The Beadle writes:
As Wooffie hadn’t appeared by breakfast time, Anticant sent me to look for him and I set off towards the town. Soon I heard a rollicking rendition of “we won’t go home till morning”, and Wooffie lurched into view, his fur cap perched rakishly over his ears and – to my great relief – Dame Barbara’s pearls still entwined around his neck.
“Hi, Beadle old thing”, he growled, “Behold the champion waltzer of them all!” He had, he claimed, carried off the first and second prize for the St Bernard and the Valeta, and ended up dancing the hokey-cokey around the town square. “It was the pearls that did it”, he said – “casting them before the swinish multitude worked better than a glass slipper. So did several glasses of champers [hic].”
He was obviously a bit above himself, so I grasped him firmly by the collar and led him back to the Burrow, where a relieved Dame Barbara greeted him warmly. He wagged his bushy tail and settled down to an overdue sleep.
Meanwhile, Judge Anticant and Miss Marple were mulling over the case of Diana’s missing marbles. Judge Anticant maintained that she never had any, or that if she did they were fakes supplied from the Phoney Pharaoh’s emporium. An offer had been received from the Naked Kayaker to assist the enquiry, and it was agreed that he should be invited to proceed with Miss Marple to Harrod’s, in order to sample the quality of the merchandise. He would, however, have to abide by the strict dress code imposed by the proprietor in order to gain entry.
Dame Barbara’s suggestion that he should disguise himself as the Fuggin’ Dook of Edinborow did not meet with Miss Marple’s approbation; she thought that someone less conspicuous, such as Santa Claus, would be preferable. As Zola has in the past been known to do stand-in Christmas runs for the jovial gift-bearer, it was decided that this would be both appropriate and economical, and a telegram was accordingly despatched to
A reply is awaited.