get some answers.” “I should think so, my dear–yes, I should think so.” Miss Marple’s tone was placid as ever, but her eyes looked troubled. They flashed a quick appraising glance at the girl sitting beside her. That tone of determined heartiness did not ring quite true. Gwenda, Miss Marple thought, looked worried.

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