called on Mrs Hardy.’ The vicar’s wife carefully poured tea into two thin cups. ‘She made a little speech about keeping herself to herself, that kind of thing. In
fact, she was quite rude. Perhaps you should look for somewhere else?’
‘I’ll have to,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m embarrassed by the fact that so many people have refused to take their presents back, including you. I know you don’t
suspect us of the murder, but I suppose most people in the village do, and that is why they really don’t want to have anything to do with us.’
‘It’s not quite that. Yes, lots of people did suspect you of the murder, but then good sense asserted itself and they became ashamed of themselves. The reason they do not want their
presents back is because they think, because of the way you are both going on, that you and James will get married after all, and they do not want to be troubled by finding a suitable card and
wrapping all over again.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Agatha harshly. ‘Then they are doomed to disappointment.’
Mrs Bloxby changed the subject and regaled Agatha with some of the more innocent village gossip until Agatha finally took her leave.
Hunters Fields was a large mansion set in pretty parkland. When James told Agatha what they were charging, Agatha blinked in sheer horror. James insisted on paying the
astronomical prices, saying he had recently been left a legacy by an aunt and was comfortably off.
They were shown to a spacious room on the first floor by a pretty receptionist who said the director would be with them shortly to explain the programme and the facilities of the centre.
The room had twin beds set well apart. They had just finished unpacking and hanging away their clothes when the director entered. He was a smooth-faced man with silver hair, well-tailored
clothes, small gold-rimmed glasses and a benign air. He introduced himself as Mr Adder.
‘The most important thing,’ he said, ‘is for our resident doctor to examine you both in the morning. We are careful about that. We do not like to subject our clients to too
strenuous a programme if they are not up to it.’ His eyes surveyed Agatha and James. ‘You, Mr Perth, look too fit to need our help.’
‘It was my wife’s idea.’
‘Ah, yes, I see.’ The mild eyes turned on Agatha and she could feel those little rolls of fat at her middle-aged waist growing bigger.
Mr Adder went on to outline the facilities – massage, sauna, swimming pool, tennis courts, and so on.
James said, ‘We would be interested to see your records.’
‘Why?’ A small frown now marred Mr Adder’s normally bland face.
‘An acquaintance of ours, a certain Jimmy Raisin, stayed here once. At the same time, some other people we might know might have been staying here and –’
‘No, no, no, Mr Perth. Our records are confidential. Dinner is in half an hour.’
He departed after giving them an odd little bow.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Agatha gloomily.
‘We’ll just need to break into the office,’ said James.
This he repeated after a minuscule dinner. ‘I don’t think I can bear to stay the whole week, Agatha,’ he said.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ protested Agatha. ‘Might be good for us.’ Now that they were settled, she was looking forward to a trimming-down session.
‘If I have to dine on this rabbit fodder for a whole week, my temper will become unbearable,’ said James. He looked around the other guests. They were mostly middle-aged and all
looked rich.
‘So when do you plan to break into the office?’
‘Tonight,’ said James. ‘We’ll take a look around after dinner. Wherever it is, it can’t possibly be locked. A respectable place like this has no reason to suspect
anyone would want to snoop.’
‘We may have given Mr Adder reason to think we might. For all we know, he may have something pretty ordinary to hide, like one set of accounts for himself and one for the income
tax.’
‘Well, we’ll
fact, she was quite rude. Perhaps you should look for somewhere else?’
‘I’ll have to,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m embarrassed by the fact that so many people have refused to take their presents back, including you. I know you don’t
suspect us of the murder, but I suppose most people in the village do, and that is why they really don’t want to have anything to do with us.’
‘It’s not quite that. Yes, lots of people did suspect you of the murder, but then good sense asserted itself and they became ashamed of themselves. The reason they do not want their
presents back is because they think, because of the way you are both going on, that you and James will get married after all, and they do not want to be troubled by finding a suitable card and
wrapping all over again.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Agatha harshly. ‘Then they are doomed to disappointment.’
Mrs Bloxby changed the subject and regaled Agatha with some of the more innocent village gossip until Agatha finally took her leave.
Hunters Fields was a large mansion set in pretty parkland. When James told Agatha what they were charging, Agatha blinked in sheer horror. James insisted on paying the
astronomical prices, saying he had recently been left a legacy by an aunt and was comfortably off.
They were shown to a spacious room on the first floor by a pretty receptionist who said the director would be with them shortly to explain the programme and the facilities of the centre.
The room had twin beds set well apart. They had just finished unpacking and hanging away their clothes when the director entered. He was a smooth-faced man with silver hair, well-tailored
clothes, small gold-rimmed glasses and a benign air. He introduced himself as Mr Adder.
‘The most important thing,’ he said, ‘is for our resident doctor to examine you both in the morning. We are careful about that. We do not like to subject our clients to too
strenuous a programme if they are not up to it.’ His eyes surveyed Agatha and James. ‘You, Mr Perth, look too fit to need our help.’
‘It was my wife’s idea.’
‘Ah, yes, I see.’ The mild eyes turned on Agatha and she could feel those little rolls of fat at her middle-aged waist growing bigger.
Mr Adder went on to outline the facilities – massage, sauna, swimming pool, tennis courts, and so on.
James said, ‘We would be interested to see your records.’
‘Why?’ A small frown now marred Mr Adder’s normally bland face.
‘An acquaintance of ours, a certain Jimmy Raisin, stayed here once. At the same time, some other people we might know might have been staying here and –’
‘No, no, no, Mr Perth. Our records are confidential. Dinner is in half an hour.’
He departed after giving them an odd little bow.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Agatha gloomily.
‘We’ll just need to break into the office,’ said James.
This he repeated after a minuscule dinner. ‘I don’t think I can bear to stay the whole week, Agatha,’ he said.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ protested Agatha. ‘Might be good for us.’ Now that they were settled, she was looking forward to a trimming-down session.
‘If I have to dine on this rabbit fodder for a whole week, my temper will become unbearable,’ said James. He looked around the other guests. They were mostly middle-aged and all
looked rich.
‘So when do you plan to break into the office?’
‘Tonight,’ said James. ‘We’ll take a look around after dinner. Wherever it is, it can’t possibly be locked. A respectable place like this has no reason to suspect
anyone would want to snoop.’
‘We may have given Mr Adder reason to think we might. For all we know, he may have something pretty ordinary to hide, like one set of accounts for himself and one for the income
tax.’
‘Well, we’ll
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