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Chapter One

In the heart of the West End, there are many quiet pockets, unknown to almost all but taxi drivers who traverse thee, and arrive triumphantly thereby at Park Lane, Berkeley Square or South Audley Street

If you turn off on an unpretentious street froht once or twice, you will find yourself in a quiet street with Bertraht-hand side Bertra the war, houses were deht of it, and a little farther down on the left of it, but Bertram’s itself re, as house agents would say, scratched, bruised and marked, but by the expenditure of only a reasonable ainal condition By 1955 it looked precisely as it had looked in 1939—dignified, unostentatious, and quietly expensive

Such was Bertraher échelons of the clergy, dowager ladies of the aristocracy up froirls on their way ho schools (“So few places where a girl can stay alone in London but of course it is quite all right at Bertram’s We have stayed there for years”)

There had, of course, been many other hotels on the model of Bertram’s Soe They had had necessarily to modernize themselves, to cater for a different clientele Bertrae, but it had been done so cleverly that it was not at all apparent at the first casual glance

Outside the steps that led up to the big swing doors stood what at first sight appeared to be no less than a Field Marshal Gold braid and medal ribbons adorned a broad and manly chest His deportment was perfect He received you with tender concern as you euided you carefully up the steps and piloted you through the silently swinging doorway

Inside, if this was the first time you had visited Bertram’s, you felt, almost with alarone back You were in Edwardian England once more

There was, of course, central heating, but it was not apparent As there had always been, in the big central lounge, there were twobrass coal scuttles shone in the way they used to shine when Edwardian househtsized lueneral appearance of rich red velvet and plushy cosiness The are They ell above the level of the floor, so that rheunified et to their feet The seats of the chairs did not, as in so h-priced arh and the knee, thereby inflicting agony on those suffering from arthritis and sciatica; and they were not all of a pattern There were straight backs and reclining backs, different widths to accommodate the slender and the obese People of almost any dimension could find a comfortable chair at Bertram’s

Since it was now the tea hour, the lounge hall was full Not that the lounge hall was the only place where you could have tea There was a drawing roo rooentlemen only), where the vast chairs were of fine leather, triting rooms, where you could take a special friend and have a cosy little gossip in a quiet corner—and even write a letter as well if you wanted to Besides these ae, there were other retreats, not in anyway publicized, but known to those anted them There was a double bar, with two bar attendants, an American barman to make the Americans feel at home and to provide thelish one to deal with sherries and Pieably about the runners at Ascot and Newbury to the ed s There was also, tucked down a passage, in a secretive way, a television room for those who asked for it

But the big entrance lounge was the favourite place for the afternoon tea drinking The elderly ladies enjoyed seeing who ca unfavourably on how these had aged There were also Alish really getting down to their traditional afternoon tea For afternoon tea was quite a feature of Bertram’s

It was nothing less than splendid Presiding over the ritual was Henry, a large and ure, a ripe fifty, avuncular, sy vanished species: the perfect butler Slim youths performed the actual work under Henry’s austere direction There were large crested silver trays, and Georgian silver teapots The china, if not actually Rockingham and Davenport, looked like it The Blind Earl services were particular favourites The tea was the best Indian, Ceylon, Darjeeling, Lapsang, etc As for eatables, you could ask for anything you liked—and get it!

On this particular day, November the 17th, Lady Selina Hazy, sixty-five, up fro delicious well-buttered muffins with all an elderly lady’s relish

Her absorption with reat that she failed to look up sharply every ti doors opened to admit a newcomer

So it was that she smiled and nodded to welco round his neck Like the old autocrat that she was, she beckoned imperiously and, in a minute or two, Luscombe came over to her

“Hallo, Selina, what brings you up to Town?”

“Dentist,” said Lady Selina, rather indistinctly, owing to o and see that man in Harley Street about my arthritis You knoho I mean”

Although Harley Street contained several hundreds of fashionable practitioners for all and every ailment, Luscombe did knohom she meant

“Do you any good?” he asked

“I rather think he did,” said Lady Selina grudgingly “Extraordinary fellow Tookit like a chicken” She erly

“Hurt you?”

“Itit like that, but really I hadn’t tierly “Feels all right Can look over ht shoulder for the first time in years”

She put this to a practical test and exclaimed, “Why I do believe that’s old Jane Ma

rple Thought she was dead years ago Looks a hundred”

Colonel Luscolance in the direction of Jane Marple thus resurrected, but withoutof what he called fluffy old pussies

Lady Selina was continuing

“Only place in London you can still get muffins Real muffins Do you knohen I went to A called muffins on the breakfast menu Not real muffins at all Kind of teacake with raisins in them I mean, why call them muffins?”

She pushed in the last buttery uely Henry materialized immediately Not quickly or hurriedly It seemed that, just suddenly, he was there

“Anything further I can get you, my lady? Cake of any kind?”

“Cake?” Lady Selina thought about it, was doubtful

“We are serving very good seed cake, my lady I can recommend it”

“Seed cake? I haven’t eaten seed cake for years It is real seed cake?”

“Oh, yes, my lady The cook has had the recipe for years You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure”

Henry gave a glance at one of his retinue, and the lad departed in search of seed cake

“I suppose you’ve been at Newbury, Derek?”

“Yes Darned cold, I didn’t wait for the last two races Disastrous day That filly of Harry’s was no good at all”

“Didn’t think she would be What about Swanhilda?”

“Finished fourth” Luscombe rose “Got to see about my room”

He walked across the lounge to the reception desk As he went he noted the tables and their occupants Astonishing nu tea here Quite like old days Tea as a one out of fashion since the war But evidently not at Bertram’s Who were all these people? Two Canons and the Dean of Chislehas over in the corner, a Bishop, no less! Mere Vicars were scarce “Have to be at least a Canon to afford Bertray certainly couldn’t, poor devils As far as that went, he wondered how on earth people like old Selina Hazy could She’d only got twopence or so a year to bless herself with And there was old Lady Berry, and Mrs Posselthwaite from Somerset, and Sybil Kerr—all poor as church mice

Still thinking about this he arrived at the desk and was pleasantly greeted by Miss Gorringe the receptionist Miss Gorringe was an old friend She knew every one of the clientele and, like Royalty, never forgot a face She looked frumpy but respectable Frizzled yellowish hair (old-fashioned tongs, it suggested), black silk dress, a high bosoold locket and a cameo brooch

“Nue “I think you had fourteen last time, Colonel Luscombe, and liked it It’s quiet”