compartments. The compartment of romantic Agatha has the door firmly shut on it while the compartment with Agatha as friend is open. It's better than nothing, or is it agonizing?'
'Not really,' said Agatha. 'I find I can't think of him in the old way any more.'
'Because that would mean hurt?'
'Yes,' said Agatha gruffly and her small eyes filled with tears.
'I'll make some tea,' said Mrs. Bloxby, tactfully going off and allowing Agatha time to recover.
'If only I could get my old cottage back,' mourned Agatha when Mrs. Bloxby returned with the tea-tray. 'James is so well-organized, I feel superfluous. I want my own things about me again.'
'I 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, quite a lot 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 see.' James sipped moodily at his decaffeinated coffee. 'And then, after we've located the office, we should drive to the nearest pub and get something to eat.'
Agatha wanted to protest. She felt slimmer already. But she knew it would irritate James if she insisted on dieting when she ought to be investigating.
After dinner, they walked around and found the office off the hall. It had a glass window which overlooked the hall, so they could clearly see filing cabinets and two computers. Not only was the office locked but so were the other rooms adjoining - sauna, massage room, treatment room, doctor's room, and director's room.
'How are you going to open the door?' asked Agatha.
'I brought some lock-picks with me.' James had used a set of lock-picks before, never volunteering to explain why or how he had first got them.
They then drove down to a nearby village, where James ate a large helping of steak and kidney pie while Agatha contented herself with a ham sandwich and a glass of mineral water.
And then back to their room. James suggested they change into dark clothes, lie on top of their beds, and he would set the alarm for two in the morning.
Once in his bed, he fell asleep immediately while Agatha lay awake and listened to the gentle rumbling of her stomach. Just when she thought she would never fall asleep at all, she did, and then awoke with a start as the alarm sounded shrilly.
'Time to go,' said James. 'Let's hope they don't have some security guard patrolling the place to make sure the guests don't raid the kitchens.'
He opened the bedroom door. The corridor outside was brightly lit. He retreated back into the room. Agatha was wearing a navy sweater and black trousers and he was in a black sweater and black trousers. 'It's very bright out there,' he said, 'and we look like a couple of burglars. Do you think we should put on our dressing-gowns and then we can claim we were searching for food? They must be used to that.'
'They will wonder what we are doing searching for food in their files. Perhaps if we put something ordinary on. We both have jogging suits. We can say we were out for a run. We can say, if we're caught, that we are paranoiac about our private lives and wanted to see what was on file, something like that.'
'All right,' said James, starting to take off his trousers. Agatha felt obscurely miffed that he should undress so unselfconsciously in front of her.
She herself changed into a scarlet jogging jacket and trousers in the bathroom. She did not want James to see any of the middle-aged body he had rejected.
Her face looked wan in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Perhaps just a little foundation cream and a bit of powder. Maybe a bit of blusher. That new shade of red lipstick would go nicely with her jogging suit. She was just reaching for the mascara when James's impatient voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. 'What are you
'Coming.' Agatha regretfully abandoned the mascara and went out to join him. As she followed him out into the corridor, she realized again that the metabolism of Agatha Raisin did not thrive on health food. She was sure she had bad breath and her stomach was full of gas. She fell back behind James, cupped her hands and breathed into them, but James looked over his shoulder and demanded, 'What are you doing now?' and Agatha mumbled, 'Nothing,' fell into step beside him and prayed to all the gods who look after middle-aged ladies that she would not fart. The silence in the building was absolute.
They reached the hall without having met anyone or heard anyone.
When they reached the office, James murmured, 'It's a simple Yale lock. A plastic credit card might do it.' He took one out of his pocket and fiddled away while Agatha stood behind him, hearing the vague rumbles in her own
