by M C Beaton
Agatha backed off, her face flaming. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. “M-mistake.”
She turned away from him and scurried back off towards the café, where the waiter who was standing at the door was relieved to see her return.
She asked for her bill. He indicated her half-eaten food on the table. She shook her head, tipped him and paid her bill at the cash desk.
Then she walked slowly back to the hotel. She went up to her room and fell face-down on the bed. “Oh, James,” said Agatha. “Where are you?”
♦
In the morning, she sat down at a desk in the room, and taking a sheet of hotel stationery, she wrote to James at the Benedictine Monastery. She should have thought of it before, she told herself. Of course he was there. It was Marie’s questioning that had put the uneasy thought in her head that he might have lied about taking holy orders and becoming a monk.
She kept her letter short and cheerful, ending by asking him if he could send her a note to her home address and let her know how he was getting on. Then she packed her cases and left them for collection and went down to reception and asked them to post die letter for her.
Feeling better that she had taken some action to find out how he was, Agatha Raisin set out on the long journey home.
FB2 document info
Document ID: f1d05eb4-63a9-415d-94fa-c4f35a4d0cc6
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 16.12.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.9, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
M.C. Beaton
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