The Mirror Crack'd: from Side to Side by Agatha Christie Page B

anything like that?”
    â€œI don’t really know anything about her,” said Mrs. Bantry. “She’s new since my day. She comes from the Development.”
    â€œThe Development? Oh, you mean that housing estate. I don’t even know where her husband is or what he looks like.”
    â€œMiddle-aged, fair, unobtrusive,” said Mrs. Bantry. “He came with her so he must be about somewhere.”
    Ella Zielinsky went into a bathroom. “I don’t know really what to give her,” she said. “Sal volatile, do you think, something like that?”
    â€œIs she faint?” said Mrs. Bantry.
    â€œIt’s more than that,” said Ella Zielinsky.
    â€œI’ll see if there’s anything I can do,” said Mrs. Bantry. She turned away and walked rapidly back towards the head of the stairs. Turning a corner she cannoned into Jason Rudd.
    â€œHave you seen Ella?” he said. “Ella Zielinsky?”
    â€œShe went along there into one of the bathrooms. She was looking for something. Sal volatile—something like that.”
    â€œShe needn’t bother,” said Jason Rudd.
    Something in his tone struck Mrs. Bantry. She looked up sharply. “Is it bad?” she said, “really bad?”
    â€œYou could call it that,” said Jason Rudd. “The poor woman’s dead.”
    â€œDead!” Mrs. Bantry was really shocked. She said, as she had said before, “But she looked so well just now.”
    â€œI know. I know,” said Jason. He stood there, scowling. “What a thing to happen!”

Six
    I
    â€œH ere we are,” said Miss Knight, settling a breakfast tray on the bed table beside Miss Marple. “And how are we this morning? I see we’ve got our curtains pulled back,” she added with a slight note of disapproval in her voice.
    â€œI wake early,” said Miss Marple. “You probably will, when you’re my age,” she added.
    â€œMrs. Bantry rang up,” said Miss Knight, “about half an hour ago. She wanted to talk to you but I said she’d better ring up again after you’d had your breakfast. I wasn’t going to disturb you at that hour, before you’d even had a cup of tea or anything to eat.”
    â€œWhen my friends ring up,” said Miss Marple, “I prefer to be told.”
    â€œI’m sorry, I’m sure,” said Miss Knight, “but it seemed to me very inconsiderate. When you’ve had your nice tea and your boiled egg and your toast and butter, we’ll see.”
    â€œHalf an hour ago,” said Miss Marple, thoughtfully, “that would have been—let me see—eight o’clock.”
    â€œMuch too early,” reiterated Miss Knight.
    â€œI don’t believe Mrs. Bantry would have rung me up then unless it was for some particular reason,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “She doesn’t usually ring up in the early morning.”
    â€œOh well, dear, don’t fuss your head about it,” said Miss Knight soothingly. “I expect she’ll be ringing up again very shortly. Or would you like me to get her for you?”
    â€œNo, thank you,” said Miss Marple. “I prefer to eat my breakfast while it’s hot.”
    â€œHope I haven’t forgotten anything,” said Miss Knight, cheerfully.
    But nothing had been forgotten. The tea had been properly made with boiling water, the egg had been boiled exactly three and three-quarter minutes, the toast was evenly browned, the butter was arranged in a nice little pat and the small jar of honey stood beside it. In many ways undeniably Miss Knight was a treasure. Miss Marple ate her breakfast and enjoyed it. Presently the whirr of a vacuum cleaner began below. Cherry had arrived.
    Competing with the whirr of the vacuum cleaner was a fresh tuneful voice singing one of the latest popular tunes of the day. Miss Knight, coming in for the breakfast tray, shook her