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to London. I shall have lunch perhaps in Haslemere.”
    “Now, what are you up to now?” said Cherry, looking at her suspiciously.
    “Endeavouring to meet someone by accident and make it seem purely natural,” said Miss Marple. “Not really very easy, but I hope that I can manage it.”
    At half past eleven the taxi waited. Miss Marple instructed Cherry.
    “Ring up this number, will you, Cherry? Ask if Mrs Anderson is at home. If Mrs Anderson answers or if she is going to come to the telephone, say a Mr Broadribb wants to speak to her. You,” said Miss Marple, “are Mr Broadribb's secretary. If she's out, find out what time she will be in.”
    “And if she is in and I get her?”
    “Ask what day she could arrange to meet Mr Broadribb at his office in London next week. When she tells you, make a note of it and ring off.”
    “The things you think of! Why all this? Why do you want me to do it?”
    “Memory is a curious thing,” said Miss Marple. “Sometimes one remembers a voice even if one hasn't heard it for over a year.”
    “Well, Mrs What's-her-name won't have heard mine at any time, will she?”
    “No,” said Miss Marple. “That is why you are making the call.”
    Cherry fulfilled her instruction. Mrs Anderson was out shopping, she learned, but would be in for lunch and all the afternoon.
    “Well, that makes things easier,” said Miss Marple. “Is Inch here? Ah yes. Good-morning, Edward,” she said, to the present driver of Arthur's taxis whose actual name was George. “Now this is where I want you to go. It ought not to take, I think, more than an hour and a half.”
    The expedition set off.

Nemesis

Chapter 4
    ESTHER WALTERS
    Esther Anderson came out of the Supermarket and went towards where she had parked her car. Parking grew more difficult every day, she thought. She collided with somebody, an elderly woman limping a little who was walking towards her. She apologised, and the other woman made an exclamation.
    “Why, indeed, it's... surely... it's Mrs Walters, isn't it? Esther Walters? You don't remember, me, I expect. Jane Marple. We met in the hotel in St Honoré, oh - quite a long time ago. A year and a half.”
    “Miss Marple? So it is, of course. Fancy seeing you!”
    “How very nice to see you. I am lunching with some friends near here but I have to pass back through Alton later. Will you be at home this afternoon? I should so like to have a nice chat with you. It's so nice to see an old friend.”
    “Yes, of course. Any time after 3 o'clock.”
    The arrangement was ratified.
    “Old Jane Marple,” said Esther Anderson, smiling to herself. “Fancy her turning up. I thought she'd died a long time ago.”
    Miss Marple rang the bell of Winslow Lodge at 3:30 precisely. Esther opened the door to her and brought her in.
    Miss Marple sat down in the chair indicated to her, fluttering a little in the restless manner that she adopted when slightly flustered. Or at any rate, when she was seeming to be slightly flustered. In this case it was misleading, since things had happened exactly as she had hoped they would happen.
    “It's so nice to see you,” she said to Esther. “So very nice to see you again. You know, I do think things are so very odd in this world. You hope you'll meet people again and you're quite sure you will. And then time passes and suddenly it's all such a surprise.”
    “And then,” said Esther, "one says it's a small world, doesn't one?'
    “Yes, indeed, and I think there is something in that. I mean it does seem a very large world and the West Indies are such a very long way away from England. Well, I mean, of course I might have met you anywhere. In London or at Harrods. On a railway station or in a bus. There are so many possibilities.”
    “Yes, there are a lot of possibilities,” said Esther. “I certainly shouldn't have expected to meet you just here because this isn't really quite your part of the world, is it?”
    “No. No, it isn't. Not that you're really