AGATHA CHRISTIE. MISTERIO EN EL CARIBE 4-5. MARPLE. AUDIOLIBRO VOZ HUMANA ESPAÑOL SUBTÍTULOS.

Hello again my dear friends to the reading of Mystery in the Caribbean by Agatha Christie, if it is the first time you are reading and you want to follow it from the beginning, you can find it on the home page of the channel, in the lists tab as you are seeing here in the image, if you do it from there as I said you can do it from the beginning and every time a video ends it will jump to the next chapter of the book without you having to touch anything and well, We are going to continue reading, we are going through chapter 4, we already have our death here, I wonder if it will be the only one or there will be more and well for those who have not realized, you also have in the image the list of characters that appear in the book so that you always know who is who and nothing, we go back to chapter 4, Miss Marple demands medical attention. Dr. Graham was a very attentive man, approximately sixty-five years old. He had practiced his profession for a long time in the West Indies, but had almost completely retired from active life. He greeted Miss Marple affectionately, asking her what was the matter. Fortunately, at Miss Marple's age there was always some ailment that could be the topic of conversation with the inevitable exaggerations on the part of the patient. She vacillated between "his shoulder" and "his knee," finally deciding on the latter. Dr. Graham refrained from telling him with his characteristic courtesy that, at his age, certain discomforts were absolutely logical and could be expected. He then prescribed some pills, belonging to the group of remedies that form the basis of medical prescriptions. As he knew from experience that many elderly people were often very lonely at the beginning of their stay at St. Honoré, he stayed a while, in order to entertain Miss Marple with his talk. "Here is an extremely pleasant man," thought Miss Marple. The truth is that now I feel ashamed for having told him so many lies. Well, what else could I do? Miss Marple had always been temperamentally inclined toward the truth. But on certain occasions, when she considered it her duty to do so, she lied with astonishing ease, knowing how to make the greatest absurdities plausible. She cleared her throat, let out a dry cough, and said, somewhat nervously, "There is something, Dr. Graham, that I would like to ask you." I don't like to mention it, but I just don't see a way to... Of course, it's unimportant. However , for me it does. I hope you understand me and do not find my question annoying or unforgivable in any way. To this "entry" Dr. Graham responded kindly: "Something is troubling you, Miss Marple." Let me help you. —He is related to Commander Palgrave. Very sad about his death, huh? I was shocked this morning when I learned of his death. "Yes," replied the doctor. It all happened suddenly, I imagine. You see, yesterday he seemed very well. Dr. Graham was extremely polite and respectful when he said the above words, but they were somewhat conventional. It was clear that for him the death of Major Palgrave was not an event worthy of special mention. Miss Marple wondered if she wasn't making a mountain out of something insignificant, ordinary, everyday . Did you tend to exaggerate things over the years? Perhaps he had reached the age when one could no longer rely entirely on one 's own judgment. Of course she hadn't formulated any conclusions...yet. Well, I was already into it. I had no choice but to keep going. "Yesterday afternoon we were both sitting here, chatting," he said. He told me things about his life, very varied and interesting. I had been to different parts of the world, some remote and strange places. "Indeed, in fact," replied Dr. Graham, who had had to endure on several occasions the endless stories of the Commander Palgrave. —Then he told me about his family, rather about his childhood, and I told him details about my nephews and nieces, to which he listened with loving attention. I showed him a photograph that I had of one of the boys. A wonderful boy... Well, the truth is that he stopped being a boy a long time ago. Now, I will always see him as such. Do you understand me? "Perfectly," said Dr. Graham, wondering how many more minutes it would take for the lady to get straight to the point. — I handed him the photograph and when I was examining it, suddenly , that couple, that very nice couple who spends their time looking for flowers and butterflies, Colonel Hillingdon and his wife, and... — Oh, yes! You're going to tell me about the Hillingdons and the Dysons, right? - That is. The four of them appeared next to us unexpectedly. They came talking and laughing. They sat down and ordered something to drink. We all started chatting. It seemed like a very pleasant meeting to me. But apparently, without realizing it, Commander Palgrave must have kept my snapshot in his wallet. At that time, distracted, I did not give importance to the incident, but later, as I remembered the scene better, I said to myself: "I have to remember to ask the commander for Denzil's photo." I thought about doing it last night, during the dance, while the orchestra was playing. However, I was sorry to interrupt him. He and his companions formed a very happy group, they gave the impression of having a really good time. I thought, "I'll talk to him in the morning." But this morning... Miss Marple paused. The long speech had left her breathless. "There, there," said Dr. Graham. I understand you perfectly, Miss Marple. What you want is your photograph back, isn't that it? Miss Marple nodded, an anxious expression appearing on her face. - Yes, doctor. I have no other photograph than that of Denzil. I do not have the corresponding negative either. I would really hate to lose that snapshot. It's just that... Of course, you can't know... poor Denzil died five or six years ago. I have never loved any nephew as much as him. The photo in question, for this reason, has invaluable value to me. I asked myself... I was hoping... Well, it's impertinent of me to ask this, but... Couldn't you do anything to get the snapshot back to me? I thought of you right away. Who else could I contact in this regard? I do not know who will be in charge of collecting the objects of the unfortunate Commander Palgrave. And, not knowing me, whoever carries out such a mission might consider me a busybody or a bore. I would have to give him countless explanations and he wouldn't understand me, perhaps. No. It is not easy to understand what that photo represents for me. We all do not have the same sensitivity. She stood looking at him, expectant. —Of course, of course. "I do understand it, don't doubt it," replied Dr. Graham. His is a very natural feeling. I have to tell you that I have to meet with the local authorities soon . The funeral will be tomorrow. Someone from the administration will have to examine the commander's papers, collect his belongings, before contacting his closest relatives. Could you describe that photograph you told me about? "In it you can see the main façade of a house," declared Miss Marple. A person... Denzil, I mean. A person leaves through that door. I will tell you that that snapshot was taken by one of my nephews, extraordinarily fond of flowers. I was photographing some hibiscuses, I think, or some beautiful lilies... I don't know. Now I'm not sure about that. Denzil appeared in front of him just as he pressed the shutter. The photo is not very good. It's a little out of focus... However, I liked it and always used to carry it with me. "This seems clear enough to me," said Dr. Graham. No I think there will be difficulties in returning what is yours, Miss Marple. Dr. Graham stood up. Miss Marple looked at him smiling. —You are very kind, Dr. Graham, really kind. You understood me, right? "Of course, Miss Marple," replied the doctor, shaking her hand affectionately. Don't worry... You don't have to. Exercise that knee every day slowly, without overdoing it. I will send you the tablets I told you about. Take three a day. CHAPTER FIVE MISS MARPLE MAKES A DECISION The funeral services for Major Palgrave's soul took place the next day. Miss Marple attended them in the company of Miss Prescott. Her brother officiated... Then life continued its course, as usual. Commander Palgrave's death was a simple incident, unpleasant, yes, but of no great importance. There was a splendid sun in the sky , which had to be enjoyed. And then there was the sea, and the pleasures of relationship life. An ungrateful visitor had interrupted those delicious activities, those derived from the natural, privileged setting, in which the hotel guests moved , momentarily overshadowing them. But the dark cloud had already disappeared. After all, no one had become closely related to the missing person. Everyone had seen in him the classic club chatterbox, a bit annoying, constantly following one another, always recounting personal experiences that none of the listeners had ever had the desire to hear. There had been nothing in his life that could have led him to take up residence in one place or another. His wife had died many years ago. Commander Palgrave had been one of those loners who always lived among people and never got bored. In his own way, he had enjoyed his own. And now he no longer belonged to the world of the living. He had just been buried... His death would be a shame to no one. One more week and there would be no one to remember him, no one to greet his memory with a passing evocation. Probably the only person who was going to miss him would be Miss Marple. It wasn't that she had taken a liking to him during the short period of her relationship with the man. Palgrave simply made her think of a kind of life she knew. As the human being ages, the habit of listening develops more and more. It is heard, possibly, without great interest... But the thing is that between her and the commander there had been that discreet exchange of impressions, typical of two elderly people . Miss Marple, of course, was not going to mourn the death of her friend. Now, I would miss him... On the afternoon of the day of the funeral, when Miss Marple was sitting in her favorite place, doing needlepoint, Dr. Graham approached her. Leaving aside his simple instruments, he hastened to return the newcomer's greeting . Then the doctor, frowning, said: "I believe I am the bearer of news that is not very pleasant for you, Miss Marple." – What do you say to me? About me...? — Yes. We have not been able to find your beloved photograph. I imagine this will deeply upset her. — Yes, of course, it's natural. But hey, not that it matters much either. That cardboard had no value other than purely sentimental value. Wasn't it in Major Palgrave's pocketbook? — No. Not even among his other things. We found a few letters and various objects, as well as several old photos. Of course, none of them were the one you described. - What a pity! exclaimed Miss Marple. Good. What are we going to do to him! Thank you very much, Dr. Graham. You must have gone to some trouble because of me. —None of that, Miss Marple. I have put the greatest interest in pleasing her because I know, from experience, that certain minutiae, family memories and other similar and intimate things, acquire a great value for one over the years, as we get older. The old lady was coping well with that setback, the doctor thought. He assumed that Commander Palgrave had seen the photo in his wallet, when he took out some paper from it. Not even remembering how it had come into his possession, he would break it into a thousand pieces, imagining it to be completely unimportant. Not so from Miss Marple's point of view. However, she seemed resigned regarding the incident. Inwardly, however, Miss Marple was far from being so cheerful and resigned. I wanted to have a few minutes as soon as possible to reflect on all that. Now, he intended to make the most of the opportunity that was in store for him. He engaged Dr. Graham in animated conversation, with an anxiety that he did not even attempt to conceal. Her interlocutor, an extraordinarily courteous gentleman, attributed Miss Marple's verbosity to her situation, to the loneliness in which she lived. He then strove to make her forget the loss of the photograph, referring , in easy and pleasant words, to the life of St. Honoré and the various and interesting places that she might like to visit. After a while, however, inexplicably, the death of Commander Palgrave once again became the dominant theme of their dialogue. — It is very sad to see a person die in this way, far from their loved ones, from their most beloved family members. But from that man's words I deduced, now that I remember, that he had no close relatives. I think he lived alone for a while, in London. "He traveled a lot, I think," said Dr. Graham. Especially during winters. I couldn't handle the typical bad English weather. The truth is that nothing can be blamed on him in this regard. "No," agreed Miss Marple. Now I also wonder: wouldn't he suffer from bronchi or rheumatism? In that case it would be more than justified to prefer to spend winters in any sunny foreign country, don't you think? — Oh no! I don't think there was anything like that... - He suffered from high blood pressure... It's called blood hypertension, right? This disease is very common today. You hear about her all the time. —Did he tell you anything about it? — Oh no! He never mentioned her. It was someone else who told me about it. — Oh, yes? "I suppose," Miss Marple went on, "that in such circumstances it is not surprising that death should occur." "Well, that's relative," Dr. Graham explained. Currently there are certain methods to control blood pressure. —His death seemed too sudden to me, but I imagine it wouldn't surprise you. —I couldn't be surprised by a man of his age. But I didn't expect it. I was frankly convinced that Major Palgrave was in excellent health. It's not that I attended to him professionally, no. I never took his blood pressure nor did he consult me ​​as a doctor. —Does the patient with hypertension present external symptoms that can be observed by anyone, or rather, by a doctor? - inquired Miss Marple with an air of absolute innocence. "You can't see anything about the patient with the naked eye," replied Dr. Graham, smiling. Certain tests must be carried out . - Oh, I know! Are you thinking of that rubber band that is wrapped around the patient's arm, to be then inflated... I deeply dislike it. My primary care doctor notified me the last time he saw me that I had normal blood pressure for my age. — I'm very glad that's the case. "Of course, it must be admitted that Major Palgrave was excessively fond of that so-called ' settler's' punch," Miss Marple declared thoughtfully. — Yes. And that drink is not the most appropriate medicine for hypertensives. Alcohol, always a poison, is even more so for them. —There are those who take certain tablets... That's what I've heard affirm, at least. — Yes. There are several kinds on the market. A jar full of them was found in Palgrave's room . It is a medicine called "Serenite." "Science produces some amazing remedies these days," said Miss Marple, "giving doctors wonderful weapons, doesn't it?" "We always have to face a great competitor, Mother Nature," Graham replied. There are old, simple remedies, the so-called home remedies, that people resort to from time to time. —Like applying spider webs to cuts to prevent bleeding, right? As children we used to use them. "A pretty sensible move," said Dr. Graham. —Cough was cured many years ago with a poultice of linseed oil on the chest or a rub of camphorated oil. "I see you're familiar with home medicine, Miss Marple," said Dr. Graham, laughing, as he stood up. "How's that knee doing?" Has it bothered you lately? - No no. I'm very good, much better. — I don't know if this is the work of Mother Nature or the effect of my pills. I am sorry, Miss Marple, that I have not been more helpful to you. —You have been very kind, doctor. In fact, I feel ashamed for having entertained you... Did you say before that you had not found any photographs in Palgrave's wallet? — Oh...! Yes. I saw one in which the commander appeared as a young man, riding a horse of the kind used by polo players. There was another of a dead tiger... Palgrave had one foot resting on his head. We found several such snapshots, memories, probably, of his youthful years... I looked at them all very carefully, however, and I can assure you that none of them were that of your nephew... - I believe you, I believe you... Not that I assumed otherwise. I was just interested in knowing... We all have certain tendencies to preserve those small, intimate, absolutely personal things that we see as treasures over the years. "The treasures of the past," the doctor pointed out, smiling. After saying goodbye to her, the man left. Miss Marple looked thoughtfully at the neighboring palm trees and the bluish sheet of the sea. For a few minutes he remained motionless. He had a fact now. I had to think about it and what it meant. The snapshot that the commander had taken out of his wallet, hastily putting it back in, was not there after his death. The photo in question was not something like many others, which he could have suddenly decided to get rid of. He had placed it in the wallet and in the wallet it should have been found, already a corpse. Money can be stolen... On the other hand, no one thinks of stealing a photograph. Unless , of course, someone had compelling reasons to do so. Miss Marple's face was grave. She was forced to adopt a line of conduct. What did he intend? Why not let Commander Palgrave rest peacefully in his grave? Wouldn't it be best to ignore everything? He murmured a quote: “Duncan is dead. After having been a victim of the tormenting fever of Life, he sleeps in peace. Commander Palgrave could no longer be harmed . He had gone to a place where danger could not reach him. Was it a coincidence that he had died that night? Wasn't it? Doctors certified the death of elderly people very easily. Especially if you find in your rooms a bottle full of those tablets that people who suffer from hypertension periodically ingest. Now, if someone had stolen a photograph from Palgrave's wallet, one would think that the perpetrator of the theft could also have left the bottle of tablets in the convenient place. She herself did not remember ever seeing the commander ingesting tablets or pills. I had never heard him talk about his hypertension either. When referring to his state of health, Palgrave invariably admitted: "Man! I'm not as young as I used to be...' Incidentally, I had seen him breathing hard. I would suffer a little from asthma, but nothing more. And yet , someone had emphasized that the commander suffered from high blood pressure... Who? Molly? Miss Prescott? Miss Marple couldn't remember that detail. Sigh. Then she mentally scolded herself. «Well, Jane... What do you suggest? What are you thinking about? Do you intend to take advantage of everything? But do you really have any basis to move forward? Step by step, slowly, he reconstructed as closely as possible his dialogue with the commander on the subject of crime and criminals. -Oh! exclaimed Miss Marple. Still, really... What can be done about it? She didn't know it, but she would try to find the answer to that question. Well, that's it for today's reading, for today's two chapters, what could Miss Marple do, I don't know, tell the police for example, what this man had told her about that possible crime and so on. That photograph has disappeared... Well, what are the police for? I also found it funny, by the way, how they have been manipulating the doctor to extract information from him, well so that he would give him the photograph and then also so that he would give him information about what could have happened. This man died and the hypertension and such, right? Well I hope you are liking it, I have earned your like and subscription and we will see you in the next one, chapter six, which is titled, In the early hours of the morning. Thank you very much for everything, a hug and see you later.