Initial commit of ebook 78220 filesHEADmain

9 files changed, 21519 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/78220-0.txt b/78220-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65506a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,10622 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78220 ***
+
+
+
+
+                        Murder at the Vicarage
+
+                          By Agatha Christie
+
+              _Murder at the Vicarage_ by Agatha Christie
+                    © 1930 Agatha Christie Limited,
+                a Chorion company. All rights reserved.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             _To Rosalind_
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 1
+
+
+It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have
+fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage.
+The conversation, though in the main irrelevant to the matter in hand,
+yet contained one or two suggestive incidents which influenced later
+developments.
+
+I had just finished carving some boiled beef (remarkably tough by the
+way), and on resuming my seat I remarked, in a spirit most unbecoming
+to my cloth, that anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing
+the world at large a service.
+
+My young nephew, Dennis, said instantly:
+
+"That'll be remembered against you when the old boy is found bathed in
+blood. Mary will give evidence, won't you, Mary? And describe how you
+brandished the carving knife in a vindictive manner."
+
+Mary, who is in service at the Vicarage as a stepping stone to better
+things and higher wages, merely said, in a loud businesslike voice,
+"Greens," and thrust a cracked dish at him in a truculent manner.
+
+My wife said in a sympathetic voice, "Has he been _very_ trying?"
+
+I did not reply at once, for Mary, setting the greens on the table with
+a bang, proceeded to thrust a dish of singularly moist and unpleasant
+dumplings under my nose. I said, "No, thank you," and she deposited the
+dish with a clatter on the table and left the room.
+
+"It is a pity that I am such a shocking housekeeper," said my wife with
+a tinge of genuine regret in her voice.
+
+I was inclined to agree with her. My wife's name is Griselda--a highly
+suitable name for a parson's wife. But there the suitability ends. She
+is not in the least meek.
+
+I have always been of the opinion that a clergyman should be unmarried.
+Why I should have urged Griselda to marry me at the end of twenty-four
+hours' acquaintance is a mystery to me. Marriage, I have always held,
+is a serious affair, to be entered into only after long deliberation
+and forethought, and suitability of tastes and inclinations is the most
+important consideration.
+
+Griselda is nearly twenty years younger than myself. She is most
+distractingly pretty and quite incapable of taking anything seriously.
+She is incompetent in every way and extremely trying to live with. She
+treats the Parish as a kind of huge joke arranged for her amusement.
+I have endeavoured to form her mind and failed. I am more than ever
+convinced that celibacy is desirable for the clergy. I have frequently
+hinted as much to Griselda, but she has only laughed.
+
+"My dear," I said. "If you would only exercise a little care--"
+
+"I do sometimes," said Griselda. "But on the whole I think things go
+worse when I'm trying. I'm evidently _not_ a housekeeper by nature. I
+find it better to leave things to Mary and just make up my mind to be
+uncomfortable and have nasty things to eat."
+
+"And what about your husband, my dear?" I said reproachfully and,
+proceeding to follow the example of the devil in quoting Scripture for
+his own ends, I added, "'She looketh to the ways of her household.'"
+
+"Think how lucky you are not to be torn to pieces by lions," said
+Griselda quickly interrupting. "Or burnt at the stake. Bad food and
+lots of dust and dead wasps is really nothing to make a fuss about.
+Tell me more about Colonel Protheroe. At any rate the early Christians
+were lucky enough not to have churchwardens."
+
+"Pompous old brute," said Dennis. "No wonder his first wife ran away
+from him."
+
+"I don't see what else she could do," said my wife.
+
+"Griselda," I said sharply. "I will not have you speaking in that way."
+
+"Darling," said my wife affectionately. "Tell me about him. What was
+the trouble? Was it Mr. Hawes' becking and nodding and crossing himself
+every other minute?"
+
+Hawes is our new curate. He has been with us just over three weeks.
+He has High Church views and fasts on Fridays. Colonel Protheroe is a
+great opposer of ritual in any form.
+
+"Not this time. He did touch on it in passing. No, the whole trouble
+arose out of Mrs. Price Ridley's wretched pound note."
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley is a devout member of my congregation. Attending
+early service on the anniversary of her son's death, she put a
+pound note into the offertory bag. Later, reading the amount of the
+collection posted up, she was pained to observe that one ten-shilling
+note was the highest item mentioned.
+
+She complained to me about it, and I pointed out, very reasonably, that
+she must have made a mistake.
+
+"We're none of us so young as we were," I said, trying to turn it off
+tactfully. "And we must pay the penalty of advancing years."
+
+Strangely enough my words only seemed to incense her further. She said
+that things had a very odd look and that she was surprised I didn't
+think so also. And she flounced away and, I gather, took her troubles
+to Colonel Protheroe. Protheroe is the kind of man who enjoys making
+a fuss on every conceivable occasion. He made a fuss. It is a pity he
+made it on a Wednesday. I teach in the Church Day School on Wednesday
+mornings, a proceeding that causes me acute nervousness and leaves me
+unsettled for the rest of the day.
+
+"Well, I suppose he must have some fun," said my wife, with the air of
+trying to sum up the position impartially. "Nobody flutters round him
+and calls him the dear Vicar, and embroiders awful slippers for him,
+and gives him bedsocks for Christmas. Both his wife and his daughter
+are fed to the teeth with him. I suppose it makes him happy to feel
+important somewhere."
+
+"He needn't be offensive about it," I said with some heat. "I don't
+think he quite realized the implications of what he was saying. He
+wants to go over all the Church accounts--in case of defalcations--that
+was the word he used. Defalcations! Does he suspect me of embezzling
+the Church funds?"
+
+"Nobody would suspect you of anything, darling," said Griselda.
+"You're so transparently above suspicion that really it would be a
+marvellous opportunity. I wish you'd embezzle the S.P.G. funds. I hate
+missionaries--I always have."
+
+I would have reproved her for that sentiment, but Mary entered at that
+moment with a partially cooked rice pudding. I made a mild protest, but
+Griselda said that the Japanese always ate half cooked rice and had
+marvellous brains in consequence.
+
+"I daresay," she said, "that if you had a rice pudding like this every
+day till Sunday, you'd preach the most marvellous sermon."
+
+"Heaven forbid," I said with a shudder.
+
+"Protheroe's coming over tomorrow evening and we're going over the
+accounts together," I went on. "I must finish preparing my talk for the
+C.E.M.S. today. Looking up a reference I became so engrossed in Canon
+Shirley's 'Reality' that I haven't got on as well as I should. What are
+you doing this afternoon, Griselda?"
+
+"My duty," said Griselda. "My duty as the Vicaress. Tea and scandal at
+four-thirty."
+
+"Who is coming?"
+
+Griselda ticked them off on her fingers with a glow of virtue on her
+face.
+
+"Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Wetherby, Miss Hartnell and that terrible Miss
+Marple."
+
+"I rather like Miss Marple," I said. "She has, at least, a sense of
+humour."
+
+"She's the worst cat in the village," said Griselda. "And she always
+knows every single thing that happens--and draws the worst inferences
+from it."
+
+Griselda, as I have said, is much younger than I am. At my time of
+life, one knows that the worst is usually true.
+
+"Well, don't expect _me_ in for tea, Griselda," said Dennis.
+
+"Beast!" said Griselda.
+
+"Yes, but look here, the Protheroes really _did_ ask me for tennis
+today."
+
+"Beast!" said Griselda again.
+
+Dennis beat a prudent retreat, and Griselda and I went together into my
+study.
+
+"I wonder what we shall have for tea," said Griselda seating herself
+on my writing table. "Dr. Stone and Miss Cram, I suppose, and perhaps
+Mrs. Lestrange. By the way, I called on her yesterday, but she was out.
+Yes, I'm sure we shall have Mrs. Lestrange for tea. It's so mysterious,
+isn't it, her arriving like this and taking a house down here, and
+hardly ever going outside it? Makes one think of detective stories. You
+know--'_Who was she, the mysterious woman with the pale beautiful face?
+What was her past history? Nobody knew. There was something faintly
+sinister about her._' I believe Dr. Haydock knows something about her."
+
+"You read too many detective stories, Griselda," I observed mildly.
+
+"What about you?" she retorted. "I was looking everywhere for 'The
+Stain on the Stairs' the other day when you were in here writing a
+sermon. And at last I came in to ask you if you'd seen it anywhere, and
+what did I find?"
+
+I had the grace to blush.
+
+"I picked it up at random. A chance sentence caught my eye and--"
+
+"I know those chance sentences," said Griselda. She quoted
+impressively, "'_And then a very curious thing happened--Griselda rose,
+crossed the room and kissed her elderly husband affectionately._'"
+
+She suited the action to the word.
+
+"Is that a very curious thing?" I inquired.
+
+"Of course it is," said Griselda. "Do you realize, Len, that I might
+have married a Cabinet Minister, a Baronet, a rich Company Promoter,
+three subalterns and a ne'er-do-well with attractive manners, and that
+instead I chose you? Didn't it astonish you very much?"
+
+"At the time it did," I replied. "I have often wondered why you did
+it."
+
+Griselda sighed.
+
+"It made me feel so powerful," she murmured. "The others thought me
+simply wonderful, and of course it would have been very nice for _them_
+to have _me_. But I'm everything you most dislike and disapprove of,
+and yet you couldn't withstand me! My vanity couldn't hold out against
+that. It's so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody
+than to be a feather in his cap. I make you frightfully uncomfortable
+and stir you up the wrong way the whole time, and yet you adore me
+madly. You do adore me madly, don't you?"
+
+"Naturally, I am very fond of you, my dear."
+
+"Oh! Len, you adore me. Do you remember that day when I stayed up in
+town and sent you a wire you never got because the postmistress's
+sister was having twins and she forgot to send it round? The state you
+got into, and you telephoned Scotland Yard and made the most frightful
+fuss."
+
+There are things one hates being reminded of. I had really been
+strangely foolish on the occasion in question. I said:
+
+"If you don't mind, dear, I want to get on with the C.E.M.S."
+
+Griselda gave a sigh of intense irritation, ruffled my hair up on end,
+smoothed it down again, said:
+
+"You don't deserve me. You really don't. I'll have an affair with the
+artist. I will--really and truly. And then think of the scandal in the
+parish."
+
+"There's a good deal already," I said mildly.
+
+Griselda laughed, blew me a kiss, and departed through the window.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 2
+
+
+Griselda is a very irritating woman. On leaving the luncheon table, I
+had felt myself to be in a good mood for preparing a really forceful
+address for the Church of England Men's Society. Now I felt restless
+and disturbed.
+
+Just when I was really settling down to it, Lettice Protheroe drifted
+in.
+
+I use the word "drifted" advisedly. I have read novels in which young
+people are described as bursting with energy--_joie de vivre_, the
+magnificent vitality of youth. Personally, all the young people I come
+across have the air of amiable wraiths.
+
+Lettice was particularly wraith-like this afternoon. She is a pretty
+girl, very tall and fair and completely vague. She drifted through the
+French window, absently pulled off the yellow beret she was wearing,
+and murmured vaguely with a kind of far-away surprise.
+
+"Oh! It's you."
+
+There is a path from Old Hall through the woods which comes out by our
+garden gate, so that most people coming from there come in at that
+gate and up to the study window instead of going a long way round by
+the road and coming to the front door. I was not surprised at Lettice
+coming in this way, but I did a little resent her attitude.
+
+If you come to a Vicarage, you ought to be prepared to find a Vicar.
+
+She came in and collapsed in a crumpled heap in one of my big arm
+chairs. She plucked aimlessly at her hair, staring at the ceiling.
+
+"Is Dennis anywhere about?"
+
+"I haven't seen him since lunch. I understood he was going to play
+tennis at your place."
+
+"Oh!" said Lettice. "I hope he isn't. He won't find anybody there."
+
+"He said you'd asked him."
+
+"I believe I did. Only that was Friday. And today's Tuesday."
+
+"It's Wednesday," I said.
+
+"Oh! how dreadful," said Lettice. "That means that I've forgotten to go
+to lunch with some people for the third time."
+
+Fortunately it didn't seem to worry her much.
+
+"Is Griselda anywhere about?"
+
+"I expect you'll find her in the studio in the garden--sitting to
+Lawrence Redding."
+
+"There's been quite a shemozzle about him," said Lettice. "With Father,
+you know. Father's dreadful."
+
+"What was the she--whatever it was, about?" I inquired.
+
+"About his painting me. Father found out about it. Why shouldn't I be
+painted in my bathing dress? If I go on a beach in it, why shouldn't I
+be painted in it?"
+
+Lettice paused and then went on.
+
+"It's really absurd--Father forbidding a young man the house. Of
+course, Lawrence and I simply shriek about it. I shall come and be done
+here in your studio."
+
+"No, my dear," I said. "Not if your father forbids it."
+
+"Oh! dear," said Lettice sighing. "How tiresome everyone is. I feel
+shattered. Definitely. If only I had some money I'd go away, but
+without it I can't. If only Father would be decent and die, I should be
+all right."
+
+"You must not say things like that, Lettice."
+
+"Well, if he doesn't want me to want him to die, he shouldn't be so
+horrible over money. I don't wonder Mother left him. Do you know for
+years I believed she was dead. What sort of a young man did she run
+away with? Was he nice?"
+
+"It was before your father came to live here."
+
+"I wonder what's become of her. I expect Anne will have an affair with
+someone soon. Anne hates me--she's quite decent to me, but she hates
+me. She's getting old and she doesn't like it. That's the age you break
+out, you know."
+
+I wondered if Lettice was going to spend the entire afternoon in my
+study.
+
+"You haven't seen my gramophone records, have you?" she asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"How tiresome. I know I've left them somewhere. And I've lost the dog.
+And my wristwatch is somewhere, only it doesn't much matter because it
+won't go. Oh! dear, I am so sleepy. I can't think why, because I didn't
+get up till eleven. But life's very shattering, don't you think? Oh!
+dear, I must go. I'm going to see Dr. Stone's barrow at three o'clock."
+
+I glanced at the clock and remarked that it was now five and twenty to
+four.
+
+"Oh! is it? How dreadful if they've waited or if they've gone without
+me. I suppose I'd better go down and do something about it."
+
+She got up and drifted out again murmuring over her shoulder.
+
+"You'll tell Dennis, won't you?"
+
+I said "Yes" mechanically, only realizing too late that I had no
+idea what it was I was to tell Dennis. But I reflected that in all
+probability it did not matter. I fell to cogitating on the subject of
+Dr. Stone, a well known archæologist who had recently come to stay
+at the Blue Boar, while he superintended the excavation of a barrow
+situated on Colonel Protheroe's property. There had already been
+several disputes between him and the Colonel. I was amused at his
+appointment to take Lettice to see the operations.
+
+It occurred to me that Lettice Protheroe was something of a minx.
+I wondered how she would get on with the archæologist's secretary,
+Miss Cram. Miss Cram is a healthy young woman of twenty-five, noisy
+in manner, with a high colour, fine animal spirits and a mouth that
+always seems to have more than its full share of teeth.
+
+Village opinion is divided as to whether she is no better than she
+should be, or else a young woman of iron virtue who purposes to become
+Mrs. Stone at an early opportunity. She is in every way a great
+contrast to Lettice.
+
+I could imagine that the state of things at Old Hall might not be too
+happy. Colonel Protheroe had married again some five years previously.
+The second Mrs. Protheroe was a remarkably handsome woman in a rather
+unusual style. I had always guessed that the relations between her and
+her stepdaughter were not too happy.
+
+I had one more interruption. This time, it was my curate, Hawes. He
+wanted to know the details of my interview with Protheroe. I told him
+that the Colonel had deplored his "Romish tendencies," but that the
+real purpose of his visit had been on quite another matter. At the same
+time, I entered a protest of my own, and told him plainly that he must
+conform to my ruling. On the whole, he took my remarks very well.
+
+I felt rather remorseful, when he had gone, for not liking him better.
+These irrational likes and dislikes that one takes to people are, I am
+sure, very unchristian.
+
+With a sigh, I realized that the hands of the clock on my writing table
+pointed to a quarter to five, a sign that it was really half past four,
+and I made my way to the drawing room.
+
+Four of my parishioners were assembled there with teacups. Griselda sat
+behind the tea table trying to look natural in her environment, but
+only succeeding in looking more out of place than usual.
+
+I shook hands all round and sat down between Miss Marple and Miss
+Wetherby.
+
+Miss Marple is a white-haired old lady with a gentle appealing
+manner--Miss Wetherby is a mixture of vinegar and gush. Of the two Miss
+Marple is much the more dangerous.
+
+"We were just talking," said Griselda in a honey-sweet voice, "about
+Dr. Stone and Miss Cram."
+
+A ribald rhyme concocted by Dennis shot through my head.
+
+"Miss Cram doesn't give a damn."
+
+I had a sudden yearning to say it out loud and observe the effect, but
+fortunately I refrained.
+
+Miss Wetherby said tersely:
+
+"No nice girl would do it," and shut her thin lips disapprovingly.
+
+"Do what?" I inquired.
+
+"Be a secretary to an unmarried man," said Miss Wetherby in a horrified
+tone.
+
+"Oh! my dear," said Miss Marple. "_I_ think married ones are the worst.
+Remember poor Mollie Carter."
+
+"Married men living apart from their wives are, of course, notorious,"
+said Miss Wetherby.
+
+"And even some of the ones living with their wives," murmured Miss
+Marple. "I remember--"
+
+I interrupted these unsavoury reminiscences.
+
+"But surely," I said, "in these days a girl can take a post in just the
+same way as a man does."
+
+"To come away to the country? And stay at the same hotel?" said Mrs.
+Price Ridley in a severe voice.
+
+Miss Wetherby murmured to Miss Marple in a low voice:
+
+"And all the bedrooms on the same floor...."
+
+They exchanged glances.
+
+Miss Hartnell, who is weather-beaten and jolly and much dreaded by the
+poor, observed in a loud, hearty voice:
+
+"The poor man will be caught before he knows where he is. He's as
+innocent as a babe unborn, you can see that."
+
+Curious what turns of phrase we employ. None of the ladies present
+would have dreamed of alluding to an actual baby till it was safely in
+the cradle, visible to all.
+
+"Disgusting, I call it," continued Miss Hartnell with her usual
+tactlessness. "The man must be at least twenty-five years older than
+she is."
+
+Three female voices rose at once making disconnected remarks about the
+Choir Boys' Outing, the regrettable incident at the last Mothers'
+Meeting, and the draughts in the Church. Miss Marple twinkled at
+Griselda.
+
+"Don't you think," said my wife, "that Miss Cram may just like having
+an interesting job, and that she considers Dr. Stone just as an
+employer?"
+
+There was a silence. Evidently none of the four ladies agreed. Miss
+Marple broke the silence by patting Griselda on the arm.
+
+"My dear," she said, "you are very young. The young have such innocent
+minds."
+
+Griselda said indignantly that she hadn't got at all an innocent mind.
+
+"Naturally," said Miss Marple, unheeding of the protest, "you think the
+best of everyone."
+
+"Do you really think she wants to marry that bald-headed, dull man?"
+
+"I understand he is quite well off," said Miss Marple. "Rather a
+violent temper, I'm afraid. He had quite a serious quarrel with Colonel
+Protheroe the other day."
+
+Everyone leaned forward interestedly.
+
+"Colonel Protheroe accused him of being an ignoramus."
+
+"How like Colonel Protheroe, and how absurd," said Mrs. Price Ridley.
+
+"Very like Colonel Protheroe, but I don't know about it being absurd,"
+said Miss Marple. "You remember the woman who came down here and
+said she represented Welfare, and after taking subscriptions she was
+never heard of again, and proved to have nothing whatever to do with
+Welfare. One is so inclined to be trusting and take people at their own
+valuation."
+
+I should never have dreamed of describing Miss Marple as trusting.
+
+"There's been some fuss about that young artist, Mr. Redding, hasn't
+there?" asked Miss Wetherby.
+
+Miss Marple nodded.
+
+"Colonel Protheroe turned him out of the house. It appears he was
+painting Lettice in her bathing dress."
+
+Suitable sensation!
+
+"I always _thought_ there was something between them," said Mrs. Price
+Ridley. "That young fellow is always mouching off up there. Pity the
+girl hasn't got a mother. A stepmother is never the same thing."
+
+"I daresay Mrs. Protheroe does her best," said Miss Hartnell.
+
+"Girls are so sly," deplored Mrs. Price Ridley.
+
+"Quite a romance, isn't it?" said the softer hearted Miss Wetherby.
+"He's a very good-looking young fellow."
+
+"But loose," said Miss Hartnell. "Bound to be. An artist! Paris!
+Models! The Altogether!"
+
+"Painting her in her bathing dress," said Mrs. Price Ridley.
+
+"Not quite nice."
+
+"He's painting me too," said Griselda.
+
+"But not in your bathing dress, dear," said Miss Marple.
+
+"It might be worse," said Griselda solemnly.
+
+"Naughty girl," said Miss Hartnell, taking the joke broadmindedly.
+Everybody else looked slightly shocked.
+
+"Did dear Lettice tell you of the trouble?" asked Miss Marple of me.
+
+"Tell me?"
+
+"Yes. I saw her pass through the garden and go round to the study
+window."
+
+Miss Marple always sees everything. Gardening is as good as a smoke
+screen, and the habit of observing birds through powerful glasses can
+always be turned to account.
+
+"She mentioned it, yes," I admitted.
+
+"Mr. Hawes looked worried," said Miss Marple. "I hope he hasn't been
+working too hard."
+
+"Oh!" cried Miss Wetherby excitedly. "I quite forgot. I knew I had some
+news for you. I saw Dr. Haydock coming out of Mrs. Lestrange's cottage."
+
+Everyone looked at each other.
+
+"Perhaps she's ill," suggested Mrs. Price Ridley.
+
+"It must have been very sudden, if so," said Miss Hartnell. "For I saw
+her walking round her garden at three o'clock this afternoon, and she
+seemed in perfect health."
+
+"She and Dr. Haydock must be old acquaintances," said Mrs. Price
+Ridley, "He's been very quiet about it."
+
+"It's curious," said Miss Wetherby, "that he's never _mentioned_ it."
+
+"As a matter of fact--" said Griselda in a low, mysterious voice, and
+stopped.
+
+Everyone leaned forward excitedly.
+
+"I happen to _know_," said Griselda impressively. "Her husband was a
+missionary. Terrible story. _He was eaten_, you know. Actually eaten.
+And she was forced to become the Chief's head wife. Dr. Haydock was
+with an expedition and rescued her."
+
+For a moment excitement was rife, then Miss Marple said reproachfully,
+but with a smile:
+
+"Naughty girl!"
+
+She tapped Griselda reprovingly on the arm.
+
+"Very unwise thing to do, my dear. If you make up these things,
+people are quite likely to believe them. And sometimes that leads to
+complications."
+
+A distinct frost had come over the assembly. Two of the ladies rose to
+take their departure.
+
+"I wonder if there _is_ anything between young Lawrence Redding and
+Lettice Protheroe," said Miss Wetherby. "It certainly looks like it.
+What do you think, Miss Marple?"
+
+Miss Marple seemed thoughtful.
+
+"I shouldn't have said so myself. Not _Lettice_. _Quite_ another
+person, I should have said."
+
+"But Colonel Protheroe must have thought--"
+
+"He has always struck me as rather a stupid man," said Miss Marple.
+"The kind of man who gets the wrong idea into his head and is obstinate
+about it. Do you remember Joe Bucknell who used to keep the Blue Boar?
+Such a to-do about his daughter carrying on with young Bailey. And all
+the time it was that minx of a wife of his."
+
+She was looking full at Griselda as she spoke, and I suddenly felt a
+wild surge of anger.
+
+"Don't you think, Miss Marple," I said, "that we're all inclined to let
+our tongues run away with us too much? Charity thinketh no evil, you
+know. Inestimable harm may be done by the foolish wagging of tongues in
+ill-natured gossip."
+
+"Dear Vicar," said Miss Marple, "you are so unworldly. I'm afraid that,
+observing human nature for as long as I have done, one gets not to
+expect very much from it. I daresay idle tittle-tattle is very wrong
+and unkind, but it is so often true, isn't it?"
+
+That last Parthian shot went home.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 3
+
+
+"Nasty old cat," said Griselda as soon as the door was closed. She made
+a face in the direction of the departing visitors and then looked at me
+and laughed.
+
+"Len, do you really suspect me of having an affair with Lawrence
+Redding?"
+
+"My dear, of course not."
+
+"But you thought Miss Marple was hinting at it. And you rose to my
+defence simply beautifully. Like--like an angry tiger."
+
+A momentary uneasiness assailed me. A clergyman of the Church of
+England ought never to put himself in the position of being described
+as an angry tiger. However, I trusted that Griselda exaggerated.
+
+"I felt the occasion could not pass without a protest," I said. "But
+Griselda, I wish you would be a little more careful in what you say."
+
+"Do you mean the cannibal story?" she asked. "Or the suggestion that
+Lawrence was painting me in the nude? If they only knew that he was
+painting me in a thick cloak with a very high fur collar--the sort of
+thing that you could go quite purely to see the Pope in--not a bit of
+sinful flesh showing anywhere! In fact, it's all marvellously pure.
+Lawrence never even attempts to make love to me--I can't think why."
+
+"Surely, knowing that you're a married woman--"
+
+"Don't pretend to come out of the Ark, Len. You know very well that an
+attractive woman with an elderly husband is a kind of gift from heaven
+to a young man. There must be some other reason--It's not that I'm
+unattractive--I'm not."
+
+"Surely you don't want him to make love to you?"
+
+"N-n-o," said Griselda with more hesitation than I thought becoming.
+
+"If he's in love with Lettice Protheroe--"
+
+"Miss Marple didn't seem to think he was."
+
+"Miss Marple may be mistaken."
+
+"She never is. That kind of old cat is always right." She paused a
+minute and then said, with a quick, sidelong glance at me, "You do
+believe me, don't you? I mean, that there's nothing between Lawrence
+and me."
+
+"My dear Griselda," I said surprised. "Of course."
+
+My wife came across and kissed me.
+
+"I wish you weren't so terribly easy to deceive, Len. You'd believe me
+whatever I said."
+
+"I should hope so. But, my dear, I do beg of you to guard your tongue
+and be careful what you say. These women are singularly deficient in
+humour, remember, and take everything seriously."
+
+"What they need," said Griselda, "is a little immorality in their
+lives. Then they wouldn't be so busy looking for it in other people's."
+
+On this she left the room, and, glancing at my watch, I hurried out to
+pay some visits that ought to have been made earlier in the day.
+
+The Wednesday evening service was sparsely attended as usual, but when
+I came out through the Church, after disrobing in the Vestry, it was
+empty save for a woman who stood staring up at one of our windows. We
+have some rather fine old stained glass, and indeed the Church itself
+is well worth looking at. She turned at my footsteps, and I saw that it
+was Mrs. Lestrange.
+
+We both hesitated a moment and then I said:
+
+"I hope you like our little church."
+
+"I've been admiring the screen," she said.
+
+Her voice was pleasant, low yet very distinct with a clearcut
+enunciation. She added:
+
+"I'm so sorry to have missed your wife yesterday."
+
+We talked a few minutes longer about the church. She was evidently a
+cultured woman who knew something of church history and architecture.
+We left the building together and walked down the road, since one way
+to the Vicarage led past her house. As we arrived at the gate, she said
+pleasantly:
+
+"Come in, won't you? And tell me what you think of what I have done."
+
+I accepted the invitation. Little Gates had formerly belonged to
+an Anglo-Indian Colonel, and I could not help feeling relieved by
+the disappearance of the brass tables and the Burmese idols. It was
+furnished now very simply but in exquisite taste. There was a sense of
+harmony and rest about it.
+
+Yet I wondered more and more what had brought such a woman as Mrs.
+Lestrange to St. Mary Mead. She was so very clearly a woman of the
+world that it seemed a strange taste to bury herself in a country
+village.
+
+In the clear light of her drawing room I had an opportunity of
+observing her closely for the first time.
+
+She was a very tall woman. Her hair was gold with a tinge of red in it.
+Her eyebrows and eyelashes were dark, whether by art or by nature I
+could not decide. If she was, as I thought, made up, it was done very
+artistically. There was something Sphinxlike about her face when it was
+in repose, and she had the most curious eyes I have ever seen--they
+were almost golden in shade.
+
+Her clothes were perfect, and she had all the ease of manner of a
+well-bred woman, and yet there was something about her that was
+incongruous and baffling. You felt that she was a mystery. The word
+Griselda had used occurred to me--_sinister_. Absurd, of course, and
+yet--was it so absurd? The thought sprang unbidden into my mind:
+
+"This woman would stick at nothing."
+
+Our talk was on most normal lines--pictures, books, old churches. Yet
+somehow I got very strongly the impression that there was something
+else--something of quite a different nature that Mrs. Lestrange wanted
+to say to me.
+
+I caught her eyes on me once or twice, looking at me with a curious
+hesitancy, as though she were unable to make up her mind. She kept the
+talk, I noticed, strictly to impersonal subjects. She made no mention
+of a husband, or of friends or relations.
+
+But all the time there was that strange, urgent appeal in her glance.
+It seemed to say, "Shall I tell you? I want to. Can't you help me?"
+
+Yet in the end it died away--or perhaps it had all been my fancy. I had
+the feeling that I was being dismissed. I rose and took my leave. As I
+went out of the room, I glanced back and saw her staring after me with
+a puzzled, doubtful expression. On an impulse I came back.
+
+"If there is anything I can do--"
+
+She said doubtfully, "It's very kind of you--"
+
+We were both silent. Then she said:
+
+"I wish I knew. It's difficult. No, I don't think anyone can help me.
+But thank you for offering to do so."
+
+That seemed final, so I went. But as I did so, I wondered. We are not
+used to mysteries in St. Mary Mead.
+
+So much is this the case that as I emerged from the gate I was pounced
+upon. Miss Hartnell is very good at pouncing in a heavy and cumbrous
+way.
+
+"_I_ saw you!" she exclaimed with ponderous humour. "And I _was_ so
+excited. Now you can tell us all about it."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"The mysterious lady! Is she a widow or has she a husband somewhere?"
+
+"I really couldn't say. She didn't tell me."
+
+"How very peculiar. One would think she would be certain to mention
+something casually. It almost looks, doesn't it, as though she had a
+reason for not speaking?"
+
+"I really don't see that."
+
+"Ah! but as dear Miss Marple says, you are so unworldly, dear Vicar.
+Tell me, has she known Dr. Haydock long?"
+
+"She didn't mention him, so I don't know."
+
+"Really? But what did you talk about then?"
+
+"Pictures, music, books," I said truthfully.
+
+Miss Hartnell, whose only topics of conversation are the purely
+personal, looked suspicious and unbelieving. Taking advantage of a
+momentary hesitation on her part as to how to proceed next, I bade her
+good night and walked rapidly away.
+
+I called in at a house farther down the village and returned to the
+Vicarage by the garden gate, passing, as I did so, the danger point
+of Miss Marple's garden. However, I did not see how it was humanly
+possible for the news of my visit to Mrs. Lestrange to have yet reached
+her ears, so I felt reasonably safe.
+
+As I latched the gate, it occurred to me that I would just step down
+to the shed in the garden which young Lawrence Redding was using as a
+studio, and see for myself how Griselda's portrait was progressing.
+
+I append a rough sketch here which will be useful in the light of after
+happenings, only sketching in such details as are necessary.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+I had no idea there was anyone in the studio. There had been no voices
+from within to warn me, and I suppose that my own footsteps made no
+noise upon the grass.
+
+I opened the door and then stopped awkwardly on the threshold. For
+there were two people in the studio, and the man's arms were round the
+woman and he was kissing her passionately.
+
+The two people were the artist, Lawrence Redding, and Mrs. Protheroe.
+
+I backed out precipitately and beat a retreat to my study. There
+I sat down in a chair, took out my pipe, and thought things over.
+The discovery had come as a great shock to me. Especially since my
+conversation with Lettice that afternoon, I had felt fairly certain
+that there was some kind of understanding growing up between her and
+the young man. Moreover, I was convinced that she herself thought so.
+I felt positive that she had no idea of the artist's feelings for her
+stepmother.
+
+A nasty tangle. I paid a grudging tribute to Miss Marple. She had not
+been deceived, but had evidently suspected the true state of things
+with a fair amount of accuracy. I had entirely misread her meaning
+glance at Griselda.
+
+I had never dreamed of considering Mrs. Protheroe in the matter.
+There has always been rather a suggestion of Cæsar's wife about Mrs.
+Protheroe--a quiet, self-contained woman whom one would not suspect of
+any great depths of feeling.
+
+I had got to this point in my meditations when a tap on my study
+window roused me. I got up and went to it. Mrs. Protheroe was standing
+outside. I opened the window and she came in, not waiting for an
+invitation on my part. She crossed the room in a breathless sort of way
+and dropped down on the sofa.
+
+I had the feeling that I had never really seen her before. The quiet,
+self-contained woman that I knew had vanished. In her place was a
+quick-breathing, desperate creature. For the first time I realized that
+Anne Protheroe was beautiful.
+
+She was a brown-haired woman with a pale face and very deep-set
+grey eyes. She was flushed now and her breast heaved. It was as
+though a statue had suddenly come to life. I blinked my eyes at the
+transformation.
+
+"I thought it best to come," she said. "You--you saw just now?"
+
+I bowed my head.
+
+She said very quietly, "We love each other."
+
+And even in the middle of her evident distress and agitation she could
+not keep a little smile from her lips. The smile of a woman who sees
+something very beautiful and wonderful.
+
+I still said nothing, and she added presently:
+
+"I suppose to you that seems very wrong?"
+
+"Can you expect me to say anything else, Mrs. Protheroe?"
+
+"No--no; I suppose not."
+
+I went on, trying to make my voice as gentle as possible:
+
+"You are a married woman--"
+
+She interrupted me.
+
+"Oh! I know--I know. Do you think I haven't gone over all that
+again and again? I'm not a bad woman really--I'm not. And things
+aren't--aren't--as you might think they are."
+
+I said gravely, "I'm glad of that."
+
+She asked rather timorously:
+
+"Are you going to tell my husband?"
+
+I said rather drily:
+
+"There seems to be a general idea that a clergyman is incapable of
+behaving like a gentleman. That is not true."
+
+She threw me a grateful glance.
+
+"I'm so unhappy. Oh! I'm so dreadfully unhappy. I can't go on. I simply
+can't go on. And I don't know what to do." Her voice rose with a
+slightly hysterical note in it. "You don't know what my life is like.
+I've been miserable with Lucius from the beginning. No woman could
+be happy with him. I wish he were dead. It's awful, but I do. I'm
+desperate. I tell you, I'm desperate."
+
+She started and looked over at the window.
+
+"What was that? I thought I heard someone? Perhaps it's Lawrence."
+
+I went over to the window, which I had not closed, as I had thought. I
+stepped out and looked down the garden, but there was no one in sight.
+Yet I was almost convinced that I, too, had heard someone. Or perhaps
+it was her certainty that had convinced me.
+
+When I re-entered the room she was leaning forward, drooping her head
+down. She looked the picture of despair. She said again:
+
+"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."
+
+I came and sat down beside her. I said the things I thought it was
+my duty to say, and tried to say them with the necessary conviction,
+uneasily conscious all the time that that same morning I had given
+voice to the sentiment that a world without Colonel Protheroe in it
+would be improved for the better.
+
+Above all, I begged her to do nothing rash. To leave her home and her
+husband was a very serious step.
+
+I don't suppose I convinced her. I have lived long enough in the world
+to know that arguing with anyone in love is next door to useless, but I
+do think my words brought to her some measure of comfort.
+
+When she rose to go, she thanked me, and promised to think over what I
+had said.
+
+Nevertheless, when she had gone, I felt very uneasy. I felt that
+hitherto I had misjudged Anne Protheroe's character. She impressed
+me now as a very desperate woman, the kind of woman who would stick
+at nothing, once her emotions were aroused. And she was desperately,
+wildly, madly in love with Lawrence Redding, a man several years
+younger than herself.
+
+I didn't like it.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 4
+
+
+I had entirely forgotten that we had asked Lawrence Redding to dinner
+that night. When Griselda burst in and scolded me, pointing out that it
+lacked two minutes to dinner time, I was quite taken aback.
+
+"I hope everything will be all right," Griselda called up the stairs
+after me. "I've thought over what you said at lunch, and I've really
+thought of some quite good things to eat."
+
+I may say, in passing, that our evening meal amply bore out Griselda's
+assertion that things went much worse when she tried than when she
+didn't. The menu was ambitious in conception, and Mary seemed to have
+taken a perverse pleasure in seeing how best she could alternate
+undercooking and overcooking. Some oysters which Griselda had ordered,
+and which would seem to be beyond the reach of incompetence, we were
+unfortunately not able to sample, as we had nothing in the house to
+open them with--an omission which was discovered only when the moment
+for eating them arrived.
+
+I had rather doubted whether Lawrence Redding would put in an
+appearance. He might very easily have sent an excuse. However, he
+arrived punctually enough, and the four of us went in to dinner.
+
+Lawrence Redding has an undeniably attractive personality. He is, I
+suppose, about thirty years of age. He has dark hair, but his eyes are
+of a brilliant, almost startling blue. He is the kind of young man who
+does everything well. He is good at games, an excellent shot, a good
+amateur, and can tell a first-rate story. He is capable of making any
+party go. He has, I think, Irish blood in his veins. He is not, at all,
+one's idea of the typical artist. Yet I believe he is a clever painter
+in the modern style. I know very little of painting myself.
+
+It was only natural that on this particular evening he should appear
+a shade _distrait_. On the whole, he carried off things very well.
+I don't think Griselda or Dennis noticed anything wrong. Probably I
+should not have noticed anything myself if I had not known beforehand.
+
+Griselda and Dennis were particularly gay--full of jokes about Dr.
+Stone and Miss Cram--the Local Scandal! It suddenly came home to me
+with something of a pang that Dennis is nearer Griselda's age than I
+am. He calls me Uncle Len but her Griselda. It gave me, somehow, a
+lonely feeling.
+
+I must, I think, have been upset by Mrs. Protheroe. I'm not usually
+given to such unprofitable reflections.
+
+Griselda and Dennis went rather far now and then, but I hadn't the
+heart to check them. I have always thought it a pity that the mere
+presence of a clergyman should have a damping effect.
+
+Lawrence took a gay part in the conversation. Nevertheless I was
+aware of his eyes continually straying to where I sat, and I was not
+surprised when after dinner he manœuvred to get me into the study.
+
+As soon as we were alone, his manner changed. His face became grave and
+anxious. He looked almost haggard.
+
+"You've surprised our secret, sir," he said. "What are you going to do
+about it?"
+
+I could speak far more plainly to Redding than I could to Mrs.
+Protheroe, and I did so. He took it very well.
+
+"Of course," he said when I had finished. "You're bound to say all
+this. You're a parson. I don't mean that in any way offensively. As a
+matter of fact, I think you're probably right. But this isn't the usual
+sort of thing between Anne and me."
+
+I told him that people had been saying that particular phrase since the
+dawn of time, and a queer little smile creased his lips.
+
+"You mean everyone thinks their case is unique? Perhaps so. But one
+thing you must believe."
+
+He assured me that so far--"there was nothing wrong in it." Anne, he
+said, was one of the truest and most loyal women that ever lived. What
+was going to happen he didn't know.
+
+"If this were only a book," he said gloomily, "the old man would
+die--and a good riddance to everybody."
+
+I reproved him.
+
+"Oh! I didn't mean I was going to stick him in the back with a knife,
+though I'd offer my best thanks to anyone else who did so. There's not
+a soul in the world who's got a good word to say for him. I rather
+wonder the first Mrs. Protheroe didn't do him in. I met her once, years
+ago, and she looked quite capable of it. One of those calm, dangerous
+women. He goes blustering along, stirring up trouble everywhere, mean
+as the devil, and with a particularly nasty temper. You don't know what
+Anne has had to stand from him. If I had a penny in the world I'd take
+her away without any more ado."
+
+Then I spoke to him very earnestly. I begged him to leave St. Mary
+Mead. By remaining there, he could only bring greater unhappiness
+on Anne Protheroe than was already her lot. People would talk; the
+matter would get to Colonel Protheroe's ears--and things would be made
+infinitely worse for her.
+
+Lawrence protested.
+
+"Nobody knows a thing about it except you, padre."
+
+"My dear young man, you underestimate the detective instinct of village
+life. In St. Mary Mead everyone knows your most intimate affairs. There
+is no detective in England equal to a spinster lady of uncertain age
+with plenty of time on her hands."
+
+He said easily that that was all right. Everyone thought it was Lettice.
+
+"Has it occurred to you," I asked, "that possibly Lettice might think
+so herself?"
+
+He seemed quite surprised by the idea. Lettice, he said, didn't care a
+hang about him. He was sure of that.
+
+"She's a queer sort of girl," he said. "Always seems in a kind of
+dream, and yet underneath I believe she's really rather practical. I
+believe all that vague stuff is a pose. Lettice knows jolly well what
+she's doing. And there's a funny vindictive streak in her. The queer
+thing is that she hates Anne. Simply loathes her. And yet Anne's been a
+perfect angel to her always."
+
+I did not, of course, take his word for this last. To infatuated young
+men, their inamorata always behaves like an angel. Still, to the best
+of my observation, Anne had always behaved to her stepdaughter with
+kindness and fairness. I had been surprised myself that afternoon at
+the bitterness of Lettice's tone.
+
+We had to leave the conversation there, because Griselda and Dennis
+burst in upon us and said I was not to make Lawrence behave like an old
+fogy.
+
+"Oh! dear," said Griselda, throwing herself into an arm chair. "How I
+would like a thrill of some kind. A murder--or even a burglary."
+
+"I don't suppose there's anyone much worth burgling," said Lawrence,
+trying to enter into her mood. "Unless we stole Miss Hartnell's false
+teeth."
+
+"They do click horribly," said Griselda. "But you're wrong about there
+being no one worth while. There's some marvellous old silver at Old
+Hall. Trencher salts and a Charles II tazza--all kinds of things like
+that. Worth thousands of pounds, I believe."
+
+"The old man would probably shoot you with an army revolver," said
+Dennis. "Just the sort of thing he'd enjoy doing."
+
+"Oh! we'd get in first and hold him up," said Griselda. "Who's got a
+revolver?"
+
+"I've got a Mauser pistol," said Lawrence.
+
+"Have you? How exciting! Why do you have it?"
+
+"Souvenir of the War," said Lawrence briefly.
+
+"Old Protheroe was showing the silver to Stone today," volunteered
+Dennis. "Old Stone was pretending to be no end interested in it."
+
+"I thought they'd quarrelled about the barrow," said Griselda.
+
+"Oh! they've made that up," said Dennis. "I can't think what people
+want to grub about in barrows for, anyway."
+
+"That man Stone puzzles me," said Lawrence. "I think he must be very
+absent-minded. You'd swear sometimes he knew nothing about his own
+subject."
+
+"That's love," said Dennis. "Sweet Gladys Cram, you are no sham. Your
+teeth are white and fill me with delight. Come, fly with me, my bride
+to be. And at the Blue Boar, on the bedroom floor--"
+
+"That's enough, Dennis," I said.
+
+"Well," said Lawrence Redding, "I must be off. Thank you very much,
+Mrs. Clement, for a very pleasant evening."
+
+Griselda and Dennis saw him off. Dennis returned to the study alone.
+Something had happened to ruffle the boy. He wandered about the room
+aimlessly, frowning and kicking the furniture.
+
+Our furniture is so shabby already that it can hardly be damaged
+further, but I felt impelled to utter a mild protest.
+
+"Sorry," said Dennis.
+
+He was silent for a moment and then burst out:
+
+"What an absolutely rotten thing gossip is!"
+
+I was a little surprised. Dennis does not usually take that attitude.
+
+"What's the matter?" I asked.
+
+"I don't know whether I ought to tell you."
+
+I was more and more surprised.
+
+"It's such an absolutely rotten thing," Dennis said again. "Going
+round and saying things. Not even saying them. Hinting them. No, I'm
+damned--sorry--if I'll tell you! It's absolutely rotten."
+
+I looked at him curiously but I did not press him further. I wondered
+very much, though. It is very unlike Dennis to take anything to heart.
+
+Griselda came in at that moment.
+
+"Miss Wetherby's just rung up," she said. "Mrs. Lestrange went out at
+a quarter past eight and hasn't come in yet. Nobody knows where she's
+gone."
+
+"Why should they know?"
+
+"But it isn't to Dr. Haydock's. Miss Wetherby does know that, because
+she telephoned to Miss Hartnell who lives next door to him and who
+would have been sure to see her."
+
+"It is a mystery to me," I said, "how anyone ever gets any nourishment
+in this place. They must eat their meals standing up by the window so
+as to be sure of not missing anything."
+
+"And that's not all," said Griselda bubbling with pleasure. "They've
+found out about the Blue Boar. Dr. Stone and Miss Cram have got rooms
+next door to each other BUT--" she waved an impressive forefinger--"_no
+communicating door_!"
+
+"That," I said, "must be very disappointing to everybody."
+
+At which Griselda laughed.
+
+Thursday started badly. Two of the ladies of my parish elected to
+quarrel about the church decorations. I was called in to adjudicate
+between two middle-aged ladies, each of whom was literally trembling
+with rage. If it had not been so painful, it would have been quite an
+interesting physical phenomenon.
+
+Then I had to reprove two of our choir boys for persistent sweet
+sucking during the hours of divine service, and I had an uneasy feeling
+that I was not doing the job as whole-heartedly as I should have done.
+
+Then our organist, who is distinctly "touchy," had taken offence and
+had to be smoothed down.
+
+And four of my poorer parishioners declared open rebellion against Miss
+Hartnell who came to me bursting with rage about it.
+
+I was just going home when I met Colonel Protheroe. He was in high good
+humour, having sentenced three poachers in his capacity as magistrate.
+
+"Firmness," he shouted in his stentorian voice. He is slightly deaf and
+raises his voice accordingly as deaf people often do. "That's what's
+needed nowadays--firmness! Make an example. That rogue Archer came
+out yesterday and is vowing vengeance against me, I hear. Impudent
+scoundrel. Threatened men live long, as the saying goes. I'll show him
+what his vengeance is worth, next time I catch him taking my pheasants.
+Lax! We're too lax nowadays! I believe in showing a man up for what he
+is. You're always being asked to consider a man's wife and children.
+Damned nonsense. Fiddlesticks. Why should a man escape the consequences
+of his acts just because he whines about his wife and children? It's
+all the same to me--no matter what a man is--doctor, lawyer, clergyman,
+poacher, drunken wastrel--if you catch him on the wrong side of the
+law, let the law punish him. You agree with me, I'm sure."
+
+"You forget," I said. "My calling obliges me to respect one quality
+above all others--the quality of mercy."
+
+"Well, I'm a just man. No one can deny that."
+
+I did not speak and he said sharply:
+
+"Why don't you answer? A penny for your thoughts, man."
+
+I hesitated, then I decided to speak.
+
+"I was thinking," I said, "that, when my times comes, I should be sorry
+if the only plea I had to offer was that of justice. Because it might
+mean that only justice would be meted out to me."
+
+"Pah! What we need is a little militant Christianity. I've always done
+my duty, I hope. Well, no more of that. I'll be along this evening as
+I said. We'll make it a quarter past six instead of six, if you don't
+mind. I've got to see a man in the village."
+
+"That will suit me quite well."
+
+He flourished his stick and strode away. Turning, I ran into Hawes. I
+thought he looked distinctly ill this morning. I had meant to upbraid
+him mildly for various matters, in his province, which had been muddled
+or shelved, but seeing his white, strained face, I felt that the man
+was ill.
+
+I said as much and he denied it, but not very vehemently. Finally he
+confessed that he was not feeling too fit, and appeared ready to accept
+my advice of going home to bed.
+
+I had a hurried lunch and went out to do some visits. Griselda had gone
+to London by the cheap Thursday train.
+
+I came in about a quarter to four with the intention of sketching the
+outline of my Sunday sermon, but Mary told me that Mr. Redding was
+waiting for me in the study.
+
+I found him pacing up and down with a worried face. He looked white and
+haggard.
+
+He turned abruptly at my entrance.
+
+"Look here, sir. I've been thinking over what you said yesterday. I've
+had a sleepless night thinking about it. You're right. I've got to cut
+and run."
+
+"My dear boy," I said.
+
+"You were right in what you said about Anne. I'll only bring trouble
+on her by staying here. She's--she's too good for anything else. I see
+I've got to go. I've made things hard enough for her as it is, Heaven
+help me."
+
+"I think you have made the only decision possible," I said. "I know
+that it is a hard one, but believe me, it will be for the best in the
+end."
+
+I could see that he thought that that was the kind of thing easily said
+by someone who didn't know what he was talking about.
+
+"You'll look after Anne? She needs a friend."
+
+"You can rest assured that I will do everything in my power."
+
+"Thank you, sir." He wrung my hand. "You're a good sort, padre. I shall
+see her to say good-bye this evening, and I shall probably pack up and
+go tomorrow. No good prolonging the agony. Thanks for letting me have
+the shed to paint in. I'm sorry not to have finished Mrs. Clement's
+portrait."
+
+"Don't worry about that, my dear boy. Good-bye, and God bless you."
+
+When he had gone I tried to settle down to my sermon, but with very
+poor success. I kept thinking of Lawrence and Anne Protheroe.
+
+I had rather an unpalatable cup of tea, cold and black, and at half
+past five the telephone rang. I was informed that Mr. Abbott of Lower
+Farm was dying and would I please come at once.
+
+I rang up Old Hall immediately, for Lower Farm was nearly two miles
+away and I could not possibly get back by six-fifteen. I have never
+succeeded in learning to ride a bicycle.
+
+I was told, however, that Colonel Protheroe had just started out in the
+car, so I departed, leaving word with Mary that I had been called away
+but would try to be back by six-thirty or soon after.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 5
+
+
+It was nearer seven than half past six when I approached the Vicarage
+gate on my return. Before I reached it, it swung open and Lawrence
+Redding came out. He stopped dead on seeing me and I was immediately
+struck by his appearance. He looked like a man who was on the point of
+going mad. His eyes stared in a peculiar manner; he was deathly white,
+and he was shaking and twitching all over.
+
+I wondered for a moment whether he could have been drinking, but
+repudiated the idea immediately.
+
+"Hullo," I said, "have you been to see me again? Sorry I was out. Come
+back now. I've got to see Protheroe about some accounts--but I daresay
+we shan't be long."
+
+"Protheroe," he said. He began to laugh. "Protheroe? You're going to
+see Protheroe? Oh! you'll see Protheroe all right. Oh! my God--yes."
+
+I stared. Instinctively I stretched out a hand towards him. He drew
+sharply aside.
+
+"No," he almost cried out. "I've got to get away--to think. I've got to
+think. I must think."
+
+He broke into a run and vanished rapidly down the road towards the
+village, leaving me staring after him, my first idea of drunkenness
+recurring.
+
+Finally I shook my head, and went on to the Vicarage. The front door is
+always left open, but nevertheless I rang the bell. Mary came wiping
+her hands on her apron.
+
+"So you're back at last," she observed.
+
+"Is Colonel Protheroe here?" I asked.
+
+"In the study. Been here since a quarter past six."
+
+"And Mr. Redding's been here?"
+
+"Come a few minutes ago. Asked for you. I told him you'd be back any
+minute and that Colonel Protheroe was waiting in the study, and he said
+he'd wait too and went there. He's there now."
+
+"No, he isn't," I said. "I've just met him going down the road."
+
+"Well, I didn't hear him leave. He can't have stayed more than a couple
+of minutes. The mistress isn't back from town yet."
+
+I nodded absent-mindedly. Mary beat a retreat to the kitchen quarters
+and I went down the passage and opened the study door.
+
+After the dusk of the passage, the evening sunshine that was pouring
+into the room made my eyes blink. I took a step or two across the floor
+and then stopped dead.
+
+For a moment I could hardly take in the meaning of the scene before me.
+
+Colonel Protheroe was lying sprawled across my writing table in a
+horrible, unnatural position. There was a pool of some dark fluid on
+the desk by his head, and it was slowly dripping onto the floor with a
+horrible drip, drip, drip.
+
+I pulled myself together and went across to him. His skin was cold
+to the touch. The hand that I raised fell back lifeless. The man was
+dead--shot through the head.
+
+I went to the door and called Mary. When she came I ordered her to
+run as fast as she could and fetch Dr. Haydock, who lives just at the
+corner of the road. I told her there had been an accident.
+
+Then I went back and closed the door to await the doctor's coming.
+
+Fortunately, Mary found him at home. Haydock is a good fellow, a big,
+fine, strapping fellow, with an honest, rugged face.
+
+His eyebrows went up when I pointed silently across the room. But like
+a true doctor he showed no signs of emotion. He bent over the dead
+man, examining him rapidly. Then he straightened himself and looked
+across at me.
+
+"Well?" I asked.
+
+"He's dead right enough--been dead half an hour, I should say."
+
+"Suicide?"
+
+"Out of the question, man. Look at the position of the wound. Besides,
+if he shot himself, where's the weapon?"
+
+True enough, there was no sign of any such thing.
+
+"We'd better not mess around with anything," said Haydock. "I'd better
+ring up the police."
+
+He picked up the receiver and spoke into it. He gave the facts as
+curtly as possible and then replaced the telephone and came across to
+where I was sitting.
+
+"This is a rotten business. How did you come to find him?"
+
+I explained.
+
+"A rotten business," he repeated.
+
+"Is--is it murder?" I asked rather faintly.
+
+"Looks like it. Mean to say, what else can it be? Extraordinary
+business. Wonder who had a down on the poor old fellow. Of course
+I know he wasn't popular, but one isn't often murdered for that
+reason--worse luck."
+
+"There's one rather curious thing," I said. "I was telephoned for this
+afternoon to go to a dying parishioner. When I got there everyone was
+very surprised to see me. The sick man was very much better than he had
+been for some days, and his wife flatly denied telephoning for me at
+all."
+
+Haydock drew his brows together.
+
+"That's suggestive--very. You were being got out of the way. Where's
+your wife?"
+
+"Gone up to London for the day."
+
+"And the maid?"
+
+"In the kitchen--right at the other side of the house."
+
+"Where she wouldn't be likely to hear anything that went on in here.
+It's a nasty business. Who knew that Protheroe was coming here this
+evening?"
+
+"He referred to the fact this morning in the village street, at the top
+of his voice as usual."
+
+"Meaning that the whole village knew it! Which they always do in any
+case. Know of anyone who had a grudge against him?"
+
+The thought of Lawrence Redding's white face and staring eyes came to
+my mind. I was spared answering by a noise of shuffling feet in the
+passage outside.
+
+"The police," said my friend, and rose to his feet.
+
+Our police force was represented by Constable Hurst, looking very
+important but slightly worried.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted us. "The Inspector will be
+here any minute. In the meantime I'll follow out his instructions. I
+understand Colonel Protheroe's been found shot--in the Vicarage."
+
+He paused and directed a look of cold suspicion at me which I tried to
+meet with a suitable bearing of conscious innocence.
+
+He moved over to the writing table and announced:
+
+"Nothing to be touched till the Inspector comes."
+
+For the convenience of my readers, I append a sketch plan of the room.
+
+[Illustation]
+
+He got out his notebook, moistened his pencil and looked expectantly at
+both of us.
+
+I repeated my story of discovering the body. When he had got it all
+down, which took some time, he turned to the doctor.
+
+"In your opinion, Dr. Haydock, what was the cause of death?"
+
+"Shot through the head at close quarters."
+
+"And the weapon?"
+
+"I can't say with certainty until we get the bullet out. But I should
+say in all probability the bullet was fired from a pistol of small
+calibre--say a Mauser .25."
+
+I started, remembering our conversation of the night before, and
+Lawrence Redding's admission. The police constable brought his cold
+fishlike eye round on me.
+
+"Did you speak, sir?"
+
+I shook my head. Whatever suspicions I might have, they were no more
+than suspicions, and as such to be kept to myself.
+
+"When, in your opinion, did the tragedy occur?"
+
+The doctor hesitated for a minute before he answered. Then he said:
+
+"The man has been dead just over half an hour, I should say. Certainly
+not longer."
+
+Hurst turned to me.
+
+"Did the girl hear anything?"
+
+"As far as I know she heard nothing," I said. "But you had better ask
+her."
+
+But at this moment Inspector Slack arrived, having come by car from
+Much Benham, two miles away.
+
+All that I can say of Inspector Slack is that never did a man more
+determinedly strive to contradict his name. He was a dark man, restless
+and energetic in manner, with black eyes that snapped ceaselessly. His
+manner was rude and overbearing in the extreme.
+
+He acknowledged our greetings with a curt nod, seized his
+subordinate's notebook, perused it, exchanged a few curt words with him
+in an undertone, then strode over to the body.
+
+"Everything's been messed up and pulled about, I suppose," he said.
+
+"I've touched nothing," said Haydock.
+
+"No more have I," I said.
+
+The Inspector busied himself for some time peering at the things on the
+table and examining the pool of blood.
+
+"Ah!" he said in a tone of triumph. "Here's what we want. Clock
+overturned when he fell forward. That'll give us the time of the crime.
+Twenty-two minutes past six. What time did you say death occurred,
+doctor?"
+
+"I said about half an hour, but--"
+
+The Inspector consulted his watch.
+
+"Five minutes past seven. I got word about ten minutes ago, at five
+minutes to seven. Discovery of the body was at about a quarter to
+seven. I understand you were fetched immediately. Say you examined it
+at ten minutes to--Why, that brings it to the identical second almost!"
+
+"I don't guarantee the time absolutely," said Haydock. "That is an
+approximate estimate."
+
+"Good enough, sir, good enough."
+
+I had been trying to get a word in.
+
+"About that clock--"
+
+"If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll ask you any questions I want to know.
+Time's short. What I want is absolute silence."
+
+"Yes, but I'd like to tell you--"
+
+"Absolute silence," said the Inspector, glaring at me ferociously.
+
+I gave him what he asked for.
+
+He was still peering about the writing table.
+
+"What was he sitting here for," he grunted. "Did he want to write a
+note? Hullo--what's this?"
+
+He held up a piece of note paper triumphantly. So pleased was he with
+his find that he permitted us to come to his side and examine it with
+him.
+
+It was a piece of Vicarage note paper, and it was headed at the top
+6.20.
+
+DEAR CLEMENT (it began)
+
+_Sorry I cannot wait any longer, but I must_.... Here the writing
+tailed off in a scrawl.
+
+"Plain as a pike staff," said Inspector Slack triumphantly. "He sits
+down here to write this; an enemy comes softly in through the window
+and shoots him as he writes. What more do you want?"
+
+"I'd just like to say--" I began.
+
+"Out of the way, if you please, sir. I want to see if there are
+footprints."
+
+He went down on his hands and knees, moving towards the open window.
+
+"I think you ought to know--" I said obstinately.
+
+The Inspector rose. He spoke without heat, but firmly:
+
+"We'll go into all that later. I'd be obliged if you gentlemen will
+clear out of here. Right out, if you please."
+
+We permitted ourselves to be shooed out like children.
+
+Hours seemed to have passed--yet it was only a quarter past seven.
+
+"Well," said Haydock. "That's that. When that conceited ass wants me,
+you can send him over to the surgery. So long."
+
+"The mistress is back," said Mary, making a brief appearance from the
+kitchen. Her eyes were round and agog with excitement. "Come in about
+five minutes ago."
+
+I found Griselda in the drawing room. She looked frightened, but
+excited.
+
+I told her everything and she listened attentively.
+
+"The letter is headed 6.20," I ended. "And the clock fell over and has
+stopped at 6.22."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "But that clock, didn't you tell him that it was
+always kept a quarter of an hour fast?"
+
+"No," I said. "I didn't. He wouldn't let me. I tried my best."
+
+Griselda was frowning in a puzzled manner.
+
+"But, Len," she said. "That makes the whole thing perfectly
+extraordinary. Because when that clock said twenty past six it was
+really five minutes past, and at five minutes past I don't suppose
+Colonel Protheroe had even arrived at the house."
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 6
+
+
+We puzzled over the business of the clock for some time, but we could
+make nothing of it. Griselda said I ought to make another effort and
+tell Inspector Slack about it, but on that point I was feeling what I
+can only describe as "mulish."
+
+Inspector Slack had been abominably and most unnecessarily rude. I
+was looking forward to a moment when I could produce my valuable
+contribution and effect his discomfiture. I would then say in a tone of
+mild reproach:
+
+"If you had only listened to me, Inspector Slack--"
+
+I expected that he would at least speak to me before he left the house,
+but to our surprise we learned from Mary that he had departed, having
+locked up the study door and issued orders that no one was to attempt
+to enter the room.
+
+Griselda suggested going up to Old Hall.
+
+"It will be so awful for Anne Protheroe--with the police and
+everything," she said. "Perhaps I might be able to do something for
+her."
+
+I cordially approved of this plan, and Griselda set off with
+instructions that she was to telephone to me if she thought that I
+could be of any use or comfort to either of the ladies.
+
+I now proceeded to ring up the Sunday School teachers who were coming
+at 7.45 for their weekly preparation class. I thought that under the
+circumstances it would be better to put them off.
+
+Dennis was the next person to arrive on the scene, having just
+returned from a tennis party. The fact that murder had taken place at
+the Vicarage seemed to afford him acute satisfaction.
+
+"Fancy being right on the spot in a murder case," he exclaimed. "I've
+always wanted to be right in the midst of one. Why have the police
+locked up the study? Wouldn't one of the other door keys fit it?"
+
+I refused to allow anything of the sort to be attempted. Dennis gave
+in with a bad grace. After extracting every possible detail from me he
+went out into the garden to look for footprints, remarking cheerfully
+that it was lucky it was only old Protheroe, whom everyone disliked.
+
+His cheerful callousness rather grated on me, but I reflected that I
+was perhaps being hard on the boy. At Dennis' age a detective story is
+one of the best things in life, and to find a real detective story,
+complete with corpse, waiting on one's own front doorstep, so to speak,
+is bound to send a healthy minded boy into the seventh heaven of
+enjoyment. Death means very little to a boy of sixteen.
+
+Griselda came back in about an hour's time. She had seen Anne
+Protheroe, having arrived just after the Inspector had broken the news
+to her.
+
+On hearing that Mrs. Protheroe had last seen her husband in the village
+about a quarter to six, and that she had no light of any kind to throw
+upon the matter, he had taken his departure, explaining that he would
+return on the morrow for a fuller interview.
+
+"He was quite decent in his way," said Griselda grudgingly.
+
+"How did Mrs. Protheroe take it?" I asked.
+
+"Well--she was very quiet--but then she always is."
+
+"Yes," I said. "I can't imagine Anne Protheroe going into hysterics."
+
+"Of course it was a great shock. You could see that. She thanked me for
+coming and said she was very grateful, but that there was nothing I
+could do."
+
+"What about Lettice?"
+
+"She was out playing tennis somewhere. She hadn't got home yet."
+
+There was a pause and then Griselda said:
+
+"You know, Len, she was really very queer--very queer indeed."
+
+"The shock," I suggested.
+
+"Yes--I suppose so. And yet--" Griselda furrowed her brows perplexedly.
+"It wasn't like that somehow. She didn't seem so much bowled over
+as--well--terrified."
+
+"Terrified?"
+
+"Yes--not showing it, you know. At least not meaning to show it. But a
+queer, watchful look in her eyes. I wonder if she has a sort of idea
+who did kill him. She asked again and again if anyone was suspected."
+
+"Did she?" I said thoughtfully.
+
+"Yes. Of course Anne's got marvellous self-control, but one could see
+that she was terribly upset. More so than I would have thought, for
+after all it wasn't as though she were so devoted to him. I should have
+said she rather disliked him, if anything."
+
+"Death alters one's feelings sometimes," I said.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so."
+
+Dennis came in and was full of excitement over a footprint he had found
+in one of the flower beds. He was sure that the police had overlooked
+it, and that it would turn out to be the turning point of the mystery.
+
+I spent a troubled night. Dennis was up and about and out of the house
+long before breakfast, to "study the latest developments," as he said.
+
+Nevertheless it was not he, but Mary, who brought us the morning's
+sensational bit of news.
+
+We had just sat down to breakfast when she burst into the room, her
+cheeks red and her eyes shining, and addressed us with her customary
+lack of ceremony.
+
+"Would you believe it? The baker's just told me. They've arrested young
+Mr. Redding."
+
+"Arrested Lawrence," cried Griselda incredulously. "Impossible. It must
+be some stupid mistake."
+
+"No mistake about it, Mum," said Mary with a kind of gloating
+exultation. "Mr. Redding, he went there himself and gave himself up.
+Last night last thing. Went right in, threw down the pistol on the
+table and, 'I did it,' he says. Just like that."
+
+She looked at us both, nodded her head vigorously, and withdrew,
+satisfied with the effect she had produced. Griselda and I stared at
+each other.
+
+"Oh! it isn't true," said Griselda. "It _can't_ be true."
+
+She noticed my silence and said, "Len, _you_ don't think it's true?"
+
+I found it hard to answer her. I sat silent, thoughts whirling through
+my head.
+
+"He must be mad," said Griselda. "Absolutely mad. Or do you think they
+were looking at the pistol together and it suddenly went off?"
+
+"That doesn't sound at all a likely thing to happen."
+
+"But it must have been an accident of some kind. Because there's not a
+shadow of a motive. What earthly reason could Lawrence have for killing
+Colonel Protheroe?"
+
+I could have answered that question very decidedly, but I wished to
+spare Anne Protheroe as far as possible. There might still be a chance
+of keeping her name out of it.
+
+"Remember, they had had a quarrel," I said.
+
+"About Lettice and her bathing dress. Yes, but that's absurd. And even
+if he and Lettice were engaged secretly, well, that's not a reason for
+killing her father."
+
+"We don't know what the true facts of the case may be, Griselda."
+
+"You _do_ believe it, Len! Oh! how can you! I tell you, I'm _sure_
+Lawrence never touched a hair of his head."
+
+"Remember, I met him just outside the gate. He looked like a madman."
+
+"Yes, but--oh! it's impossible."
+
+"There's the clock, too," I said. "This explains the clock. Lawrence
+must have put it back to 6.22 with the idea of making an alibi for
+himself. Look how Inspector Slack fell into the trap."
+
+"You're wrong, Len. Lawrence knew about that clock being fast. 'Keeping
+the Vicar up to time!' he used to say. Lawrence would never have
+made the mistake of putting it back to 6.22. He'd have put the hands
+somewhere possible--like a quarter to seven."
+
+"He mayn't have known what time Protheroe got here. Or he may have
+simply forgotten about the clock being fast."
+
+Griselda disagreed.
+
+"No, if you were committing a murder, you'd be awfully careful about
+things like that."
+
+"You don't know, my dear," I said mildly. "You've never done one."
+
+Before Griselda could reply, a shadow fell across the breakfast table,
+and a very gentle voice said:
+
+"I hope I am not intruding. You must forgive me. But in the sad
+circumstances--the very sad circumstances--"
+
+It was our neighbour, Miss Marple. Accepting our polite disclaimers,
+she stepped in through the window and I drew up a chair for her. She
+looked faintly flushed and quite excited.
+
+"Very terrible, is it not? Poor Colonel Protheroe. Not a very pleasant
+man, perhaps, and not exactly popular, but it's none the less sad for
+that. And actually shot in the Vicarage study, I understand?"
+
+I said that that had indeed been the case.
+
+"But the dear Vicar was not here at the time?" Miss Marple questioned
+of Griselda.
+
+I explained where I had been.
+
+"Mr. Dennis is not with you this morning?" said Miss Marple glancing
+round.
+
+"Dennis," said Griselda, "fancies himself as an amateur detective. He
+is very excited about a footprint he found in one of the flower beds
+and I fancy has gone off to tell the police about it."
+
+"Dear, dear," said Miss Marple. "Such a to-do, is it not? And Mr.
+Dennis thinks he knows who committed the crime. Well, I suppose we all
+think we know."
+
+"You mean it is obvious?" said Griselda.
+
+"No, dear, I didn't mean that at all. I daresay everyone thinks it is
+somebody different. That is why it is so important to have _proofs_.
+I, for instance, am quite _convinced_ I know who did it. But I must
+admit I haven't one shadow of proof. One must, I know, be very careful
+of what one says at a time like this--criminal libel, don't they call
+it? I had made up my mind to be _most_ careful with Inspector Slack. He
+sent word he would come and see me this morning, but now he has just
+'phoned up to say it won't be necessary after all."
+
+"I suppose, since the arrest, it isn't necessary," I said.
+
+"The arrest?" Miss Marple leaned forward, her cheeks pink with
+excitement. "I didn't know there had been an arrest."
+
+It is so seldom that Miss Marple is worse informed than we are that I
+had taken it for granted that she would know the latest developments.
+
+"It seems we have been talking at cross purposes," I said. "Yes, there
+has been an arrest--Lawrence Redding."
+
+"Lawrence Redding?" Miss Marple seemed very surprised. "Now I should
+not have thought--"
+
+Griselda interrupted vehemently.
+
+"I can't believe it even now. No, not though he has actually confessed."
+
+"Confessed?" said Miss Marple. "You say he has confessed? Oh! dear, I
+see I have been sadly at sea--yes, sadly at sea."
+
+"I can't help feeling it must have been some kind of an accident," said
+Griselda. "Don't you think so, Len? I mean his coming forward to give
+himself up looks like that."
+
+Miss Marple leant forward eagerly.
+
+"He gave himself up, you say?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh!" said Miss Marple, with a deep sigh. "I am so glad--so very glad."
+
+I looked at her in some surprise.
+
+"It shows a true state of remorse, I suppose," I said.
+
+"Remorse?" Miss Marple looked very surprised. "Oh! but surely dear,
+dear Vicar, you don't think that he is guilty?"
+
+It was my turn to stare.
+
+"But since he has confessed--"
+
+"Yes, but that just proves it, doesn't it? I mean that he had nothing
+to do with it."
+
+"No," I said. "I may be dense, but I can't see that it does. If you
+have not committed a murder, I cannot see the object of pretending you
+have."
+
+"Oh! of course, there's a reason," said Miss Marple. "Naturally.
+There's always a reason, isn't there? And young men are so hot-headed
+and often prone to believe the worst."
+
+She turned to Griselda.
+
+"Don't you agree with me, my dear?"
+
+"I--I don't know," said Griselda. "It's difficult to know what to
+think. I can't see any reason for Lawrence behaving like a perfect
+idiot."
+
+"If you had seen his face last night--" I began.
+
+"Tell me," said Miss Marple.
+
+I described my homecoming while she listened attentively.
+
+When I had finished she said:
+
+"I know that I am very often rather foolish and don't take in things
+as I should, but I really do not see your point. It seems to me that
+if a young man had made up his mind to the great wickedness of taking
+a fellow creature's life, he would not appear distraught about it
+afterwards. It would be a premeditated and cold-blooded action and,
+though the murderer might be a little flurried and possibly might make
+some small mistake, I do not think it likely he would fall into a state
+of agitation such as you describe. It is difficult to put oneself in
+such a position, but I cannot imagine getting into a state like that
+myself."
+
+"We don't know the circumstances," I argued. "If there was a quarrel,
+the shot may have been fired in a sudden gust of passion, and Lawrence
+might afterwards have been appalled at what he had done. Indeed, I
+prefer to think that that is what did actually occur."
+
+"I know, dear Mr. Clement, that there are many ways we prefer to look
+at things. But one must actually take facts as they are, must one not?
+And it does not seem to me that the facts bear the interpretation you
+put upon them. Your maid distinctly stated that Mr. Redding was only in
+the house a couple of minutes, not long enough, surely, for a quarrel
+such as you describe. And then again, I understand the Colonel was shot
+through the back of the head while he was writing a letter--at least
+that is what my maid told me."
+
+"Quite true," said Griselda. "He seems to have been writing a note to
+say he couldn't wait any longer. The note was dated 6.20, and the clock
+on the table was overturned and had stopped at 6.22, and that's just
+what has been puzzling Len and myself so frightfully."
+
+She explained our custom of keeping the clock a quarter of an hour fast.
+
+"Very curious," said Miss Marple. "Very curious indeed. But the note
+seems to me even more curious still. I mean--"
+
+She stopped and looked round. Lettice Protheroe was standing outside
+the window. She came in, nodding to us and murmuring, "Morning."
+
+She dropped into a chair and said, with rather more animation than
+usual, "They've arrested Lawrence, I hear."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "It's been a great shock to us."
+
+"I never really thought anyone would murder Father," said Lettice. She
+was obviously taking a pride in letting no hint of distress or emotion
+escape her. "Lots of people wanted to, I'm sure. There are times when
+I'd have liked to do it myself."
+
+"Won't you have something to eat or drink, Lettice?" asked Griselda.
+
+"No, thank you. I just drifted round to see if you'd got my beret
+here--a queer little yellow one. I think I left it in the study the
+other day."
+
+"If you did, it's there still," said Griselda. "Mary never tidies
+anything."
+
+"I'll go and see," said Lettice rising. "Sorry to be such a bother, but
+I seem to have lost everything else in the hat line."
+
+"I'm afraid you can't get it now," I said. "Inspector Slack has locked
+the room up."
+
+"Oh! what a bore. Can't we get in through the window?"
+
+"I'm afraid not. It is latched in the inside. Surely, Lettice, a yellow
+beret won't be much good to you at present?"
+
+"You mean mourning and all that? I shan't bother about mourning.
+I think it's an awfully archaic idea. It's a nuisance about
+Lawrence--yes, it's a nuisance."
+
+She got up and stood frowning abstractedly.
+
+"I suppose it's all on account of me and my bathing dress. So silly,
+the whole thing."
+
+Griselda opened her mouth to say something, but for some unexplained
+reason shut it again.
+
+A curious smile came to Lettice's lips.
+
+"I think," she said softly, "I'll go home and tell Anne about Lawrence
+being arrested."
+
+She went out of the window again. Griselda turned to Miss Marple.
+
+"Why did you step on my foot?"
+
+The old lady was smiling.
+
+"I thought you were going to say something, my dear. And it is often so
+much better to let things develop on their own lines. I don't think,
+you know, that that child is half so vague as she pretends to be. She's
+got a very definite idea in her head, and she's acting upon it."
+
+Mary gave a loud knock on the dining-room door and entered hard upon it.
+
+"What is it?" said Griselda. "And Mary, you must remember not to knock
+on doors. I've told you about it before."
+
+"Thought you might be busy," said Mary. "Colonel Melchett's here. Wants
+to see the master."
+
+Colonel Melchett is Chief Constable of the County. I rose at once.
+
+"I thought you wouldn't like my leaving him in the hall, so I put him
+in the drawing room," went on Mary. "Shall I clear?"
+
+"Not yet," said Griselda. "I'll ring."
+
+She turned to Miss Marple and I left the room.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 7
+
+
+Colonel Melchett is a dapper little man with a habit of snorting
+suddenly and unexpectedly. He has red hair and rather keen, bright-blue
+eyes.
+
+"Good morning, Vicar," he said. "Nasty business, eh? Poor old
+Protheroe. Not that I liked him. I didn't. Nobody did for that matter.
+Nasty bit of work for you, too. Hope it hasn't upset your Missus?"
+
+I said Griselda had taken it very well.
+
+"That's lucky. Rotten thing to happen in one's house. I must say
+I'm surprised at young Redding--doing it the way he did. No sort of
+consideration for anyone's feelings."
+
+A wild desire to laugh came over me, but Colonel Melchett evidently saw
+nothing odd in the idea of a murderer being considerate, so I held my
+peace.
+
+"I must say I was rather taken aback when I heard the fellow had
+marched in and given himself up," continued Colonel Melchett, dropping
+on to a chair.
+
+"How did it happen, exactly?"
+
+"Last night. About ten o'clock. Fellow rolls in, throws down a pistol
+and says, 'Here I am. I did it.' Just like that."
+
+"What account does he give of the business?"
+
+"Precious little. He was warned, of course, about making a statement.
+But he merely laughed. Said he came here to see you--found Protheroe
+here. They had words and he shot him. Won't say what the quarrel was
+about. Look here, Clement--just between you and me--do you know
+anything about it? I've heard rumours--about his being forbidden the
+house and all that. What was it--did he seduce the daughter, or what?
+We don't want to bring the girl into it more than we can help, for
+everybody's sake. Was that the trouble?"
+
+"No," I said. "You can take it from me that it was something quite
+different, but I can't say more at the present juncture."
+
+He nodded and rose.
+
+"I'm glad to know. There's a lot of talk. Too many women in this part
+of the world. Well, I must get along. I've got to see Haydock. He was
+called out to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I
+don't mind telling you I'm sorry about Redding. He always struck me as
+a decent young chap. Perhaps they'll think out some kind of defence for
+him. Aftereffects of War, shell shock, or something. Especially if no
+very adequate motive turns up. I must be off. Like to come along?"
+
+I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.
+
+Haydock's house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor had
+just come in, and showed us into the dining room, where Haydock was
+sitting down to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon.
+
+He greeted us with an amiable nod.
+
+"Sorry I had to go out. Confinement case. I've been up most of the
+night, over your business. I've got the bullet for you."
+
+He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.
+
+".25?"
+
+Haydock nodded.
+
+"I'll keep the technical details for the inquest," he said. "All you
+want to know is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young
+fool, what did he want to do it for? Amazing, by the way, that nobody
+heard the shot."
+
+"Yes," said Melchett; "that surprises me."
+
+"The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house," I said.
+"With the study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I
+doubt if you would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in
+the house."
+
+"H'm," said Melchett. "It's odd, all the same. I wonder the old
+lady--what's her name--Marple didn't hear it. The study window was
+open."
+
+"Perhaps she did," said Haydock.
+
+"I don't think she did," said I. "She was over at the Vicarage just
+now and she didn't mention anything of the kind, which I'm certain she
+would have done if there had been anything to tell."
+
+"May have heard it and paid no attention to it--thought it was a car
+backfiring."
+
+It struck me that Haydock was looking much more jovial and
+good-humoured this morning. He seemed like a man who was decorously
+trying to subdue unusually good spirits.
+
+"Or what about a silencer?" he added. "That's quite likely. Nobody
+would hear anything then."
+
+Melchett shook his head.
+
+"Slack didn't find anything of the kind, and he asked Redding, and
+Redding didn't seem to know what he was talking about at first, and
+then denied point-blank using anything of the kind. And I suppose one
+can take his word for it."
+
+"Yes, indeed, poor devil."
+
+"Damned young fool," said Colonel Melchett. "Sorry, Clement. But he
+really is! Somehow one can't get used to thinking of him as a murderer."
+
+"Any motive?" asked Haydock, taking a final draught of coffee and
+pushing back his chair.
+
+"He says they quarrelled, and he lost his temper and shot him."
+
+"Hoping for manslaughter, eh?" The doctor shook his head. "That story
+doesn't hold water. He stole up behind him as he was writing and shot
+him through the head. Precious little 'quarrel' about that."
+
+"Anyway, there wouldn't have been time for a quarrel," I said,
+remembering Miss Marple's words. "To creep up, shoot him, alter the
+clock hands back to 6.22, and leave again would have taken him all his
+time. I shall never forget his face when I met him outside the gate, or
+the way he said, 'You want to see Protheroe--Oh! you'll see him all
+right!' That in itself ought to have made me suspicious of what had
+just taken place a few minutes before."
+
+Haydock stared at me.
+
+"What do you mean--what had just taken place? When do you think Redding
+shot him?"
+
+"A few minutes before I got to the house."
+
+The doctor shook his head.
+
+"Impossible. Plumb impossible. He'd been dead much longer than that."
+
+"But, my dear man," cried Colonel Melchett. "You said yourself that
+half an hour was only an approximate estimate."
+
+"Half an hour, thirty-five minutes, twenty-five minutes, twenty
+minutes--possibly, but less, no. Why, the body would have been warm
+when I got to it."
+
+We stared at each other. Haydock's face had changed. It had gone
+suddenly gray and old. I wondered at the change in him.
+
+"But look here, Haydock." The Colonel found his voice. "If Redding
+admits shooting him at a quarter to seven--"
+
+Haydock sprang to his feet.
+
+"I tell you it's impossible," he roared. "If Redding says he killed
+Protheroe at a quarter to seven, then Redding lies. Hang it all, I tell
+you I'm a doctor, and I know. The blood had begun to congeal."
+
+"If Redding is lying--" began Melchett. He stopped, shook his head.
+
+"We'd better go down to the police station and see him," he said.
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 8
+
+
+We were rather silent on our way down to the police station. Haydock
+drew behind a little and murmured to me.
+
+"You know I don't like the look of this. I don't like it. There's
+something here we don't understand."
+
+He looked thoroughly worried and upset.
+
+Inspector Slack was at the police station, and presently we found
+ourselves face to face with Lawrence Redding.
+
+He looked pale and strained but quite composed--marvellously so, I
+thought, considering the circumstances. Melchett snorted and hummed,
+obviously nervous.
+
+"Look here, Redding," he said. "I understand you made a statement
+to Inspector Slack here. You state you went to the Vicarage at
+approximately a quarter to seven, found Protheroe there, quarrelled
+with him, shot him and came away. I'm not reading it over to you, but
+that's the gist of it."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm going to ask you a few questions. You've already been told that
+you needn't answer them unless you choose. Your solicitor--"
+
+Lawrence interrupted.
+
+"I've nothing to hide. I killed Protheroe."
+
+"Ah! well--" Melchett snorted. "How did you happen to have a pistol
+with you?"
+
+Lawrence hesitated.
+
+"It was in my pocket."
+
+"You took it with you to the Vicarage?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I always take it."
+
+He had hesitated again before answering, and I was absolutely sure that
+he was not speaking the truth.
+
+"Why did you put the clock back?"
+
+"The clock?"
+
+He seemed puzzled.
+
+"Yes, the hands pointed to 6.22."
+
+A look of fear sprang up in his face.
+
+"Oh! that--yes. I--I altered it."
+
+Haydock spoke suddenly.
+
+"Where did you shoot Colonel Protheroe?"
+
+"In the study at the Vicarage."
+
+"I mean in what part of the body?"
+
+"Oh!--I--through the head I think. Yes, through the head."
+
+"Aren't you sure?"
+
+"Since you know, I can't see why it is necessary to ask me."
+
+It was a feeble kind of bluster. There was some commotion outside. A
+constable without a helmet brought in a note.
+
+"For the Vicar. It says 'very urgent' on it."
+
+I tore it open and read:
+
+    "_Please--please--come to me. I don't know what to do. It is all
+    too awful. I want to tell someone. Please come immediately, and
+    bring anyone you like with you._ ANNE PROTHEROE."
+
+I gave Melchett a meaning glance. He took the hint. We all went out
+together. Glancing over my shoulder I had a glimpse of Lawrence
+Redding's face. His eyes were rivetted on the paper in my hand, and I
+have hardly ever seen such a terrible look of anguish and despair in
+any human being's face.
+
+I remembered Anne Protheroe sitting on my sofa and saying, "I'm a
+desperate woman"; and my heart grew heavy within me. I saw now the
+possible reason for Lawrence Redding's heroic self-accusation.
+
+Melchett was speaking to Slack.
+
+"Have you got any line on Redding's movements earlier in the day?
+There's some reason to think he shot Protheroe earlier than he says.
+Get on to it, will you?"
+
+He turned to me and, without a word, I handed him Anne Protheroe's
+letter. He read it and pursed up his lips in astonishment. Then he
+looked at me inquiringly.
+
+"Is this what you were hinting at this morning?"
+
+"Yes. I was not sure then if it was my duty to speak. I am quite sure
+now." And I told him of what I had seen that night in the studio.
+
+The Colonel had a few words with the Inspector, and then we set off for
+Old Hall. Dr. Haydock came with us.
+
+A very correct butler opened the door, with just the right amount of
+gloom in his bearing.
+
+"Good morning," said Melchett. "Will you ask Mrs. Protheroe's maid to
+tell her we are here and would like to see her; and then return here
+and answer a few questions."
+
+The butler hurried away, and presently returned with the news that he
+had dispatched the message.
+
+"Now, let's hear something about yesterday," said Colonel Melchett.
+"Your master was in to lunch?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And in his usual spirits?"
+
+"As far as I could see; yes, sir."
+
+"What happened after that?"
+
+"After luncheon Mrs. Protheroe went to lie down, and the Colonel
+went to his study. Miss Lettice went out to a tennis party in the
+two-seater. Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe had tea at four-thirty, in the
+drawing room. The car was ordered for five-thirty to take them to the
+village. Immediately after they had left, Mr. Clement rang up"--he
+bowed to me. "I told him they had started."
+
+"H'm," said Colonel Melchett. "When was Mr. Redding last here?"
+
+"On Tuesday afternoon, sir."
+
+"I understand that there was a disagreement between them?"
+
+"I believe so, sir. The Colonel gave me orders that Mr. Redding was not
+to be admitted in future."
+
+"Did you overhear the quarrel at all?" asked Colonel Melchett bluntly.
+
+"Colonel Protheroe, sir, had a very loud voice, especially when it was
+raised in anger. I was unable to help overhearing a few words here and
+there."
+
+"Enough to tell you the cause of the dispute?"
+
+"I understood, sir, that it had to do with a portrait Mr. Redding had
+been painting--a portrait of Miss Lettice."
+
+Melchett grunted.
+
+"Did you see Mr. Redding when he left?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I let him out."
+
+"Did he seem angry?"
+
+"No, sir; if I may say so, he seemed rather amused."
+
+"Ah! He didn't come to the house yesterday?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Anyone else come?"
+
+"Not yesterday, sir."
+
+"Well, the day before?"
+
+"Mr. Dennis Clement came in the afternoon. And Dr. Stone was here for
+some time. And there was a lady in the evening."
+
+"A lady?" Melchett was surprised. "Who was she?"
+
+The butler couldn't remember her name. It was a lady he had not seen
+before. Yes, she had given her name, and when he told her that the
+family were at dinner, she had said that she would wait. So he had
+shown her into the little morning room.
+
+She had asked for Colonel Protheroe, not Mrs. Protheroe. He had told
+the Colonel, and the Colonel had gone to the morning room directly
+dinner was over.
+
+How long had the lady stayed? He thought about half an hour. The
+Colonel himself had let her out. Ah! yes, he remembered her name now.
+The lady had been a Mrs. Lestrange.
+
+This was a surprise.
+
+"Curious," said Melchett. "Really very curious."
+
+But we pursued the matter no further, for at that moment a message came
+that Mrs. Protheroe would see us.
+
+Anne was in bed. Her face was pale and her eyes very bright. There was
+a look on her face that puzzled me--a kind of grim determination.
+
+She spoke to me.
+
+"Thank you for coming so promptly," she said. "I see you've understood
+what I meant by bringing anyone you liked with you."
+
+She paused.
+
+"It's best to get it over quickly, isn't it?" she said. She gave a
+queer, half-pathetic little smile. "I suppose you're the person I
+ought to say it to, Colonel Melchett. You see, it was I who killed my
+husband."
+
+Colonel Melchett said gently:
+
+"My dear Mrs. Protheroe--"
+
+"Oh! it's quite true. I suppose I've said it rather bluntly, but I
+never can go into hysterics over anything. I've hated him for a long
+time, and yesterday I shot him."
+
+She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
+
+"That's all. I suppose you'll arrest me and take me away. I'll get up
+and dress as soon as I can. At the moment I am feeling rather sick."
+
+"Are you aware, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Lawrence Redding has already
+accused himself of committing the crime?"
+
+Anne opened her eyes and nodded brightly.
+
+"I know. Silly boy. He's very much in love with me, you know. It was
+frightfully noble of him--but very silly."
+
+"He knew that it was you who had committed the crime?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How did he know?"
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"Did you tell him?"
+
+Still she hesitated. Then at last she seemed to make up her mind.
+
+"Yes--I told him."
+
+She twitched her shoulders with a movement of irritation.
+
+"Can't you go away now? I've told you. I don't want to talk about it
+anymore."
+
+"Where did you get the pistol, Mrs. Protheroe?"
+
+"The pistol? Oh! it was my husband's. I got it out of the drawer of his
+dressing table."
+
+"I see. And you took it with you to the Vicarage?"
+
+"Yes. I knew he would be there--"
+
+"What time was this?"
+
+"It must have been after six--quarter--twenty past--something like
+that."
+
+"You took the pistol meaning to shoot your husband?"
+
+"No--I--I meant it for myself."
+
+"I see. But you went to the Vicarage?"
+
+"Yes. I went along to the window. There were no voices. I looked in. I
+saw my husband. Something came over me--and I fired."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Then? Oh! then I went away."
+
+"And told Mr. Redding what you had done?"
+
+Again I noticed the hesitation in her voice before she said, "Yes."
+
+"Did anybody see you entering or leaving the Vicarage?"
+
+"No--at least, yes. Old Miss Marple. I talked to her a few minutes. She
+was in her garden."
+
+She moved restlessly on the pillows.
+
+"Isn't that enough? I've told you. Why do you want to go on bothering
+me?"
+
+Dr. Haydock moved to her side and felt her pulse.
+
+He beckoned to Melchett.
+
+"I'll stay with her," he said in a whisper, "while you make the
+necessary arrangements. She oughtn't to be left. Might do herself a
+mischief."
+
+Melchett nodded.
+
+We left the room and descended the stairs. I saw a thin, cadaverous
+looking man come out of the adjoining room and, on impulse, I remounted
+the stairs.
+
+"Are you Colonel Protheroe's valet?"
+
+The man looked surprised.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you know whether your late master kept a pistol anywhere?"
+
+"Not that I know of, sir."
+
+"Not in one of the drawers of his dressing table? Think, man."
+
+The valet shook his head decisively.
+
+"I'm quite sure he didn't, sir. I'd have seen it if so. Bound to."
+
+I hurried down the stairs after the others.
+
+Mrs. Protheroe had lied about the pistol.
+
+Why?
+
+
+
+
+                               Chapter 9
+
+
+After leaving a message at the police station, the Chief Constable
+announced his intention of paying a visit to Miss Marple.
+
+"You'd better come with me, Vicar," he said. "I don't want to give a
+member of your flock hysterics. So lend the weight of your soothing
+presence."
+
+I smiled. For all her fragile appearance, Miss Marple is capable of
+holding her own with any policeman or chief constable in existence.
+
+"What's she like?" asked the Colonel as we rang the bell. "Anything she
+says to be depended upon or otherwise?"
+
+I considered the matter.
+
+"I think she is quite dependable," I said cautiously. "That is, in
+so far as she is talking of what she has actually seen. Beyond that,
+of course, when you get on to what she thinks--well, that is another
+matter. She has a powerful imagination, and systematically thinks the
+worst of everyone."
+
+"The typical elderly spinster, in fact," said Melchett with a laugh.
+"Well, I ought to know the breed by now. Gad, the tea parties down
+here!"
+
+We were admitted by a very diminutive maid and shown into a small
+drawing room.
+
+"A bit crowded," said Colonel Melchett, looking round. "But plenty of
+good stuff. A lady's room, eh, Clement?"
+
+I agreed, and at that moment the door opened and Miss Marple made her
+appearance.
+
+"Very sorry to bother you, Miss Marple," said the Colonel when I had
+introduced him, putting on his bluff, military manner, which he had an
+idea was attractive to elderly ladies. "Got to do my duty, you know."
+
+"Of course, of course," said Miss Marple. "I quite understand. Won't
+you sit down? And might I offer you a little glass of cherry brandy? My
+own making. A recipe of my grandmother's."
+
+"Thank you very much, Miss Marple. Very kind of you. But I think I
+won't. Nothing till lunch time, that's my motto. Now, I want to talk to
+you about this sad business--very sad business indeed. Upset us all,
+I'm sure. Well, it seems possible that, owing to the position of your
+house and garden, you may have been able to tell us something we want
+to know about yesterday evening."
+
+[Illustation]
+
+"As a matter of fact, I was in my little garden from five o'clock
+onwards yesterday, and of course from there--well, one simply cannot
+help seeing anything that is going on next door."
+
+"I understand, Miss Marple, that Mrs. Protheroe passed this way
+yesterday evening?"
+
+"Yes, she did. I called out to her, and she admired my roses."
+
+"Could you tell us about what time that was?"
+
+"I should say it was just a minute or two after a quarter past six.
+Yes, that's right. The church clock had just chimed the quarter."
+
+"Very good. What happened next?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Protheroe said she was calling for her husband at the
+Vicarage, so that they could go home together. She had come along the
+lane, you understand, and she went into the Vicarage by the back gate
+and across the garden."
+
+"She came from the lane?"
+
+"Yes, I'll show you."
+
+Full of eagerness, Miss Marple led us out into the garden, and pointed
+out the lane that ran along by the bottom of her garden.
+
+"The path opposite with the stile leads to the Hall," she explained.
+"That was the way they were going home together. Mrs. Protheroe came
+from the village."
+
+"Perfectly, perfectly," said Colonel Melchett. "And she went across to
+the Vicarage, you say?"
+
+"Yes. I saw her turn the corner of the house. I suppose the Colonel
+wasn't there yet, because she came back almost immediately, and went
+down the lawn to the studio--that building there. The one the Vicar
+lets Mr. Redding use as a studio."
+
+"I see. And--you didn't happen to hear a shot, Miss Marple?"
+
+"I didn't hear a shot then," said Miss Marple.
+
+"But you did hear one some time?"
+
+"Yes, I think there was a shot somewhere in the woods. But quite five
+or ten minutes afterwards--and, as I say, out in the woods. At least, I
+think so. It couldn't have been--surely it couldn't have been--"
+
+She stopped, pale with excitement.
+
+"Yes, yes, we'll come to all that presently," said Colonel Melchett.
+"Please go on with your story. Mrs. Protheroe went down to the studio?"
+
+"Yes, she went inside and waited. Presently Mr. Redding came along the
+lane from the village. He came to the Vicarage gate, looked all round--"
+
+"And saw you, Miss Marple."
+
+"As a matter of fact, he didn't see me," said Miss Marple flushing
+slightly. "Because, you see, just at that minute I was bending right
+over--trying to get up one of those nasty dandelions, you know. So
+difficult. And then he went through the gate and down to the studio."
+
+"He didn't go near the house?"
+
+"Oh! no, he went straight to the studio. Mrs. Protheroe came to the
+door to meet him, and then they both went inside."
+
+Here Miss Marple contributed a singularly eloquent pause.
+
+"Perhaps she was sitting to him?" I suggested.
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Marple.
+
+"And they came out--when?"
+
+"About ten minutes later."
+
+"That was roughly?"
+
+"The church clock had chimed the half hour. They strolled
+out through the garden gate and along the lane, and, just at that
+minute, Dr. Stone came down the path leading to the Hall, and climbed
+over the stile and joined them. They all walked towards the village
+together. At the end of the lane, I think, but I can't be quite sure,
+they were joined by Miss Cram. I think it must have been Miss Cram,
+because her skirts were so short."
+
+"You must have very good eyesight, Miss Marple, if you can observe as
+far as that."
+
+"I was observing a bird," said Miss Marple. "A golden-crested wren, I
+think he was. A sweet little fellow. I had my glasses out, and that's
+how I happened to see Miss Cram (if it was Miss Cram, and I think so)
+join them."
+
+"Ah! well, that may be so," said Colonel Melchett. "Now, since you seem
+very good at observing, did you happen to notice, Miss Marple, what
+sort of expression Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding had as they passed
+along the lane?"
+
+"They were smiling and talking," said Miss Marple. "They seemed very
+happy to be together, if you know what I mean."
+
+"They didn't seem upset or disturbed in any way?"
+
+"Oh! no. Just the opposite."
+
+"Deuced odd," said the Colonel. "There's something deuced odd about the
+whole thing."
+
+Miss Marple suddenly took our breath away by remarking in a placid
+voice:
+
+"Has Mrs. Protheroe been saying that she committed the crime now?"
+
+"Upon my soul," said the Colonel. "How did you come to guess that, Miss
+Marple?"
+
+"Well, I rather thought it might happen," said Miss Marple. "I think
+dear Lettice thought so too. She's really a very sharp girl. Not always
+very scrupulous, I'm afraid. So Anne Protheroe says she killed her
+husband. Well, well. I don't think it's true. No, I'm almost sure it
+isn't true. Not with a woman like Anne Protheroe. Although one never
+can be quite sure about anyone, can one? At least that's what I've
+found. When does she say she shot him?"
+
+"At twenty minutes past six. Just after speaking to you."
+
+Miss Marple shook her head slowly and pityingly. The pity was, I think,
+for two full grown men being so foolish as to believe such a story. At
+least that is what we felt like.
+
+"What did she shoot him with?"
+
+"A pistol."
+
+"Where did she find it?"
+
+"She brought it with her."
+
+"Well, that she didn't do," said Miss Marple with unexpected decision.
+"I can swear to that. She'd no such thing with her."
+
+"You mightn't have seen it."
+
+"Of course I should have seen it."
+
+"If it had been in her handbag."
+
+"She wasn't carrying a handbag."
+
+"Well, it might have been concealed--er--upon her person."
+
+Miss Marple directed a glance of sorrow and scorn upon him.
+
+"My dear Colonel Melchett. You know what young women are nowadays. Not
+ashamed to show exactly how the creator made them. She hadn't so much
+as a handkerchief in the top of her stocking."
+
+Melchett was obstinate.
+
+"You must admit that it all fits in," he said. "The time, the
+overturned clock pointing to 6.22--"
+
+Miss Marple turned on me.
+
+"Do you mean you haven't told him about that clock yet?"
+
+"What about the clock, Clement?"
+
+I told him. He showed a good deal of annoyance.
+
+"Why on earth didn't you tell Slack this last night?"
+
+"Because," I said, "he wouldn't let me."
+
+"Nonsense, you ought to have insisted."
+
+"Probably," I said, "Inspector Slack behaves quite differently to you
+than he does to me. I had no earthly chance of insisting."
+
+"It's an extraordinary business altogether," said Melchett. "If a third
+person comes along and claims to have done this murder, I shall go into
+a lunatic asylum."
+
+"If I might be allowed to suggest--" murmured Miss Marple.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"If you were to tell Mr. Redding what Mrs. Protheroe has done, and then
+explain that you don't really believe it is her; and then if you were
+to go to Mrs. Protheroe and tell her that Mr. Redding is all right--why
+then, they might each of them tell you the truth. And the truth _is_
+helpful, though I daresay they don't know very much themselves, poor
+things."
+
+"It's all very well, but they are the only two people who had a motive
+for making away with Protheroe."
+
+"Oh! I wouldn't say that, Colonel Melchett," said Miss Marple.
+
+"Why, can you think of anyone else?"
+
+"Oh! yes, indeed. Why," she counted on her fingers, "one, two, three,
+four, five, six--yes, and a possible seven. I can think of at least
+seven people who might be very glad to have Colonel Protheroe out of
+the way."
+
+The Colonel looked at her feebly.
+
+"Seven people? In St. Mary Mead?"
+
+Miss Marple nodded brightly.
+
+"Mind you, I name no names," she said. "That wouldn't be right. But I'm
+afraid there's a lot of wickedness in the world. A nice, honourable,
+upright soldier like you doesn't know about these things, Colonel
+Melchett."
+
+I thought the Chief Constable was going to have apoplexy.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 10
+
+
+His remarks on the subject of Miss Marple as we left the house were far
+from complimentary.
+
+"I really believe that wizened-up old maid thinks she knows everything
+there is to know. And hardly been out of this village all her life.
+Preposterous. What can she know of life?"
+
+I said mildly that, though doubtless Miss Marple knew next to nothing
+of life with a capital L, she knew practically everything that went on
+in St. Mary Mead.
+
+Melchett admitted that grudgingly. She was a valuable
+witness--particularly valuable from Mrs. Protheroe's point of view.
+
+"I suppose there's no doubt about what she says, eh?"
+
+"If Miss Marple says she had no pistol with her, you can take it for
+granted that it is so," I said. "If there was the least possibility of
+such a thing, Miss Marple would have been on to it like a knife."
+
+"That's true enough. We'd better go and have a look at the studio."
+
+The so-called studio was a mere rough shed with a skylight. There were
+no windows, and the door was the only means of entrance or egress.
+Satisfied on this score, Melchett announced his intention of visiting
+the Vicarage with the Inspector.
+
+I nodded.
+
+"I'm going to the police station now."
+
+As I entered through the front door, a murmur of voices caught my ear.
+I opened the drawing-room door.
+
+On the sofa beside Griselda, conversing animatedly, sat Miss Gladys
+Cram. Her legs, which were encased in particularly shiny pink
+stockings, were crossed, and I had every opportunity of observing that
+she wore pink striped silk knickers.
+
+"Hullo, Len," said Griselda.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Clement," said Miss Cram. "Isn't the news about the
+Colonel reely too awful? Poor old gentleman."
+
+"Miss Cram," said my wife, "very kindly came in to offer to help us
+with the Guides. We asked for helpers last Sunday, you remember."
+
+I did remember, and I was convinced, and so, I knew from her tone, was
+Griselda, that the idea of enrolling herself among them would never
+have occurred to Miss Cram but for the exciting incident which had
+taken place at the Vicarage.
+
+"I was only just saying to Mrs. Clement," went on Miss Cram, "you could
+have struck me all of a heap when I heard the news. A murder? I said.
+In this quiet, one-horse village--for quiet it is, you must admit--not
+so much as a picture house, and as for Talkies! And then when I heard
+it was Colonel Protheroe--why, I simply couldn't believe it. He didn't
+seem the kind, somehow, to get murdered."
+
+I don't know what Miss Cram considers are the necessary qualifications
+for being murdered. It has never struck me that the murdered belong to
+a special class, but doubtless she had some idea in her golden shingled
+head.
+
+"And so," said Griselda, "Miss Cram came round to find out all about
+it."
+
+I feared this plain speaking might offend the lady, but she merely
+flung her head back and laughed uproariously, showing every tooth she
+possessed.
+
+"That's too bad. You're a sharp one, aren't you, Mrs. Clement? But it's
+only natural, isn't it, to want to hear the ins and outs of a case like
+this? And I'm sure I'm willing enough to help with the Guides in any
+way you like. Exciting, that's what it is. I've been stagnating for a
+bit of fun. I have; reely I have. Not that my job isn't a very good
+one, well paid, and Dr. Stone quite the gentleman in every way. But
+a girl wants a bit of life out of office hours, and, except for you,
+Mrs. Clement, who is there in the place to talk to, except a lot of old
+cats?"
+
+"There's Lettice Protheroe," I said.
+
+Gladys Cram tossed her head.
+
+"She's too high and mighty for the likes of me. Fancies herself the
+County, and wouldn't demean herself by noticing a girl who had to
+work for her living. Not but what I _did_ hear her talking of earning
+her living herself. And who'd employ her, I should like to know? Why,
+she'd be fired in less than a week. Unless she went as one of those
+mannequins, all dressed up and sidling about. She could do that, I
+expect."
+
+"She'd make a very good mannequin," said Griselda. "She's got such a
+lovely figure." There's nothing of the cat about Griselda. "When was
+she talking of earning her own living?"
+
+Miss Cram seemed momentarily discomfited, but recovered herself with
+her usual archness.
+
+"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" she said. "But she did say so.
+Things not very happy at home, I fancy. Catch me living at home with a
+stepmother. I wouldn't sit down under it for a minute."
+
+"Ah! but you're so high spirited and independent," said Griselda
+gravely, and I looked at her with suspicion.
+
+Miss Cram was clearly pleased.
+
+"That's right. That's me all over. Can be led, not driven. A palmist
+told me that not so very long ago. No, I'm not one to sit down and be
+bullied. And I've made it clear all along to Dr. Stone that I must have
+my regular times off. These scientific gentlemen, they think a girl's a
+kind of machine--half the time they just don't notice her or remember
+she's there."
+
+"Do you find Dr. Stone pleasant to work with? It must be an interesting
+job if you are interested in archæology."
+
+"Of course, I don't know much about it," confessed the girl. "It still
+seems to me that digging up people that are dead and have been dead
+for hundreds of years isn't--well, it seems a bit nosey, doesn't it?
+And there's Dr. Stone so wrapped up in it all that half the time he'd
+forget his meals if it wasn't for me."
+
+"Is he at the barrow this morning?" asked Griselda.
+
+Miss Cram shook her head.
+
+"A bit under the weather this morning," she explained. "Not up to doing
+any work. That means a holiday for little Gladys."
+
+"I'm sorry," I said.
+
+"Oh! it's nothing much. There's not going to be a second death. But
+do tell me, Mr. Clement, I hear you've been with the police all the
+morning. What do they think?"
+
+"Well," I said slowly. "There is still a little--uncertainty."
+
+"Ah!" cried Miss Cram. "Then they don't think it is Mr. Lawrence
+Redding after all. So handsome, isn't he? Just like a movie star. And
+such a nice smile when he says good morning to you. I really couldn't
+believe my ears when I heard the police had arrested him. Still one
+always hears they're very stupid--the country police."
+
+"You can hardly blame them in this instance," I said. "Mr. Redding came
+in and gave himself up."
+
+"What?" the girl was clearly dumbfounded. "Well--of all the poor fish!
+If I'd committed the murder, I wouldn't go straight off and give myself
+up. I should have thought Lawrence Redding would have had more sense.
+To give in like that! What did he kill Protheroe for? Did he say? Was
+it just a quarrel?"
+
+"It's not absolutely certain that he did kill him," I said.
+
+"But surely--if he says he has--why really, Mr. Clement, he ought to
+know."
+
+"He ought to, certainly," I agreed. "But the police are not satisfied
+with his story."
+
+"But why should he say he'd done it if he hasn't?"
+
+That was a point on which I had no intention of enlightening Miss Cram.
+Instead I said rather vaguely:
+
+"I believe that in all prominent murder cases, the police receive
+numerous letters from people accusing themselves of the crime."
+
+Miss Cram's reception of this piece of information was:
+
+"They must be chumps!" in a tone of wonder and scorn.
+
+She added, "I'd never do a thing like that."
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," I said.
+
+"Well," she said with a sigh. "I suppose I must be trotting along." She
+rose. "Mr. Redding accusing himself of the murder will be a bit of news
+for Dr. Stone."
+
+"Is he interested?" asked Griselda.
+
+Miss Cram furrowed her brows perplexedly.
+
+"He's a queer one. You never can tell with him. All wrapped up in the
+past. He'd a hundred times rather look at a nasty old bronze knife out
+of one of those humps of ground than he would see the knife Crippen cut
+up his wife with, supposing he had a chance to."
+
+"Well," I said. "I must confess I agree with him."
+
+Miss Cram's eyes expressed incomprehension and slight contempt. Then,
+with reiterated good-byes, she took her departure.
+
+"Not such a bad sort, really," said Griselda as the door closed behind
+her. "Terribly common, of course, but one of those big, bouncing,
+good-humoured girls that you can't dislike. I wonder what really
+brought her here?"
+
+"Curiosity."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Now, Len, tell me all about it. I'm simply dying to
+hear."
+
+I sat down and recited faithfully all the happenings of the morning,
+Griselda interpolating the narrative with little exclamations of
+surprise and interest.
+
+"So it was Anne Lawrence was after all along! Not Lettice. How blind
+we've all been. That must have been what old Miss Marple was hinting at
+yesterday. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes," I said, averting my eyes.
+
+Mary entered.
+
+"There's a couple of men here--come from a newspaper, so they say. Do
+you want to see them?"
+
+"No," I said. "Certainly not. Refer them to Inspector Slack at the
+police station."
+
+Mary nodded and turned away.
+
+"And when you've got rid of them," I said, "come back here. There's
+something I want to ask you."
+
+Mary nodded again.
+
+It was some few minutes before she returned.
+
+"Had a job getting rid of them," she said. "Persistent. You never saw
+anything like it. Wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
+
+"I expect we shall be a good deal troubled with them," I said. "Now,
+Mary, what I want to ask you is this: Are you quite certain you didn't
+hear the shot yesterday evening?"
+
+"The shot that killed him? No, of course I didn't. If I had of done, I
+should have gone in to see what had happened."
+
+"Yes, but--" I was remembering Miss Marple's statement that she had
+heard a shot "in the wood." I changed the form of my question. "Did you
+hear any other shot--one down in the wood, for instance?"
+
+"Oh! that." The girl paused. "Yes, now I come to think of it, I believe
+I did. Not a lot of shots, just one. Queer sort of bang it was."
+
+"Exactly," I said. "Now what time was that?"
+
+"Time?"
+
+"Yes, time."
+
+"I couldn't say, I'm sure. Well after tea time. I do know that."
+
+"Can't you get a little nearer than that?"
+
+"No, I can't. I've got my work to do, haven't I? I can't go on looking
+at clocks the whole time--and it wouldn't be much good anyway--the
+alarm loses a good three quarters every day, and what with putting it
+on, and one thing and another, I'm never exactly sure what time it is."
+
+This perhaps explains why our meals are never punctual. They are
+sometimes too late and sometimes bewilderingly early.
+
+"Was it long before Mr. Redding came?"
+
+"No, it wasn't long. Ten minutes--a quarter of an hour--not longer than
+that."
+
+I nodded my head, satisfied.
+
+"Is that all?" said Mary. "Because what I mean to say is, I've got the
+joint in the oven and the pudding boiling over as likely as not."
+
+"That's all right. You can go."
+
+She left the room and I turned to Griselda.
+
+"Is it quite out of the question to induce Mary to say 'sir' or 'm'am'?"
+
+"I have told her. She doesn't remember. She's just a raw girl,
+remember."
+
+"I am perfectly aware of that," I said. "But raw things do not
+necessarily remain raw forever. I feel a tinge of cooking might be
+induced in Mary."
+
+"Well, I don't agree with you," said Griselda. "You know how little we
+can afford to pay a servant. If once we got her smartened up at all,
+she'd leave. Naturally. And get higher wages. But as long as Mary can't
+cook and has these awful manners--well, we're safe; nobody else would
+have her."
+
+I perceived that my wife's methods of housekeeping were not so entirely
+haphazard as I had imagined. A certain amount of reasoning underlay
+them. Whether it was worth while having a maid at the price of her not
+being able to cook, and having a habit of throwing dishes and remarks
+at one with the same disconcerting abruptness was a debatable matter.
+
+"And anyway," continued Griselda, "you must make allowances for her
+manners being worse than usual just now. You can't expect her to feel
+exactly sympathetic about Colonel Protheroe's death when he jailed her
+young man."
+
+"Did he jail her young man?"
+
+"Yes, for poaching. You know, that man Archer. Mary has been walking
+out with him for two years."
+
+"I didn't know that."
+
+"Darling Len, you never know anything."
+
+"It's queer," I said, "that everyone says the shot came from the woods."
+
+"I don't think it's queer at all," said Griselda. "You see, one so
+often does hear shots in the wood. So, naturally, when you do hear a
+shot, you just assume as a matter of course that it _is_ in the wood.
+It probably just sounds a bit louder than usual. Of course, if you were
+in the next room, you'd realize that it was in the house, but from
+Mary's kitchen, with the window right the other side of the house, I
+don't believe you'd ever think of such a thing."
+
+The door opened again.
+
+"Colonel Melchett's back," said Mary. "And that police Inspector with
+him, and they say they'd be glad if you'd join them. They're in the
+study."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 11
+
+
+I saw at a glance that Colonel Melchett and Inspector Slack had not
+been seeing eye to eye about the case. Melchett looked flushed and
+annoyed, and the Inspector looked sulky.
+
+"I'm sorry to say," said Melchett, "that Inspector Slack doesn't agree
+with me in considering young Redding innocent."
+
+"If he didn't do it, what does he go and say he did it for?" asked
+Slack sceptically.
+
+"Mrs. Protheroe acted in an exactly similar fashion, remember, Slack."
+
+"That's different. She's a woman, and women act in that silly way. I'm
+not saying she did it, for a moment. She heard he was accused, and she
+trumped up a story. I'm used to that sort of game. You wouldn't believe
+the fool things I've known women do. But Redding's different. He's got
+his head screwed on all right. And if he admits he did it, well, I
+say he did do it. It's his pistol--you can't get away from that. And,
+thanks to this business of Mrs. Protheroe, we know the motive. That was
+the weak point before, but now we know it--why, the whole thing's plain
+sailing."
+
+"You think he can have shot him earlier? At six-thirty, say?"
+
+"He can't have done that."
+
+"You've checked up his movements?"
+
+The Inspector nodded.
+
+"He was in the village near the Blue Boar at ten past six. From there
+he came along the back lane where you say the old lady next door saw
+him--she doesn't miss much, I should say,--and kept his appointment
+with Mrs. Protheroe in the studio in the garden. They left there
+together just after six-thirty and went along the lane to the village,
+being joined by Dr. Stone. He corroborates that all right--I've seen
+him. They all stood talking just by the post office for a few minutes;
+then Mrs. Protheroe went into Miss Hartnell's to borrow a gardening
+magazine. That's all right, too. I've seen Miss Hartnell. Mrs.
+Protheroe remained there talking to her till just on seven o'clock,
+when she exclaimed at the lateness of the hour and said she must get
+home."
+
+"What was her manner?"
+
+"Very easy and pleasant, Miss Hartnell said. She seemed in good
+spirits--Miss Hartnell is quite sure there was nothing on her mind."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"Redding, he went with Dr. Stone to the Blue Boar, and they had a drink
+together. He left there at twenty minutes to seven, went rapidly along
+the village street and down the road to the Vicarage. Lots of people
+saw him."
+
+"Not down the back lane this time?" commented the Colonel.
+
+"No--he came to the front, asked for the Vicar, heard Colonel Protheroe
+was there, went in--and shot him--just as he said he did! That's the
+truth of it and we needn't look further."
+
+Melchett shook his head.
+
+"There's the doctor's evidence. You can't get away from that. Protheroe
+was shot not later than six-thirty."
+
+"Oh! doctors!" Inspector Slack looked contemptuous. "If you're going
+to believe doctors. Take out all your teeth--that's what they do
+nowadays--and then say they're very sorry, but all the time it was
+appendicitis. Doctors!"
+
+"This isn't a question of diagnosis. Dr. Haydock was absolutely
+positive on the point. You can't go against the medical evidence,
+Slack."
+
+"And there's my evidence for what it is worth," I said, suddenly
+recalling a forgotten incident. "I touched the body and it was cold.
+That I can swear to."
+
+"You see, Slack?" said Melchett.
+
+Inspector Slack gave in with a good grace.
+
+"Well, of course, if that's so. But there it was--a beautiful case. Mr.
+Redding only too anxious to be hanged, so to speak."
+
+"That, in itself, strikes me as a little unnatural," observed Colonel
+Melchett.
+
+"Well, there's no accounting for tastes," said the Inspector. "There's
+a lot of gentlemen went a bit balmy after the War. Now, I suppose, it
+means starting again at the beginning." He turned on me. "Why you went
+out of your way to mislead me about the clock, sir, I can't think.
+Obstructing the ends of justice, that's what that was."
+
+I was stung.
+
+"I tried to tell you on three separate occasions," I said. "And each
+time you shut me up and refused to listen."
+
+"That's just a way of speaking, sir. You could have told me perfectly
+well if you had had a mind to. The clock and the note seemed to tally
+perfectly. Now, according to you, the clock was all wrong. I never knew
+such a case. What's the sense of keeping a clock a quarter of an hour
+fast anyway?"
+
+"It is supposed," I said, "to induce punctuality."
+
+The Inspector snorted.
+
+"I don't think we need go farther into that now, Inspector," said
+Colonel Melchett tactfully. "What we want now is the true story from
+both Mrs. Protheroe and young Redding. I telephoned to Haydock and
+asked him to bring Mrs. Protheroe over here with him. They ought to be
+here in about a quarter of an hour. I think it would be as well to have
+Redding here first."
+
+"I'll get on to the station," said Inspector Slack, and took up the
+telephone.
+
+He spoke down it.
+
+"And now," he said replacing the receiver, "we'll get to work on this
+room."
+
+He looked at me in a meaning fashion.
+
+"Perhaps," I said, "you'd like me out of the way."
+
+The Inspector immediately opened the door for me. Melchett called out:
+
+"Come back when young Redding arrives, will you, Vicar? You're a friend
+of his, and you may have sufficient influence to persuade him to speak
+the truth."
+
+I found my wife and Miss Marple with their heads together.
+
+"We've been discussing all sorts of possibilities," said Griselda.
+"I wish you'd solve the case, Miss Marple, like you did the way Miss
+Wetherby's gill of pickled shrimps disappeared. And all because it
+reminded you of something quite different about a sack of coals."
+
+"You're laughing, my dear," said Miss Marple. "But after all, that is a
+very sound way of arriving at the truth. It's really what people call
+intuition and make such a fuss about. Intuition is like reading a word
+without having to spell it out. A child can't do that, because it has
+had so little experience. But a grown-up person knows the word because
+he's seen it often before. You catch my meaning, Vicar?"
+
+"Yes," I said slowly. "I think I do. You mean that if a thing reminds
+you of something else--well, it's probably the same kind of thing."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"And what precisely does the murder of Colonel Protheroe remind you of?"
+
+Miss Marple sighed.
+
+"That is just the difficulty. So many parallels come to the mind. For
+instance, there was Major Hargraves, a churchwarden and a man highly
+respected in every way. And all the time he was keeping a separate
+second establishment--a former housemaid, just think of it! And five
+children--actually five children--a terrible shock to his wife and
+daughter."
+
+I tried hard to visualize Colonel Protheroe in the rôle of secret
+sinner, and failed.
+
+"And then there was that laundry business," went on Miss Marple. "Miss
+Hartnell's opal pin--left most imprudently in a frilled blouse and sent
+to the laundry. And the woman who took it didn't want it in the least,
+and wasn't by any means a thief. She simply hid it in another woman's
+house and told the police she'd seen this other woman take it. Spite,
+you know, sheer spite. It's an astonishing motive--spite. A man in it,
+of course. There always is."
+
+This time I failed to see any parallel, however remote. Miss Marple
+went on in a dreamy voice,
+
+"And then there was poor Elwell's daughter--such a pretty, ethereal
+girl--tried to stifle her little brother. And there was the money for
+the Choir Boys' Outing (before your time, Vicar) actually taken by the
+organist. His wife was sadly in debt. Yes, this case makes one think of
+so many things--too many. It's very hard to arrive at the truth."
+
+"I wish you would tell me," I said. "Who were the seven suspects?"
+
+"The seven suspects?"
+
+"You said you could think of seven people who would--well, be glad of
+Colonel Protheroe's death."
+
+"Did I? Yes, I remember I did."
+
+"Was it true?"
+
+"Oh! certainly it was true. But I mustn't mention names. You can think
+of them quite easily yourself, I am sure."
+
+"Indeed I can't. There is Lettice Protheroe, I suppose, since she
+probably comes into money on her father's death. But it is absurd to
+think of her in such a connection, and outside her I can think of
+nobody."
+
+"And you, my dear?" said Miss Marple, turning to Griselda.
+
+Rather to my surprise Griselda coloured up. Something very like tears
+started into her eyes. She clenched both her small hands.
+
+"Oh!" she cried indignantly. "People are hateful--hateful. The things
+they say! The beastly things they say!"
+
+I looked at her curiously. It is very unlike Griselda to be so upset.
+She noticed my glance and tried to smile.
+
+"Don't look at me as though I were an interesting specimen you didn't
+understand, Len. Don't let's get heated and wander from the point. I
+don't believe that it was Lawrence or Anne, and Lettice is out of the
+question. There must be some clue or other that would help us."
+
+"There is the note, of course," said Miss Marple. "You will remember my
+saying this morning that that struck me as exceedingly peculiar."
+
+"It seems to fix the time of his death with remarkable accuracy," I
+said. "And yet, is that possible? Mrs. Protheroe would only have just
+left the study. She would hardly have had time to reach the studio.
+The only way in which I can account for it is that he consulted his
+own watch and that his watch was slow. That seems to me a feasible
+solution."
+
+"I have another idea," said Griselda. "Suppose, Len, that the clock had
+already been put back--no, that comes to the same thing--how stupid of
+me!"
+
+"It hadn't been altered when I left," I said. "I remember comparing it
+with my watch. Still, as you say, that has no bearing on the present
+matter."
+
+"What do you think, Miss Marple?" asked Griselda.
+
+The old lady shook her head.
+
+"My dear, I confess I wasn't thinking about it from that point of view
+at all. What strikes me as so curious, and has done from the first, is
+the subject matter of that letter."
+
+"I don't see that," I said. "Colonel Protheroe merely wrote that he
+couldn't wait any longer--"
+
+"_At twenty minutes past six?_" said Miss Marple. "Your maid, Mary,
+had already told him that you wouldn't be in till half past six at the
+earliest, and he had appeared to be quite willing to wait until then.
+And yet, at twenty past six, he sits down and says he 'can't wait any
+longer.'"
+
+I stared at the old lady, feeling an increased respect for her mental
+powers. Her keen wits had seen what we had failed to perceive. It _was_
+an odd thing--a very odd thing.
+
+"If only," I said, "the letter hadn't been dated--"
+
+Miss Marple nodded her head.
+
+"Exactly," she said. "If it _hadn't_ been dated!"
+
+I cast my mind back, trying to recall that sheet of notepaper and the
+blurred scrawl, and at the top that neatly printed 6.20. Surely these
+figures were on a different scale to the rest of the letter.
+
+I gave a gasp.
+
+"Supposing," I said, "it wasn't dated. Supposing that round about
+6.30 Colonel Protheroe got impatient and sat down to say he couldn't
+wait any longer. And as he was sitting there writing, someone came in
+through the window--"
+
+"Or through the door," suggested Griselda.
+
+"He'd hear the door and look up."
+
+"Colonel Protheroe was rather deaf, you remember," said Miss Marple.
+
+"Yes, that's true. He wouldn't hear it. Whichever way the murderer
+came, he stole up behind the Colonel and shot him. Then he saw the note
+and the clock and the idea came to him. He put 6.20 at the top of the
+letter and he altered the clock to 6.22. It was a clever idea. It gave
+him, or so he would think, a perfect alibi."
+
+"And what we want to find," said Griselda, "is someone who has a cast
+iron alibi for 6.20, but no alibi at all for--well, that isn't so easy.
+One can't fix the time."
+
+"We can fix it within very narrow limits," I said. "Haydock places 6.30
+as the outside limit of time. I suppose one could perhaps shift it to
+6.35, from the reasoning we have just been following out; it seems
+clear that Protheroe would not have got impatient before 6.30. I think
+we can say we do know pretty well."
+
+"Then that shot I heard--yes, I suppose it is quite possible. And I
+thought nothing about it--nothing at all. Most vexing. And yet, now I
+try to recollect, it does seem to me that it was different from the
+usual sort of shot one hears. Yes, there was a difference."
+
+"Louder?" I suggested.
+
+No, Miss Marple didn't think it had been louder. In fact, she found it
+hard to say in what way it had been different, but she still insisted
+that it was.
+
+I thought she was probably persuading herself of the fact rather than
+actually remembering it, but she had just contributed such a valuable
+new outlook to the problem that I felt highly respectful towards her.
+
+She rose, murmuring that she must really get back--it had been so
+tempting just to run over and discuss the case with dear Griselda. I
+escorted her to the boundary wall and the back gate, and returned to
+find Griselda wrapped in thought.
+
+"Still puzzling over that note?" I asked.
+
+"No."
+
+She gave a sudden shiver and shook her shoulders impatiently.
+
+"Len, I've been thinking. How badly someone must have hated Anne
+Protheroe."
+
+"Hated her?"
+
+"Yes. Don't you see? There's no real evidence against Lawrence--all the
+evidence against him is what you might call accidental. He just happens
+to take it into his head to come here. If he hadn't--well, no one would
+have thought of connecting him with the crime. But Anne is different.
+Suppose someone knew that she was here at exactly 6.20--the clock and
+the time on the letter--everything pointing to her. I don't think it
+was only because of an alibi it was moved to that exact time--I think
+there was more in it than that--a direct attempt to fasten the business
+on her. If it hadn't been for Miss Marple saying she hadn't got the
+pistol with her, and noticing that she was only a moment before going
+down to the studio--Yes, if it hadn't been for that...." She shivered
+again. "Len--I feel that someone hated Anne Protheroe very much. I--I
+don't like it."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 12
+
+
+I was summoned to the study when Lawrence Redding arrived. He looked
+haggard, and, I thought, suspicious. Colonel Melchett greeted him with
+something approaching cordiality.
+
+"We want to ask you a few questions--here, on the spot," he said.
+
+Lawrence sneered slightly.
+
+"Isn't that a French idea? Reconstruction of the crime?"
+
+"My dear boy," said Colonel Melchett. "Don't take that tone with us.
+Are you aware that someone else has also confessed to committing the
+crime which you pretend to have committed?"
+
+The effect of these words on Lawrence was painful and immediate.
+
+"S-s-omeone else?" he stammered. "Who--who?"
+
+"Mrs. Protheroe," said Colonel Melchett, watching him.
+
+"Absurd. She never did it. She couldn't have. It's impossible."
+
+Melchett interrupted him.
+
+"Strangely enough, we did not believe her story. Neither, I may say, do
+we believe yours. Dr. Haydock says positively that the murder could not
+have been committed at the time you say it was."
+
+"Dr. Haydock says that?"
+
+"Yes; so, you see, you are cleared whether you like it or not. And now
+we want you to help us, to tell us exactly what occurred."
+
+Lawrence still hesitated.
+
+"You're not deceiving me about--about Mrs. Protheroe? You really don't
+suspect her?"
+
+"On my word of honour," said Colonel Melchett.
+
+Lawrence drew a deep breath.
+
+"I've been a fool," he said. "An absolute fool. How I could have
+thought for one minute that she did it--"
+
+"Suppose you tell us all about it?" suggested the Chief Constable.
+
+"There's not much to tell. I--I met Mrs. Protheroe that afternoon--"
+
+He paused.
+
+"We know all about that," said Melchett. "You may think that your
+feeling for Mrs. Protheroe and hers for you was a dead secret, but in
+reality it was known and commented upon. In any case everything is
+bound to come out now."
+
+"Very well then. I expect you are right. I had promised the Vicar here"
+(he glanced at me) "to--to go right away. I met Mrs. Protheroe that
+evening in the studio at a quarter past six. I told her of what I had
+decided. She, too, agreed, that it was the only thing to do. We--we
+said good-bye to each other.
+
+"We left the studio, and almost at once Dr. Stone joined us. Anne
+managed to seem marvellously natural. I couldn't do it. I went off
+with Stone to the Blue Boar and had a drink. Then I thought I'd go
+home, but, when I got to the corner of this road, I changed my mind and
+decided to come along and see the Vicar. I felt I wanted someone to
+talk to about the matter.
+
+"At the door, the maid told me the Vicar was out but would be in
+shortly, but that Colonel Protheroe was in the study waiting for him.
+Well, I didn't like to go away again--looked as though I were shirking
+meeting him. So I said I'd wait too, and I went into the study."
+
+He stopped.
+
+"Well?" said Colonel Melchett.
+
+"Protheroe was sitting at the writing table--just as you found him. I
+went up to him. I saw that he was dead. Then I looked down and saw the
+pistol lying on the floor beside him. I picked it up--_and at once saw
+that it was my pistol!_
+
+"That gave me a turn. My pistol! And then, straightway I leaped to one
+conclusion. Anne must have bagged my pistol some time or other--meaning
+it for herself if she couldn't bear things any longer. Perhaps she
+had had it with her today. After we parted in the village she must
+have come back here and--and--Oh! I suppose I was mad to think of
+it. But that's what I thought. I slipped the pistol in my pocket and
+came away. Just outside the Vicarage gate, I met the Vicar. He said
+something nice and normal about seeing Protheroe--suddenly I had a
+wild desire to laugh. His manner was so ordinary and everyday, and
+there was I all strung up. I remember shouting out something absurd and
+seeing his face change. I was nearly off my head, I believe. I went
+walking--walking--at last I couldn't bear it any longer. If Anne had
+done this ghastly thing, I was, at least, morally responsible. I went
+and gave myself up."
+
+There was a silence when he had finished. Then the Colonel said in a
+businesslike voice:
+
+"I would like to ask just one or two questions. First, did you touch or
+move the body in any way?"
+
+"No, I didn't touch it at all. One could see he was dead without
+touching him."
+
+"Did you notice a note lying on the blotter half concealed by his body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did you interfere in any way with the clock?"
+
+"I never touched the clock. I seem to remember a clock lying overturned
+on the table, but I never touched it."
+
+"Now as to this pistol of yours, when did you last see it?"
+
+Lawrence Redding reflected.
+
+"It's hard to say exactly."
+
+"Where do you keep it?"
+
+"Oh! in a litter of odds and ends in the sitting room in my cottage. On
+one of the shelves of the bookcase."
+
+"You left it lying about carelessly?"
+
+"Yes. I really didn't think about it. It was just there."
+
+"So that anyone who came to your cottage could have seen it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you don't remember when you last saw it?"
+
+Lawrence drew his brows together in a frown of recollection.
+
+"I'm almost sure it was there the day before yesterday. I remember
+pushing it aside to get an old pipe. I think it was the day before
+yesterday--but it may have been the day before that."
+
+"Who has been to your cottage lately?"
+
+"Oh! crowds of people. Someone is always drifting in and out. I had a
+sort of tea party the day before yesterday. Lettice Protheroe, Dennis,
+and all their crowd. And then one or other of the old Pussies comes in
+now and again."
+
+"Do you lock the cottage up when you go out?"
+
+"No, why on earth should I? I've nothing to steal. And no one does lock
+his house up round here."
+
+"Who looks after your wants there?"
+
+"An old Mrs. Archer comes in every morning to 'do for me,' as it's
+called."
+
+"Do you think she would remember when the pistol was there last?"
+
+"I don't know. She might. But I don't fancy conscientious dusting is
+her strong point."
+
+"It comes to this--that almost anyone might have taken that pistol?"
+
+"It seems so--yes."
+
+The door opened and Dr. Haydock came in with Anne Protheroe.
+
+She started at seeing Lawrence. He, on his part, made a tentative step
+towards her.
+
+"Forgive me, Anne," he said. "It was abominable of me to think what I
+did."
+
+"I--" she faltered, then looked appealingly at Colonel Melchett. "It is
+true, what Dr. Haydock told me?"
+
+"That Mr. Redding is cleared of suspicion? Yes. And now what about this
+story of yours, Mrs. Protheroe? Eh, what about it?"
+
+She smiled rather shamefacedly.
+
+"I suppose you think it dreadful of me?"
+
+"Well, shall we say--very foolish? But that's all over. What I want
+now, Mrs. Protheroe, is the truth--the absolute truth."
+
+She nodded gravely.
+
+"I will tell you. I suppose you know about--about everything."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was to meet Lawrence--Mr. Redding--that evening at the studio. At
+a quarter past six. My husband and I drove into the village together.
+I had some shopping to do. As we parted he mentioned casually that he
+was going to see the Vicar. I couldn't get word to Lawrence, and I was
+rather uneasy. I--well, it was awkward meeting him in the Vicarage
+garden while my husband was at the Vicarage."
+
+Her cheeks burned as she said this. It was not a pleasant moment for
+her.
+
+"I reflected that perhaps my husband would not stay very long. To find
+this out, I came along the back lane and into the garden. I hoped
+no one would see me, but of course old Miss Marple had to be in her
+garden! She stopped me and we said a few words, and I explained I was
+going to call for my husband. I felt I had to say something. I don't
+know whether she believed me or not. She looked rather--funny.
+
+"When I left her, I went straight across to the Vicarage and round the
+corner of the house to the study window. I crept up to it very softly
+expecting to hear the sound of voices. But to my surprise there were
+none. I just glanced in, saw the room was empty, and hurried across the
+lawn and down to the studio where Lawrence joined me almost at once."
+
+"You say the room was empty, Mrs. Protheroe?"
+
+"Yes; my husband was not there."
+
+"Extraordinary."
+
+"You mean, M'am, that you didn't see him?" said the Inspector.
+
+"No, I didn't see him."
+
+Inspector Slack whispered to the Chief Constable, who nodded his head.
+
+"Do you mind, Mrs. Protheroe, just showing us exactly what you did?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+She rose; Inspector Slack pushed open the window for her, and she
+stepped out on the terrace and round the house to the left.
+
+Inspector Slack beckoned me imperiously to go and sit at the writing
+table.
+
+Somehow I didn't much like doing it. It gave me an uncomfortable
+feeling. But of course I complied.
+
+Presently I heard footsteps outside; they paused for a minute, then
+retreated. Inspector Slack indicated to me that I could return to the
+other side of the room. Mrs. Protheroe re-entered through the window.
+
+"Is that exactly how it was?" asked Colonel Melchett.
+
+"I think exactly."
+
+"Then can you tell us, Mrs. Protheroe, just exactly where the Vicar was
+in the room when you looked in?" asked Inspector Slack.
+
+"The Vicar? I--no, I'm afraid I can't. I didn't see him."
+
+Inspector Slack nodded.
+
+"That's how you didn't see your husband. He was round the corner of the
+writing desk."
+
+"Oh!" she paused. Suddenly her eyes grew round with horror. "It wasn't
+there that--that--"
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Protheroe. It was while he was sitting there."
+
+"Oh!" she shivered.
+
+He went on with his questions.
+
+"Did you know, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Redding had a pistol?"
+
+"Yes. He told me so once."
+
+"Did you ever have that pistol in your possession?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No."
+
+"Did you know where he kept it?"
+
+"I'm not sure. I think--yes, I think I've seen it on a shelf in his
+cottage. Didn't you keep it there, Lawrence?"
+
+"When was the last time you were at the cottage, Mrs. Protheroe?"
+
+"Oh! about three weeks ago. My husband and I had tea there with him."
+
+"And you have not been there since?"
+
+"No. I never went there. You see, it would probably cause a lot of talk
+in the village."
+
+"Doubtless," said Colonel Melchett drily. "Where were you in the habit
+of seeing Mr. Redding, if I may ask?"
+
+She blushed.
+
+"He used to come up to the Hall. He was painting Lettice. We--we often
+met in the woods afterwards."
+
+Colonel Melchett nodded.
+
+"Isn't that enough?" Her voice was suddenly broken. "It's so
+awful--having to tell you all these things. And--and there wasn't
+anything wrong about it. There wasn't--indeed, there wasn't. We were
+just friends. We--we couldn't help caring for each other."
+
+She looked pleadingly at Dr. Haydock, and that soft-hearted man stepped
+forward.
+
+"I really think, Melchett," he said, "that Mrs. Protheroe has had
+enough. She's had a great shock--in more ways than one."
+
+The Chief Constable nodded.
+
+"There is really nothing more I want to ask you, Mrs. Protheroe," he
+said. "Thank you for answering my questions so frankly."
+
+"Then--then I may go?"
+
+He bowed his head in assent, but I noticed him make an almost
+imperceptible sign to Slack, which that worthy answered with a nod
+of understanding. Anne Protheroe was not yet completely cleared of
+suspicion. The evidence of the note was too strong.
+
+"Is your wife in?" asked Haydock. "I think Mrs. Protheroe would like to
+see her."
+
+"Yes," I said, "Griselda is in. You'll find her in the drawing room."
+
+She and Haydock left the room together, and Lawrence Redding with them.
+
+Colonel Melchett had pursed up his lips and was playing with a paper
+knife. Slack was looking at the note. It was then that I mentioned Miss
+Marple's theory.
+
+Slack looked closely at it.
+
+"My word," he said. "I believe the old lady's right. Look here, sir,
+don't you see?--these figures are written in different ink. That date
+was written with a fountain pen or I'll eat my boots!"
+
+We were all rather excited.
+
+"You've examined the note for fingerprints, of course," said the Chief
+Constable.
+
+"What do you think, Colonel? No fingerprints on the note at all.
+Fingerprints on the pistol those of Mr. Lawrence Redding. May have been
+some others once, before he went fooling round with it and carrying it
+around in his pocket, but there's nothing clear enough to get hold of
+now."
+
+"At first the case looked very black against Mrs. Protheroe," said the
+Colonel thoughtfully. "Much blacker than against young Redding. There
+was that old woman Marple's evidence that she didn't have the pistol
+with her, but these elderly ladies are often mistaken."
+
+I was silent, but I did not agree with him. I was quite sure that Anne
+Protheroe had had no pistol with her, since Miss Marple had said so.
+Miss Marple is not the type of elderly lady who makes mistakes. She has
+got an uncanny knack of being always right.
+
+"What did get me was that nobody heard the shot. If it was fired
+then--somebody _must_ have heard it--wherever they thought it came
+from. Slack, you'd better have a word with the maid."
+
+Inspector Slack moved with alacrity towards the door.
+
+"I shouldn't ask her if she heard a shot in the house," I said.
+"Because if you do, she'll deny it. Call it a shot in the wood. That's
+the only kind of shot she'll admit to hearing."
+
+"I know how to manage them," said Inspector Slack, and disappeared.
+
+"Miss Marple says she heard a shot later," said Colonel Melchett
+thoughtfully. "We must see if she can fix the time at all precisely. Of
+course it may be a stray shot that had nothing to do with the case."
+
+"It may be, of course," I agreed.
+
+The Colonel took a turn or two up and down the room.
+
+"Do you know, Clement," he said suddenly, "I've a feeling that this is
+going to turn out a much more intricate and difficult business than any
+of us think. Dash it all, there's something behind it." He snorted.
+"Something we don't know about. We're only beginning, Clement. Mark my
+words, we're only beginning. All these things, the clock, the note, the
+pistol--they don't make sense as they stand."
+
+I shook my head. They certainly didn't.
+
+"But I'm going to get to the bottom of it. No calling in of Scotland
+Yard. Slack's a smart man. He's a very smart man. He's a kind of
+ferret. He'll nose his way through to the truth. He's done several very
+good things already and this case will be his _chef d'oeuvre_. Some men
+would call in Scotland Yard. I shan't. We'll get to the bottom of this
+here in Downshire."
+
+"I hope so, I'm sure," I said.
+
+I tried to make my voice enthusiastic, but I had already taken such a
+dislike to Inspector Slack that the prospect of his success failed to
+appeal to me. A successful Slack would, I thought, be even more odious
+than a baffled one.
+
+"Who has the house next door?" asked the Colonel suddenly.
+
+"You mean at the end of the road? Mrs. Price Ridley."
+
+"We'll go along to her after Slack has finished with your maid. She
+might just possibly have heard something. She isn't deaf or anything,
+is she?"
+
+"I should say her hearing was remarkably keen. I'm going by the
+amount of scandal she has started by 'just happening to overhear
+accidentally.'"
+
+"That's the kind of woman we want. Oh! here's Slack."
+
+The Inspector had the air of one emerging from a severe tussle. He
+looked hot.
+
+"Phew!" he said. "That's a tartar you've got, sir."
+
+"Mary is essentially a girl of strong character," I replied.
+
+"Doesn't like the police," he said. "I cautioned her--did what I could
+to put the fear of the Law into her, but no good. She stood right up to
+me."
+
+"Spirited," I said, feeling more kindly towards Mary.
+
+"But I pinned her down all right. She heard one shot--and one shot
+only. And it was a good long time after Colonel Protheroe came. I
+couldn't get her to name a time, but we fixed it at last by means of
+the fish. The fish was late, and she blew the boy up when he came, and
+he said it was barely half past six anyway, and it was just after that
+she heard the shot. Of course, that's not accurate, so to speak, but it
+gives us an idea."
+
+"H'm," said Melchett.
+
+"I don't think Mrs. Protheroe's in this after all," said Slack, with
+a note of regret in his voice. "She wouldn't have had time, to begin
+with, and then women never like fiddling about with firearms. Arsenic's
+more in their line. No, I don't think she did it. It's a pity!"
+
+He sighed.
+
+Melchett explained that he was going round to Mrs. Price Ridley's, and
+Slack approved.
+
+"May I come with you?" I asked. "I'm getting interested."
+
+I was given permission and we set forth. A loud "Hi" greeted us as we
+emerged from the Vicarage gate, and my nephew, Dennis, came running up
+the road from the village to join us.
+
+"Look here," he said to the Inspector. "What about that footprint I
+told you about?"
+
+"Gardener's," said Inspector Slack laconically.
+
+"You don't think it might be someone else wearing the gardener's boots?"
+
+"No, I don't," said Inspector Slack in a discouraging way.
+
+It would take more than that to discourage Dennis, however.
+
+He held out a couple of burnt matches.
+
+"I found these by the Vicarage gate."
+
+"Thank you," said Slack and put them in his pocket.
+
+Matters appeared now to have reached a deadlock.
+
+"You're not arresting Uncle Len, are you?" inquired Dennis facetiously.
+
+"Why should I?" inquired Slack.
+
+"There's a lot of evidence against him," declared Dennis. "You ask
+Mary. Only the day before the murder he was wishing Colonel Protheroe
+out of the world. Weren't you, Uncle Len?"
+
+"Er--" I began.
+
+Inspector Slack turned a slow, suspicious stare upon me, and I felt hot
+all over. Dennis is exceedingly tiresome. He ought to realize that a
+policeman seldom has a sense of humour.
+
+"Don't be absurd, Dennis," I said irritably.
+
+The innocent child opened his eyes in a stare of surprise.
+
+"I say, it's only a joke," he said. "Uncle Len just said that anyone
+who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing the world a service."
+
+"Ah!" said Inspector Slack, "that explains something the maid said."
+
+Servants very seldom have any sense of humour either. I cursed Dennis
+heartily in my mind for bringing the matter up. That and the clock
+together will make the Inspector suspicious of me for life.
+
+"Come on, Clement," said Colonel Melchett.
+
+"Where are you going? Can I come too?" asked Dennis.
+
+"No, you can't," I snapped.
+
+We left him looking after us with a hurt expression. We went up to the
+neat front door of Mrs. Price Ridley's house, and the Inspector knocked
+and rang in what I can only describe as an official manner.
+
+A pretty parlour maid answered the bell.
+
+"Mrs. Price Ridley in?" inquired Melchett.
+
+"No, sir." The maid paused and added, "She's just gone down to the
+police station."
+
+This was a totally unexpected development. As we retraced our steps,
+Melchett caught me by the arm and murmured:
+
+"If she's gone to confess to the crime too, I really shall go off my
+head."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 13
+
+
+I hardly thought it likely that Mrs. Price Ridley had anything so
+dramatic in view, but I did wonder what had taken her to the police
+station. Had she really got evidence of importance, or that she thought
+of importance, to offer? At any rate we should soon know.
+
+We found Mrs. Price Ridley talking at a high rate of speed to a
+somewhat bewildered looking police constable. That she was extremely
+indignant I knew from the way the bow in her hat was trembling.
+Mrs. Price Ridley wears what, I believe, are known as "Hats for
+Matrons"--they make a specialty of them in our adjacent town of Much
+Benham. They perch easily on a superstructure of hair and are somewhat
+overweighted with large bows of ribbon. Griselda is always threatening
+to get a Matron's hat.
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley paused in her flow of words upon our entrance.
+
+"Mrs. Price Ridley?" inquired Colonel Melchett, lifting his hat.
+
+"Let me introduce Colonel Melchett to you, Mrs. Price Ridley," I said.
+"Colonel Melchett is our Chief Constable."
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me coldly, but produced the semblance of a
+gracious smile for the Colonel.
+
+"We've just been round to your house, Mrs. Price Ridley," explained the
+Colonel, "and heard you had come down here."
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley thawed altogether.
+
+"Ah!" she said. "I'm glad _some_ notice is being taken of the
+occurrence. Disgraceful, I call it. Simply disgraceful."
+
+There is no doubt that murder is disgraceful, but it is not the word I
+should use to describe it myself. It surprised Melchett too, I could
+see.
+
+"Have you any light to throw upon the matter?" he asked.
+
+"That's your business. It's the business of the police. What do we pay
+rates and taxes for, I should like to know?"
+
+One wonders how many times that query is uttered in a year!
+
+"We're doing our best, Mrs. Price Ridley," said the Chief Constable.
+
+"But the man here hadn't even heard of it till I told him about it!"
+cried the lady.
+
+We all looked at the constable.
+
+"Lady been rung up on the telephone," he said. "Annoyed. Matter of
+obscene language, I understand."
+
+"Oh! I see." The Colonel's brow cleared. "We've been talking at cross
+purposes. You came down here to make a complaint, did you?"
+
+Melchett is a wise man. He knows that, when it is a question of an
+irate middle-aged lady, there is only one thing to be done--to listen
+to her. When she has said all that she wants to say, there is a chance
+that she will listen to you.
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley surged into speech.
+
+"Such disgraceful occurrences ought to be prevented. They ought not to
+occur. To be rung up in one's own house and insulted--yes, insulted.
+I'm not accustomed to such things happening. Ever since the War there
+has been a loosening of moral fibre. Nobody minds what they say, and as
+to the clothes they wear--"
+
+"Quite," said Colonel Melchett hastily. "What happened exactly?"
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley took breath and started again.
+
+"I was rung up--"
+
+"When?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon--evening to be exact. About half past six. I
+went to the telephone, suspecting nothing. Immediately I was foully
+attacked, threatened--"
+
+"What actually was said?"
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley got slightly pink.
+
+"That I decline to state."
+
+"Obscene language," murmured the Constable in a ruminative bass.
+
+"Was bad language used?" asked Colonel Melchett.
+
+"It depends on what you call bad language."
+
+"Could you understand it?" I asked.
+
+"Of course I could understand it."
+
+"Then it couldn't have been bad language," I said.
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me suspiciously.
+
+"A refined lady," I explained, "is naturally unacquainted with bad
+language."
+
+"It wasn't that kind of thing," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "At first, I
+must admit, I was quite taken in. I thought it was a genuine message.
+Then the--er--person became abusive."
+
+"Abusive?"
+
+"Most abusive. I was quite alarmed."
+
+"Used threatening language, eh?"
+
+"Yes. I am not accustomed to being threatened."
+
+"What did they threaten you with? Bodily damage?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+"I'm afraid, Mrs. Price Ridley, you must be more explicit. In what way
+were you threatened?"
+
+This Mrs. Price Ridley seemed singularly reluctant to answer.
+
+"I can't remember exactly. It was all so upsetting. But right at the
+end--when I was really _very_ upset, this--this--_wretch_ laughed."
+
+"Was it a man's voice or a woman's?"
+
+"It was a degenerate voice," said Mrs. Price Ridley with dignity. "I
+can only describe it as a kind of perverted voice. Now gruff, now
+squeaking. Really a very _peculiar_ voice."
+
+"Probably a practical joke," said the Colonel soothingly.
+
+"A most wicked thing to do, if so. I might have had a heart attack."
+
+"We'll look into it," said the Colonel. "Eh, Inspector? Trace the
+telephone call. You can't tell me more definitely exactly what was
+said, Mrs. Price Ridley?"
+
+A struggle began in Mrs. Price Ridley's ample black bosom. The desire
+for reticence fought against a desire for vengeance. Vengeance
+triumphed.
+
+"This, of course, will go no farther," she began.
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"This creature began by saying--I can hardly bring myself to repeat
+it--"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Melchett encouragingly.
+
+"'_You are a wicked, scandal-mongering old woman!_' Me, Colonel
+Melchett--a scandal-mongering old woman. '_But this time you've gone
+too far. Scotland Yard are after you for libel._'"
+
+"Naturally, you were alarmed," said Melchett, biting his moustache to
+conceal a smile.
+
+"'_Unless you hold your tongue in future, it will be the worse for
+you--in more ways than one._' I can't describe to you the menacing way
+that was said. I gasped 'Who are you?' faintly--like that, and the
+voice answered, '_The Avenger_.' I gave a little shriek; it sounded so
+awful, and then--the person laughed. Laughed! Distinctly. And that was
+all. I heard him hang up the receiver. Of course I asked the exchange
+what number had been ringing me up, but they said they didn't know. You
+know what exchanges are. Thoroughly rude and unsympathetic."
+
+"Quite," I said.
+
+"I felt quite faint," continued Mrs. Price Ridley. "All on edge and so
+nervous that when I heard a shot in the woods I do declare I jumped
+almost out of my skin. That will show you."
+
+"A shot in the woods," said Inspector Slack alertly.
+
+"In my excited state, it simply sounded to me like a cannon going off.
+'Oh!' I said, and sank down on the sofa in a state of prostration.
+Clara had to bring me a glass of damson gin."
+
+"Shocking," said Melchett. "Shocking. All very trying for you. And the
+shot sounded very loud, you say? As though it were near at hand?"
+
+"That was simply the state of my nerves."
+
+"Of course. Of course. And what time was all this? To help us in
+tracing the telephone call, you know."
+
+"About half past six."
+
+"You can't give it us more exactly than that?"
+
+"Well, you see, the little clock on my mantelpiece had just chimed the
+half hour, and I said 'Surely that clock is fast.' (It does gain, that
+clock.) And I compared it with the watch I was wearing and that only
+said ten minutes past, but then I put it to my ear and found it had
+stopped. So I thought, 'Well, if that clock is fast, I shall hear the
+church tower in a moment or two.' And then, of course, the telephone
+bell rang, and I forgot all about it."
+
+She paused, breathless.
+
+"Well, that's near enough," said Colonel Melchett. "We'll have it
+looked into for you, Mrs. Price Ridley."
+
+"Just think of it as a silly joke, and don't worry, Mrs. Price Ridley,"
+I said.
+
+She looked at me coldly. Evidently the incident of the pound note still
+rankled.
+
+"Very strange things have been happening in this village lately," she
+said, addressing herself to Melchett. "Very strange things indeed.
+Colonel Protheroe was going to look into them, and what happened to
+him, poor man? Perhaps I shall be the next."
+
+And on that she took her departure, shaking her head with a kind of
+ominous melancholy. Melchett muttered under his breath, "No such luck."
+Then his face grew grave, and he looked inquiringly at Inspector Slack.
+
+That worthy nodded his head slowly.
+
+"This about settles it, sir. That's three people who heard the shot.
+We've got to find out now who fired it. This business of Mr. Redding's
+has delayed us. But we've got several starting points. Thinking Mr.
+Redding was guilty, I didn't bother to look into them. But that's all
+changed now. And now one of the first things to do is to look up that
+telephone call."
+
+"Mrs. Price Ridley's?"
+
+The Inspector grinned.
+
+"No--though I suppose we'd better make a note of that or else we shall
+have the old girl bothering in here again. No, I meant that fake call
+that got the Vicar out of the way."
+
+"Yes," said Melchett. "That's important."
+
+"And the next thing is to find out what everyone was doing that evening
+between six and seven. Everyone at Old Hall, I mean, and pretty well
+everyone in the village as well."
+
+I gave a sigh.
+
+"What wonderful energy you have, Inspector Slack."
+
+"I believe in hard work. We'll begin by just noting down your own
+movements, Mr. Clement."
+
+"Willingly. The telephone call came through about half past five."
+
+"A man's voice, or a woman's?"
+
+"A woman's. At least it sounded like a woman's. But of course I took it
+for granted it was Mrs. Abbott speaking."
+
+"You didn't recognize it as being Mrs. Abbott's?"
+
+"No, I can't say I did. I didn't notice the voice particularly, or
+think about it."
+
+"And you started right away? Walked? Haven't you got a bicycle?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I see. So it took you--how long?"
+
+"It's very nearly two miles, whichever way you go."
+
+"Through Old Hall woods is the shortest way, isn't it?"
+
+"Actually, yes. But it's not particularly good going. I went and came
+back by the footpath across the fields."
+
+"The one that comes out opposite the Vicarage gate?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And Mrs. Clement?"
+
+"My wife was in London. She arrived back by the 6.50 train."
+
+"Right. The maid I've seen. That finishes with the Vicarage. I'll be
+off to Old Hall next. And then I want an interview with Mrs. Lestrange.
+Queer her going to see Protheroe the night before he was killed. A lot
+of queer things about this case."
+
+I agreed.
+
+Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was nearly lunch time. I
+invited Melchett to partake of pot luck with us, but he excused himself
+on the plea of having to go to the Blue Boar. The Blue Boar gives you
+a first-rate meal of the joint and two vegetable type. I thought his
+choice was a wise one. After her interview with the police, Mary would
+probably be feeling more temperamental than usual.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 14
+
+
+On my way home, I ran into Miss Hartnell, and she detained me at least
+ten minutes, declaiming in her deep bass voice against the improvidence
+and ungratefulness of the lower classes. The crux of the matter seemed
+to be that The Poor did not want Miss Hartnell in their houses. My
+sympathies were entirely on their side. I am debarred by my social
+standing from expressing my prejudices in the forceful manner they do.
+I soothed her as best I could and made my escape.
+
+Haydock overtook me in his car at the corner of the Vicarage road.
+
+"I've just taken Mrs. Protheroe home," he called.
+
+He waited for me at the gate of his house.
+
+"Come in a minute," he said.
+
+I complied.
+
+"This is an extraordinary business," he said as he threw his hat on a
+chair and opened the door into his surgery.
+
+He sank down on a shabby leather chair, and stared across the room. He
+looked harried and perplexed.
+
+I told him that we had succeeded in fixing the time of the shot. He
+listened with an almost abstracted air.
+
+"That lets Anne Protheroe out," he said. "Well, well, I'm glad it's
+neither of those two. I like 'em both."
+
+I believed him, and yet it occurred to me to wonder why, since, as he
+said, he liked them both, their freedom from complicity seemed to have
+had the result of plunging him in gloom. This morning he had looked
+like a man with a weight lifted from his mind; now he looked thoroughly
+rattled and upset.
+
+And yet I was convinced that he meant what he said. He was fond of both
+Anne Protheroe and Lawrence Redding. Why, then, this gloomy absorption?
+
+He roused himself with an effort.
+
+"I meant to tell you about Hawes. All this business has driven him out
+of my mind."
+
+"Is he really ill?"
+
+"There's nothing radically wrong with him. You know, of course, that
+he's had _Encephalitis Lethargica_--sleeping sickness, as it's commonly
+called?"
+
+"No," I said, very much surprised. "I didn't know anything of the kind.
+He never told me anything about it. When did he have it?"
+
+"About a year ago. He recovered all right--as far as one ever recovers.
+It's a strange disease--has a queer moral effect. The whole character
+may change after it."
+
+He was silent for a moment or two and then said:
+
+"We think with horror now of the days when we burnt witches. I believe
+the day will come when we will shudder to think that we ever hanged
+criminals."
+
+"You don't believe in capital punishment?"
+
+"It's not so much that." He paused. "You know," he said slowly, "I'd
+rather have my job than yours."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because your job deals very largely with what we call right and
+wrong--and I'm not at all sure that there's any such thing. Suppose
+it's all a question of glandular secretion. Too much of one gland, too
+little of another--and you get your murderer, your thief, your habitual
+criminal. Clement, I believe the time will come when we'll be horrified
+to think of the long centuries in which we've indulged in what you
+may call moral reprobation, to think how we've punished people for
+disease--which they can't help, poor devils. You don't hang a man for
+having tuberculosis."
+
+"He isn't dangerous to the community."
+
+"In a sense he is. He infects other people. Or take a man who fancies
+he's the Emperor of China. You don't say 'how wicked of him.' I take
+your point about the community. The community must be protected.
+Shut up these people where they can't do any harm--even put them
+peacefully out of the way--yes, I'd go as far as that. But don't call
+it punishment. Don't bring shame on them and their innocent families."
+
+I looked at him curiously.
+
+"I've never heard you speak like this before."
+
+"I don't usually air my theories abroad. Today I'm riding my hobby.
+You're an intelligent man, Clement, which is more than some parsons
+are. You won't admit, I daresay, that there's no such thing as what is
+technically termed 'Sin,' but you're broad-minded enough to consider
+the possibility of such a thing."
+
+"It strikes at the root of all our accepted ideas," I said.
+
+"Yes, we're a narrow-minded, self-righteous lot, only too keen to judge
+matters we know nothing about. I honestly believe crime is a case
+for the doctor, not the policeman and not the parson. In the future,
+perhaps, there won't be any such thing."
+
+"You'll have cured it?"
+
+"We'll have cured it. Rather a wonderful thought. Have you ever studied
+the statistics of crime? No--very few people have. I have, though.
+You'd be amazed at the amount there is of adolescent crime--glands
+again, you see. Young Neil, the Oxfordshire murderer, killed five
+little girls before he was suspected. Nice lad--never given any trouble
+of any kind. Lily Rose, the little Cornish girl, killed her uncle
+because he docked her of sweets. Hit him when he was asleep with a coal
+hammer. Went home and a fortnight later killed her elder sister who
+had annoyed her about some trifling matter. Neither of them hanged, of
+course. Sent to a home. May be all right later--may not. Doubt if the
+girl will. The only thing she cares about is seeing the pigs killed. Do
+you know when suicide is commonest? Fifteen to sixteen years of age.
+From self-murder to murder of someone else isn't a very long step. But
+it's not a moral lack--it's a physical one."
+
+"What you say is terrible!"
+
+"No--it's only new to you. New truths have to be faced. One's ideas
+adjusted. But sometimes--it makes life difficult."
+
+He sat there frowning, yet with a strange look of weariness.
+
+"Haydock," I said, "if you suspected--if you knew--that a certain
+person was a murderer, would you give that person up to the law, or
+would you be tempted to shield him?"
+
+I was quite unprepared for the effect of my question. He turned on me
+angrily and suspiciously.
+
+"What makes you say that, Clement? What's in your mind? Out with it,
+man."
+
+"Why, nothing particular," I said rather taken aback. "Only--well,
+murder is in our minds just now. If by any chance you happened to
+discover the truth--I wondered how you would feel about it, that was
+all."
+
+His anger died down. He stared once more straight ahead of him, like a
+man trying to read the answer to a riddle that perplexes him, yet which
+exists only in his own brain.
+
+"If I suspected--if I knew--I should do my duty, Clement. At least, I
+hope so."
+
+"The question is--which way would you consider your duty lay?"
+
+He looked at me with inscrutable eyes.
+
+"That question comes to every man some time in his life, I suppose,
+Clement. And every man has to decide it in his own way."
+
+"You don't know?"
+
+"No, I don't know...."
+
+I felt the best thing was to change the subject.
+
+"That nephew of mine is enjoying this case thoroughly," I said. "Spends
+his entire time looking for footprints and cigarette ash."
+
+Haydock smiled.
+
+"What age is he?"
+
+"Just sixteen. You don't take tragedies seriously at that age. It's all
+Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin to you."
+
+Haydock said thoughtfully:
+
+"He's a fine looking boy. What are you going to do with him?"
+
+"I can't afford a University education, I'm afraid. The boy himself
+wants to go into the Merchant Service. He failed for the Navy."
+
+"Well--it's a hard life--but he might do worse. Yes, he might do worse."
+
+"I must be going," I exclaimed, catching sight of the clock. "I'm
+nearly half an hour late for lunch."
+
+My family were just sitting down when I arrived. They demanded a full
+account of the morning's activities, which I gave them, feeling, as I
+did so, that most of it was in the nature of an anticlimax.
+
+Dennis, however, was highly entertained by the history of Mrs. Price
+Ridley's telephone call, and went into fits of laughter as I enlarged
+upon the nervous shock her system had sustained and the necessity for
+reviving her with damson gin.
+
+"Serve the old cat right," he exclaimed. "She's got the worst tongue
+in the place. I wish I'd thought of ringing her up and giving her a
+fright. I say, Uncle Len, what about giving her a second dose?"
+
+I hastily begged him to do nothing of the sort. Nothing is more
+dangerous than the well-meant efforts of the younger generation to
+assist you and show their sympathy.
+
+Dennis' mood changed suddenly. He frowned and put on his
+man-of-the-world air.
+
+"I've been with Lettice most of the morning," he said. "You know,
+Griselda, she's really _very_ worried. She doesn't want to show it, but
+she is. Very worried indeed."
+
+"I should hope so," said Griselda with a toss of her head.
+
+Griselda is not too fond of Lettice Protheroe.
+
+"I don't think you're ever quite fair to Lettice."
+
+"Don't you?" said Griselda.
+
+"Lots of people don't wear mourning."
+
+Griselda was silent and so was I. Dennis continued:
+
+"She doesn't talk to most people, but she _does_ talk to me. She's
+awfully worried about the whole thing, and she thinks something ought
+to be done about it."
+
+"She will find," I said, "that Inspector Slack shares her opinion. He
+is going up to Old Hall this afternoon, and will probably make the life
+of everybody there quite unbearable to them in his efforts to get at
+the truth."
+
+"What do you think _is_ the truth, Len?" asked my wife suddenly.
+
+"It's hard to say, my dear. I can't say that at the moment I've any
+idea at all."
+
+"Did you say that Inspector Slack was going to trace that telephone
+call--the one that took you to the Abbotts?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But can he do it? Isn't it a very difficult thing to do?"
+
+"I should not imagine so. The exchange will have a record of the calls."
+
+"Oh!" My wife relapsed into thought.
+
+"Uncle Len," said my nephew. "Why were you so ratty with me this
+morning for joking about your wishing Colonel Protheroe to be murdered?"
+
+"Because," I said, "there is a time for everything. Inspector Slack has
+no sense of humour. He took your words quite seriously, will probably
+cross-examine Mary, and will get out a warrant for my arrest."
+
+"Doesn't he know when a fellow's ragging?"
+
+"No," I said. "He does not. He has attained to his present position
+through hard work and zealous attention to duty. That has left him no
+time for the minor recreations of life."
+
+"Do you like him, Uncle Len?"
+
+"No," I said. "I do not. From the first moment I saw him I disliked him
+intensely. But I have no doubt that he is a highly successful man in
+his profession."
+
+"You think he'll find out who shot old Protheroe?"
+
+"If he doesn't," I said, "it will not be for the want of trying."
+
+Mary appeared and said:
+
+"Mr. Hawes wants to see you. I've put him in the drawing room, and
+here's a note. Waiting for an answer. Verbal will do."
+
+I tore open the note and read it.
+
+    DEAR MR. CLEMENT,
+
+    _I should be so very grateful if you could come and see me this
+    afternoon as early as possible. I am in great trouble and would
+    like your advice._
+
+                                                     _Sincerely yours_,
+                                                     ESTELLE LESTRANGE.
+
+"Say I will come round in about half an hour," I said to Mary. Then I
+went into the drawing room to see Hawes.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 15
+
+
+Hawes' appearance distressed me very much. His hands were shaking and
+his face kept twitching nervously. In my opinion he should have been in
+bed, and I told him so. He insisted that he was perfectly well.
+
+"I assure you, sir, I never felt better. Never in my life."
+
+This was so obviously wide of the truth that I hardly knew how to
+answer. I have a certain admiration for a man who will not give in to
+illness, but Hawes was carrying the thing rather too far.
+
+"I called to tell you how sorry I was--that such a thing should happen
+in the Vicarage."
+
+"Yes," I said. "It's not very pleasant."
+
+"It's terrible--quite terrible. It seems they haven't arrested Mr.
+Redding after all?"
+
+"No. That was a mistake. He made--er--rather a foolish statement."
+
+"And the police are now quite convinced that he is innocent?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Why is that, may I ask? Is it--I mean, do they suspect anyone else?"
+
+I should never have suspected that Hawes would take such a keen
+interest in the details of a murder case. Perhaps it is because it
+happened in the Vicarage. He appeared as eager as a reporter.
+
+"I don't know that I am completely in Inspector Slack's confidence.
+So far as I know he does not suspect anyone in particular. He is at
+present engaged in making inquiries."
+
+"Yes. Yes--of course. But who can one imagine doing such a dreadful
+thing?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"Colonel Protheroe was not a popular man, I know that. But murder! For
+murder--one would need a very strong motive."
+
+"So I should imagine," I said.
+
+"Who could have such a motive? Have the police any idea?"
+
+"I couldn't say."
+
+"He might have made enemies, you know. The more I think about it, the
+more I am convinced that he was the kind of man to have enemies. He had
+a reputation on the Bench for being very severe."
+
+"I suppose he had."
+
+"Why, don't you remember, sir? He was telling you yesterday morning
+about having been threatened by that man, Archer."
+
+"Now I come to think of it, so he did," I said. "Of course, I remember.
+You were quite near us at the time."
+
+"Yes, I overheard what he was saying. Almost impossible to help it with
+Colonel Protheroe. He had such a very loud voice, hadn't he? I remember
+being impressed by your own words, that when his time came, he might
+have justice meted out to him instead of mercy."
+
+"Did I say that?" I asked frowning. My remembrance of my own words was
+slightly different.
+
+"You said it very impressively, sir. I was struck by your words.
+Justice is a terrible thing. And to think the poor man was struck down
+shortly afterwards. It's almost as though you had a premonition."
+
+"I had nothing of the sort," I said shortly. I rather dislike Hawes'
+tendency to mysticism. There is a touch of the visionary about him.
+
+"Have you told the police about this man Archer, sir?"
+
+"I know nothing about him."
+
+"I mean, have you repeated to them what Colonel Protheroe said--about
+Archer having threatened him?"
+
+"No," I said slowly. "I have not."
+
+"But you are going to do so?"
+
+I was silent. I dislike hounding a man down who has already got the
+forces of law and order against him. I held no brief for Archer. He is
+an inveterate poacher--one of those cheerful ne'er-do-wells that are to
+be found in any parish. Whatever he may have said in the heat of anger
+when he was sentenced I had no definite knowledge that he felt the same
+when he came out of prison.
+
+"You heard the conversation," I said at last. "If you feel it your duty
+to go to the police with it, you must do so."
+
+"It would come better from you, sir."
+
+"Perhaps--but to tell the truth--well, I've no fancy for doing it. I
+might be helping to put the rope round the neck of an innocent man."
+
+"But if he shot Colonel Protheroe--"
+
+"Oh! if! There's no evidence of any kind that he did."
+
+"His threats."
+
+"Strictly speaking, the threats were not his but Colonel Protheroe's.
+Colonel Protheroe was threatening to show Archer what vengeance was
+worth next time he caught him."
+
+"I don't understand your attitude, sir."
+
+"Don't you?" I said wearily. "You're a young man. You're zealous in the
+cause of right. When you get to my age, you'll find that you like to
+give people the benefit of the doubt."
+
+"It's not--I mean--"
+
+He paused and I looked at him in surprise.
+
+"You haven't any--any ideas of your own--as to the identity of the
+murderer, I mean?"
+
+"Good heavens, no."
+
+Hawes persisted.
+
+"Or as to the--the motive?"
+
+"No. Have you?"
+
+"I? No, indeed. I just wondered. If Colonel Protheroe had--had confided
+in you in any way--mentioned anything...."
+
+"His confidences, such as they were, were heard by the whole village
+street yesterday morning," I said drily.
+
+"Yes. Yes--of course. And you don't think--about Archer?"
+
+"The police will know all about Archer soon enough," I said. "If I'd
+heard him threaten Colonel Protheroe myself, that would be a different
+matter. But you may be sure that if he actually has threatened him,
+half the people in the village will have heard him, and the news will
+get to the police all right. You, of course, must do as you like about
+the matter."
+
+But Hawes seemed curiously unwilling to do anything himself.
+
+The man's whole attitude was nervous and queer. I recalled what Haydock
+had said about his illness. There, I supposed, lay the explanation.
+
+He took his leave unwillingly, as though he had more to say, and didn't
+know how to say it.
+
+Before he left, I arranged with him to take the Service for the
+Mothers' Union followed by the Meeting of District Visitors. I had
+several projects of my own for the afternoon.
+
+Dismissing Hawes and his troubles from my mind, I started off for Mrs.
+Lestrange.
+
+On the table in the hall lay the "Guardian" and the "Church Times"
+unopened.
+
+As I walked I remembered that Mrs. Lestrange had had an interview with
+Colonel Protheroe the night before his death. It was possible that
+something had transpired in that interview which would throw light upon
+the problem of his murder.
+
+I was shown straight into the little drawing room, and Mrs. Lestrange
+rose to meet me. I was struck anew by the marvellous atmosphere that
+this woman could create. She wore a dress of some dead black material
+that showed off the extraordinary fairness of her skin. There was
+something curiously dead about her face. Only the eyes were burningly
+alive. There was a watchful look in them today. Otherwise she showed no
+signs of animation.
+
+"It was very good of you to come, Mr. Clement," she said as she shook
+hands. "I wanted to speak to you the other day. Then I decided not to
+do so. I was wrong."
+
+"As I told you then, I shall be glad to do anything that can help you."
+
+"Yes, you said that. And you said it as though you meant it. Very few
+people, Mr. Clement, in this world have ever sincerely wished to help
+me."
+
+"I can hardly believe that, Mrs. Lestrange."
+
+"It is true. Most people--most men, at any rate, are out for their own
+hand."
+
+There was a bitterness in her voice.
+
+I did not answer and she went on:
+
+"Sit down, won't you?"
+
+I obeyed, and she took a chair facing me. She hesitated a moment and
+then began to speak very slowly and thoughtfully, seeming to weigh each
+word as she uttered it.
+
+"I am in a very peculiar position, Mr. Clement, and I want to ask your
+advice. That is, I want to ask your advice as to what I should do next.
+What is past is past and cannot be undone. You understand?"
+
+Before I could reply, the maid who had admitted me opened the door and
+said, with a scared face:
+
+"Oh! please, m'am, there's a police inspector here, and he says he must
+speak to you, please."
+
+There was a pause. Mrs. Lestrange's face did not change. Only her eyes
+very slowly closed and opened again. She seemed to swallow once or
+twice, then she said in exactly the same clear, calm voice:
+
+"Show him in, Hilda."
+
+I was about to rise, but she motioned me back again with an imperious
+hand.
+
+"If you do not mind--I should be much obliged if you would stay."
+
+I resumed my seat.
+
+"Certainly, if you wish it," I murmured, as Slack entered with a brisk
+regulation tread.
+
+"Good afternoon, Madam," he began.
+
+"Good afternoon, Inspector."
+
+At this moment he caught sight of me and scowled. There is no doubt
+about it; Slack does not like me.
+
+"You have no objection to the Vicar's presence, I hope?"
+
+I suppose that Slack could not very well say he had.
+
+"No-o," he said grudgingly. "Though, perhaps, it might be better--"
+
+Mrs. Lestrange paid no attention to the hint.
+
+"What can I do for you, Inspector?" she asked.
+
+"It's this way, Madam. Murder of Colonel Protheroe. I'm in charge of
+the case and making inquiries."
+
+Mrs. Lestrange nodded.
+
+"Just as a matter of form, I'm asking everyone just where they were
+yesterday evening between the hours of six and seven. Just as a matter
+of form, you understand."
+
+Mrs. Lestrange did not seem in the least discomposed.
+
+"You want to know where I was yesterday evening between six and seven?"
+
+"If you please, Madam."
+
+"Let me see." She reflected a moment. "I was here. In this house."
+
+"Oh!" I saw the Inspector's eyes flash. "And your maid--you have only
+one maid, I think, can confirm that statement?"
+
+"No, it was Hilda's afternoon out."
+
+"I see."
+
+"So unfortunately you will have to take my word for it," said Mrs.
+Lestrange pleasantly.
+
+"You seriously declare that you were at home all the afternoon?"
+
+"You said between six and seven, Inspector. I was out for a walk
+earlier in the afternoon. I returned some time before five o'clock."
+
+"Then if a lady--Miss Hartnell, for instance--were to declare that she
+came here about six o'clock, rang the bell, but could make no one hear
+and was compelled to go away again, you'd say she was mistaken, eh?"
+
+"Oh! no," Mrs. Lestrange shook her head.
+
+"But--"
+
+"If your maid is in, she can say not at home. If one is alone and does
+not happen to want to see callers--well, the only thing to do is to let
+them ring."
+
+Inspector Slack looked slightly baffled.
+
+"Elderly women bore me dreadfully," said Mrs. Lestrange. "And Miss
+Hartnell is particularly boring. She must have rung at least half a
+dozen times before she went away."
+
+She smiled sweetly at Inspector Slack.
+
+The Inspector shifted his ground.
+
+"Then if anyone were to say they'd seen you out and about then--"
+
+"Oh! but they didn't, did they?" She was quick to sense his weak point.
+"No one saw me out, because I was in, you see."
+
+"Quite so, Madam."
+
+The Inspector hitched his chair a little nearer.
+
+"Now I understand, Mrs. Lestrange, that you paid a visit to Colonel
+Protheroe at Old Hall the night before his death."
+
+Mrs. Lestrange said calmly:
+
+"That is so."
+
+"Can you indicate to me the nature of that interview?"
+
+"It concerned a private matter, Inspector."
+
+"I'm afraid I must ask you to tell me the nature of that private
+matter."
+
+"I shall not tell you anything of the kind. I will only assure you
+that nothing which was said at that interview could possibly have any
+bearing upon the crime."
+
+"I don't think you are the best judge of that."
+
+"At any rate, you will have to take my word for it, Inspector."
+
+"In fact, I have to take your word about everything."
+
+"It does seem rather like it," she agreed, still with the same smiling
+calm.
+
+Inspector Slack grew very red.
+
+"This is a serious matter, Mrs. Lestrange. I want the truth--" He
+banged his fist down on a table, "and I mean to get it."
+
+Mrs. Lestrange said nothing at all.
+
+"Don't you see, Madam, that you're putting yourself in a very fishy
+position?"
+
+Still Mrs. Lestrange said nothing.
+
+"You'll be required to give evidence at the inquest."
+
+"Yes."
+
+Just the monosyllable. Unemphatic, uninterested. The Inspector altered
+his tactics.
+
+"You were acquainted with Colonel Protheroe?"
+
+"Yes, I was acquainted with him."
+
+"Well acquainted?"
+
+There was a pause before she said:
+
+"I had not seen him for several years."
+
+"You were acquainted with Mrs. Protheroe?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You'll excuse me, but it was a very unusual time to make a call."
+
+"Not from my point of view."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+She said clearly and distinctly:
+
+"I wanted to see Colonel Protheroe alone. I did not want to see
+Mrs. Protheroe or Miss Protheroe. I considered this the best way of
+accomplishing my objective."
+
+"Why didn't you want to see Mrs. or Miss Protheroe?"
+
+"That, Inspector, is my business."
+
+"Then you refuse to say more?"
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+Inspector Slack rose.
+
+"You'll be putting yourself in a nasty position, Madam, if you're not
+careful. All this looks bad--it looks very bad."
+
+She laughed. I could have told Inspector Slack that this was not the
+kind of woman who is easily frightened.
+
+"Well," he said, extricating himself with dignity, "don't say I
+haven't warned you, that's all. Good afternoon, Madam, and mind you,
+we're going to get at the truth."
+
+He departed. Mrs. Lestrange rose and held out her hand.
+
+"I am going to send you away--yes, it is better so. You see, it is too
+late for advice now. I have chosen my part."
+
+She repeated, in a rather forlorn voice:
+
+"I have chosen my part."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 16
+
+
+As I went out, I ran into Haydock on the doorstep. He glanced sharply
+after Slack, who was just passing through the gate, and demanded:
+
+"Has he been questioning her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He's been civil, I hope?"
+
+Civility, to my mind, is an art which Inspector Slack has never learnt,
+but I presumed that according to his own lights, civil he had been,
+and anyway I didn't want to upset Haydock any further. He was looking
+worried and upset as it was. So I said he had been quite civil.
+
+Haydock nodded and passed on into the house, and I went on down the
+village street where I soon caught up with the Inspector. I fancy that
+he was walking slowly on purpose. Much as he dislikes me, he is not the
+man to let dislike stand in the way of acquiring any useful information.
+
+"Do you know anything about the lady?" he asked me point-blank.
+
+I said I knew nothing whatever.
+
+"She's never said anything about why she came here to live?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yet you go and see her?"
+
+"It is one of my duties to call on my parishioners," I replied, evading
+to remark that I had been sent for.
+
+"H'm, I suppose it is." He was silent for a minute or two and then,
+unable to resist discussing his recent failure, he went on, "Fishy
+business, it looks to me."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"If you ask me, I say 'blackmail.' Seems funny, when you think of what
+Colonel Protheroe was always supposed to be. But there, you never can
+tell. He wouldn't be the first churchwarden who'd led a double life."
+
+Faint remembrances of Miss Marple's remarks on the same subject floated
+through my mind.
+
+"You really think that's likely?"
+
+"Well, it fits the facts, sir. Why did a smart, well dressed lady come
+down to this quiet little hole? Why did she go and see him at that
+funny time of day? Why did she avoid seeing Mrs. and Miss Protheroe?
+Yes, it all hangs together. Awkward for her to admit--blackmail's a
+punishable offence. But we'll get the truth out of her. For all we know
+it may have a very important bearing on the case. If Colonel Protheroe
+had some guilty secret in his life--something disgraceful--well, you
+can see for yourself what a field it opens up."
+
+I suppose it did.
+
+"I've been trying to get the butler to talk. He might have overheard
+some of the conversation between Colonel Protheroe and Lestrange.
+Butlers do sometimes. But he swears he hadn't the least idea of what
+the conversation was about. By the way, he got the sack through it. The
+Colonel went for him, being angry at his having let her in. The butler
+retorted by giving notice. Says he didn't like the place anyway, and
+had been thinking of leaving for some time."
+
+"Really."
+
+"So that gives us another person who had a grudge against the Colonel."
+
+"You don't seriously suspect the man--what's his name by the way?"
+
+"His name's Reeves, and I don't say I do suspect him. What I say is,
+you never know. I don't like that soapy, oily manner of his."
+
+I wonder what Reeves would say of Inspector Slack's manner.
+
+"I'm going to question the chauffeur now."
+
+"Perhaps, then," I said, "you'll give me a lift in your car. I want a
+short interview with Mrs. Protheroe."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"The funeral arrangements."
+
+"Oh!" Inspector Slack was slightly taken aback. "The inquest's
+tomorrow, Saturday."
+
+"Just so. The funeral will probably be arranged for Tuesday."
+
+Inspector Slack seemed to be a little ashamed of himself for his
+brusqueness. He held out an olive branch in the shape of an invitation
+to be present at the interview with the chauffeur, Manning.
+
+Manning was a nice lad, not more than twenty-five or -six years of age.
+He was inclined to be awed by the Inspector.
+
+"Now then, my lad," said Slack, "I want a little information from you."
+
+"Yes, sir," stammered the chauffeur. "Certainly, sir."
+
+If he had committed the murder himself he could not have been more
+alarmed.
+
+"You took your master to the village yesterday?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What time was that?"
+
+"Five-thirty."
+
+"Mrs. Protheroe went too?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You went straight to the village?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You didn't stop anywhere on the way?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"What did you do when you got there?"
+
+"The Colonel got out and told me he wouldn't want the car again. He'd
+walk home. Mrs. Protheroe had some shopping to do. The parcels were put
+in the car. Then she said that was all and I drove home."
+
+"Leaving her in the village?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What time was that?"
+
+"A quarter past six, sir. A quarter past exactly."
+
+"Where did you leave her?"
+
+"By the church, sir."
+
+"Had the Colonel mentioned at all where he was going?"
+
+"He said something about having to see the vet--something to do with
+one of the horses."
+
+"I see. And you drove straight back here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"There are two entrances to Old Hall, by the South Lodge and by the
+North Lodge. I take it that going to the village you would go by the
+South Lodge?"
+
+"Yes, sir, always."
+
+"And you came back the same way?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"H'm. I think that's all. Ah! here's Miss Protheroe."
+
+Lettice drifted towards us.
+
+"I want the Fiat, Manning," she said. "Start her for me, will you?"
+
+"Very good, Miss."
+
+He went towards a two-seater and lifted the bonnet.
+
+"Just a minute, Miss Protheroe," said Slack. "It's necessary that I
+should have a record of everybody's movements yesterday afternoon. No
+offence meant."
+
+Lettice stared at him.
+
+"I never know the time of anything," she said.
+
+"I understand you went out soon after lunch yesterday."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Where to, please?"
+
+"To play tennis."
+
+"Who with?"
+
+"The Hartley Napiers."
+
+"At Much Benham?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you returned?"
+
+"I don't know. I tell you I never know these things."
+
+"You returned," I said, "about seven-thirty."
+
+"That's right," said Lettice. "In the middle of the shemozzle. Anne
+having fits and Griselda supporting her."
+
+"Thank you, Miss," said the Inspector. "That's all I want to know."
+
+"How queer," said Lettice. "It seems so uninteresting."
+
+She moved towards the Fiat.
+
+The Inspector touched his forehead in a surreptitious manner.
+
+"A bit wanting?" he suggested.
+
+"Not in the least," I said. "But she likes to be thought so."
+
+"Well, I'm off to question the maids now."
+
+One cannot really like Slack, but one can admire his energy.
+
+We parted company and I inquired of Reeves if I could see Mrs.
+Protheroe.
+
+"She is lying down, sir, at the moment."
+
+"Then I'd better not disturb her."
+
+"Perhaps if you would wait, sir, I know that Mrs. Protheroe is anxious
+to see you. She was saying as much at luncheon."
+
+He showed me into the drawing room, switching on the electric lights,
+since the blinds were down.
+
+"A very sad business all this," I said.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+His voice was cold and respectful.
+
+I looked at him. What feelings were at work under that impassive
+demeanour. Were there things that he knew and could have told us? There
+is nothing so inhuman as the mask of the good servant.
+
+"Is there anything more, sir?"
+
+Was there just a hint of anxiety to be gone behind that correct
+expression?
+
+"There's nothing more," I said.
+
+I had a very short time to wait before Anne Protheroe came to me. We
+discussed and settled a few arrangements and then:
+
+"What a wonderfully kind man Dr. Haydock is," she exclaimed.
+
+"Haydock is the best fellow I know."
+
+"He has been amazingly kind to me. But he looks very sad, doesn't he?"
+
+It had never occurred to me to think of Haydock as sad. I turned the
+idea over in my mind.
+
+"I don't think I've ever noticed it," I said at last.
+
+"I never have, until today."
+
+"One's own troubles sharpen one's eyes sometimes," I said.
+
+"That's very true."
+
+She paused and then said:
+
+"Mr. Clement, there's one thing I absolutely _cannot_ make out. If my
+husband was shot immediately after I left him, how was it that I didn't
+hear the shot?"
+
+"They have reason to believe that the shot was fired later."
+
+"But the 6.20 on the note."
+
+"Was possibly added by a different hand--the murderer's."
+
+Her cheek paled.
+
+"How horrible!"
+
+"It didn't strike you that the date was not in his handwriting?"
+
+"None of it looked like his handwriting."
+
+There was some truth in this observation. It was a somewhat illegible
+scrawl, not so precise as Protheroe's writing usually was.
+
+"You are sure they don't still suspect Lawrence?"
+
+"I think he is definitely cleared."
+
+"But Mr. Clement, who can it be? Lucius was not popular, I know, but I
+don't think he had any real enemies. Not--not that kind of enemy."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"It's a mystery."
+
+I thought wonderingly of Miss Marple's seven suspects. Who could they
+be?
+
+After I took leave of Anne, I proceeded to put a certain plan of mine
+into action.
+
+I returned from Old Hall by way of a private path. When I reached the
+stile, I retraced my steps, and choosing a place where I fancied the
+undergrowth showed signs of being disturbed, I turned aside from the
+path and forced my way through the bushes. The wood was a thick one,
+with a good deal of tangled undergrowth. My progress was not very fast,
+and I suddenly became aware that someone else was moving among the
+bushes not very far from me. As I paused irresolutely, Lawrence Redding
+came into sight. He was carrying a large stone.
+
+I suppose I must have looked surprised, for he suddenly burst out
+laughing.
+
+"No," he said, "it's not a clue; it's a peace offering."
+
+"A peace offering?"
+
+"Well, a basis for negotiations, shall we say? I want an excuse for
+calling on your neighbour, Miss Marple, and I have been told that there
+is nothing she likes so much as a nice bit of rock or stone for the
+Japanese gardens she makes."
+
+"Quite true," I said. "But what do you want with the old lady?"
+
+"Just this. If there was anything to be seen yesterday evening Miss
+Marple saw it. I don't mean anything necessarily connected with
+the crime--that she would think connected with the crime. I mean
+some _outré_ or bizarre incident, some simple little happening that
+might give us a clue to the truth. Something that she wouldn't think
+worthwhile mentioning to the police."
+
+"It's possible, I suppose."
+
+"It's worth trying anyhow. Clement, I'm going to get to the bottom of
+this business. For Anne's sake, if nobody else's. And I haven't any too
+much confidence in Slack--he's a zealous fellow, but zeal can't really
+take the place of brains."
+
+"I see," I said, "that you are that favourite character of fiction, the
+amateur detective. I don't know that they really hold their own with
+the professional in real life."
+
+He looked at me shrewdly and suddenly laughed.
+
+"What are you doing in the wood, padre?"
+
+I had the grace to blush.
+
+"Just the same as I am doing, I dare swear. We've got the same idea,
+haven't we? _How did the murderer come to the study?_ First way, along
+the lane and through the gate; second way, by the front door; third
+way--is there a third way? My idea was to see if there were any sign
+of the bushes being disturbed or broken anywhere near the wall of the
+Vicarage garden."
+
+"That was just my idea," I admitted.
+
+"I hadn't really got down to the job, though," continued Lawrence,
+"because it occurred to me that I'd like to see Miss Marple first, to
+make quite sure that no one did pass along the lane yesterday evening
+while we were in the studio."
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"She was quite positive that nobody did."
+
+"Yes, nobody whom she would call anybody--sounds mad, but you see what
+I mean. But there might have been someone like a postman or a milkman
+or a butcher's boy--someone whose presence would be so natural that you
+wouldn't think of mentioning it."
+
+"You've been reading G. K. Chesterton," I said, and Lawrence did not
+deny it.
+
+"But don't you think there's just possibly something in the idea?"
+
+"Well, I suppose there might be," I admitted.
+
+Without further ado we made our way to Miss Marple's. She was working
+in the garden, and called out to us as we climbed over the stile.
+
+"You see," murmured Lawrence, "she sees everybody."
+
+She received us very graciously, and was much pleased with Lawrence's
+immense rock, which he presented with all due solemnity.
+
+"It's very thoughtful of you, Mr. Redding. Very thoughtful indeed."
+
+Emboldened by this, Lawrence embarked on his questions. Miss Marple
+listened attentively.
+
+"Yes, I see what you mean, and I quite agree; it is the sort of thing
+no one mentions or bothers to mention. But I can assure you that there
+was nothing of the kind. Nothing whatever."
+
+"You are sure, Miss Marple?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"Did you see anyone go by the path into the wood that afternoon?" I
+asked. "Or come from it?"
+
+"Oh! yes, quite a number of people. Dr. Stone and Miss Cram went that
+way--it's the nearest way to the barrow for them. That was a little
+after two o'clock. And Dr. Stone returned that way--as you know, Mr.
+Redding, since he joined you and Mrs. Protheroe."
+
+"By the way," I said, "that shot--the one you heard, Miss Marple. Mr.
+Redding and Mrs. Protheroe must have heard it too."
+
+I looked inquiringly at Lawrence.
+
+"Yes," he said frowning. "I believe I did hear some shots. Weren't
+there one or two shots?"
+
+"I only heard one," said Miss Marple.
+
+"It's only the vaguest impression in my mind," said Lawrence. "Curse
+it all, I wish I could remember. If only I'd known. You see I was so
+completely taken up with--with--"
+
+He paused, embarrassed.
+
+I gave a tactful cough. Miss Marple, with a touch of prudishness,
+changed the subject.
+
+"Inspector Slack has been trying to get me to say whether I heard
+the shot after Mr. Redding and Mrs. Protheroe had left the studio or
+before. I've had to confess that I really could not say definitely, but
+I have the impression--which is growing stronger the more I think about
+it--that it was after."
+
+"Then that lets the celebrated Dr. Stone out anyway," said Lawrence
+with a laugh. "Not that there has ever been the slightest reason why he
+should be suspected of shooting poor old Protheroe."
+
+"Ah!" said Miss Marple. "But I always find it prudent to suspect
+everybody just a little. What I say is, you really never _know_, do
+you?"
+
+This was typical of Miss Marple. I asked Lawrence if he agreed with her
+about the shot.
+
+"I really can't say. You see, it was such an ordinary sound. I should
+be inclined to think it had been fired when we were in the studio. The
+sound would have been deadened and--and one would have noticed it less
+there."
+
+For other reasons than the sound being deadened, I thought to myself!
+
+"I must ask Anne," said Lawrence. "She may remember. By the way,
+there seems to me to be one curious fact that needs explanation. Mrs.
+Lestrange, the Mystery Lady of St. Mary Mead, paid a visit to old
+Protheroe after dinner on Wednesday night. And nobody seems to have any
+idea what it was all about. Old Protheroe said nothing to either his
+wife or Lettice."
+
+"Perhaps the Vicar knows," said Miss Marple.
+
+Now how did the woman know that I had been to visit Mrs. Lestrange that
+afternoon? The way she always knows things is uncanny.
+
+I shook my head and said I could throw no light upon the matter.
+
+"What does Inspector Slack think?" asked Miss Marple.
+
+"He's done his best to bully the butler--but apparently the butler
+wasn't curious enough to listen at the door. So there it is--no one
+knows."
+
+"I expect someone overheard something, though, don't you?" said Miss
+Marple. "I mean, somebody always _does_. I think that is where Mr.
+Redding might find out something."
+
+"But Mrs. Protheroe knows nothing."
+
+"I didn't mean Anne Protheroe," said Miss Marple. "I meant the women
+servants. They do so hate telling anything to the police. But a
+nice-looking young man--you'll excuse me, Mr. Redding--and one who has
+been unjustly suspected--Oh! I'm sure they'd tell him at once."
+
+"I'll go and have a try this evening," said Lawrence with vigour.
+"Thanks for the hint, Miss Marple. I'll go after--well, after a little
+job the Vicar and I are going to do."
+
+It occurred to me that we had better be getting on with it. I said
+good-bye to Miss Marple and we entered the woods once more.
+
+First we went up the path till we came to a new spot, where it
+certainly looked as though someone had left the path on the right-hand
+side. Lawrence explained that he had already followed this particular
+trail and found it led nowhere, but he added that we might as well try
+again. He might have been wrong.
+
+It was, however, as he had said. After about ten or twelve yards, any
+sign of broken and trampled leaves petered out. It was from this spot
+that Lawrence had broken back towards the path to meet me earlier in
+the afternoon.
+
+We emerged on the path again and walked a little farther along it.
+Again we came to a place where the bushes seemed disturbed. The signs
+were very slight but, I thought, unmistakable. This time the trail was
+more promising. By a devious course, it wound steadily nearer to the
+Vicarage. Presently we arrived at where the bushes grew thickly up
+to the wall. The wall is a high one and ornamented with fragments of
+broken bottles on the top. If anyone had placed a ladder against it, we
+ought to find traces of their passage.
+
+We were working our way slowly along the wall when a sound came to our
+ears of a breaking twig. I pressed forward, forcing my way through a
+thick tangle of shrubs--and came face to face with Inspector Slack.
+
+"So it's you," he said. "And Mr. Redding. Now what do you think you two
+gentlemen are doing?"
+
+Slightly crestfallen, we explained.
+
+"Quite so," said the Inspector. "Not being the fools we're usually
+thought to be, I had the same idea myself. I've been here over an hour.
+Would you like to know something?"
+
+"Yes," I said meekly.
+
+"Whoever murdered Colonel Protheroe didn't come this way to do it!
+There's not a sign either on this side of the wall, nor the other.
+Whoever murdered Colonel Protheroe came through the front door. There's
+no other way he could have come."
+
+"Impossible," I cried.
+
+"Why impossible? Your door stands open. Anyone's only got to walk in.
+They can't be seen from the kitchen. They know you're safely out of
+the way; they know Mrs. Protheroe's in London; they know Mr. Dennis
+is at a tennis party. Simple as A.B.C. And they don't need to go or
+come through the village. Just opposite the Vicarage gate is a public
+footpath and, from it, you can turn into these same woods and come out
+whichever way you choose. Unless Mrs. Price Ridley were to come out of
+her front gate at that particular minute, it's all clear sailing. A
+great deal more so than climbing over walls. The side windows of the
+upper story of Mrs. Price Ridley's house do overlook most of that wall.
+No, depend upon it, that's the way he came."
+
+It really seemed as though he must be right.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 17
+
+
+Inspector Slack came round to see me the following morning. He is, I
+think, thawing towards me. In time, he may forget the incident of the
+clock.
+
+"Well, sir," he greeted me. "I've traced that telephone call that you
+received."
+
+"Indeed?" I said eagerly.
+
+"It's rather odd. It was put through from the North Lodge of Old
+Hall. Now that Lodge is empty; the lodgekeepers have been pensioned
+off, and the new lodgekeepers aren't in yet. The place was empty and
+convenient--a window at the back was open. No finger prints on the
+instrument itself--it had been wiped clean. That's suggestive."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that it shows that call was put through deliberately to get you
+out of the way. Therefore the murder was carefully planned in advance.
+If it had been just a harmless practical joke, the fingerprints
+wouldn't have been wiped off so carefully."
+
+"No, I see that."
+
+"It also shows that the murderer was well acquainted with Old Hall and
+its surroundings. It wasn't Mrs. Protheroe who put that call through.
+I've accounted for every moment of her time that afternoon. There
+are half a dozen servants who can swear that she was at home up till
+five-thirty. Then the car came round and drove Colonel Protheroe and
+her to the village. The Colonel went to see Quinton, the vet, about one
+of the horses. Mrs. Protheroe did some ordering at the grocer's and at
+the fish shop, and from there came straight down the back lane where
+Miss Marple saw her. All the shops agree she carried no handbag with
+her. The old lady was right."
+
+"She usually is," I said mildly.
+
+"And Miss Protheroe was over at Much Benham at 5.30."
+
+"Quite so," I said. "My nephew was there too."
+
+"That disposes of her. The maids seem all right--a bit hysterical and
+upset, but what can you expect? Of course, I've got my eye on the
+butler--what with giving notice and all. But I don't think he knows
+anything about it."
+
+"Your inquiries seem to have had rather a negative result, Inspector."
+
+"They do and they do not, sir. There's one very queer thing has turned
+up--quite unexpectedly, I may say."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"You remember the fuss that Mrs. Price Ridley, who lives next door
+to you, was kicking up yesterday morning? About being rung up on the
+telephone?"
+
+"Yes?" I said.
+
+"Well we traced the call just to calm her--and where on this earth do
+you think it was put through from?"
+
+"A call office?" I hazarded.
+
+"No, Mr. Clement. That call was put through from Mr. Lawrence Redding's
+cottage."
+
+"What?" I exclaimed, surprised.
+
+"Yes. A bit odd, isn't it? Mr. Redding had nothing to do with it. At
+that time, 6.35, he was on his way to the Blue Boar with Dr. Stone,
+in full view of the village. But there it is. Suggestive, eh? Someone
+walked into that empty cottage and used the telephone. Who was it?
+That's two queer telephone calls in one day. Makes you think there's
+some connection between them. I'll eat my hat if they weren't both put
+through by the same person."
+
+"But with what object?"
+
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out. There seems no particular
+point in the second one, but there must be a point somewhere. And you
+see the significance? Mr. Redding's house used to telephone from. Mr.
+Redding's pistol. All throwing suspicion on Mr. Redding."
+
+"It would be more to the point to have put through the _first_ call
+from his house," I objected.
+
+"Ah! But I've been thinking that out. What did Mr. Redding do most
+afternoons? He went up to Old Hall and painted Miss Protheroe. And from
+his cottage, he'd go on his motor bicycle, passing through the North
+Gate. Now you see the point of the call being put through from there.
+_The murderer is someone who didn't know about the quarrel, and that
+Mr. Redding wasn't going up to Old Hall anymore._"
+
+I reflected a moment to let the Inspector's points sink into my brain.
+They seemed to me logical and unavoidable.
+
+"Were there any fingerprints on the receiver in Mr. Redding's cottage?"
+I asked.
+
+"There were not," said the Inspector bitterly. "That dratted old woman
+who goes and does for him had been and dusted them off yesterday
+morning." He reflected wrathfully for a few minutes. "She's a stupid
+old fool anyway. Can't remember when she saw the pistol last. It might
+have been there on the morning of the crime or it might not. 'She
+couldn't say, she's sure.' They're all alike!
+
+"Just as a matter of form, I went round and saw Dr. Stone," he went on.
+"I must say he was pleasant as could be about it. He and Miss Cram went
+up to that mound--or barrow--or whatever you call it, about half past
+two yesterday, and stayed there all the afternoon. Dr. Stone came back
+alone, and she came later. He says he didn't hear any shot, but admits
+he's absent-minded. But it all bears out what we think."
+
+"Only," I said, "you haven't caught the murderer."
+
+"H'm," said the Inspector. "It was a woman's voice you heard through
+the telephone. It was, in all probability, a woman's voice Mrs. Price
+Ridley heard. If only that shot hadn't come hard on the close of the
+telephone call--well, I'd know where to look."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Ah! that's just what it's best not to say, sir."
+
+Unblushingly, I suggested a glass of old port. I have some very fine
+old vintage port. Eleven o'clock in the morning is not the usual time
+for drinking port, but I did not think that mattered with Inspector
+Slack. It was, of course, cruel abuse of the vintage port, but one must
+not be squeamish about such things.
+
+When Inspector Slack had polished off the second glass, he began to
+unbend and become genial. Such is the effect of that particular port.
+
+"I don't suppose it matters with you, sir," he said. "You'll keep it to
+yourself? No letting it get round the parish."
+
+I reassured him.
+
+"Seeing as the whole thing happened in your house, it almost seems as
+though you had a right to know."
+
+"Just what I feel myself," I said.
+
+"Well, then, sir, what about the lady who called on Colonel Protheroe
+the night before the murder?"
+
+"Mrs. Lestrange?" I cried, speaking rather loud in my astonishment.
+
+The Inspector threw me a reproachful glance.
+
+"Not so loud, sir. Mrs. Lestrange is the lady I've got my eye on. You
+remember what I told you--blackmail."
+
+"Hardly a reason for murder. Wouldn't it be a case of killing the goose
+that laid the golden eggs? That is, assuming that your hypothesis is
+true, which I don't for a minute admit."
+
+The Inspector winked at me in a common manner.
+
+"Ah! she's the kind the gentlemen will always stand up for. Now look
+here, sir. Suppose she's successfully blackmailed the old gentleman
+in the past. After a lapse of years, she gets wind of him, comes down
+here and tries it on again. _But_ in the meantime, things have changed.
+The law has taken up a very different stand. Every facility is given
+nowadays to people prosecuting for blackmail--names are not allowed to
+be reported in the press. Suppose Colonel Protheroe turns round and
+says he'll have the law on her. She's in a nasty position. They give a
+very severe sentence for blackmail. The boot's on the other leg. The
+only thing to do to save herself is to put him out good and quick."
+
+I was silent. I had to admit that the case the Inspector had built up
+was plausible. Only one thing to my mind made it inadmissible--the
+personality of Mrs. Lestrange.
+
+"I don't agree with you, Inspector," I said. "Mrs. Lestrange doesn't
+seem to me to be a potential blackmailer. She's--well, it's an
+old-fashioned word, but she's a--lady."
+
+He threw me a pitying glance.
+
+"Ah! well, sir," he said tolerantly. "You're a clergyman. You don't
+know half of what goes on. Lady indeed! You'd be surprised if you knew
+some of the things I know."
+
+"I'm not referring to mere social position. Anyway I should imagine
+Mrs. Lestrange to be a _déclassée_. What I mean is a question
+of--personal refinement."
+
+"You don't see her with the same eyes as I do, sir. I may be a man--but
+I'm a police officer too. They can't get over me with their personal
+refinement. Why, that woman is the kind who could stick a knife into
+you without turning a hair."
+
+Curiously enough, I could believe Mrs. Lestrange guilty of murder more
+easily than I could believe her capable of blackmail.
+
+"But of course she can't have been telephoning to the old lady next
+door and shooting Colonel Protheroe at one and the same time,"
+continued the Inspector.
+
+The words were hardly out of his mouth when he slapped his leg
+ferociously.
+
+"Got it," he exclaimed. "That's the point of the telephone call. Kind
+of _alibi_. Knew we'd connect it with the first one. I'm going to look
+into this. She may have bribed some village lad to do the phoning for
+her. _He'd_ never think of connecting it with the murder."
+
+The Inspector hurried off.
+
+"Miss Marple wants to see you," said Griselda putting her head in.
+"She sent over a very incoherent note--all spidery and underlined.
+I couldn't read most of it. Apparently she can't leave home herself.
+Hurry up and go across and see her and find out what it is. I've got
+my old women coming in two minutes or I'd come myself. I do hate old
+women--they tell you about their bad legs, and sometimes insist on
+showing them to you. What luck that the inquest is this afternoon! You
+won't have to go and watch the Boys' Club Cricket Match."
+
+I hurried off considerably exercised in my own mind as to the reason
+for this summons.
+
+I found Miss Marple in what, I believe, is described as a fluster. She
+was very pink and slightly incoherent.
+
+"My nephew," she explained. "My nephew, Raymond West, the author. He is
+coming down today. Such a to-do. I have to see to everything myself.
+You cannot trust a maid to air a bed properly, and we must, of course,
+have a meat meal tonight. Gentlemen require such a lot of meat, do they
+not? And drink. There certainly should be some drink in the house--and
+a siphon."
+
+"If I can do anything--" I began.
+
+"Oh! how very kind. But I did not mean that. There is plenty of time
+really. He brings his own pipe tobacco, I am glad to say. Glad because
+it saves me from knowing which kind of cigarettes are right to buy.
+But rather sorry, too, because it takes so long for the smell to get
+out of the curtains. Of course, I open the window and shake them well
+very early every morning. Raymond gets up very late--I think writers
+often do. He writes very clever books, I believe, though people are not
+really nearly so unpleasant as he makes out. Clever young men know so
+little of life, don't you think?"
+
+"Would you like to bring him to dinner at the Vicarage?" I asked, still
+unable to gather why I had been summoned.
+
+"Oh! no, thank you," said Miss Marple. "It's very kind of you," she
+added.
+
+"There was--er--something you wanted to see me about, I think," I
+suggested, desperately.
+
+"Oh! Of course. In all the excitement it had gone right out of my
+head." She broke off and called to her maid: "Emily--Emily. Not those
+sheets. The frilled ones with the monogram, and don't put them too near
+the fire."
+
+She closed the door and returned to me on tiptoe.
+
+"It's just rather a curious thing that happened last night," she
+explained. "I thought you would like to hear about it, though at
+the moment it doesn't seem to make sense. I felt very wakeful last
+night--wondering about all this sad business. And I got up and looked
+out of my window. And what do you think I saw?"
+
+I looked inquiring.
+
+"Gladys Cram," said Miss Marple, with great emphasis. "As I live, going
+into the wood with a suitcase."
+
+"A suitcase?"
+
+"Isn't it extraordinary? What should she want with a suitcase in the
+wood at twelve o'clock at night?"
+
+We both stared at each other.
+
+"You see," said Miss Marple. "I daresay it has nothing to do with the
+murder. But it is a Peculiar Thing. And just at present we all feel we
+must take notice of Peculiar Things."
+
+"Perfectly amazing," I said. "Was she going to--er--sleep in the barrow
+by any chance?"
+
+"She didn't, at any rate," said Miss Marple. "Because quite a short
+time afterwards she came back, and she hadn't got the suitcase with
+her."
+
+We stared at each other again.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 18
+
+
+The inquest was held that afternoon (Saturday) at two o'clock at the
+Blue Boar. The local excitement was, I need hardly say, tremendous.
+There had been no murder in St. Mary Mead for at least fifteen years.
+And to have someone like Colonel Protheroe murdered actually in the
+Vicarage study is such a feast of sensation as rarely falls to the lot
+of a village population.
+
+Various comments floated to my ears which I was probably not meant to
+hear.
+
+"There's Vicar. Look pale, don't he? I wonder if he had a hand in it.
+'Twas done at Vicarage, after all."
+
+"How can you, Mary Adams? And him visiting Henry Abbott at the time."
+
+"Ah! but they do say him and the Colonel had words. There's Mary Hill.
+Giving herself airs, she is, on account of being in service there.
+Hush, here's coroner."
+
+The coroner was Dr. Roberts of our adjoining town of Much Benham. He
+cleared his throat, adjusted his eyeglasses, and looked important.
+
+To recapitulate all the evidence would be merely tiresome. Lawrence
+Redding gave evidence of finding the body, and identified the pistol
+as belonging to him. To the best of his belief he had seen it on the
+Tuesday, two days previously. It was kept on a shelf in his cottage,
+and the door of the cottage was habitually unlocked.
+
+Mrs. Protheroe gave evidence that she had last seen her husband about a
+quarter to six, when they separated in the village street. She agreed
+to call for him at the Vicarage later. She had gone to the Vicarage
+about a quarter past six, by way of the back lane and the garden gate.
+She had heard no voices in the study, and had imagined that the room
+was empty, but her husband might have been sitting at the writing
+table, in which case she would not have seen him. As far as she knew,
+he had been in his usual health and spirits. She knew of no enemy who
+might have had a grudge against him.
+
+I gave evidence next, told of my appointment with Protheroe and my
+summons to the Abbotts'. I described how I had found the body and my
+summoning of Dr. Haydock.
+
+"How many people, Mr. Clement, were aware that Colonel Protheroe was
+coming to see you that evening?"
+
+"A good many, I should imagine. My wife knew and my nephew, and Colonel
+Protheroe himself alluded to the fact that morning when I met him in
+the village. I should think several people might have overheard him,
+as, being slightly deaf, he spoke in a loud voice."
+
+"It was then a matter of common knowledge? Anyone might know?"
+
+I agreed.
+
+Haydock followed. He was an important witness. He described carefully
+and technically the appearance of the body and the exact injuries.
+It was his opinion that deceased had been shot while actually in the
+act of writing. He placed the time of death at approximately 6.20 to
+6.30--certainly not later than 6.35. That was the outside limit. He was
+positive and emphatic on that point. There was no question of suicide;
+the wound could not have been self-inflicted.
+
+Inspector Slack's evidence was discreet and abridged. He described his
+summons, and the circumstances under which he had found the body. The
+unfinished letter was produced and the time on it--6.20--noted. Also
+the clock. It was tacitly assumed that the time of death was 6.22. The
+police were giving nothing away. Anne Protheroe told me afterwards that
+she had been told to suggest a slightly earlier period of time than
+6.20 for her visit.
+
+Our maid, Mary, was the next witness and proved a somewhat truculent
+one. She hadn't heard anything and didn't want to hear anything. It
+wasn't as though gentlemen who came to see the Vicar usually got shot.
+They didn't. She'd got her own jobs to look after. Colonel Protheroe
+had arrived at a quarter past six exactly. No, she didn't look at the
+clock. She heard the church chime after she had shown him into the
+study. She didn't hear any shot. If there had been a shot she'd have
+heard it. Well, of course she knew there must have been a shot, since
+the gentleman was found shot--but there it was. She hadn't heard it.
+
+The Coroner did not press the point. I realized that he and Colonel
+Melchett were working in agreement.
+
+Mrs. Lestrange had been subpoenaed to give evidence, but a medical
+certificate, signed by Dr. Haydock, was produced saying she was too ill
+to attend.
+
+There was only one other witness, a somewhat doddering old woman, the
+one who, in Slack's phrase, "did for" Lawrence Redding.
+
+Mrs. Archer was shown the pistol and recognized it as the one she had
+seen in Mr. Redding's sitting room--"Over against the bookcase, he
+kept it, lying about." She had last seen it on the day of the murder.
+Yes--in answer to a further question--she was quite sure it was there
+at lunchtime on Thursday--quarter to one when she left.
+
+I remembered what the Inspector had told me, and I was mildly
+surprised. However vague she might have been when he questioned her,
+she was quite positive about it now.
+
+The Coroner summed up in a negative manner but with a good deal of
+firmness. The verdict was given almost immediately.
+
+Murder by person or persons unknown.
+
+As I left the room I was aware of a small army of young men with
+bright, alert faces, and a kind of superficial resemblance to each
+other. Several of them were already known to me by sight, as having
+haunted the Vicarage the last few days. Seeking to escape, I plunged
+back into the Blue Boar, and was lucky enough to run straight into the
+archæologist, Dr. Stone. I clutched at him without ceremony.
+
+"Journalists," I said briefly and expressively. "If you could
+deliver me from their clutches?"
+
+"Why, certainly, Mr. Clement. Come upstairs with me."
+
+He led the way up the narrow staircase and into his sitting room,
+where Miss Cram was sitting rattling the keys of a typewriter with
+a practised touch. She greeted me with a broad smile of welcome and
+seized the opportunity to stop work.
+
+"Awful, isn't it?" she said. "Not knowing who did it, I mean. Not but
+that I'm disappointed in an inquest. Tame, that's what I call it.
+Nothing what you might call spicy from beginning to end."
+
+"You were there, then, Miss Cram?"
+
+"I was there all right. Fancy your not seeing me. Didn't you see me?
+I feel a bit hurt about that. Yes, I do. A gentleman, even if he is a
+clergyman, ought to have eyes in his head."
+
+"Were you present also?" I asked Dr. Stone, in an effort to escape from
+this playful badinage. Young women like Miss Cram always make me feel
+awkward.
+
+"No, I'm afraid I feel very little interest in such things. I am a man
+very wrapped up in his own hobby."
+
+"It must be a very interesting hobby," I said.
+
+"You know something of it, perhaps?"
+
+I was obliged to confess that I knew next to nothing.
+
+Dr. Stone was not the kind of man whom a confession of ignorance
+daunts. The result was exactly the same as though I had said that the
+excavation of barrows was my only relaxation. He surged and eddied
+into speech. Long barrows, round barrows, stone age, bronze age,
+paleolithic, neolithic, kistvaens and cromlechs, it burst forth in a
+torrent. I had little to do save nod my head and look intelligent--and
+that last is perhaps over optimistic. Dr. Stone boomed on. He is a
+little man. His head is round and bald; his face is round and rosy,
+and he beams at you through very strong glasses. I have never known a
+man so enthusiastic on so little encouragement. He went into every
+argument for and against his own pet theory--which by the way, I quite
+failed to grasp!
+
+He detailed at great length his difference of opinion with Colonel
+Protheroe.
+
+"An opinionated boor," he said with heat. "Yes, yes, I know he is dead,
+and one should speak no ill of the dead. But death does not alter
+facts. An opinionated boor describes him exactly. Because he had read
+a few books, he set himself up as an authority--against a man who has
+made a lifelong study of the subject. My whole life, Mr. Clement, has
+been given up to this work. My whole life--"
+
+He was spluttering with excitement. Gladys Cram brought him back to
+earth with a terse sentence.
+
+"You'll miss your train if you don't look out," she observed.
+
+"Oh!" The little man stopped in mid speech and dragged a watch from his
+pocket. "Bless my soul. Quarter to? Impossible."
+
+"Once you start talking you never remember the time. What you'd do
+without me to look after you, I really don't know."
+
+"Quite right, my dear, quite right." He patted her affectionately on
+the shoulder. "This is a wonderful girl, Mr. Clement. Never forgets
+anything. I consider myself extremely lucky to have found her."
+
+"Oh! go on, Dr. Stone," said the lady. "You spoil me, you do."
+
+I could not help feeling that I should be in a material position to add
+my support to the second school of thought--that which foresees lawful
+matrimony as the future of Dr. Stone and Miss Cram. I imagined that in
+her own way Miss Cram was rather a clever young woman.
+
+"You'd better be getting along," said Miss Cram.
+
+"Yes, yes, so I must."
+
+He vanished into the room next door and returned carrying a suitcase.
+
+"You are leaving?" I asked in some surprise.
+
+"Just running up to town for a couple of days," he explained. "My old
+mother to see tomorrow, some business with my lawyers on Monday. On
+Tuesday I shall return. By the way, I suppose that Colonel Protheroe's
+death will make no difference to our arrangements. As regards the
+barrow, I mean. Mrs. Protheroe will have no objection to our continuing
+the work?"
+
+"I should not think so."
+
+As he spoke, I wondered who actually would be in authority at Old Hall.
+It was just possible that Protheroe might have left it to Lettice. I
+felt that it would be interesting to know the contents of Protheroe's
+will.
+
+"Causes a lot of trouble in a family, a death does," remarked Miss Cram
+with a kind of gloomy relish. "You wouldn't believe what a nasty spirit
+there sometimes is."
+
+"Well, I must really be going." Dr. Stone made ineffectual attempts to
+control the suitcase, a large rug and an unwieldy umbrella. I came to
+his rescue. He protested.
+
+"Don't trouble--don't trouble. I can manage perfectly. Doubtless there
+will be somebody downstairs."
+
+But down below there was no trace of a boots or anyone else. I suspect
+that they were being regaled at the expense of the Press. Time was
+getting on, so we set out together to the station, Dr. Stone carrying
+the suitcase, and I holding the rug and umbrella.
+
+Dr. Stone ejaculated remarks in between panting breaths as we hurried
+along.
+
+"Really too good of you--didn't mean--to trouble you. Hope we shan't
+miss--the train--Gladys is a good girl--really a wonderful girl--a very
+sweet nature--not too happy at home, I'm afraid--absolutely--the heart
+of a child--heart of a child, I do assure you--in spite of--difference
+in our ages--find a lot in common...."
+
+I felt that several well-known parallels would have occurred to Miss
+Marple, had she been there.
+
+We saw Lawrence Redding's cottage just as we turned off to the station.
+It stands in an isolated position with no other house near it. I
+observed two young men of smart appearance standing on the doorstep,
+and a couple more peering in at the windows. It was a busy day for the
+Press.
+
+"Nice fellow, young Redding," I remarked to see what my companion would
+say.
+
+He was so out of breath by this time that he found it difficult to say
+anything, but he puffed out a word which I did not at first quite catch.
+
+"Dangerous," he gasped when I asked him to repeat his remark.
+
+"Dangerous?"
+
+"Most dangerous. Innocent girls--know no better--taken in by a fellow
+like that--always hanging round women. No good."
+
+From which I deduced that the only young man in the village had not
+passed unnoticed by the fair Gladys.
+
+"Goodness," ejaculated Dr. Stone. "The train!"
+
+We were close to the station by this time and we broke into a fast
+sprint. A down train was standing in the station and the up London
+train was just coming in.
+
+At the door of the booking office we collided with a rather exquisite
+young man, and I recognized Miss Marple's nephew just arriving. He
+is, I think, a young man who does not like to be collided with. He
+prides himself on his poise and general air of detachment, and there
+is no doubt that vulgar contact is detrimental to poise of any kind.
+He staggered back. I apologized hastily and we passed in. Dr. Stone
+climbed on the train and I handed up his baggage just as the train gave
+an unwilling jerk and started.
+
+I waved to him and then turned away. Raymond West had departed, but our
+local chemist, who rejoices in the name of Cherubim, was just setting
+out for the village. I walked beside him.
+
+"Close shave that," he observed. "Well, how did the inquest go, Mr.
+Clement?"
+
+I gave him the verdict.
+
+"Oh! so that's what happened. I rather thought they'd adjourn the
+inquest. Where's Dr. Stone off to?"
+
+I repeated what he had told me.
+
+"Lucky not to miss the train. Not that you ever know on this line.
+I tell you, Mr. Clement, it's a crying shame. Disgraceful, that's
+what I call it. Train I came down by was ten minutes late. And that
+on a Saturday, with no traffic to speak of. And on Wednesday--no,
+Thursday--yes, Thursday it was--I remember it was the day of the
+murder because I meant to write a strongly worded complaint to the
+company--and the murder put it out of my head--yes, last Thursday. I
+had been to a meeting of the pharmaceutical society. How late do you
+think the 6.50 was? _Half an hour._ Half an hour exactly! What do you
+think of that? Ten minutes I don't mind. But if the train doesn't get
+in till twenty past seven, well, you can't get home before half past.
+What I say is, why call it the 6.50?"
+
+"Quite so," I said, and, wishing to escape from the monologue, I broke
+away with the excuse that I had something to say to Lawrence Redding
+whom I saw approaching us on the other side of the road.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 19
+
+
+"Very glad to have met you," said Lawrence. "Come to my place."
+
+We turned in at the little rustic gate, went up the path, and he drew a
+key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock.
+
+"You keep the door locked now," I observed.
+
+"Yes." He laughed rather bitterly. "Case of stable door when the
+steed is gone, eh? It is rather like that. You know, padre," he held
+the door open and I passed inside, "there's something about all
+this business that I don't like. It's too much of--how shall I put
+it?--an inside job. Someone knew about that pistol of mine. That means
+that the murderer, whoever he was, must have actually been in this
+house--perhaps even had a drink with me."
+
+"Not necessarily," I objected. "The whole village of St. Mary Mead
+probably knows exactly where you keep your tooth brush and what kind of
+tooth powder you use."
+
+"But why should it interest them?"
+
+"I don't know," I said, "but it does. If you change your shaving cream
+it will be a topic of conversation."
+
+"They must be very hard up for news."
+
+"They are. Nothing exciting ever happens here."
+
+"Well, it has now--with a vengeance."
+
+I agreed.
+
+"And who tells them all these things, anyway? Shaving cream and things
+like that?"
+
+"Probably old Mrs. Archer."
+
+"That old crone? She's practically a half wit, as far as I can make
+out."
+
+"That's merely the camouflage of the poor," I explained. "They take
+refuge behind a mask of stupidity. You'll probably find that the old
+lady has all her wits about her. By the way, she seems very certain now
+that the pistol was in its proper place mid-day Thursday. What's made
+her so positive all of a sudden?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea."
+
+"Do you think she's right?"
+
+"There again I haven't the least idea. I don't go round taking an
+inventory of my possessions every day."
+
+I looked round the small living room. Every shelf and table was
+littered with miscellaneous articles. Lawrence lived in the midst of an
+artistic disarray that would have driven me quite mad.
+
+"It's a bit of a job finding things sometimes," he said, observing my
+glance. "On the other hand, everything is handy--not tucked away."
+
+"Nothing is tucked away, certainly," I agreed. "It might perhaps have
+been better if the pistol had been."
+
+"Do you know, I rather expected the Coroner to say something of the
+sort. Coroners are such asses. I expected to be censured, or whatever
+they call it."
+
+"By the way," I asked. "Was it loaded?"
+
+Lawrence shook his head.
+
+"I'm not quite so careless as that. It was unloaded, but there was a
+box of cartridges beside it."
+
+"It was apparently loaded in all six chambers, and one shot had been
+fired."
+
+Lawrence nodded.
+
+"And whose hand fired it? It's all very well, sir, but unless the real
+murderer is discovered I shall be suspected of the crime to the day of
+my death."
+
+"Don't say that, my boy."
+
+"But I do say it."
+
+He became silent, frowning to himself. He roused himself at last and
+said:
+
+"But let me tell you how I got on last night. You know, old Miss Marple
+knows a thing or two."
+
+"She is, I believe, rather unpopular on that account."
+
+Lawrence proceeded to recount his story.
+
+He had, following Miss Marple's advice, gone up to Old Hall. There,
+with Anne's assistance, he had had an interview with the parlour maid.
+
+Anne had said simply:
+
+"Mr. Redding wants to ask you a few questions, Rose."
+
+Then she had left the room.
+
+Lawrence had felt somewhat nervous. Rose, a pretty girl of twenty-five,
+gazed at him with a limpid gaze which he found rather disconcerting.
+
+"It's--it's about Colonel Protheroe's death."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"I'm very anxious, you see, to get at the truth."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I feel that there may be--that someone might--that--that--there might
+be some incident--"
+
+At this point Lawrence felt that he was not covering himself with
+glory, and heartily cursed Miss Marple and her suggestions.
+
+"I wondered if you could help me?"
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+Rose's demeanour was still that of the perfect servant, polite, anxious
+to assist, and completely uninterested.
+
+"Dash it all," said Lawrence. "Haven't you talked the thing over in the
+servants' hall?"
+
+This method of attack flustered Rose slightly. Her perfect poise was
+shaken.
+
+"In the servants' hall, sir?"
+
+"Or the housekeeper's room, or the bootboy's dugout, or wherever you do
+talk? There must be _some_ place."
+
+Rose displayed a very faint disposition to giggle, and Lawrence felt
+encouraged.
+
+"Look here, Rose, you're an awfully nice girl. I'm sure you must
+understand what I'm feeling like. I don't want to be hanged. I didn't
+murder your master, but a lot of people think I did. Can't you help me
+in any way?"
+
+I can imagine at this point that Lawrence must have looked extremely
+appealing. His handsome head thrown back, his Irish blue eyes
+appealing. Rose softened and capitulated.
+
+"Oh! sir, I'm sure--if any of us could help in any way. None of us
+think you did it, sir. Indeed we don't."
+
+"I know, my dear girl, but that's not going to help me with the police."
+
+"The police!" Rose tossed her head. "I can tell you, sir, we don't
+think much of that Inspector. Slack, he calls himself. The police
+indeed."
+
+"All the same, the police are very powerful. Now, Rose, you say you'll
+do your best to help me. I can't help feeling that there's a lot we
+haven't got at yet. The lady, for instance, who called to see Colonel
+Protheroe the night before he died."
+
+"Mrs. Lestrange?"
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Lestrange. I can't help feeling there's something rather odd
+about that visit of hers."
+
+"Yes, indeed, sir; that's what we all said."
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Coming the way she did. And asking for the Colonel. And of course
+there's been a lot of talk--nobody knowing anything about her down
+here. And Mrs. Simmons, she's the housekeeper, sir, she gave it as her
+opinion that she was a regular bad lot. But after hearing what Gladdie
+said, well, I didn't know what to think."
+
+"What did Gladdie say?"
+
+"Oh! nothing, sir. It was just--we were talking, you know."
+
+Lawrence looked at her. He had the feeling of something kept back.
+
+"I wonder very much what her interview with Colonel Protheroe was
+about."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I believe you know, Rose?"
+
+"Me? Oh! no, sir. Indeed I don't. How could I?"
+
+"Look here, Rose. You said you'd help me. If you overheard anything,
+anything at all--it mightn't seem important, but anything ... I'd be so
+awfully grateful to you. After all, anyone might--might chance--just
+_chance_ to overhear something."
+
+"But I didn't, sir, really I didn't."
+
+"Then somebody else did," said Lawrence acutely.
+
+"Well, sir--"
+
+"Do tell me, Rose."
+
+"I don't know what Gladdie would say, I'm sure."
+
+"She'd want you to tell me. Who _is_ Gladdie, by the way?"
+
+"She's the kitchen maid, sir. And you see, she'd just stepped out
+to speak to a friend, and she was passing the window--the study
+window--and the master was there with the lady. And of course he did
+speak very loud, the master did, always. And naturally, feeling a
+little curious--I mean--"
+
+"Awfully natural," said Lawrence. "I mean one would simply have to
+listen."
+
+"But of course she didn't tell anyone--except me. And we both thought
+it very odd. But Gladdie couldn't say anything, you see, because if it
+was known she'd gone out to meet a--a friend--well, it would have meant
+a lot of unpleasantness with Mrs. Pratt; that's the cook, sir. But I'm
+sure she'd tell you anything, sir, willing."
+
+"Well, can I go to the kitchen and speak to her?"
+
+Rose was horrified by the suggestion.
+
+"Oh! no, sir, that would never do. And Gladdie's a very nervous girl
+anyway."
+
+At last the matter was settled, after a lot of discussion over
+difficult points. A clandestine meeting was arranged in the shrubbery.
+
+Here, in due course, Lawrence was confronted by the nervous Gladdie,
+whom he described as more like a shivering rabbit than anything human.
+Ten minutes were spent in trying to put the girl at her ease, the
+shivering Gladys explaining that she couldn't ever--that she didn't
+ought, that she didn't think Rose would have given her away, that
+anyway she hadn't meant no harm, indeed she hadn't, and that she'd
+catch it badly if Mrs. Pratt ever came to hear of it.
+
+Lawrence reassured, cajoled, persuaded--at last Gladys consented to
+speak.
+
+"If you'll be sure it'll go no further, sir."
+
+"Of course it won't."
+
+"And it won't be brought up against me in a court of law?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"And you won't tell the mistress?"
+
+"Not on any account."
+
+"If it were to get to Mrs. Pratt's ears--"
+
+"It won't. Now tell me, Gladys."
+
+"If you're sure it's all right?"
+
+"Of course it is. You'll be glad some day you've saved me from being
+hanged."
+
+Gladys gave a little shriek.
+
+"Oh! indeed, I wouldn't like that, sir. Well, it's very little I
+heard--and that entirely by accident, as you might say--"
+
+"I quite understand."
+
+"But the master, he was evidently very angry. 'After all these years--'
+that's what he was saying--'you dare to come here. It's an outrage--' I
+couldn't hear what the lady said--but after a bit he said, 'I utterly
+refuse--utterly.' I can't remember everything--seemed as though they
+were at it hammer and tongs, she wanting him to do something and he
+refusing. 'It's a disgrace that you should have come down here,' that's
+one thing he said. And 'You shall not see her--I forbid it.' And that
+made me prick up my ears. Looked as though the lady wanted to tell Mrs.
+Protheroe a thing or two, and he was afraid about it. And I thought to
+myself 'Well, now, fancy the master. Him so particular. And maybe no
+beauty himself when all's said and done. Fancy!' I said. And 'Men are
+all alike,' I said to my friend later. Not that he'd agree. Argued, he
+did. But he did admit he was surprised at Colonel Protheroe--him, being
+a churchwarden and handing round the plate and reading the lessons
+on Sundays. 'But there,' I said, 'that's very often the worst.' For
+that's what I've heard my mother say, many a time."
+
+Gladdie paused, out of breath, and Lawrence tried tactfully to get back
+to where the conversation had started.
+
+"Did you hear anything else?"
+
+"Well, it's difficult to remember exactly, sir. It was all much the
+same. He said once or twice 'I don't believe it.' Just like that.
+'Whatever Haydock says, I don't believe it.'"
+
+"He said that, did he? 'Whatever Haydock says?'"
+
+"Yes. And he said it was all a plot."
+
+"You didn't hear the lady speak at all?"
+
+"Only just at the end. She must have got up to go and come nearer the
+window. And I heard what she said. Made my blood run cold, it did. I'll
+never forget it. '_By this time tomorrow night, you may be dead_,' she
+said. Wicked the way she said it. As soon as I heard the news: 'There,'
+I said to Rose. 'There!'"
+
+Lawrence wondered. Principally he wondered how much of Gladys's story
+was to be depended upon. True, in the main, he suspected that it had
+been embellished and polished since the murder. In especial he doubted
+the accuracy of the last remark. He thought it highly possible that it
+owed its being to the fact of the murder.
+
+He thanked Gladys, rewarded her suitably, reassured her as to her
+misdoings being made known to Mrs. Pratt, and left Old Hall with a good
+deal to think over.
+
+One thing was clear; Mrs. Lestrange's interview with Colonel Protheroe
+had certainly not been a peaceful one, and it was one which he was
+anxious to keep from the knowledge of his wife.
+
+I thought of Miss Marple's churchwarden with his separate
+establishment. Was this a case resembling that?
+
+I wondered more than ever where Haydock came in. He had saved Mrs.
+Lestrange from having to give evidence at the inquest. He had done his
+best to protect her from the police.
+
+How far would he carry that protection?
+
+Supposing he suspected her of crime--would he still try and shield her?
+
+She was a curious woman--a woman of very strong magnetic charm. I
+myself hated the thought of connecting her with the crime in any way.
+
+Something in me said, "It can't be her!"
+
+Why?
+
+And an imp in my brain replied, "Because she's a very beautiful and
+attractive woman. That's why."
+
+There is, as Miss Marple would say, a lot of human nature in all of us.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 20
+
+
+When I got back to the Vicarage I found that we were in the middle of a
+domestic crisis.
+
+Griselda met me in the hall and, with tears in her eyes, dragged me
+into the drawing room.
+
+"She's going."
+
+"Who's going?"
+
+"Mary. She's given notice."
+
+I really could not take the announcement in a tragic spirit.
+
+"Well," I said, "we'll have to get another servant."
+
+It seemed to me a perfectly reasonable thing to say. When one servant
+goes, you get another. I was at a loss to understand Griselda's look of
+reproach.
+
+"Len--you are absolutely heartless. You don't _care_."
+
+I didn't. In fact, I felt almost lighthearted at the prospect of no
+more burnt puddings and undercooked vegetables.
+
+"I'll have to look about for a girl, and find one, and train her,"
+continued Griselda in a voice of acute self-pity.
+
+"Is Mary trained?" I said.
+
+"Of course she is."
+
+"I suppose," I said, "that somebody has heard her address us as 'sir'
+or 'ma'am,' and has immediately wrested her from us as a paragon. All I
+can say is, they'll be disappointed."
+
+"It isn't that," said Griselda. "Nobody else wants her. I don't see how
+they could. It's her feelings. They're upset because Lettice Protheroe
+said she didn't dust properly."
+
+Griselda often comes out with surprising statements, but this seemed
+to me so surprising that I questioned it. It seemed to me the most
+unlikely thing in the world that Lettice Protheroe should go out of
+her way to interfere in our domestic affairs and reprove our maid for
+slovenly housework. It was completely un-Lettice like, and I said so.
+
+"I don't see," I said, "what our dust has to do with Lettice Protheroe."
+
+"Nothing at all," said my wife. "That's why it's so unreasonable. I
+wish you'd go and talk to Mary yourself. She's in the kitchen."
+
+I had no wish to talk to Mary on the subject, but Griselda, who is very
+energetic and quick, fairly pushed me through the baize door into the
+kitchen before I had time to rebel.
+
+Mary was peeling potatoes at the sink.
+
+"Er--good afternoon," I said nervously.
+
+Mary looked up and snorted, but made no other response.
+
+"Mrs. Clement tells me that you wish to leave us," I said.
+
+Mary condescended to reply to this.
+
+"There's some things," she said darkly, "as no girl can be asked to put
+up with."
+
+"Will you be more explicit, please?"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Will you tell me exactly what it is that has upset you?"
+
+"Tell you that in two words, I can" (Here, I may say, she vastly
+underestimated). "People coming snooping round here when my back's
+turned. Poking round. And what business of hers, is it, how often the
+study is dusted or turned out? If you and the missus don't complain,
+it's nobody else's business. If I give satisfaction to you that's all
+that matters, I say."
+
+Mary has never given satisfaction to me. I confess that I have a
+hankering after a room thoroughly dusted and tidied every morning.
+Mary's practice of flicking off the more obvious deposit on the surface
+of low tables is to my thinking grossly inadequate. However, I realized
+that at the moment it was no good to go into side issues.
+
+"Had to go to that inquest, didn't I? Standing up before twelve men,
+a respectable girl like me! And who knows what questions you may be
+asked. I'll tell you this. I've never before been in a place where they
+had a murder in the house, and I never want to be again."
+
+"I hope you won't," I said. "On the law of averages I should say it was
+very unlikely."
+
+"I don't hold with the law. _He_ was a magistrate. Many a poor fellow
+sent to jail for potting at a rabbit--and him with his pheasants and
+what not. And then, before he's so much as decently buried, that
+daughter of his comes round and says I don't do my work properly."
+
+"Do you mean that Miss Protheroe has been here?"
+
+"Found her here when I came back from the Blue Boar. In the study she
+was. And 'Oh' she says, 'I'm looking for my little yellow berry--a
+little yellow hat. I left it here the other day.' 'Well,' I says, 'I
+haven't seen no hat. It wasn't here when I done the room on Thursday
+morning,' I says. And 'Oh!' she says, 'but I daresay you wouldn't see
+it. You don't spend much time doing a room, do you?' And with that she
+draws her finger along the mantelshelf and looks at it. As though I had
+time on a morning like this to take off all them ornaments and put them
+back, with the police only unlocking the room the night before. 'If
+the Vicar and his lady are satisfied that's all that matters, I think,
+Miss,' I said. And she laughs and goes out of the window and says 'Oh!
+but are you sure they are?'"
+
+"I see," I said.
+
+"And there it is! A girl has her feelings! I'm sure I'd work my fingers
+to the bone for you and the Missus. And if she wants a new-fangled dish
+tried I'm always ready to try it."
+
+"I'm sure you are," I said soothingly.
+
+"But she must have heard something or she wouldn't have said what she
+did. And if I don't give satisfaction I'd rather go. Not that I take
+any notice of what Miss Protheroe says. She's not loved up at the Hall,
+I can tell you. Never a 'please' or a 'thank you,' and everything
+scattered right and left. I wouldn't set any store by Miss Lettice
+Protheroe myself, for all that Mr. Dennis is so set upon her. But
+she's the kind that can always twist a young gentleman round her little
+finger."
+
+During all this, Mary had been extracting eyes from potatoes with such
+energy that they had been flying round the kitchen like hailstones. At
+this moment one hit me in the eye and caused a momentary pause in the
+conversation.
+
+"Don't you think," I said, as I dabbed my eye with my handkerchief,
+"that you have been rather too inclined to take offence where none is
+meant? You know, Mary, your mistress will be very sorry to lose you."
+
+"I've nothing against the mistress--or against you, sir, for that
+matter."
+
+"Well, then, don't you think you're being rather silly?"
+
+Mary sniffed.
+
+"I was a bit upset like--after the inquest and all. And a girl has her
+feelings. But I wouldn't like to cause the mistress inconvenience."
+
+"Then that's all right," I said.
+
+I left the kitchen to find Griselda and Dennis waiting for me in the
+hall.
+
+"Well?" exclaimed Griselda.
+
+"She's staying," I said, and sighed.
+
+"Len," said my wife. "You _have_ been clever."
+
+I felt rather inclined to disagree with her. I do not think I had been
+clever. It is my firm opinion that no servant could be a worse one than
+Mary. Any change, I consider, would have been a change for the better.
+But I like to please Griselda. I detailed the heads of Mary's grievance.
+
+"How like Lettice," said Dennis. "She couldn't have left that yellow
+beret of hers here on Wednesday. She was wearing it for tennis on
+Thursday."
+
+"That seems to me highly probable," I said.
+
+"She never knows where she's left anything," said Dennis, with a kind
+of affectionate pride and admiration that I felt was entirely uncalled
+for. "She loses about a dozen things every day."
+
+"A remarkably attractive trait," I observed.
+
+Any sarcasm missed Dennis.
+
+"She _is_ attractive," he said, with a deep sigh. "People are always
+proposing to her--she told me so."
+
+"They must be illicit proposals if they're made to her down here," I
+remarked. "We haven't got a bachelor in the place."
+
+"There's Dr. Stone," said Griselda, her eyes dancing.
+
+"He asked her to come and see the barrow the other day," I admitted.
+
+"Of course he did," said Griselda. "She _is_ attractive, Len. Even
+bald-headed archæologists feel it."
+
+"Lots of S.A.," said Dennis sapiently.
+
+And yet Lawrence Redding is completely untouched by Lettice's charm.
+Griselda, however, explained that with the air of one who knew she was
+right.
+
+"Lawrence has got lots of S.A., himself. That kind always likes
+the--how shall I put it--the Quaker type. Very restrained and
+diffident. The kind of women whom everybody calls cold. I think Anne
+is the only woman who could ever hold Lawrence. I don't think they'll
+ever tire of each other. All the same, I think he's been rather stupid
+in one way. He's rather made use of Lettice, you know. I don't think he
+ever dreamed she cared--he's awfully modest in some ways--but I have a
+feeling she does."
+
+"She can't bear him," said Dennis positively. "She told me so."
+
+I have never seen anything like the pitying silence with which Griselda
+received this remark.
+
+I went into my study. There was, to my fancy, still a rather eerie
+feeling in the room. I knew that I must get over this. Once give in
+to that feeling, and I should probably never use the study again. I
+walked thoughtfully over to the writing table. Here Protheroe had sat,
+red-faced, hearty, self-righteous, and here, in a moment of time, he
+had been struck down. Here, where I was standing, an enemy had stood....
+
+And so--no more Protheroe....
+
+Here was the pen his fingers had held.
+
+On the floor was a faint dark stain--the rug had been sent to the
+cleaner's, but the blood had soaked through.
+
+I shivered.
+
+"I can't use this room," I said aloud. "I can't use it."
+
+Then my eye was caught by something--a mere speck of bright blue. I
+bent down. Between the floor and the desk I saw a small object. I
+picked it up.
+
+I was standing staring at it in the palm of my hand when Griselda came
+in.
+
+"I forgot to tell you, Len, Miss Marple wants us to go over tonight
+after dinner. To amuse the nephew. She's afraid of his being dull. I
+said we'd go."
+
+"Very well, my dear."
+
+"What are you looking at?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+I closed my hand, and looking at my wife, observed:
+
+"If you don't amuse Master Raymond West, my dear, he must be very hard
+to please."
+
+My wife said, "Don't be ridiculous, Len," and turned pink.
+
+She went out again, and I unclosed my hand.
+
+In the palm of my hand was a blue lapis lazuli earring, set in seed
+pearls.
+
+It was rather an unusual jewel, and I knew very well where I had seen
+it last.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 21
+
+
+I cannot say that I have at any time a great admiration for Mr. Raymond
+West. He is, I know, supposed to be a brilliant novelist, and has made
+quite a name as a poet. His poems have no capital letters in them,
+which is, I believe, the essence of modernity. His books are about
+unpleasant people leading lives of surpassing dullness.
+
+He has a tolerant affection for "Aunt Jane," whom he alludes to in her
+presence as a "survival." She listens to his talk with a flattering
+interest, and if there is sometimes an amused twinkle in her eye I am
+sure he never notices it.
+
+He fastened on Griselda at once with flattering abruptness. They
+discussed modern plays, and from there went on to modern schemes of
+decoration. Griselda affects to laugh at Raymond West, but she is, I
+think, susceptible to his conversation.
+
+During my (dull) conversation with Miss Marple, I heard at intervals
+the reiteration "buried as you are down here."
+
+It began at last to irritate me. I said suddenly:
+
+"I suppose you consider us very much out of things down here?"
+
+Raymond West waved his cigarette.
+
+"I regard St. Mary Mead," he said authoritatively, "as a stagnant pool."
+
+He looked at us, prepared for resentment at his statement; but
+somewhat, I think, to his chagrin, no one displayed annoyance.
+
+"That is really not a very good simile, dear Raymond," said Miss
+Marple briskly. "Nothing, I believe, is so full of life under the
+microscope as a drop of water from a stagnant pool."
+
+"Life--of a kind," admitted the novelist.
+
+"It's all much the same kind, really, isn't it?" said Miss Marple.
+
+"You compare yourself to a denizen of a stagnant pond, Aunt Jane?"
+
+"My dear, you said something of the sort in your last book, I remember."
+
+No clever young man likes having his works quoted against himself.
+Raymond West was no exception.
+
+"That was entirely different," he snapped.
+
+"Life is, after all, very much the same everywhere," said Miss Marple
+in her placid voice. "Getting born, you know, and growing up--and
+coming into contact with other people--getting jostled--and then
+marriage and more babies--"
+
+"And finally death," said Raymond West. "And not death with a death
+certificate always. Death in life."
+
+"Talking of death," said Griselda. "You know we've had a murder here?"
+
+Raymond West waved murder away with his cigarette.
+
+"Murder is so crude," he said. "I take no interest in it."
+
+That statement did not take me in for a moment. They say all the world
+loves a lover--apply that saying to murder and you have an even more
+infallible truth. No one can fail to be interested in a murder. Simple
+people like Griselda and myself can admit the fact, but anyone like
+Raymond West has to pretend to be bored--at any rate for the first five
+minutes.
+
+Miss Marple, however, gave her nephew away by remarking:
+
+"Raymond and I have been discussing nothing else all through dinner."
+
+"I take a great interest in all the local news," said Raymond hastily.
+He smiled benignly and tolerantly at Miss Marple.
+
+"Have you a theory, Mr. West?" asked Griselda.
+
+"Logically," said Raymond West, again flourishing his cigarette, "only
+one person could have killed Protheroe."
+
+"Yes?" said Griselda.
+
+We hung upon his words with flattering attention.
+
+"The Vicar," said Raymond, and pointed his accusing finger at me.
+
+I gasped.
+
+"Of course," he reassured me, "I know you didn't do it. Life is never
+what it should be. But think of the drama--the fitness--Churchwarden
+murdered in the Vicar's study by the Vicar. Delicious!"
+
+"And the motive?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh! That's interesting." He sat up--allowed his cigarette to go out.
+"Inferiority complex, I think. Possibly too many inhibitions. I should
+like to write the story of the affair. Amazingly complex. Week after
+week, year after year, he's seen the man--at vestry meetings--at
+choir boys' outings--handing round the bag in church--bringing it
+to the altar. Always he dislikes the man--always he chokes down his
+dislike. It's unchristianlike, he won't encourage it. And so it festers
+underneath, and one day--"
+
+He made a graphic gesture.
+
+Griselda turned to me.
+
+"Have you ever felt like that, Len?"
+
+"Never," I said truthfully.
+
+"Yet I hear you were wishing him out of the world not so long ago,"
+remarked Miss Marple.
+
+(That miserable Dennis! But my fault, of course, for ever making the
+remark.)
+
+"I'm afraid I was," I said. "It was a stupid remark to make, but really
+I'd had a very trying morning with him."
+
+"That's disappointing," said Raymond West. "Because, of course, if your
+subconscious were really planning to do him in, it would never have
+allowed you to make that remark."
+
+He sighed.
+
+"My theory falls to the ground. This is probably a very ordinary
+murder--a revengeful poacher or something of that sort."
+
+"Miss Cram came to see me this afternoon," said Miss Marple. "I met her
+in the village and I asked her if she would like to see my garden."
+
+"Is she fond of gardens?" asked Griselda.
+
+"I don't think so," said Miss Marple with a faint twinkle. "But it
+makes a very useful excuse for talk, don't you think?"
+
+"What did you make of her?" asked Griselda. "I don't believe she's
+really so bad."
+
+"She volunteered a lot of information--really a lot of information,"
+said Miss Marple. "About herself, you know, and her people. They all
+seem to be dead or in India. Very sad. By the way, she has gone to Old
+Hall for the weekend."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes, it seems Mrs. Protheroe asked her--or she suggested it to Mrs.
+Protheroe--I don't quite know which way about it was. To do some
+secretarial work for her--there are so many letters to cope with. It
+turned out rather fortunately. Dr. Stone being away, she has nothing to
+do. What an excitement this barrow has been."
+
+"Stone?" said Raymond. "Is that the archæologist fellow?"
+
+"Yes, he is excavating a barrow. On the Protheroe property."
+
+"He's a good man," said Raymond. "Wonderfully keen on his job. I met
+him at a dinner not long ago, and we had a most interesting talk. I
+must look him up."
+
+"Unfortunately," I said, "he's just gone to London for the weekend.
+Why, you actually ran into him at the station this afternoon."
+
+"I ran into you. You had a little fat man with you--with glasses on."
+
+"Yes--Dr. Stone."
+
+"But, my dear fellow--that wasn't Stone."
+
+"Not Stone?"
+
+"Not the archæologist. I know him quite well. The man wasn't Stone--not
+the faintest resemblance."
+
+We stared at each other. In particular I stared at Miss Marple.
+
+"Extraordinary," I said.
+
+"The suitcase," said Miss Marple.
+
+"But why?" said Griselda.
+
+"It reminds me of the time the man went round pretending to be the gas
+inspector," murmured Miss Marple. "Quite a little haul he got."
+
+"An impostor," said Raymond West. "Now this is really interesting."
+
+"The question is, has it anything to do with murder?" said Griselda.
+
+"Not necessarily," I said. "But--" I looked at Miss Marple.
+
+"It is," she said, "a Peculiar Thing. Another Peculiar Thing."
+
+"Yes," I said rising. "I rather feel the Inspector ought to be told
+about this at once."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 22
+
+
+Inspector Slack's orders, once I had got him on the telephone, were
+brief and emphatic. Nothing was to "get about." In particular, Miss
+Cram was not to be alarmed. In the meantime, a search was to be
+instituted for the suitcase in the neighbourhood of the barrow.
+
+Griselda and I returned home very excited over this new development. We
+could not say much with Dennis present, as we had faithfully promised
+Inspector Slack to breathe no word to anybody.
+
+In any case, Dennis was full of his own troubles. He came into my
+study and began fingering things and shuffling his feet and looking
+thoroughly embarrassed.
+
+"What is it, Dennis?" I said at last.
+
+"Uncle Len. I don't want to go to sea."
+
+I was astonished. The boy had been so very decided about his career up
+to now.
+
+"But you were so keen on it."
+
+"Yes, but I've changed my mind."
+
+"What do you want to do?"
+
+"I want to go into finance."
+
+I was even more surprised.
+
+"What do you mean--finance?"
+
+"Just that. I want to go into the City."
+
+"But my dear boy, I am sure you would not like the life. Even if I
+obtained a post for you in a bank--"
+
+Dennis said that wasn't what he meant. He didn't want to go into
+a bank. I asked him what exactly he did mean, and of course, as I
+suspected, the boy didn't really know.
+
+By "going into finance" he simply meant getting rich quickly, which,
+with the optimism of youth, he imagined was a certainty if one "went
+into the City." I disabused him of this notion as gently as I could.
+
+"What's put it into your head?" I asked. "You were so satisfied with
+the idea of going to sea."
+
+"I know, Uncle Len, but I've been thinking. I shall want to marry some
+day--and, I mean, you've got to be rich to marry a girl."
+
+"Facts disprove your theory," I said.
+
+"I know--but a real girl. I mean, a girl who's used to things."
+
+It was very vague but I thought I knew what he meant.
+
+"You know," I said gently, "all girls aren't like Lettice Protheroe."
+
+He fired up at once.
+
+"You're awfully unfair to her. You don't like her. Griselda doesn't
+either. She says she's tiresome."
+
+From the feminine point of view, Griselda is quite right. Lettice _is_
+tiresome. I could quite realize, however, that a boy would resent the
+adjective.
+
+"If only people made a few allowances. Why even the Hartley Napiers are
+going about grousing about her at a time like this! Just because she
+left their old tennis party a bit early. Why should she stay if she was
+bored? Jolly decent of her to go at all, I think."
+
+"Quite a favour," I said, but Dennis suspected no malice. He was full
+of his own grievance on Lettice's behalf.
+
+"She's awfully unselfish really. Just to show you, she made me stay.
+Naturally I wanted to go too. But she wouldn't hear of it. Said it was
+too bad on the Napiers. So, just to please her, I stopped on a quarter
+of an hour."
+
+The young have very curious views on unselfishness.
+
+"And now I hear Susan Hartley Napier is going about everywhere saying
+Lettice has rotten manners."
+
+"If I were you," I said, "I shouldn't worry."
+
+"It's all very well, but--"
+
+He broke off.
+
+"I'd--I'd do anything for Lettice."
+
+"Very few of us can do anything for anyone else," I said. "However much
+we wish it, we are powerless."
+
+"I wish I were dead," said Dennis.
+
+Poor lad. Calf love is a virulent disease. I forebore to say any of the
+obvious and probably irritating things which come so easily to one's
+lips. Instead I said good night, and went up to bed.
+
+I took the eight o'clock service the following morning, and when I
+returned found Griselda sitting at the breakfast table with an open
+note in her hand. It was from Anne Protheroe.
+
+    DEAR GRISELDA,
+
+    _If you and the Vicar could come up and lunch here quietly today, I
+    should be so very grateful. Something very strange has occurred and
+    I should like Mr. Clement's advice._
+
+    _Please don't mention this when you come, as I have said nothing to
+    anyone._
+
+    _With love_,
+
+                                                _Yours affectionately_,
+                                                        ANNE PROTHEROE.
+
+"We must go, of course," said Griselda.
+
+I agreed.
+
+"I wonder what can have happened?"
+
+I wondered too.
+
+"You know," I said to Griselda, "I don't feel we are really at the end
+of this case yet."
+
+"You mean not till someone has really been arrested?"
+
+"No," I said. "I didn't mean that. I mean that there are ramifications,
+undercurrents, that we know nothing about. There are a whole lot of
+things to clear up before we get at the truth."
+
+"You mean things that don't really matter, but that get in the way?"
+
+"Yes, I think that expresses my meaning very well."
+
+"I think we're all making a great fuss," said Dennis, helping himself
+to marmalade. "It's a jolly good thing old Protheroe is dead. Nobody
+liked him. Oh! I know the police have got to worry--it's their job. But
+I rather hope myself they'll never find out. I should hate to see Slack
+promoted, going about swelling with importance over his cleverness."
+
+I am human enough to feel that I agreed over the matter of Slack's
+promotion. A man who goes about systematically rubbing people up the
+wrong way cannot hope to be popular.
+
+"Dr. Haydock thinks rather like I do," went on Dennis. "He'd never give
+a murderer up to justice. He said so."
+
+I think that that is the danger of Haydock's views. They may be sound
+in themselves--it is not for me to say--but they produce an impression
+on the young, careless mind which I am sure Haydock himself never meant
+to convey.
+
+Griselda looked out of the window and remarked that there were
+reporters in the garden.
+
+"I suppose they're photographing the study windows again," she said
+with a sigh.
+
+We had suffered a good deal in this way. There was first the idle
+curiosity of the village--everyone had come to gape and stare. There
+were next the reporters armed with cameras, and the village again to
+watch the reporters. In the end we had to have a constable from Much
+Benham on duty outside the window.
+
+"Well," I said, "the funeral is tomorrow morning. After that, surely,
+the excitement will die down."
+
+I noticed a few reporters hanging about Old Hall when we arrived there.
+They accosted me with various queries, to which I gave the invariable
+answer (we had found it the best) that I had nothing to say.
+
+We were shown by the butler into the drawing room, the sole occupant
+of which turned out to be Miss Cram--apparently in a state of high
+enjoyment.
+
+"This is a surprise, isn't it?" she said as she shook hands. "I never
+should have thought of such a thing, but Mrs. Protheroe is kind, isn't
+she? And, of course, it isn't what you might call nice for a young girl
+to be staying alone at a place like the Blue Boar, reporters about and
+all. And, of course, it's not as though I haven't been able to make
+myself useful--you really need a secretary at a time like this, and
+Miss Protheroe doesn't do anything to help, does she?"
+
+I was amused to notice that the old animosity against Lettice
+persisted, but that the girl had apparently become a warm partisan of
+Anne's. At the same time I wondered if the story of her coming here was
+strictly accurate. In her account, the initiative had come from Anne,
+but I wondered if that were really so. The first mention of disliking
+to be at the Blue Boar alone might have easily come from the girl
+herself. While keeping an open mind on the subject, I did not fancy
+that Miss Cram was strictly truthful.
+
+At that moment Anne Protheroe entered the room.
+
+She was dressed very quietly in black. She carried in her hand a Sunday
+paper, which she held out to me with a rueful glance.
+
+"I've never had any experience of this sort of thing. It's pretty
+ghastly, isn't it? I saw a reporter at the inquest. I just said that I
+was terribly upset and had nothing to say, and then he asked me if I
+wasn't very anxious to find my husband's murderer, and I said 'Yes.'
+And then whether I had any suspicions and I said 'No.' And whether I
+didn't think the crime showed local knowledge, and I said it seemed to,
+certainly. And that was all. And now look at this!"
+
+In the middle of the page was a photograph, evidently taken at least
+ten years ago--Heaven knows where they had dug it out. There were large
+headlines.
+
+    WIDOW DECLARES SHE WILL NEVER REST TILL SHE HAS HUNTED DOWN
+    HUSBAND'S MURDERER.
+
+    _Mrs. Protheroe, the widow of the murdered man, is certain that
+    the murderer must be looked for locally. She has suspicions but
+    no certainty. She declared herself prostrated with grief, but
+    reiterated her determination to hunt down the murderer._
+
+"It doesn't sound like me, does it?" said Anne.
+
+"I daresay it might have been worse," I said handing back the paper.
+
+"Impudent, aren't they?" said Miss Cram. "I'd like to see one of those
+fellows trying to get something out of me."
+
+By the twinkle in Griselda's eye, I was convinced that she regarded
+this statement as being more literally true than Miss Cram intended it
+to appear.
+
+Luncheon was announced and we went in. Lettice did not come in till
+half way through the meal, when she drifted into the empty place with a
+smile for Griselda and a nod for me. I watched her with some attention,
+for reasons of my own, but she seemed much the same vague creature as
+usual. Extremely pretty--that in fairness I had to admit. She was still
+not wearing mourning, but was dressed in a shade of pale green that
+brought out all the delicacy of her fair colouring.
+
+After we had had coffee, Anne said quietly:
+
+"I want to have a little talk with the Vicar. I will take him up to my
+sitting room."
+
+At last I was to learn the reason of our summons. I rose and followed
+her up the stairs. She paused at the door of the room. As I was about
+to speak, she stretched out a hand to stop me. She remained listening,
+looking down towards the hall.
+
+"Good. They are going out into the garden. No--don't go in there. We
+can go straight up."
+
+Much to my surprise she led the way along the corridor to the extremity
+of the wing. Here a narrow, ladder-like staircase rose to the floor
+above and she mounted it, I following. We found ourselves in a dusty
+boarded passage. Anne opened a door and led me into a large, dim attic
+which was evidently used as a lumber room. There were trunks there, old
+broken furniture, a few stacked pictures, and the many countless odds
+and ends which a lumber room collects.
+
+My surprise was so evident that she smiled faintly.
+
+"First of all, I must explain. I am sleeping very lightly just now.
+Last night--or rather this morning about three o'clock--I was convinced
+that I heard someone moving about the house. I listened for some time,
+and at last got up and came out to see. Out on the landing I realized
+that the sounds came, not from down below, but from up above. I came
+along to the foot of these stairs. Again I thought I heard a sound.
+I called up 'Is anybody there?' But there was no answer, and I heard
+nothing more, so I assumed that my nerves had been playing tricks on me
+and went back to bed.
+
+"However, early this morning, I came up here--simply out of curiosity.
+And I found _this_!"
+
+She stooped down and turned round a picture that was leaning against
+the wall with the back of the canvas towards us.
+
+I gave a gasp of surprise. The picture was evidently a portrait in
+oils, but the face had been hacked and cut in such a savage way as to
+render it unrecognizable. Moreover the cuts were clearly quite fresh.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing," I said.
+
+"Isn't it? Tell me, can you think of any explanation?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"There's a kind of savagery about it," I said, "that I don't like. It
+looks as though it had been done in a fit of maniacal rage."
+
+"Yes, that's what I thought."
+
+"What is the portrait?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea. I have never seen it before. All these
+things were in the attic when I married Lucius and came here to live. I
+have never been through them or bothered about them."
+
+"Extraordinary," I commented.
+
+I stooped down and examined the other pictures. They were very much
+what you would expect to find--some very mediocre landscapes, some
+oleographs, and a few cheaply framed reproductions.
+
+There was nothing else helpful. A large, old-fashioned trunk, of the
+kind that used to be called an "ark," had the initials E.P. upon it. I
+raised the lid. It was empty. Nothing else in the attic was the least
+suggestive.
+
+"It really is a most amazing occurrence," I said. "It's so--senseless."
+
+"Yes," said Anne. "That frightens me a little."
+
+There was nothing more to see. I accompanied her down to her sitting
+room where she closed the door.
+
+"Do you think I ought to do anything about it? Tell the police?"
+
+I hesitated.
+
+"It's hard to say on the face of it whether--"
+
+"It has anything to do with the murder or not," finished Anne. "I
+know. That's what is so difficult. On the face of it, there seems no
+connection whatever."
+
+"No," I said, "but it is another Peculiar Thing."
+
+We both sat silent with puzzled brows.
+
+"What are your plans, if I may ask?" I said presently.
+
+She lifted her head.
+
+"I'm going to live here for at least another six months!" She said it
+defiantly. "I don't want to. I hate the idea of living here. But I
+think it's the only thing to be done. Otherwise people will say that I
+ran away--that I had a guilty conscience."
+
+"Surely not."
+
+"Oh! yes, they will. Especially when--" She paused and then said: "When
+the six months are up--I am going to marry Lawrence." Her eyes met
+mine. "We're neither of us going to wait any longer."
+
+"I supposed," I said, "that that would happen."
+
+Suddenly she broke down, burying her head in her hands.
+
+"You don't know how grateful I am to you--you don't know. We'd said
+good-bye to each other--he was going away. I feel--I feel not so awful
+about Lucius' death. If we'd been planning to go away together, and
+he'd died then--it wouldn't be so awful now. But you made us both see
+how wrong it would be. That's why I'm grateful."
+
+"I, too, am thankful," I said gravely.
+
+"All the same, you know," she sat up. "Unless the real murderer is
+found, they'll always think it was Lawrence. Oh! yes, they will. And
+especially when he marries me."
+
+"My dear, Dr. Haydock's evidence made it perfectly clear--"
+
+"What do people care about evidence? They don't even know about it.
+And medical evidence never means anything to outsiders anyway. That's
+another reason why I'm staying on here. Mr. Clement, _I'm going to find
+out the truth_."
+
+Her eyes flashed as she spoke. She added:
+
+"That's why I asked that girl here."
+
+"Miss Cram?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You did ask her, then. I mean, it was your idea?"
+
+"Entirely. Oh! as a matter of fact, she whined a bit. At the
+inquest--she was there when I arrived. No, I asked her here
+deliberately."
+
+"But surely," I cried, "you don't think that that silly young woman
+could have had anything to do with the crime?"
+
+"It's awfully easy to appear silly, Mr. Clement. It's one of the
+easiest things in the world."
+
+"Then you really think--?"
+
+"No. I don't. Honestly I don't. What I do think is that that girl knows
+something--or might know something. I wanted to study her at close
+quarters."
+
+"And the very night she arrives, that picture is slashed," I said
+thoughtfully.
+
+"You think she did it? But why? It seems so utterly absurd and
+impossible."
+
+"It seems to me utterly impossible and absurd that your husband should
+have been murdered in my study," I said bitterly. "But he was."
+
+"I know." She laid her hand on my arm. "It's dreadful for you. I do
+realize that, though I haven't said very much about it."
+
+I took the blue lapis lazuli earring from my pocket and held it out to
+her.
+
+"This is yours, I think?"
+
+"Oh! yes." She held out her hand for it with a pleased smile. "Where
+did you find it?"
+
+But I did not put the jewel into her outstretched hand.
+
+"Would you mind," I said, "if I kept it a little longer?"
+
+"Why, certainly." She looked puzzled and a little inquiring. I did not
+satisfy her curiosity.
+
+Instead I asked her how she was situated financially.
+
+"It is an impertinent question," I said. "But I really do not mean it
+as such."
+
+"I don't think it's impertinent at all. You and Griselda are the best
+friends I have here. And I like that funny old Miss Marple. Lucius was
+very well off, you know. He left things pretty equally divided between
+me and Lettice. Old Hall goes to me, but Lettice is to be allowed to
+choose enough furniture to furnish a small house, and she is left a
+separate sum for the purpose of buying one, so as to even things up."
+
+"What are her plans, do you know?"
+
+Anne made a comical grimace.
+
+"She doesn't tell them to me. I imagine she will leave here as soon as
+possible. She doesn't like me--she never has. I daresay it's my fault,
+though I've really always tried to be decent. But I suppose any girl
+resents a young stepmother."
+
+"Are you fond of her?" I asked bluntly.
+
+She did not reply at once, which convinced me that Anne Protheroe is a
+very honest woman.
+
+"I was at first," she said. "She was such a pretty little girl. I don't
+think I am now. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because she doesn't like
+me. I like being liked, you know."
+
+"We all do," I said, and Anne Protheroe smiled.
+
+I had one more task to perform. That was to get a word alone with
+Lettice Protheroe. I managed that easily enough, catching sight of her
+in the deserted drawing room. Griselda and Gladys Cram were out in the
+garden.
+
+I went in and shut the door.
+
+"Lettice," I said, "I want to speak to you about something."
+
+She looked up indifferently.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+I had thought beforehand what to say. I held out the lapis earring and
+said quietly,
+
+"Why did you drop that in my study?"
+
+I saw her stiffen for a moment--it was almost instantaneous. Her
+recovery was so quick that I myself could hardly have sworn to the
+movement. Then she said carelessly:
+
+"I never dropped anything in your study. That's not mine. That's
+Anne's."
+
+"I know that," I said.
+
+"Well, why ask me then? Anne must have dropped it."
+
+"Mrs. Protheroe has only been in my study once since the murder, and
+then she was wearing black and so would not have been likely to have
+had on a blue earring."
+
+"In that case," said Lettice, "I suppose she must have dropped it
+before." She added, "That's only logical."
+
+"It's very logical," I said. "I suppose you don't happen to remember
+when your stepmother was wearing these earrings last?"
+
+"Oh!" She looked at me with a puzzled, trustful gaze. "Is it very
+important?"
+
+"It might be," I said.
+
+"I'll try and think." She sat there knitting her brows. I have never
+seen Lettice Protheroe look more charming than she did at that moment.
+"Oh! yes," she said suddenly. "She had them on on Thursday. I remember
+now."
+
+"Thursday," I said slowly, "was the day of the murder. Mrs. Protheroe
+came to the studio in the garden that day, but, if you remember, in
+her evidence, she only came as far as the study window, not inside the
+room."
+
+"Where did you find this?"
+
+"Rolled underneath the desk."
+
+"Then it looks, doesn't it," said Lettice coolly, "as though she hadn't
+spoken the truth?"
+
+"You mean that she came right in and stood by the desk?"
+
+"Well, it looks like it, doesn't it?"
+
+Her eyes met mine calmly.
+
+"If you want to know," she said calmly, "I never have thought she was
+speaking the truth."
+
+"And I _know you_ are not, Lettice."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+She was startled.
+
+"I mean," I said, "that the last time I saw this earring was on Friday
+morning when I came up here with Colonel Melchett. It was lying with
+its fellow on your stepmother's dressing table. I actually handled them
+both."
+
+"Oh!--" She wavered, then suddenly flung herself sideways over the
+arm of her chair and burst into tears. Her long, fair hair hung down
+almost touching the floor. It was a strange attitude--beautiful and
+unrestrained.
+
+I let her sob for some moments in silence and then I said very gently:
+
+"Lettice, why did you do it?"
+
+"What?"
+
+She sprang up, flinging her hair wildly back. She looked wild--almost
+terrified.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"What made you do it? Was it jealousy? Dislike of Anne?"
+
+"Oh!--Oh! yes." She pushed the hair back from her face and seemed
+suddenly to regain complete self-possession. "Yes, you can call it
+jealousy. I've always disliked Anne--ever since she came queening
+it here. I put the damned thing under the desk. I hoped it would
+get her into trouble. It would have done if you hadn't been such a
+Nosey Parker, fingering things on dressing tables. Anyway, it isn't a
+clergyman's business to go about helping the police."
+
+It was a spiteful childish outburst. I took no notice of it. Indeed at
+that moment, she seemed a very pathetic child.
+
+Her childish attempt at vengeance against Anne seemed hardly to be
+taken seriously. I told her so, and added that I should return the
+earring to her and say nothing of the circumstances in which I had
+found it. She seemed rather touched by that.
+
+"That's nice of you," she said.
+
+She paused a minute and then said, keeping her face averted and
+evidently choosing her words with care:
+
+"You know, Mr. Clement, I should--I should get Dennis away from here
+soon, if I were you. I--I think it would be better."
+
+"Dennis?" I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise but with a trace of
+amusement too.
+
+"I think it would be better," she added, still in the same awkward
+manner. "I'm sorry about Dennis. I didn't think he--anyway, I'm sorry."
+
+We left it at that.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 23
+
+
+On the way back, I proposed to Griselda that we should make a detour
+and go round by the barrow. I was anxious to see if the police were at
+work and, if so, what they had found. Griselda, however, had things to
+do at home, so I was left to make the expedition on my own.
+
+I found Constable Hurst in charge of operations.
+
+"No sign so far, sir," he reported, "and yet it stands to reason that
+this is the only place for a _cache_."
+
+His use of the word _cache_ puzzled me for the moment, as he pronounced
+it catch, but his real meaning occurred to me almost at once.
+
+"Whatimeantersay is, sir, where else could the young woman be going,
+starting into the wood by that path? It leads to Old Hall, and it leads
+here, and that's about all."
+
+"I suppose," I said, "that Inspector Slack would disdain such a simple
+course as asking the young lady straight out."
+
+"Anxious not to put the wind up her," said Hurst. "Anything she writes
+to Stone or he writes to her may throw light on things--once she knows
+we're on to her, she'd shut up like _that_."
+
+Like _what_ exactly was left in doubt, but I personally doubted Miss
+Gladys Cram ever being shut up in the way described. It was impossible
+to imagine her as other than overflowing with conversation.
+
+"When a man's an h'impostor, you want to know _why_ he's an
+h'impostor," said Constable Hurst didactically.
+
+"Naturally," I said.
+
+"And the answer is to be found in this here barrow--or else why was he
+forever messing about with it?"
+
+"A _raison d'être_ for prowling about," I suggested, but this bit of
+French was too much for the constable. He revenged himself for not
+understanding it by saying coldly:
+
+"That's the h'amateur's point of view."
+
+"Anyway, you haven't found the suitcase," I said.
+
+"We shall do, sir. Not a doubt of it."
+
+"I'm not so sure," I said. "I've been thinking. Miss Marple said it was
+quite a short time before the girl reappeared empty-handed. In that
+case, she wouldn't have had time to get up here and back."
+
+"You can't take any notice of what old ladies say. When they've seen
+something curious, and are waiting all eager like, why time simply
+flies for them. And anyway, no lady knows anything about time."
+
+I often wonder why the whole world is so prone to generalize.
+Generalizations are seldom or ever true, and are usually utterly
+inaccurate. I have a poor sense of time myself (hence the keeping of my
+clock fast), and Miss Marple, I should say, has a very acute one. Her
+clocks keep time to the minute, and she herself is rigidly punctual on
+every occasion.
+
+However I had no intention of arguing with Constable Hurst on the
+point. I wished him good afternoon and good luck, and went on my way.
+
+It was just as I was nearing home that the idea came to me. There was
+nothing to lead up to it. It just flashed into my brain as a possible
+solution.
+
+You will remember that on my first search of the path, the day after
+the murder, I had found the bushes disturbed in a certain place.
+They proved, or so I thought at the time, to have been disturbed by
+Lawrence, bent on the same errand as myself.
+
+But I remembered that afterwards he and I together had come upon
+another faintly marked trail which proved to be that of the Inspector.
+On thinking it over, I distinctly remembered that the first trail
+(Lawrence's) had been much more noticeable than the second, as though
+more than one person had been passing that way. And I reflected that
+that was probably what had drawn Lawrence's attention to it in the
+first instance. Supposing that it had originally been made by either
+Dr. Stone or else Miss Cram?
+
+I remembered, or else I imagined remembering, that there had been
+several withered leaves on broken twigs. If so, the trail could not
+have been made the afternoon of our search.
+
+I was just approaching the spot in question. I recognized it easily
+enough, and once more forced my way through the bushes. This time
+I noticed fresh twigs broken. Someone _had_ passed this way since
+Lawrence and myself.
+
+I soon came to the place where I had encountered Lawrence. The faint
+trail, however, persisted farther, and I continued to follow it.
+Suddenly it widened out into a little clearing, which showed signs
+of recent upheaval. I say a clearing, because the denseness of the
+undergrowth was thinned out there, but the branches of the trees met
+overhead and the whole place was not more than a few feet across.
+
+On the other side, the undergrowth grew densely again and it seemed
+quite clear that no one had forced a way through it recently.
+Nevertheless, it seemed to have been disturbed in one place.
+
+I went across and kneeled down, thrusting the bushes aside with both
+hands. A glint of a shiny brown surface rewarded me. Full of excitement
+I thrust my arm in and with a good deal of difficulty I extracted a
+small brown suitcase.
+
+I uttered an ejaculation of triumph. I had been successful. Coldly
+snubbed by Constable Hurst, I had yet proved right in my reasoning.
+Here without doubt was the suitcase carried by Miss Cram. I tried the
+hasp, but it was locked.
+
+As I rose to my feet, I noticed a small brownish crystal lying on the
+ground. Almost automatically, I picked it up and slipped it into my
+pocket.
+
+Then, grasping my find by the handle, I retraced my steps to the path.
+
+As I climbed over the stile into the lane, an agitated voice near at
+hand called out.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Clement. You've found it! How clever of you!"
+
+Mentally registering the fact that, in the art of seeing without being
+seen, Miss Marple had no rival, I balanced my find on the palings
+between us.
+
+"That's the one," said Miss Marple. "I'd know it anywhere."
+
+This, I thought, was a slight exaggeration. There are thousands of
+cheap shiny suitcases all exactly alike. No one could recognize one,
+particularly one seen from such a distance away by moonlight, but I
+realized that the whole business of the suitcase was Miss Marple's
+particular triumph and, as such, she was entitled to a little
+pardonable exaggeration.
+
+"It's locked, I suppose, Mr. Clement?"
+
+"Yes. I'm just going to take it down to the police station."
+
+"You don't think it would be better to telephone?"
+
+Of course unquestionably it would be better to telephone. To stride
+through the village, suitcase in hand, would be to court a probably
+undesirable publicity.
+
+So I unlatched Miss Marple's garden gate and entered the house by the
+French window, and from the sanctity of the drawing room, with the door
+shut, I telephoned my news.
+
+The result was that Inspector Slack announced he would be up himself in
+a couple of jiffies.
+
+When he arrived it was in his most cantankerous mood.
+
+"So we've got it, have we?" he said. "You know, sir, you shouldn't keep
+things to yourself. If you've any reason to believe you know where the
+article in question was hidden, you ought to have reported it to the
+proper authorities."
+
+"It was a pure accident," I said. "The idea just happened to occur to
+me."
+
+"And that's a likely tale. Nearly three quarters of a mile of woodland,
+and you go right to the proper spot and lay your hand upon it."
+
+I would have given Inspector Slack the steps in reasoning which led
+me to this particular spot, but he had achieved his usual result of
+putting my back up. I said nothing.
+
+"Well!" said Inspector Slack, eyeing the suitcase with dislike and
+would-be indifference. "I suppose we might as well have a look at
+what's inside."
+
+He had brought an assortment of keys and wire with him. The lock was a
+cheap affair. In a couple of seconds the case was open.
+
+I don't know what we had expected to find--something sternly
+sensational, I imagine. But the first thing that met our eyes was a
+greasy plaid scarf. The Inspector lifted it out. Next came a faded dark
+blue overcoat, very much the worse for wear. A checked cap followed.
+
+"A shoddy lot," said the Inspector.
+
+A pair of boots, very down at heel and battered, came next. At the
+bottom of the suitcase was a parcel done up in newspaper.
+
+"Fancy shirt, I suppose," said the Inspector bitterly, as he tore it
+open.
+
+A moment later he had caught his breath in surprise.
+
+For inside the parcel were some demure little silver objects and a
+round platter of the same metal.
+
+Miss Marple gave a shrill exclamation of recognition.
+
+"The trencher salts," she exclaimed. "Colonel Protheroe's trencher
+salts, and the Charles II tazza. Did you ever hear of such a thing!"
+
+The Inspector had got very red.
+
+"So that was the game," he muttered. "Robbery. But I can't make it out.
+There's been no mention of these things being missing."
+
+"Perhaps they haven't discovered the loss," I suggested. "I presume
+these valuable things would not have been kept out in common use.
+Colonel Protheroe probably kept them locked away in a safe."
+
+"I must investigate this," said the Inspector. "I'll go right up to
+Old Hall now. So that's why our Dr. Stone made himself scarce. What
+with the murder and one thing and another, he was afraid we'd get wind
+of his activities. As likely as not his belongings might have been
+searched. He got the girl to hide them in the wood with a suitable
+change of clothing. He meant to come back by a roundabout route and
+go off with them one night while she stayed here to disarm suspicion.
+Well, there's one thing to the good. This lets him out over the murder.
+He'd nothing to do with that. Quite a different game."
+
+He repacked the suitcase and took his departure, refusing Miss Marple's
+offer of a glass of sherry.
+
+"Well, that's one mystery cleared up," I said with a sigh. "What Slack
+says is quite true; there are no grounds for suspecting him of the
+murder. Everything's accounted for quite satisfactorily."
+
+"It really would seem so," said Miss Marple. "Although one never can be
+quite certain, can one?"
+
+"There's a complete lack of motive," I pointed out. "He'd got what he
+came for and was clearing out."
+
+"Y--es."
+
+She was clearly not quite satisfied, and I looked at her in some
+curiosity. She hastened to answer my inquiring gaze with a kind of
+apologetic eagerness.
+
+"I've no doubt I am _quite_ wrong. I'm so stupid about these things.
+But I just wondered--I mean this silver is very valuable, is it not?"
+
+"A tazza sold the other day for over a thousand pounds, I believe."
+
+"I mean--it's not the value of the metal."
+
+"No, it's what one might call a connoisseur's value."
+
+"That's what I mean. The sale of such things would take a little time
+to arrange, or, even if it was arranged, it couldn't be carried through
+without secrecy. I mean--if the robbery were reported and a hue and cry
+were raised, well, the things couldn't be marketed at all."
+
+"I don't quite see what you mean?" I said.
+
+"I know I'm putting it badly." She became more flustered and
+apologetic. "But it seems to me that--that the things couldn't just
+have been abstracted, so to speak. The only satisfactory thing to
+do would be to replace these things with copies. Then, perhaps, the
+robbery wouldn't be discovered for some time."
+
+"That's a very ingenious idea," I said.
+
+"It would be the only way to do it, wouldn't it? And if so, of course,
+as you say, once the substitution had been accomplished, there wouldn't
+have been any reason for murdering Colonel Protheroe--quite the
+reverse."
+
+"Exactly," I said. "That's what I said."
+
+"Yes, but I just wondered--I don't know, of course--and Colonel
+Protheroe always talked a lot about doing things before he actually
+did do them, and of course sometimes never did them at all, but he did
+say--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"That he was going to have all his things valued--a man down from
+London. For probate--no, that's when you're dead--for insurance.
+Someone told him that was the thing to do. He talked about it a great
+deal, and the importance of having it done. Of course, I don't know if
+he had made any actual arrangement, but if he had...."
+
+"I see," I said slowly.
+
+"Of course, the moment the expert saw the silver, he'd know, and
+then Colonel Protheroe would remember having shown the things to Dr.
+Stone--I wonder if it was done then--legerdemain, don't they call it?
+So clever--and then, well, the fat would be in the fire, to use an
+old-fashioned expression."
+
+"I see your idea," I said. "I think we ought to find out for certain."
+
+I went once more to the telephone. In a few minutes I was through to
+Old Hall and speaking to Anne Protheroe.
+
+"No, it's nothing very important. Has the Inspector arrived yet? Oh!
+well, he's on his way. Mrs. Protheroe, can you tell me if the contents
+of Old Hall were ever valued? What's that you say?"
+
+Her answer came clear and prompt. I thanked her, replaced the receiver
+and turned to Miss Marple.
+
+"That's very definite. Colonel Protheroe had made arrangements for
+a man to come down from London on Monday--tomorrow--to make a full
+valuation. Owing to the Colonel's death, the matter has been put off."
+
+"Then there _was_ a motive," said Miss Marple softly.
+
+"A motive, yes. But that's all. You forget. When the shot was fired,
+Dr. Stone had just joined the others, or was climbing over the stile in
+order to do so."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Marple thoughtfully. "So that rules him out."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 24
+
+
+I returned to the Vicarage to find Hawes waiting for me in my study.
+He was pacing up and down nervously, and when I entered the room he
+started as though he had been shot.
+
+"You must excuse me," he said, wiping his forehead. "My nerves are all
+to pieces lately."
+
+"My dear fellow," I said, "you positively must get away for a change.
+We shall have you breaking down altogether, and that will never do."
+
+"I can't desert my post. No, that is a thing I will never do."
+
+"It's not a case of desertion. You are ill. I'm sure Haydock would
+agree with me."
+
+"Haydock--Haydock. What kind of a doctor is he? An ignorant country
+practitioner."
+
+"I think you're unfair to him. He has always been considered a very
+able man in his profession."
+
+"Oh! perhaps. Yes, I daresay. But I don't like him. However, that's not
+what I came to say. I came to ask you if you would be kind enough to
+preach tonight instead of me. I--I really do not feel equal to it."
+
+"Why, certainly. I will take the service for you."
+
+"No, no. I wish to take the service. I am perfectly fit. It is only the
+idea of getting up in the pulpit, of all those eyes staring at me...."
+
+He shut his eyes and swallowed convulsively.
+
+It was clear to me that there was something very much indeed the
+matter with Hawes. He seemed aware of my thoughts, for he opened his
+eyes and said quickly,
+
+"There is nothing really wrong with me. It is just these
+headaches--these awful racking headaches. I wonder if you could let me
+have a glass of water."
+
+"Certainly," I said.
+
+I went and fetched it myself from the tap. Ringing bells is a
+profitless form of exercise in our house.
+
+I brought the water to him and he thanked me. He took from his pocket
+a small cardboard box and, opening it, extracted a rice paper capsule,
+which he swallowed with the aid of the water.
+
+"A headache powder," he explained.
+
+I suddenly wondered whether Hawes might have become addicted to drugs.
+It would explain a great many of his peculiarities.
+
+"You don't take too many, I hope," I said.
+
+"No--oh, no. Dr. Haydock warned me against that. But it is really
+wonderful. They bring instant relief."
+
+Indeed he already seemed calmer and more composed.
+
+He stood up.
+
+"Then you will preach tonight? It's very good of you, sir."
+
+"Not at all. And I insist on taking the service too. Get along home and
+rest. No, I won't have any argument. Not another word."
+
+He thanked me again. Then he said, his eyes sliding past me to the
+window:
+
+"You--you have been up at Old Hall today, haven't you, sir?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Excuse me--but were you sent for?"
+
+I looked at him in surprise, and he flushed.
+
+"I'm sorry, sir. I--I just thought some new development might have
+arisen, and that that was why Mrs. Protheroe had sent for you."
+
+I had not the faintest intention of satisfying Hawes' curiosity.
+
+"She wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements and one or two other
+small matters with me," I said.
+
+"Oh! That was all. I see."
+
+I did not speak. He fidgeted from foot to foot, and finally said:
+
+"Mr. Redding came to see me last night. I--I can't imagine why."
+
+"Didn't he tell you?"
+
+"He--he just said he thought he'd look me up. Said it was a bit lonely
+in the evenings. He's never done such a thing before."
+
+"Well, he's supposed to be pleasant company," I said smiling.
+
+"What does he want to come and see me for? I don't like it." His voice
+rose shrilly. "He spoke of dropping in again. What does it all mean?
+What idea do you think he has got into his head?"
+
+"Why should you suppose he has any ulterior motive?" I asked.
+
+"I don't like it," repeated Hawes obstinately. "I've never gone against
+_him_ in any way. I never suggested that _he_ was guilty--even when
+he accused himself, I said it seemed most incomprehensible. If I've
+had suspicions of anybody, it's been of Archer--never of him. Archer
+is a totally different proposition--a godless, irreligious ruffian. A
+drunken blackguard."
+
+"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" I said. "After all, we
+really know very little about the man."
+
+"A poacher, in and out of prison, capable of anything."
+
+"Do you really think he shot Colonel Protheroe?" I asked curiously.
+
+Hawes has an inveterate dislike of answering "yes" or "no." I have
+noticed it several times lately.
+
+"Don't you think yourself, sir, that it's the only possible solution?"
+
+"As far as we know," I said, "there's no evidence of any kind against
+him."
+
+"His threats," said Hawes eagerly. "You forget about his threats."
+
+"I am sick and tired of hearing about Archer's threats. As far as I can
+make out, there is no direct evidence that he ever made any."
+
+"He was determined to be revenged on Colonel Protheroe. He primed
+himself with drink, and then shot him."
+
+"That's pure supposition."
+
+"But you will admit that it's perfectly probable?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Possible, then?"
+
+"Possible, yes."
+
+Hawes glanced at me sideways.
+
+"Why don't you think it's probable?"
+
+"Because," I said, "a man like Archer wouldn't think of shooting a man
+with a pistol. It's the wrong weapon."
+
+Hawes seemed taken aback by my argument. Evidently it wasn't the
+objection he had expected.
+
+"Do you really think the objection is feasible?" he asked doubtingly.
+
+"To my mind it is a complete stumbling block to Archer's having
+committed the crime," I said.
+
+In face of my positive assertion, Hawes said no more. He thanked me
+again and left.
+
+I had gone as far as the front door with him, and on the hall table
+I saw four notes. They had certain characteristics in common. The
+handwriting was almost unmistakably feminine; they all bore the words
+"By hand, Urgent," and the only difference I could see was that one was
+noticeably dirtier than the rest.
+
+Their similarity gave me a curious feeling of seeing--not double but
+quadruple.
+
+Mary came out of the kitchen and caught me staring at them.
+
+"Come by hand since lunch time," she volunteered. "All but one. I found
+that in the box."
+
+I nodded, gathered them up and took them into the study.
+
+The first one ran thus.
+
+    DEAR MR. CLEMENT,
+
+    _Something has come to my knowledge which I feel you ought to know.
+    It concerns the death of poor Colonel Protheroe. I should much
+    appreciate your advice on the matter--whether to go to the police
+    or not. Since my dear husband's death, I have such a shrinking from
+    every kind of publicity. Perhaps you could run in and see me for a
+    few minutes this afternoon_,
+
+                                                     _Yours sincerely_,
+                                                   MARTHA PRICE RIDLEY.
+
+I opened the second.
+
+    DEAR MR. CLEMENT,
+
+    _I am so troubled--so exercised in my mind--to know what I ought to
+    do. Something has come to my ears that I feel may be important. I
+    have such a horror of being mixed up with the police in any way. I
+    am so disturbed and distressed. Would it be asking too much of you,
+    dear Vicar, to drop in for a few minutes and solve my doubts and
+    perplexities for me in the wonderful way you always do?_
+
+    _Forgive my troubling you,
+
+                                                 Yours very sincerely_,
+                                                     CAROLINE WETHERBY.
+
+The third, I felt, I could almost have recited beforehand.
+
+    DEAR MR. CLEMENT,
+
+    _Something most important has come to my ears. I feel you should
+    be the first to know about it. Will you call in and see me this
+    afternoon sometime? I will wait in for you._
+
+This militant epistle was signed
+
+    AMANDA HARTNELL.
+
+I opened the fourth missive. It has been my good fortune to be troubled
+with very few anonymous letters. An anonymous letter is, I think, the
+meanest and cruelest weapon there is. This one was no exception. It
+purported to be written by an illiterate person, but several things
+inclined me to disbelieve that assumption.
+
+    DEAR VICAR,
+
+    i think you ought to know what is Going On. Your lady has been seen
+    coming out of Mr. Redding's cottage in a surreptitious manner. You
+    know wot i mean. The two are Carrying On together. i think you
+    ought to know.
+
+                                                              A FRIEND.
+
+I made a faint exclamation of disgust and, crumpling up the paper,
+tossed it into the open grate just as Griselda entered the room.
+
+"What's that you're throwing down so contemptuously?" she asked.
+
+"Filth," I said.
+
+Taking a match from my pocket, I struck it and bent down. Griselda,
+however, was too quick for me. She had stooped down and caught up the
+crumpled ball of paper and smoothed it out before I could stop her.
+
+She read it, gave a little exclamation of disgust, and tossed it back
+to me, turning away as she did so. I lighted it and watched it burn.
+
+Griselda had moved away. She was standing by the window looking out
+into the garden.
+
+"Len," she said without turning round.
+
+"Yes, my dear."
+
+"I'd like to tell you something. Yes, don't stop me. I want to, please.
+When--when Lawrence Redding came here, I let you think that I had only
+known him slightly before. That wasn't true. I--I had known him rather
+well. In fact, before I met you, I had been rather in love with him.
+I think most people are with Lawrence. I was--well--absolutely silly
+about him at one time. I don't mean I wrote him compromising letters or
+anything idiotic like they do in books. But I was rather keen on him
+once."
+
+"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
+
+"Oh! Because! I don't know exactly except that--well, you're foolish
+in some ways. Just because you're so much older than I am, you think
+that I--well, that I'm likely to like other people. I thought you'd be
+tiresome, perhaps, about me and Lawrence being friends."
+
+"You're very clever at concealing things," I said, remembering what
+she had told me in that room less than a week ago, and the ingenuous
+natural way she had talked.
+
+"Yes, I've always been able to hide things. In a way, I like doing it."
+
+Her voice held a childlike ring of pleasure in it.
+
+"But it's quite true what I said. I didn't know about Anne, and I
+wondered why Lawrence was so different, not--well, really not noticing
+me. I'm not used to it."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"You do understand, Len?" said Griselda anxiously.
+
+"Yes," I said. "I understand."
+
+But did I?
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 25
+
+
+I found it hard to shake off the impression left by the anonymous
+letter. Pitch soils. However, I gathered up the other three letters,
+glanced at my watch and started out.
+
+I wondered very much what this might be that had "come to the
+knowledge" of three ladies simultaneously. I took it to be the same
+piece of news. In this, I was to realize that my psychology was at
+fault.
+
+I cannot pretend that my calls took me past the police station. My feet
+gravitated there of their own accord. I was anxious to know whether
+Inspector Slack had returned from Old Hall.
+
+I found that he had and, further, that Miss Cram had returned with him.
+The fair Gladys was seated in the police station carrying off matters
+with a high hand. She denied absolutely having taken the suitcase to
+the woods.
+
+"Just because one of these gossiping old cats has nothing better to do
+than look out of her window all night, you go and pitch upon me. She's
+been mistaken once, remember, when she said she saw me at the end of
+the lane on the afternoon of the murder, and if she was mistaken then,
+in daylight, how can she possibly have recognized me by moonlight?
+
+"Wicked, it is, the way these old ladies go on down here. Say anything,
+they will. And me asleep in my bed as innocent as can be. You ought to
+be ashamed of yourselves, the lot of you."
+
+"And supposing the landlady of the Blue Boar identifies the suitcase as
+yours, Miss Cram?"
+
+"If she says anything of the kind, she's wrong. There's no name on it.
+Nearly everybody's got a suitcase like that. As for poor Dr. Stone,
+accusing him of being a common burglar! And he with a lot of letters
+after his name."
+
+"You refuse to give us any explanation, then, Miss Cram?"
+
+"No refusing about it. You've made a mistake, that's all. You and your
+meddlesome Marples. I won't say a word more--not without my solicitor
+present. I'm going this minute--unless you're going to arrest me."
+
+For answer, the Inspector rose and opened the door for her, and, with a
+toss of the head, Miss Cram walked out.
+
+"That's the line she takes," said Slack, coming back to his chair.
+"Absolute denial. And of course the old lady _may_ have been mistaken.
+No jury would believe you could recognize anyone from that distance on
+a moonlit night. And of course, as I say, the old lady may have made a
+mistake."
+
+"She may," I said, "but I don't think she did. Miss Marple is usually
+right. That's what makes her unpopular."
+
+The Inspector grinned.
+
+"That's what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!"
+
+"What about the silver, Inspector?"
+
+"Seemed to be perfectly in order. Of course that meant one lot or
+the other must be a fake. There's a very good man in Much Benham,
+an authority on old silver. I've phoned over to him and sent a car
+to fetch him. We'll soon know which is which. Either the burglary
+was an accomplished fact, or else it was only planned. Doesn't make
+a frightful lot of difference either way--I mean as far as we're
+concerned. Robbery's a small business compared with murder. These two
+aren't concerned with the murder. We'll maybe get a line on him through
+the girl--that's why I let her go without any more fuss."
+
+"I wondered," I said.
+
+"A pity about Mr. Redding. It's not often you find a man who goes out
+of his way to oblige you."
+
+"I suppose not," I said smiling slightly.
+
+"Women cause a lot of trouble," moralized the Inspector.
+
+He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise, "Of course there's
+Archer."
+
+"Oh!" I said. "You've thought of him?"
+
+"Why, naturally, sir, first thing. It didn't need any anonymous letters
+to put me on his track."
+
+"Anonymous letters," I said sharply. "Did you get one then?"
+
+"That's nothing new, sir. We get a dozen a day, at least. Oh! yes, we
+were put wise to Archer. As though the police couldn't look out for
+themselves! Archer's been under suspicion from the first. The trouble
+of it is, he's got an alibi. Not that it amounts to anything, but it's
+awkward to get over."
+
+"What do you mean by its not amounting to anything?" I asked.
+
+"Well, it appears he was with a couple of pals all the afternoon. Not,
+as I say, that that counts much. Men like Archer and his pals would
+swear to anything. There's no believing a word they say. _We_ know
+that. But the public doesn't, and the jury's taken from the public,
+more's the pity. They know nothing, and ten to one believe everything
+that's said in the witness box, no matter who it is that says it. And
+of course Archer himself will swear till he's black in the face that he
+didn't do it."
+
+"Not so obliging as Mr. Redding," I said with a smile.
+
+"Not he," said the Inspector, making the remark as a plain statement of
+fact.
+
+"It is natural, I suppose, to cling to life," I mused.
+
+"You'd be surprised if you knew the murderers that have got off through
+the soft heartedness of the jury," said the Inspector gloomily.
+
+"But do you really think that Archer did it?" I asked.
+
+It has struck me as curious all along that Inspector Slack never seems
+to have any personal views of his own on the murder. The easiness or
+difficulty of getting a conviction are the only points that seem to
+appeal to him.
+
+"I'd like to be a bit surer," he admitted. "A fingerprint now, or a
+footprint, or seen in the vicinity about the time of the crime. Can't
+risk arresting him without something of that kind. He's been seen
+round Mr. Redding's house once or twice, but he'd say that was to speak
+to his mother. A decent body, she is. No, on the whole, I'm for the
+lady. If I could only get definite proof of blackmail--but you can't
+get definite proof of anything in this crime! It's theory, theory,
+theory. It's a sad pity that there's not a single spinster lady living
+along your road, Mr. Clement. I bet she'd have seen something if there
+had been."
+
+His words reminded me of my calls, and I took leave of him. It was
+about the solitary instance when I had seen him in a genial mood.
+
+My first call was on Miss Hartnell. She must have been watching for me
+from the window, for, before I had time to ring, she had opened the
+front door, and clasping my hand firmly in hers had led me over the
+threshold.
+
+"So good of you to come. In here. More private."
+
+We entered a microscopic room, about the size of a hencoop. Miss
+Hartnell shut the door and, with an air of deep secrecy, waved me to a
+seat (there were only three). I perceived that she was enjoying herself.
+
+"I'm never one to beat about the bush," she said in her jolly voice,
+the latter slightly toned down to meet the requirements of the
+situation. "You know how things go the round in a village like this?"
+
+"Unfortunately," I said, "I do."
+
+"I agree with you. Nobody dislikes gossip more than I do. But there it
+is. I thought it my duty to tell the police Inspector that I'd called
+on Mrs. Lestrange the afternoon of the murder and that she was out. I
+don't expect to be thanked for doing my duty; I just do it. Ingratitude
+is what you meet with first and last in this life. Why only yesterday
+that impudent Mrs. Baker--"
+
+"Yes, yes," I said hoping to avert the usual tirade. "Very sad, very
+sad. But you were saying."
+
+"The lower classes don't know who are their best friends," said Miss
+Hartnell. "I always say a word in season when I'm visiting. Not that
+I'm ever thanked for it."
+
+"You were telling the Inspector about your call upon Mrs. Lestrange," I
+prompted.
+
+"Exactly--and, by the way, he didn't thank me. Said he'd ask for
+information when he wanted it--not those words exactly, but that was
+the spirit. There's a different class of men in the police force
+nowadays."
+
+"Very probably," I said. "But you were going on to say something?"
+
+"I decided that this time I wouldn't go near any wretched Inspector.
+After all, a clergyman is a gentleman--at least some are," she added.
+
+I gathered that the qualification was not intended to include me.
+
+"If I can help you in any way," I began.
+
+"It's a matter of duty," said Miss Hartnell and closed her mouth with a
+snap. "I don't want to have to say these things. No one likes it less.
+But duty is duty."
+
+I waited.
+
+"I've been given to understand," went on Miss Hartnell, turning rather
+red, "that Mrs. Lestrange gives out that she was at home all the
+time--that she didn't answer the door because--well, because she didn't
+choose. Such airs and graces. I only called as a matter of duty, and to
+be treated like that!"
+
+"She has been ill," I said mildly.
+
+"Ill? Fiddlesticks. You're too unworldly, Mr. Clement. There's nothing
+the matter with that woman. Too ill to attend the inquest indeed!
+Medical certificate from Dr. Haydock! She can wind him round her little
+finger; everyone knows that. Well, where was I?"
+
+I didn't quite know. It is difficult with Miss Hartnell to know where
+narrative ends and vituperation begins.
+
+"Oh! about calling on her that afternoon. Well, it's fiddlesticks to
+say she was in the house. She wasn't. I know."
+
+"How can you possibly know?"
+
+Miss Hartnell's face turned a little redder. In someone less truculent,
+her demeanour might have been called embarrassed.
+
+"I'd knocked and rung," she explained. "Twice. If not three times. And
+it occurred to me suddenly that the bell might be out of order."
+
+She was, I was glad to note, unable to look me in the face when saying
+this. The same builder builds all our houses, and the bells he installs
+are always clearly audible when standing on the mat outside the front
+door. Both Miss Hartnell and I knew this perfectly well, but I suppose
+decencies have to be preserved.
+
+"Yes?" I murmured.
+
+"I didn't want to push my card through the letter box. That would seem
+so rude, and, whatever I am, I am never rude."
+
+She made this amazing statement without a tremor.
+
+"So I thought I would just go round the house and--and tap on the
+window pane," she continued unblushingly. "I went all round the house
+and looked in at all the windows, but there was no one in the house at
+all."
+
+I understood her perfectly. Taking advantage of the fact that the house
+was empty, Miss Hartnell had given unbridled rein to her curiosity and
+had gone round the house, examining the garden and peering in at all
+the windows to see as much as she could of the interior. She had chosen
+to tell her story to me, believing that I should be a more sympathetic
+and lenient audience than the police. The clergy are supposed to give
+the benefit of the doubt to their parishioners.
+
+I made no comment on the situation. I merely asked a question:
+
+"What time was this, Miss Hartnell?"
+
+"As far as I can remember," said Miss Hartnell, "it must have been
+close on six o'clock. I went straight home afterwards, and I got in
+about ten past six, and Mrs. Protheroe came in somewhere round about
+the half hour, leaving Dr. Stone and Mr. Redding outside, and we talked
+about bulbs. And all the time the poor Colonel lying murdered. It's a
+sad world."
+
+"It is sometimes a rather unpleasant one," I said.
+
+I rose.
+
+"And that is all you have to tell me?"
+
+"I just thought it might be important."
+
+"It might," I agreed.
+
+And refusing to be drawn further, much to Miss Hartnell's
+disappointment, I took my leave.
+
+Miss Wetherby, whom I visited next, received me in a kind of flutter.
+
+"Dear Vicar, how truly kind. You've had tea? Really, you won't? A
+cushion for your back? It is so kind of you to come round so promptly.
+Always willing to put yourself out for others."
+
+There was a good deal of this before we came to the point, and even
+then it was approached with a good deal of circumlocution.
+
+"You must understand that I heard this on the best authority."
+
+In St. Mary Mead, the best authority is always somebody else's servant.
+
+"You can't tell me who told you?"
+
+"I promised, dear Mr. Clement. And I always think a promise should be a
+sacred thing."
+
+She looked very solemn.
+
+"Shall we say a little bird told me? That is safe, isn't it?"
+
+I longed to say, "It's damned silly." I rather wish I had. I should
+have liked to observe the effect on Miss Wetherby.
+
+"Well, this little bird told that she saw a certain lady who shall be
+nameless."
+
+"Another kind of bird?" I inquired.
+
+To my great surprise Miss Wetherby went off into paroxysms of laughter
+and tapped me playfully on the arm saying:
+
+"Oh! Vicar, you must not be so naughty."
+
+When she had recovered, she went on.
+
+"A certain lady, and where do you think this certain lady was going?
+She turned into the Vicarage road, but before she did so, she looked
+up and down the road in a most peculiar way--to see if anyone she knew
+were noticing her, I imagine."
+
+"And the little bird?" I inquired.
+
+"Paying a visit to the fishmonger's--in the room over the shop."
+
+I now know where maids go on their days out. I know there is one place
+they never go if they can help--anywhere in the open air.
+
+"And the time," continued Miss Wetherby, leaning forward mysteriously,
+"was just before six o'clock."
+
+"On which day?"
+
+Miss Wetherby gave a little scream.
+
+"The day of the murder, of course, didn't I say so?"
+
+"I inferred it," I replied. "And the name of the lady?"
+
+"Begins with an L," said Miss Wetherby nodding her head several times.
+
+Feeling that I had got to the end of the information Miss Wetherby had
+to impart, I rose to my feet.
+
+"You won't let the police cross-question me, will you?" said Miss
+Wetherby pathetically, as she clasped my hand in both of hers. "I do
+shrink from publicity. And to stand up in Court!"
+
+"In special cases," I said, "they let witnesses sit down."
+
+And I escaped.
+
+There was still Mrs. Price Ridley to see. That lady put me in my place
+at once.
+
+"I will not be mixed up in any police court business," she said firmly,
+after shaking my hand coldly. "You understand that. On the other hand,
+having come across a circumstance which needs explaining, I think it
+should be brought to the notice of the authorities."
+
+"Does it concern Mrs. Lestrange?" I asked.
+
+"Why should it?" demanded Mrs. Price Ridley coldly.
+
+She had me at a disadvantage there.
+
+"It's a very simple matter," she continued. "My maid, Clara, was
+standing at the front gate; she went down there for a minute or
+two--_she_ says to get a breath of fresh air. Most unlikely, I should
+say. Much more probable that she was looking out for the fishmonger's
+boy--if he calls himself a boy--impudent young jackanapes, thinks
+because he's seventeen he can joke with all the girls. Anyway, as I
+say, she was standing at the gate and she heard a sneeze."
+
+"Yes," I said waiting for more.
+
+"That's all. I tell you she heard a sneeze. And don't start telling me
+I'm not so young as I once was and may have made a mistake, because it
+was Clara who heard it and she's only nineteen."
+
+"But," I said, "why shouldn't she have heard a sneeze?"
+
+Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me in obvious pity for my poorness of
+intellect.
+
+"She heard a sneeze on the day of the murder at a time when there was
+no one in your house. Doubtless the murderer was concealed in the
+bushes waiting his opportunity. What you have to look for is a man with
+a cold in his head."
+
+"Or a sufferer from hay fever," I suggested. "But as a matter of fact,
+Mrs. Price Ridley, I think that mystery has a very easy solution. Our
+maid, Mary, has been suffering from a severe cold in the head. In fact,
+her sniffing has tried us very much lately. It must have been her
+sneeze your maid heard."
+
+"It was a man's sneeze," said Mrs. Price Ridley firmly. "And you
+couldn't hear your maid sneeze in your kitchen from our gate."
+
+"You couldn't hear anyone sneezing in the study from your gate," I
+said. "Or at least I very much doubt it."
+
+"I said the man might have been concealed in the shrubbery," said
+Mrs. Price Ridley. "Doubtless when Clara had gone in, he effected an
+entrance by the front door."
+
+"Well, of course that's possible," I said.
+
+I tried not to make my voice consciously soothing, but I must have
+failed, for Mrs. Price Ridley glared at me suddenly.
+
+"I am accustomed not to be listened to, but I might mention also that
+to leave a tennis racquet carelessly flung down on the grass without
+a press completely ruins it. And tennis racquets are very expensive
+nowadays."
+
+There did not seem to be rhyme or reason in this flank attack. It
+bewildered me utterly.
+
+"But perhaps you don't agree," said Mrs. Price Ridley.
+
+"Oh! I do--certainly."
+
+"I am glad. Well, that is all I have to say. I wash my hands of the
+whole affair."
+
+She leaned back and closed her eyes like one weary of this world. I
+thanked her and said good-bye.
+
+On the doorstep, I ventured to ask Clara about her mistress's statement.
+
+"It's quite true, sir, I heard a sneeze. And it wasn't an ordinary
+sneeze--not by any means."
+
+Nothing about a crime is ever ordinary. The shot was not an ordinary
+kind of shot. The sneeze was not a usual kind of sneeze. It was, I
+presume, a special murderer's sneeze. I asked the girl what time this
+had been, but she was very vague--some time between a quarter and half
+past six she thought. Anyway, "it was before the mistress had the
+telephone call and was took bad."
+
+I asked her if she had heard a shot of any kind. And she said the shots
+had been something awful. After that, I placed very little credence in
+her statements.
+
+I was just turning in at my own gate when I decided to pay a friend a
+visit.
+
+Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had just time for it before taking
+Evensong. I went down the road to Haydock's house. He came out on the
+doorstep to meet me.
+
+I noticed afresh how worried and haggard he looked. This business
+seemed to have aged him out of all knowledge.
+
+"I'm glad to see you," he said. "What's the news?"
+
+I told him the latest Stone development.
+
+"A high class thief," he commented. "Well, that explains a lot of
+things. He'd read up his subject, but he made slips from time to time
+to me. Protheroe must have caught him out once. You remember the row
+they had. What do they think about the girl? Is she in it too?"
+
+"Opinion as to that is undecided," I said. "For my own part, I think
+the girl is all right. She's such a prize idiot," I added.
+
+"Oh! I wouldn't say that. She's rather shrewd, is Miss Gladys Cram.
+A remarkably healthy specimen. Not likely to trouble members of my
+profession."
+
+I told him that I was worried about Hawes, and that I was anxious that
+he should get away for a real rest and change.
+
+Something evasive came into his manner when I said this. His answer did
+not ring quite true.
+
+"Yes," he said slowly. "I suppose that would be the best thing. Poor
+chap. Poor chap."
+
+"I thought you didn't like him."
+
+"I don't--not much. But I'm sorry for a lot of people I don't like."
+He added, after a minute or two, "I'm even sorry for Protheroe. Poor
+fellow--nobody ever liked him much. Too full of his own rectitude
+and too self-assertive. It's an unlovable mixture. He was always the
+same--even as a young man."
+
+"I didn't know you knew him then?"
+
+"Oh! yes. When he lived in Westmoreland, I had a practice not far away.
+That's a long time ago now. Nearly twenty years."
+
+I sighed. Twenty years ago Griselda was five years old. Time is an odd
+thing.
+
+"Is that all you came to say to me, Clement?"
+
+I looked up with a start. Haydock was watching me with keen eyes.
+
+"There's something else, isn't there?" he said.
+
+I nodded.
+
+I had been uncertain whether to speak or not when I came in, but now
+I decided to do so. I like Haydock as well as any man I know. He is a
+splendid fellow in every way. I felt that what I had to tell might be
+useful to him.
+
+I recited my interviews with Miss Hartnell and Miss Wetherby.
+
+He was silent for a long time after I'd spoken.
+
+"It's quite true, Clement," he said at last. "I've been trying to
+shield Mrs. Lestrange from any inconvenience that I could. As a matter
+of fact, she's an old friend. But that's not my only reason. That
+medical certificate of mine isn't the put-up job you all think it was."
+
+He paused and then said gravely:
+
+"This is between you and me, Clement. Mrs. Lestrange is doomed."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She's a dying woman. I give her a month at longest. Do you wonder
+that I want to keep her from being badgered and questioned?"
+
+He went on:
+
+"When she turned into this road that evening, it was here she came--to
+this house."
+
+"You haven't said so before."
+
+"I didn't want to create talk. Six to seven isn't my time for seeing
+patients, and everyone knows that. But you can take my word for it that
+she was here."
+
+"She wasn't here when I came for you, though. I mean when we discovered
+the body."
+
+"No," he seemed perturbed. "She'd left--to keep an appointment."
+
+"In what direction was the appointment? In her own house?"
+
+"I don't know, Clement. On my honour, I don't know."
+
+I believed him, but--
+
+"And supposing an innocent man is hanged?" I said.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"No," he said. "No one will be hanged for the murder of Colonel
+Protheroe. You can take my word for that."
+
+But that is just what I could not do. And yet the certainty in his
+voice was very great.
+
+"No one will be hanged," he repeated.
+
+"This man, Archer--"
+
+He made an impatient movement.
+
+"Hasn't got brains enough to wipe his finger prints off the pistol."
+
+"Perhaps not," I said dubiously.
+
+Then I remembered something, and taking the little brownish crystal I
+had found in the wood from my pocket I held it out to him and asked him
+what it was.
+
+"H'm," he hesitated. "Looks like picric acid. Where did you find it?"
+
+"That," I replied, "is Sherlock Holmes' secret."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"What is picric acid?"
+
+"Well, it's an explosive."
+
+"Yes, I know that, but it's got another use, hasn't it?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"It's used medically--in solution for burns. Wonderful stuff."
+
+I held out my hand and rather reluctantly he handed it back to me.
+
+"It's of no consequence probably," I said. "But I found it in rather an
+unusual place."
+
+"You won't tell me where?"
+
+Rather childishly, I wouldn't.
+
+He had his secrets. Well, I would have mine.
+
+I was a little hurt that he had not confided in me more fully.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 26
+
+
+I was in a strange mood when I mounted the pulpit that night.
+
+The church was unusually full. I cannot believe that it was the
+prospect of Hawes preaching which had attracted so many. Hawes' sermons
+are dull and dogmatic. And if the news had got round that I was
+preaching instead, that would not have attracted them either. For my
+sermons are dull and scholarly. Neither, I am afraid, can I attribute
+it to devotion.
+
+Everybody had come, I concluded, to see who else was there, and
+possibly to exchange a little gossip in the church porch afterwards.
+
+Haydock was in church, which is unusual, and also Lawrence Redding.
+And, to my surprise, beside Lawrence I saw the white strained face
+of Hawes. Anne Protheroe was there, but she usually attends Evensong
+on Sundays, though I had hardly thought she would today. I was far
+more surprised to see Lettice. Church-going was compulsory on Sunday
+morning--Colonel Protheroe was adamant on that point--but I had never
+seen Lettice at evening service before.
+
+Gladys Cram was there, looking rather blatantly young and healthy
+against a background of wizened spinsters, and I fancied that a dim
+figure at the end of the church, who had slipped in late, was Mrs.
+Lestrange.
+
+I need hardly say that Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Hartnell, Miss Wetherby
+and Miss Marple were there in full force. All the village people were
+there, with hardly a single exception. I don't know when we have had
+such a crowded congregation.
+
+Crowds are queer things. There was a magnetic atmosphere that night,
+and the first person to feel its influence was myself.
+
+As a rule, I prepare my sermons beforehand. I am careful and
+conscientious over them, but no one is better aware than myself of
+their deficiencies.
+
+Tonight I was of necessity preaching _ex tempore_, and as I looked down
+on the sea of upturned faces, a sudden madness entered my brain. I
+ceased to be in any sense a minister of God. I became an actor. I had
+an audience before me and I wanted to move that audience--and more, I
+felt the power to move it.
+
+I am not proud of what I did that night. I am an utter disbeliever in
+the emotional revivalist spirit. Yet that night I acted the part of a
+raving, ranting evangelist.
+
+I gave out my text slowly.
+
+_I am come to call not the righteous but the sinners to repentance._
+
+I repeated it twice, and I heard my own voice, a resonant, ringing
+voice unlike the voice of the everyday Leonard Clement.
+
+I saw Griselda from her front pew look up in surprise, and Dennis
+follow her example.
+
+I held my breath for a moment or two, and then I let myself rip.
+
+The congregation in that church were in a state of pent-up emotion,
+ripe to be played upon. I played upon them. I exhorted sinners to
+repentance. I lashed myself into a kind of emotional frenzy. Again and
+again I threw out a denouncing hand and reiterated the phrase:
+
+"I am speaking to _you_."
+
+And each time, from different parts of the church, a kind of sighing
+gasp went up.
+
+Mass emotion is a strange and terrible thing.
+
+I finished up with those beautiful and poignant words--perhaps the most
+poignant words in the whole Bible:
+
+"_This very night shall thy soul be required of thee...._"
+
+It was a strange brief possession. When I got back to the Vicarage I
+was my usual faded, indeterminate self. I found Griselda rather pale.
+She slipped her arm through mine.
+
+"Len," she said. "You were rather terrible tonight. I--I didn't like
+it. I've never heard you preach like that before."
+
+"I don't suppose you ever will again," I said, sinking down wearily on
+the sofa. I was tired.
+
+"What made you do it?"
+
+"A sudden madness came over me."
+
+"Oh! it--it wasn't something special?"
+
+"What do you mean--something special?"
+
+"I wondered--that was all. You're very unexpected, Len. I never feel I
+really know you."
+
+We sat down to cold supper, Mary being out.
+
+"There's a note for you in the hall," said Griselda. "Get it, will you,
+Dennis?"
+
+Dennis, who had been very silent, obeyed.
+
+I took it and groaned. Across the top left-hand corner was written, _By
+hand--Urgent_.
+
+"This," I said, "must be from Miss Marple. There's no one else left."
+
+I had been perfectly correct in my assumption.
+
+    DEAR MR. CLEMENT,
+
+    _I should so much like to have a little chat with you about one or
+    two things that have occurred to me. I feel we should all try and
+    help in elucidating this sad mystery. I will come over about half
+    past nine, if I may, and tap on your study window. Perhaps dear
+    Griselda would be so very kind as to run over here and cheer up my
+    nephew. And Mr. Dennis too, of course, if he cares to come. If I do
+    not hear, I will expect them and will come over myself at the time
+    I have stated._
+
+                                                _Yours very sincerely_,
+                                                           JANE MARPLE.
+
+I handed the note to Griselda.
+
+"Oh! we'll go," she said cheerfully. "A glass or two of homemade
+liqueur is just what one needs on Sunday evening. I think it's Mary's
+blanc mange that is so frightfully depressing. It's like something out
+of a mortuary."
+
+Dennis seemed less charmed at the prospect.
+
+"It's all very well for you," he grumbled. "You can talk all this high
+brow stuff about art and books. I always feel a perfect fool sitting
+and listening to you."
+
+"That's good for you," said Griselda serenely. "It puts you in your
+place. Anyway I don't think Mr. Raymond West is so frightfully clever
+as he pretends to be."
+
+"Very few of us are," I said.
+
+I wondered very much what exactly it was that Miss Marple wished to
+talk over. Of all the ladies in my congregation, I consider her by far
+the shrewdest. Not only does she see and hear practically everything
+that goes on, but she draws amazingly neat and apposite deductions from
+the facts that come under her notice.
+
+If I were at any time to set out on a career of deceit, it would be of
+Miss Marple that I should be afraid.
+
+What Griselda called the Nephew Amusing Party started off at a little
+after nine, and while I was waiting for Miss Marple to arrive I amused
+myself by drawing up a kind of schedule of the facts connected with the
+crime. I arranged them so far as possible in chronological order. I am
+not a punctual person, but I am a neat one, and I like things jotted
+down in a methodical fashion.
+
+At half past nine punctually, there was a little tap on the window and
+I rose and admitted Miss Marple.
+
+She had a very fine Shetland shawl thrown over her head and shoulders,
+and was looking rather old and frail. She came in full of little
+fluttering remarks.
+
+"So good of you to let me come--and so good of dear Griselda--Raymond
+admires her so much--the perfect Greuze he always calls her. Shall I
+sit here? I am not taking your chair? Oh! thank you. No, I won't have a
+footstool."
+
+I deposited the Shetland shawl on a chair and returned to take a chair
+facing my guest. We looked at each other, and a little deprecating
+smile broke out on her face.
+
+"I feel that you must be wondering why--why I am so interested in all
+this. You may possibly think it's very unwomanly. No--please--I should
+like to explain if I may."
+
+She paused a moment, a pink colour suffusing her cheeks.
+
+"You see," she began at last, "living alone as I do, in a rather out
+of the way part of the world, one has to have a hobby. There is,
+of course, woolwork, and Guides, and Welfare, and sketching, but
+my hobby is--and always has been--Human Nature. So varied--and so
+very fascinating. And, of course, in a small village, with nothing
+to distract one, one has such ample opportunity for becoming what I
+might call proficient in one's study. One begins to class people,
+quite definitely, just as though they were birds or flowers, group
+so and so, genus this, species that. Sometimes, of course, one makes
+mistakes, but less and less as time goes on. And then, too, one tests
+oneself. One takes a little problem--for instance the gill of pickled
+shrimps that amused dear Griselda so much--a quite unimportant mystery,
+but absolutely incomprehensible unless one solves it right. And then
+there was that matter of the changed cough drops, and the butcher's
+wife's umbrella--the last absolutely meaningless, unless on the
+assumption that the greengrocer was not behaving at all nicely with
+the chemist's wife--which, of course, turned out to be the case. It is
+so fascinating, you know, to apply one's judgment and find that one is
+right."
+
+"You usually are, I believe," I said smiling.
+
+"That, I am afraid, is what has made me a little conceited," confessed
+Miss Marple. "But I have always wondered whether, if some day a really
+big mystery came along, I should be able to do the same thing. I
+mean--just solve it correctly. Logically, it ought to be exactly the
+same thing. After all, a tiny working model of a torpedo is just the
+same as a real torpedo."
+
+"You mean it's all a question of relativity," I said slowly. "It should
+be--logically, I admit. But I don't know whether it really is."
+
+"Surely it must be the same," said Miss Marple. "The--what one used
+to call the factors at school--are the same. There's money, and
+mutual attraction between people of an--er--opposite sex--and there's
+queerness, of course--so many people are a little queer, aren't
+they?--in fact, most people are when you know them well. And normal
+people do such astonishing things sometimes, and abnormal people are
+sometimes so very sane and ordinary. In fact, the only way is to
+compare people with other people you have known or come across. You'd
+be surprised if you knew how very few distinct types there are in all."
+
+"You frighten me," I said. "I feel I'm being put under the microscope."
+
+"Of course, I wouldn't dream of saying any of this to Colonel
+Melchett--such an autocratic man, isn't he?--and poor Inspector
+Slack--well, he's exactly like the young lady in the boot shop who
+wants to sell you patent leather because she's got it in your size, and
+doesn't take any notice of the fact that you want brown calf."
+
+That really is a very good description of Slack.
+
+"But you, Mr. Clement, know, I'm sure, quite as much about the crime as
+Inspector Slack. I thought, if we could work together--"
+
+"I wonder," I said. "I think each one of us in his secret heart fancies
+himself as Sherlock Holmes."
+
+Then I told her of the three summons I had received that afternoon.
+I told her of Anne's discovery of the picture with the slashed face.
+I also told her of Miss Cram's attitude at the police station, and I
+described Haydock's identification of the crystal I had picked up.
+
+"Having found that myself," I finished up, "I should like it to be
+important. But it's probably got nothing to do with the case."
+
+"I have been reading a lot of American detective stories from the
+library lately," said Miss Marple, "hoping to find them helpful."
+
+"Was there anything in them about picric acid?"
+
+"I'm afraid not. I do remember reading a story once, though, in which a
+man was poisoned by picric acid and lanoline being rubbed on him as an
+ointment."
+
+"But as nobody has been poisoned here, that doesn't seem to enter into
+the question," I said.
+
+Then I took up my schedule and handed it to her.
+
+"I've tried," I said, "to recapitulate the facts of the case as clearly
+as possible."
+
+                              MY SCHEDULE
+
+                         THURSDAY 21ST. INST.
+
+    12.30 p.m. _Colonel Protheroe alters his appointment from six to
+    six fifteen. Overheard by half village very probably._
+
+    12.45. _Pistol last seen in its proper place. (But this is doubtful
+    as Mrs. Archer had previously said she could not remember.)_
+
+    5.30. _(approx.) Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe leave Old Hall for
+    village in car._
+
+    5.30. _Fake call put through to me from the North Lodge, Old Hall._
+
+    6.15. _(or a minute or two earlier) Colonel Protheroe arrives at
+    Vicarage. Is shown into study by Mary._
+
+    6.20. _Mrs. Protheroe comes along back lane and across garden to
+    study window. Colonel Protheroe not visible._
+
+    6.29. _Call from Lawrence Redding's cottage put through to Mrs.
+    Price Ridley (according to exchange)._
+
+    6.30-6.35. _Shot heard (accepting telephone call time as correct).
+    Lawrence Redding, Anne Protheroe, and Dr. Stone's evidence seem to
+    point to its being earlier, but Mrs. P. R. probably right._
+
+    6.45. _Lawrence Redding arrives Vicarage and finds the body._
+
+    6.48. _I meet Lawrence Redding._
+
+    6.49. _Body discovered by me._
+
+    6.55. _Haydock examines body._
+
+        _Note_ The only two people who have no kind of alibi for 6.30-6.35
+    are Miss Cram and Mrs. Lestrange. Miss Cram says she was at the
+    barrow, but no confirmation. It seems reasonable, however, to
+    dismiss her from case, as there seems nothing to connect her with
+    it. Mrs. Lestrange left Dr. Haydock's house some time after six to
+    keep an appointment. Where was the appointment, and with whom? It
+    could hardly have been with Colonel Protheroe, as he expected to be
+    engaged with me. It is true that Mrs. Lestrange was near the spot
+    at the time the crime was committed, but it seems doubtful what
+    motive she could have had for murdering him. She did not gain by
+    his death, and the Inspector's theory of blackmail I cannot accept.
+    Mrs. Lestrange is not that kind of woman. Also, it seems unlikely
+    that she should have got hold of Lawrence Redding's pistol.
+
+"Very clear," said Miss Marple nodding her head in approval. "Very
+clear, indeed. Gentlemen always make such excellent memoranda."
+
+"You agree with what I have written?" I asked.
+
+"Oh! yes--you have put it all beautifully."
+
+I asked her the question then that I had been meaning to put all along.
+
+"Miss Marple," I said. "Who do you suspect? You once said that there
+were seven people."
+
+"Quite that, I should think," said Miss Marple absently. "I expect
+every one of us suspects someone different. In fact, one can see they
+do."
+
+She didn't ask me whom I suspected.
+
+"The point is," she said, "that one must provide an explanation for
+everything. Each thing has got to be explained away satisfactorily. If
+you have a theory that fits every fact--well, then it must be the right
+one. But that's extremely difficult. If it wasn't for that note--"
+
+"The note?" I said surprised.
+
+"Yes, you remember, I told you. That note has worried me all along.
+It's wrong, somehow."
+
+"Surely," I said, "that is explained now. It was written at 6.35, and
+another hand--the murderer's--put the misleading 6.20 at the top. I
+think that is clearly established."
+
+"But even then," said Miss Marple, "it's all wrong."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Listen--" Miss Marple leant forward eagerly. "Mrs. Protheroe passed my
+garden, as I told you, and she went as far as the study window and she
+looked in and she didn't see Colonel Protheroe."
+
+"Because he was writing at the desk," I said.
+
+"And that's what's all wrong. That was at twenty past six. We agreed
+that he wouldn't sit down to say he couldn't wait any longer until
+after half past six--so, why was he sitting at the writing table then?"
+
+"I never thought of that," I said slowly.
+
+"Let us, dear Mr. Clement, just go over it again. Mrs. Protheroe comes
+to the window and she thinks the room is empty--she must have thought
+so, because otherwise she would never have gone down to the studio to
+meet Mr. Redding. It wouldn't have been safe. The room must have been
+absolutely silent if she thought it was empty. And that leaves us three
+alternatives, doesn't it?"
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"Well, the first alternative would be that Colonel Protheroe was dead
+already--but I don't think that's the most likely one. To begin with,
+he'd only been there about five minutes, and she or I would have heard
+the shot; and, secondly, the same difficulty remains about his being at
+the writing table. The second alternative is, of course, that he was
+sitting at the writing table writing a note, but in that case it must
+have been a different note altogether. It can't have been to say he
+couldn't wait. And the third--"
+
+"Yes?" I said.
+
+"Well, the third is, of course, that Mrs. Protheroe was right, and that
+the room was actually empty."
+
+"You mean that, after he had been shown in, he went out again and came
+back later?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But why should he have done that?"
+
+Miss Marple spread out her hands in a little gesture of bewilderment.
+
+"That would mean looking at the case from an entirely different angle,"
+I said.
+
+"One so often has to do that--about everything. Don't you think so?"
+
+I did not reply. I was going over carefully in my mind the three
+alternatives that Miss Marple had suggested.
+
+With a slight sigh, the old lady rose to her feet.
+
+"I must be getting back. I am very glad to have had this little
+chat--though we haven't got very far, have we?"
+
+"To tell you the truth," I said, as I fetched her shawl, "the whole
+thing seems to me a bewildering maze."
+
+"Oh! I wouldn't say that. I think, on the whole, one theory fits nearly
+everything. That is, if you admit one coincidence--and I think one
+coincidence is allowable. More than one, of course, is unlikely."
+
+"Do you really think that? About the theory, I mean?" I asked looking
+at her.
+
+"I admit that there is one flaw in my theory--one fact that I can't get
+over. Oh! if only that note had been something quite different--"
+
+She sighed and shook her head. She moved towards the window and
+absent-mindedly reached up her hand and felt the rather depressed
+looking plant that stood in a stand.
+
+"You know, dear Mr. Clement, this should be watered oftener. Poor
+thing, it needs it badly. Your maid should water it every day. I
+suppose it is she who attends to it?"
+
+"As much," I said, "as she attends to anything."
+
+"A little raw at present," suggested Miss Marple.
+
+"Yes," I said. "And Griselda steadily refuses to attempt to cook her.
+Her idea is that only a thoroughly undesirable maid will remain with
+us. However, Mary herself gave us notice the other day."
+
+"Indeed. I always imagined she was very fond of you both."
+
+"I haven't noticed it," I said. "But as a matter of fact, it was
+Lettice Protheroe who upset her. Mary came back from the inquest in
+rather a temperamental state and found Lettice here and--well, they had
+words."
+
+"Oh!" said Miss Marple. She was just about to step through the window
+when she stopped suddenly, and a bewildering series of changes passed
+over her face.
+
+"Oh! dear," she muttered to herself. "I _have_ been stupid. So that was
+it! Perfectly possible all the time."
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+She turned a worried face upon me.
+
+"Nothing. An idea that has just occurred to me. I must go home and
+think things out thoroughly. Do you know, I believe I have been
+extremely stupid--almost incredibly so."
+
+"I find that hard to believe," I said gallantly.
+
+I escorted her through the window and across the lawn.
+
+"Can you tell me what it is that has occurred to you so suddenly?" I
+asked.
+
+"I would rather not--just at present. You see, there is still a
+possibility that I may be mistaken. But I do not think so. Here we are
+at my garden gate. Thank you so much. Please do not come any farther."
+
+"Is the note still a stumbling block?" I asked as she passed through
+the gate and latched it behind her.
+
+She looked at me abstractedly.
+
+"The note? Oh! of course that wasn't the real note. I never thought it
+was. Good night, Mr. Clement."
+
+She went rapidly up the path to the house, leaving me staring after her.
+
+I didn't know what to think.
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 27
+
+
+Griselda and Dennis had not yet returned. I realized that the most
+natural thing would have been for me to go up to the house with Miss
+Marple and fetch them home. Both she and I had been so entirely taken
+up with our preoccupation over the mystery that we had forgotten
+anybody existed in the world except ourselves.
+
+I was just standing in the hall, wondering whether I would not even now
+go over and join them, when the door bell rang.
+
+I crossed over to it. I saw there was a letter in the box and,
+presuming that this was the cause of the ring, I took it out.
+
+As I did so, however, the bell rang again, and I shoved the letter
+hastily into my pocket and opened the front door.
+
+It was Colonel Melchett.
+
+"Hullo, Clement. I'm on my way home from town in the car. Thought I'd
+just look in and see if you could give me a drink."
+
+"Delighted," I said. "Come into the study."
+
+He pulled off the leather coat that he was wearing and followed me into
+the study. I fetched the whisky and soda and two glasses. Melchett
+was standing in front of the fireplace, legs wide apart, stroking his
+closely clipped moustache.
+
+"I've got one bit of news for you, Clement. Most astounding thing
+you've ever heard. But let that go for the minute. How are things going
+down here? Any more old ladies hot on the scent?"
+
+"They're not doing so badly," I said. "One of them, at all events,
+thinks she's got there."
+
+"Our friend, Miss Marple, eh?"
+
+"Our friend Miss Marple."
+
+"Women like that always think they know everything," said Colonel
+Melchett.
+
+He sipped his whisky and soda appreciatively.
+
+"It's probably unnecessary interference on my part asking," I said,
+"but I suppose somebody has questioned the fish boy. I mean, if the
+murderer left by the front door, there's a chance the boy may have seen
+him."
+
+"Slack questioned him right enough," said Melchett, "but the boy says
+he didn't meet anybody. Hardly likely he would. The murderer wouldn't
+be exactly courting observation. Lots of cover by your front gate. He
+would have taken a look to see if the road was clear. The boy had to
+call at the Vicarage, at Haydock's and at Mrs. Price Ridley's. Easy
+enough to dodge him."
+
+"Yes," I said. "I suppose it would be."
+
+"On the other hand," went on Melchett, "if by any chance that rascal
+Archer did the job, and young Fred Jackson saw him about the place, I
+doubt very much whether he'd let on. Archer is a cousin of his."
+
+"Do you seriously suspect Archer?"
+
+"Well, you know, old Protheroe had his knife into Archer pretty badly.
+Lots of bad blood between them. Leniency wasn't Protheroe's strong
+point."
+
+"No," I said. "He was a very ruthless man."
+
+"What I say is," said Melchett, "live and let live. Of course, the
+law's the law, but it never hurts to give a man the benefit of the
+doubt. That's what Protheroe never did."
+
+"He prided himself on it," I said.
+
+There was a pause and then I asked:
+
+"What is this 'astounding bit of news' you promised me?"
+
+"Well, it _is_ astounding. You know that unfinished letter that
+Protheroe was writing when he was killed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We got an expert on it--to say whether the 6.20 was added by
+a different hand. Naturally we sent up samples of Protheroe's
+handwriting. And do you know the verdict? _That letter was never
+written by Protheroe at all._"
+
+"You mean a forgery?"
+
+"It's a forgery. The 6.20 they think is written in a different hand
+again--but they're not sure about that. The heading is in a different
+ink, but the letter itself is a forgery. Protheroe never wrote it."
+
+"Are they certain?"
+
+"Well, they're as certain as experts ever are. You know what an expert
+is! Oh! but they're sure enough."
+
+"Amazing," I said.
+
+Then a memory assailed me.
+
+"Why," I said, "I remember at the time Mrs. Protheroe said it wasn't
+like her husband's handwriting at all, and I took no notice."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"I thought it one of those silly remarks women will make. If there
+seemed one thing sure on earth it was that Protheroe had written that
+note."
+
+We looked at each other.
+
+"It's curious," I said slowly. "Miss Marple was saying this evening
+that that note was all wrong."
+
+"Confound the woman, she couldn't know more about it if she had
+committed the murder herself."
+
+At that moment the telephone bell rang. There is a queer kind of
+psychology about a telephone bell. It rang now persistently and with a
+kind of sinister significance.
+
+I went over and took up the receiver.
+
+"This is the Vicarage," I said. "Who's speaking?"
+
+A strange high-pitched hysterical voice came over the wire.
+
+"_I want to confess_," it said. "_My God, I want to confess._"
+
+"Hullo," I said. "Hullo. Look here, you've cut me off. What number was
+that?"
+
+A languid voice said it didn't know. It added that it was sorry I had
+been troubled.
+
+I put down the receiver, and turned to Melchett.
+
+"You once said," I remarked, "that you would go mad if anyone else
+accused themselves of the crime."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"That was someone who wanted to confess ... and the exchange has cut us
+off."
+
+Melchett dashed over and took up the receiver.
+
+"I'll speak to them."
+
+"Do," I said. "You may have some effect. I'll leave you to it. I'm
+going out. I've a fancy I recognized that voice."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 28
+
+
+I hurried down the village street. It was eleven o'clock, and at eleven
+o'clock on a Sunday night the whole village of St. Mary Mead might be
+dead. I saw, however, a light in a first floor window as I passed, and,
+realizing that Hawes was still up, I stopped and rang the door bell.
+
+After what seemed a long time, Hawes' landlady, Mrs. Sadler,
+laboriously unfastened two bolts, a chain, and turned a key, and peered
+out at me suspiciously.
+
+"Why, it's Vicar!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Good evening," I said. "I want to see Mr. Hawes. I see there's a light
+in the window, so he's up still."
+
+"That may be. I've not seen him since I took up his supper. He's had a
+quiet evening--no one to see him, and he's not been out."
+
+I nodded, and, passing her, went quickly up the stairs. Hawes has a
+bedroom and sitting room on the first floor.
+
+I passed into the latter. Hawes was lying back in a long chair asleep.
+My entrance did not wake him. An empty cachet box and a glass of water,
+half full, stood beside him.
+
+On the floor, by his left foot, was a crumpled sheet of paper with
+writing on it. I picked it up and straightened it out.
+
+It began: "_My dear Clement_--"
+
+I read it through, uttered an exclamation and shoved it into my pocket.
+Then I bent over Hawes and studied him attentively.
+
+Next, reaching for the telephone which stood by his elbow, I gave the
+number of the Vicarage. Melchett must have been still trying to trace
+the call, for I was told that the number was engaged. Asking them to
+call me, I put the instrument down again.
+
+I put my hand into my pocket to look at the paper I had picked up once
+more. With it, I drew out the note that I had found in the letter box,
+and which was still unopened.
+
+Its appearance was horribly familiar. It was the same handwriting as
+the anonymous letter that had come that afternoon.
+
+I tore it open.
+
+I read it once--twice--unable to realize its contents.
+
+I was beginning to read it a third time when the telephone rang. Like a
+man in a dream I picked up the receiver and spoke.
+
+"Hullo?"
+
+"Hullo."
+
+"Is that you, Melchett?"
+
+"Yes, where are you? I've traced that call. The number is--"
+
+"I know the number."
+
+"Oh! good. Is that where you are speaking from?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What about that confession?"
+
+"I've got the confession all right."
+
+"You mean you've got the murderer?"
+
+I had the strongest temptation of my life. I looked at Hawes. I looked
+at the crumpled letter. I looked at the anonymous scrawl. I looked at
+the empty cachet box with the name of Cherubim on it. I remembered a
+certain casual conversation.
+
+I made an immense effort.
+
+"I--don't know," I said. "You'd better come round."
+
+And I gave him the address.
+
+Then I sat down in the chair opposite Hawes to think.
+
+I had two clear minutes in which to do so.
+
+In two minutes time, Melchett would have arrived.
+
+I took up the anonymous letter and read it through again for the third
+time.
+
+Then I closed my eyes and thought....
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 29
+
+
+I don't know how long I sat there--only a few minutes in reality, I
+suppose. Yet it seemed as though an eternity had passed when I heard
+the door open and, turning my head, looked up to see Melchett entering
+the room.
+
+He stared at Hawes asleep in his chair, then turned to me.
+
+"What's this, Clement? What does it all mean?"
+
+Of the two letters in my hand I selected one and passed it to him. He
+read it aloud in a low voice.
+
+    MY DEAR CLEMENT:
+
+    _It is a peculiarly unpleasant thing that I have to say. After all,
+    I think I prefer writing it. We can discuss it at a later date.
+    It concerns the recent peculations. I am sorry to say that I have
+    satisfied myself beyond any possible doubt as to the identity of
+    the culprit. Painful as it is for me to have to accuse an ordained
+    priest of the church, my duty is only too painfully clear. An
+    example must be made and--_
+
+He looked at me questioningly. At this point the writing tailed off in
+an undistinguishable scrawl where death had overtaken the writer's hand.
+
+Melchett drew a deep breath, then looked at Hawes.
+
+"So that's the solution! The one man we never even considered. And
+remorse drove him to confess!"
+
+"He's been very queer lately," I said.
+
+Suddenly Melchett strode across to the sleeping man with a sharp
+exclamation. He seized him by the shoulder and shook him, at first
+gently, then with increasing violence.
+
+"He's not asleep! He's drugged! What's the meaning of this?"
+
+His eye went to the empty cachet box. He picked it up.
+
+"Has he--?"
+
+"I think so," I said. "He showed me these the other day. Told me he'd
+been warned against an overdose. It's his way out, poor chap. Perhaps
+the best way. It's not for us to judge him."
+
+But Melchett was Chief Constable of the County before anything else.
+The arguments that appealed to me had no weight with him. He had caught
+a murderer and he wanted his murderer hanged.
+
+In one second he was at the telephone, jerking the receiver up and
+down impatiently until he got a reply. He asked for Haydock's number.
+Then there was a further pause during which he stood, his ear to the
+telephone and his eyes on the limp figure in the chair.
+
+"Hullo--Hullo--Hullo--is that Dr. Haydock's? Will the doctor come
+around at once to High St.? Mr. Hawes'. It's urgent--what's that? Well,
+what number is it, then? Oh! sorry."
+
+He rang off, fuming.
+
+"Wrong number, wrong number--always wrong numbers! And a man's life
+hanging on it. HULLO--you gave me the wrong number--yes--don't waste
+time--give me three nine--_nine_, not five."
+
+Another period of impatience--shorter this time.
+
+"Hullo--is that you, Haydock? Melchett speaking. Come to 19 High Street
+at once, will you? Hawes has taken some kind of overdose. At once, man,
+it's vital."
+
+He rang off, strode impatiently up and down the room.
+
+"Why on earth you didn't get hold of the doctor at once, Clement, I
+cannot think. Your wits must have all gone wool gathering."
+
+Fortunately it never occurs to Melchett that anyone can possibly have
+any different ideas on conduct from those he holds himself. I said
+nothing and he went on:
+
+"Where did you find this letter?"
+
+"Crumpled on the floor--where it had fallen from his hand."
+
+"Extraordinary business--that old maid was right about its being the
+wrong note we found. Wonder how she tumbled to that. But what an ass
+the fellow was not to destroy this one. Fancy keeping it--the most
+damaging evidence you can imagine!"
+
+"Human nature is full of inconsistencies."
+
+"If it weren't, I doubt if we should ever catch a murderer! Sooner or
+later they always do some fool things. You're looking very under the
+weather, Clement. I suppose this has been the most awful shock to you?"
+
+"It has. As I say, Hawes has been queer in his manner for some time,
+but I never dreamed--"
+
+"Who would? Hullo, that sounds like a car." He went across to the
+window, pushing up the sash and leaning out. "Yes, it's Haydock all
+right."
+
+A moment later the doctor entered the room.
+
+In a few succinct words, Melchett explained the situation. Haydock is
+not a man who ever shows his feelings. He merely raised his eyebrows,
+nodded, and strode across to his patient. He felt his pulse, raised the
+eyelid and looked intently at the eye.
+
+Then he turned to Melchett.
+
+"Want me to save him for the gallows?" he asked. "He's pretty far gone,
+you know. It will be touch and go anyway. I doubt if I can bring him
+round."
+
+"Do everything possible."
+
+"Right."
+
+He busied himself with the case he had brought with him, preparing a
+hypodermic injection which he injected into Hawes' arm. Then he stood
+up.
+
+"Best thing is to run him into Much Benham--to the hospital there. Give
+me a hand to get him down to the car."
+
+We both lent our assistance. As Haydock climbed into the driving seat,
+he threw a parting remark over his shoulder.
+
+"You won't be able to hang him, you know, Melchett."
+
+"You mean he won't recover?"
+
+"May or may not. I didn't mean that. I mean that even if he does
+recover--well, the poor devil wasn't responsible for his actions. I
+shall give evidence to that effect."
+
+"What did he mean by that?" asked Melchett as we went upstairs again.
+
+I explained that Hawes had been a victim of _encephalitis lethargica_.
+
+"Sleeping sickness, eh? Always some good reason nowadays for every
+dirty action that's done. Don't you agree?"
+
+"Science is teaching us a lot."
+
+"Science be damned--I beg your pardon, Clement--but all this namby
+pambyism annoys me. I'm a plain man. Well, I suppose we'd better have a
+look round here."
+
+But at this moment there was an interruption--and a most amazing one.
+The door opened and Miss Marple walked into the room.
+
+She was pink and somewhat flustered, and seemed to realize our
+condition of bewilderment.
+
+"So sorry--so very sorry--to intrude--good evening, Colonel Melchett.
+As I say, I am so sorry, but hearing that Mr. Hawes was taken ill, I
+felt I must come round and see if I couldn't do something."
+
+She paused. Colonel Melchett was regarding her in a somewhat disgusted
+fashion.
+
+"Very kind of you, Miss Marple," he said drily. "But no need to
+trouble. How did you know, by the way?"
+
+It was the question I had been yearning to ask!
+
+"The telephone," explained Miss Marple. "So careless with their wrong
+numbers, aren't they? You spoke to me first, thinking I was Dr.
+Haydock. My number is three five."
+
+"So that was it!" I exclaimed.
+
+There is always some perfectly good and reasonable explanation for Miss
+Marple's omniscience.
+
+"And so," she continued, "I just came round to see if I could be of any
+use."
+
+"Very kind of you," said Melchett again, even more drily this time.
+"But nothing to be done. Haydock's taken him off to hospital."
+
+"Actually to hospital? Oh, that's a great relief! I am so very glad to
+hear it. He'll be quite safe there. When you say 'nothing to be done,'
+you don't mean that there's nothing to be done for him, do you? You
+don't mean that he won't recover?"
+
+"It's very doubtful," I said.
+
+Miss Marple's eyes had gone to the cachet box.
+
+"I suppose he took an overdose?" she said.
+
+Melchett, I think, was in favour of being reticent. Perhaps I might
+have been under other circumstances. But my discussion of the case with
+Miss Marple was too fresh in my mind for me to have the same view,
+though I must admit that her rapid appearance on the scene and eager
+curiosity repelled me slightly.
+
+"You had better look at this," I said, and handed her Protheroe's
+unfinished letter.
+
+She took it and read it without any appearance of surprise.
+
+"You had already deduced something of the kind, had you not?" I asked.
+
+"Yes--yes, indeed. May I ask you, Mr. Clement, what made you come
+here this evening? That is a point which puzzles me. You and Colonel
+Melchett--not at all what I should have expected."
+
+I explained the telephone call, and that I believed I had recognized
+Hawes' voice. Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"Very interesting. Very Providential--if I may use the term. Yes, it
+brought you here in the nick of time."
+
+"In the nick of time for what?" I said bitterly.
+
+Miss Marple looked surprised.
+
+"To save Mr. Hawes' life, of course."
+
+"Don't you think," I said, "that it might be better if Hawes didn't
+recover? Better for him--better for everyone. We know the truth now
+and--"
+
+I stopped--for Miss Marple was nodding her head with such a peculiar
+vehemence that it made me lose the thread of what I was saying.
+
+"Of course," she said. "Of course! That's what he wants you to think!
+That you know the truth--and that it's best for everyone as it is. Oh,
+yes, it all fits in--the letter, and the overdose, and poor Mr. Hawes'
+state of mind and his confession. It all fits in--_but it's wrong_."
+
+We stared at her.
+
+"That's why I am so glad Mr. Hawes is safe--in the hospital--where no
+one can get at him. If he recovers, he'll tell you the truth."
+
+"The truth?"
+
+"Yes--that he never touched a hair of Colonel Protheroe's head."
+
+"But the telephone call," I said. "The letter--the overdose. It's all
+so clear."
+
+"That's what he wants you to think. Oh, he's very clever! Keeping the
+letter and using it this way was very clever indeed."
+
+"Who do you mean," I said, "by 'he'?"
+
+"I mean the murderer," said Miss Marple.
+
+She added very quietly:
+
+"I mean Mr. Lawrence Redding."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 30
+
+
+We stared at her. I really think that for a moment or two we really
+believed she was out of her mind. The accusation seemed so utterly
+preposterous.
+
+Colonel Melchett was the first to speak. He spoke kindly and with a
+kind of pitying tolerance.
+
+"That is absurd, Miss Marple," he said. "Young Redding has been
+completely cleared."
+
+"Naturally," said Miss Marple. "He saw to that."
+
+"On the contrary," said Colonel Melchett drily, "he did his best to get
+himself accused of the murder."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Marple. "He took us all in that way--myself as much
+as anyone else. You will remember, dear Mr. Clement, that I was quite
+taken aback when I heard Mr. Redding had confessed to the crime. It
+upset all my ideas and made me think him innocent--when up to then I
+had felt convinced that he was guilty."
+
+"Then it was Lawrence Redding you suspected?"
+
+"I know that in books it is always the most unlikely person. But I
+never find that rule applies in real life. There it is so often the
+obvious that is true. Much as I have always liked Mrs. Protheroe, I
+could not avoid coming to the conclusion that she was completely under
+Mr. Redding's thumb and would do anything he told her, and of course
+he is not the kind of young man who would dream of running away with a
+penniless woman. From his point of view it was necessary that Colonel
+Protheroe should be removed--and so he removed him. One of those
+charming young men who have _no_ moral sense."
+
+Colonel Melchett had been snorting impatiently for some time. Now he
+broke out:
+
+"Absolute nonsense--the whole thing! Redding's time is fully accounted
+for up to 6.45, and Haydock says positively Protheroe couldn't have
+been shot then. I suppose you think you know better than a doctor. Or
+do you suggest that Haydock is deliberately lying--the Lord knows why?"
+
+"I think Dr. Haydock's evidence was absolutely truthful. He is a very
+upright man. And of course it was Mrs. Protheroe who actually shot
+Colonel Protheroe--not Mr. Redding."
+
+Again we stared at her. Miss Marple arranged her lace fichu, pushed
+back the fleecy shawl that draped her shoulders, and began to deliver a
+gentle, old maidish lecture comprising the most astounding statements
+in the most natural way in the world.
+
+"I have not thought it right to speak until now. One's own belief--even
+so strong as to amount to knowledge--is not the same as proof. And
+unless one has an explanation that will fit all the facts (as I
+was saying to dear Mr. Clement this evening) one cannot advance
+it with any real conviction. And my own explanation was not quite
+complete--it lacked just one thing--but suddenly, just as I was
+leaving Mr. Clement's study, I noticed the palm in the pot by the
+window--and--well--there the whole thing was: Clear as daylight!"
+
+"Mad--quite mad," murmured Melchett to me.
+
+But Miss Marple beamed on us serenely and went on in her gentle
+ladylike voice.
+
+"I was very sorry to believe what I did--very sorry. Because I liked
+them both. But you know what human nature is. And to begin with, when
+first he and then she both confessed in the most foolish way--well, I
+was more relieved than I could say. I had been wrong. And I began to
+think of other people who had a possible motive for wishing Colonel
+Protheroe out of the way."
+
+"The seven suspects!" I murmured.
+
+She smiled at me.
+
+"Yes, indeed. There was that man Archer--not likely, but primed with
+drink (so inflaming) you never know. And of course there was your
+Mary. She's been walking out with Archer a long time, and she's a
+queer tempered girl. Motive _and_ opportunity--why, she was alone in
+the house! Old Mrs. Archer could easily have got the pistol from Mr.
+Redding's house for either of those two. And then, of course, there was
+Lettice--wanting freedom and money to do as she liked. I've known many
+cases where the most beautiful and ethereal girls have shown next to no
+moral scruple--though, of course, gentlemen never wish to believe it of
+them."
+
+I winced.
+
+"And then there was the tennis racquet," continued Miss Marple.
+
+"The tennis racquet?"
+
+"Yes, the one Mrs. Price Ridley's Clara saw lying on the grass by the
+Vicarage gate. That looked as though Mr. Dennis had got back earlier
+from his tennis party than he said. Boys of sixteen are so very
+susceptible and so very unbalanced. Whatever the motive--for Lettice's
+sake or for yours--it was a possibility. And then, of course, there was
+poor Mr. Hawes and you--not both of you naturally, but alternatively,
+as the lawyers say."
+
+"Me?" I exclaimed in lively astonishment.
+
+"Well, yes. I do apologize--and indeed I never really thought--but
+there was the question of these disappearing sums of money. Either you
+or Mr. Hawes must be guilty, and Mrs. Price Ridley was going about
+everywhere hinting that you were the person at fault--principally
+because you objected so vigorously to any kind of inquiry into the
+matter. Of course, I myself was always convinced it was Mr. Hawes--he
+reminded me so much of that unfortunate organist I mentioned--but all
+the same one couldn't be absolutely _sure_--"
+
+"Human nature being what it is," I ended grimly.
+
+"Exactly. And then of course there was dear Griselda."
+
+"But Mrs. Clement was completely out of it," interrupted Melchett. "She
+returned by the 6.50 train."
+
+"That's what she _said_," retorted Miss Marple. "One should never go
+by what people say. The 6.50 was half an hour late that night. But at
+a quarter past seven I saw her with my own eyes starting for Old Hall.
+So it followed that she must have come by the earlier train. Indeed she
+was seen--but perhaps you know that?"
+
+She looked at me inquiringly.
+
+Some magnetism in her glance impelled me to hold out the last anonymous
+letter, the one I had opened so short a time ago. It set out in detail
+that Griselda had been seen leaving Lawrence Redding's cottage by the
+back window at half past six on the fatal day.
+
+I said nothing then or at any time of the dreadful suspicion that had
+for one moment assailed my mind. I had seen it in nightmare terms--past
+intrigue between Lawrence and Griselda, the knowledge of it coming
+to Protheroe's ears, his decision to make me acquainted with the
+facts--and Griselda, desperate, stealing the pistol and silencing
+Protheroe. As I say--a nightmare only--but invested for a few long
+minutes with a dreadful appearance of reality.
+
+I don't know whether Miss Marple had any inkling of all this. Very
+probably she had. Few things are hidden from her.
+
+She handed me back the note with a little nod.
+
+"That's been all over the village," she said. "And it did look rather
+suspicious, didn't it? Especially with Mrs. Archer swearing at the
+inquest that the pistol was still in the cottage when she left at
+mid-day."
+
+She paused a minute and then went on.
+
+"But I'm wandering terribly from the point. What I want to say--and I
+believe it my duty--is to put my own explanation of the mystery before
+you. If you don't believe it--well, I shall have done my best. Even as
+it is, my wish to be quite sure before I spoke may have cost poor Mr.
+Hawes his life."
+
+Again she paused, and when she resumed, her voice held a different
+note. It was less apologetic, more decided.
+
+"This is my own explanation of the facts. By Thursday afternoon the
+crime had been fully planned down to the smallest detail. Lawrence
+Redding first called on the Vicar, knowing him to be out. He had
+with him the pistol which he concealed in that pot in the stand by
+the window. When the Vicar came in, Lawrence explained his visit by
+a statement that he had made up his mind to go away. At five-thirty,
+Lawrence Redding telephoned from the North Lodge to the Vicar, adopting
+a woman's voice (you remember what a good amateur actor he was).
+
+"Mrs. Protheroe and her husband had just started for the village.
+And--a very curious thing (though no one happened to think of it that
+way)--Mrs. Protheroe took no handbag with her. Really a _most_ unusual
+thing for a woman to do. Just before twenty past six she passes my
+garden and stops and speaks, so as to give me every opportunity of
+noticing that she has no weapon with her, and also that she is quite
+her normal self. They realized, you see, that I am a noticing kind
+of person. She disappears round the corner of the house to the study
+window. The poor Colonel is sitting at the desk writing his letter to
+you. He is deaf, as we all know. She takes the pistol from the bowl,
+where it is waiting for her, comes up behind him and shoots him through
+the head, throws down the pistol and is out again like a flash, and
+going down the garden to the studio. Nearly anyone would swear that
+there couldn't have been time!"
+
+"But the shot?" objected the Colonel. "You didn't hear the shot?"
+
+"There is, I believe, an invention called a Maxim silencer. So I
+gather from detective stories. I wonder if, possibly, the sneeze
+that the maid Clara heard might have actually been the shot? But no
+matter. Mrs. Protheroe is met at the studio by Mr. Redding. They go in
+together--and--human nature being what it is--I'm afraid they realize
+that I shan't leave the garden till they come out again!"
+
+I had never liked Miss Marple better than at this moment, with her
+humorous perception of her own weakness.
+
+"When they do come out, their demeanour is gay and natural. And there,
+in reality, they make a mistake. Because if they had really said
+good-bye to each other, as they pretended, they would have looked
+very different. But you see, that was their weak point. They simply
+_dare_ not appear upset in any way. For the next ten minutes they are
+careful to provide themselves with what is called an alibi, I believe.
+Finally Mr. Redding goes to the Vicarage, leaving it as late as he
+dares. He probably saw you on the footpath from far away and was able
+to time matters nicely. He picks up the pistol and the silencer, leaves
+the forged letter with the time on it written in a different ink and
+apparently in a different handwriting. When the forgery is discovered
+it will look like a clumsy attempt to incriminate Anne Protheroe.
+
+"But when he leaves the letter, he finds the one actually written
+by Colonel Protheroe--something quite unexpected. And, being a very
+intelligent young man, and seeing that this letter may come in very
+useful to him, he takes it away with him. He alters the hands of the
+clock to the same time as the letter--knowing that it is always kept
+a quarter of an hour fast. The same idea--attempt to throw suspicion
+on Mrs. Protheroe. Then he leaves, meeting you outside the gate, and
+acting the part of someone nearly distraught. As I say, he is really
+most intelligent. What would a murderer who had committed a crime
+try to do? Behave naturally, of course. So that is just what Mr.
+Redding does not do. He gets rid of the silencer, but marches into
+the police station with the pistol and makes a perfectly ridiculous
+self-accusation which takes everybody in."
+
+There was something fascinating in Miss Marple's _résumé_ of the case.
+She spoke with such certainty that we both felt that in this way and in
+no other could the crime have been committed.
+
+"What about the shot heard in the wood?" I asked. "Was that the
+coincidence to which you were referring earlier this evening?"
+
+"Oh! dear, no." Miss Marple shook her head briskly. "_That_ wasn't
+a coincidence--very far from it. It was absolutely necessary that a
+shot should be heard--otherwise suspicion of Mrs. Protheroe might
+have continued. How Mr. Redding arranged it, I don't quite know. But
+I understand that picric acid explodes if you drop a weight on it,
+and you will remember, dear Vicar, that you met Mr. Redding carrying
+a large stone just in the part of the wood where you picked up that
+crystal later. Gentlemen are so clever at arranging things--the stone
+suspended above the crystals and then a time fuse--or do I mean a
+slow match? Something that would take about twenty minutes to burn
+through--so that the explosion would come about 6.30 when he and Mrs.
+Protheroe had come out of the studio and were in full view. A very
+safe device because what would there be to find afterwards--only a big
+stone! But even that he tried to remove--when you came upon him."
+
+"I believe you are right," I exclaimed, remembering the start of
+surprise Lawrence had given on seeing me that day. It had seemed
+natural enough at the time, but now--
+
+Miss Marple seemed to read my thoughts, for she nodded her head
+shrewdly.
+
+"Yes," she said, "it must have been a very nasty shock for him to come
+across you just then. But he turned it off very well--pretending he
+was bringing it to me for my rock gardens. Only--" Miss Marple became
+suddenly very emphatic. "_It was the wrong sort of stone for my rock
+gardens!_ And that put me on the right track!"
+
+All this time Colonel Melchett had sat like a man in a trance. Now he
+showed signs of coming to. He snorted once or twice, blew his nose in a
+bewildered fashion, and said:
+
+"Upon my word! Well, upon my word!"
+
+Beyond that, he did not commit himself. I think that he, like myself,
+was impressed with the logical certainty of Miss Marple's conclusions.
+But for the moment he was not willing to admit it.
+
+Instead, he stretched out a hand, picked up the crumpled letter and
+barked out:
+
+"All very well. But how do you account for this fellow Hawes? Why, he
+actually rang up and confessed."
+
+"Yes--that was what was so Providential. The Vicar's sermon, doubtless.
+You know, dear Mr. Clement, you really preached a most remarkable
+sermon. It must have affected Mr. Hawes deeply. He could bear it no
+longer, and felt he must confess--about the misappropriations of the
+Church funds."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes--and that, under Providence, is what has saved his life. (For I
+hope and trust it _is_ saved. Dr. Haydock is so clever.) As I see the
+matter, Mr. Redding kept this letter (a risky thing to do, but I expect
+he hid it in some safe place) and waited till he found out for certain
+to whom it referred. He soon made quite sure that it was Mr. Hawes.
+I understand he came back here with Mr. Hawes last night and spent a
+long time with him. I suspect that he then substituted a cachet of his
+own for one of Mr. Hawes, and slipped this letter in the pocket of Mr.
+Hawes' dressing gown. The poor young man would swallow the fatal cachet
+in all innocence--after his death his things would be gone through and
+the letter found and everyone would jump to the conclusion that he had
+shot Colonel Protheroe and taken his own life out of remorse. I rather
+fancy Mr. Hawes must have found that letter tonight just after taking
+the fatal cachet. In his disordered state, it must have seemed like
+something supernatural, and, coming on top of the Vicar's sermon, it
+must have impelled him to confess the whole thing."
+
+"Upon my word," said Colonel Melchett. "Upon my word! _Most_
+extraordinary! I--I--don't believe a word of it."
+
+He had never made a statement that sounded more unconvincing. It must
+have sounded so in his own ears for he went on:
+
+"And can you explain the other telephone call--the one from Mr.
+Redding's cottage to Mrs. Price Ridley?"
+
+"Ah!" said Miss Marple. "That is what I call the coincidence. Dear
+Griselda sent that call--she and Mr. Dennis between them, I fancy.
+They had heard the rumours Mrs. Price Ridley was circulating about
+the Vicar, and they thought of this (perhaps rather childish) way of
+silencing her. The coincidence lies in the fact that the call should
+have been put through at exactly the same time as the fake shot from
+the wood. It led one to believe that the two must be connected."
+
+I suddenly remembered how everyone who spoke of that shot had described
+it as "different" from the usual shot. They had been right. Yet how
+hard to explain just in what way the "difference" of the shot consisted.
+
+Colonel Melchett cleared his throat.
+
+"Your solution is a very plausible one, Miss Marple," he said. "But you
+will allow me to point out that there is not a shadow of proof."
+
+"I know," said Miss Marple. "But you believe it to be true, don't you?"
+
+There was a pause, then the Colonel said almost reluctantly:
+
+"Yes, I do. Dash it all, it's the only way the thing could have
+happened. But there's no proof--not an atom."
+
+Miss Marple coughed.
+
+"That is why I thought perhaps--under the circumstances--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"A little trap might be permissible."
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 31
+
+
+Colonel Melchett and I both stared at her.
+
+"A trap? What kind of a trap?"
+
+Miss Marple was a little diffident, but it was clear that she had a
+plan fully outlined.
+
+"Supposing Mr. Redding were to be rung up on the telephone and warned."
+
+Colonel Melchett smiled.
+
+"'All is discovered. Fly!' That's an old wheeze, Miss Marple. Not that
+it isn't often successful! But I think in this case young Redding is
+too downy a bird to be caught that way."
+
+"It would have to be something specific. I quite realize that," said
+Miss Marple. "I would suggest--this is just a mere suggestion--that
+the warning should come from somebody who is known to have rather
+unusual views on these matters. Dr. Haydock's conversation would lead
+anyone to suppose that he might view such a thing as murder from an
+unusual angle. If he were to hint that somebody--Mrs. Sadler--or one
+of her children--had actually happened to see the transposing of the
+cachets--well--of course if Mr. Redding is an innocent man, that
+statement will mean nothing to him, but if he isn't--"
+
+"If he isn't?"
+
+"Well--he might just possibly do something foolish."
+
+"And deliver himself into our hands. It's possible. Very ingenious,
+Miss Marple. But will Haydock stand for it? As you say his views--"
+
+Miss Marple interrupted him brightly.
+
+"Oh! but that's theory! So very different from practice, isn't it. But
+anyway here he is, so we can ask him."
+
+Haydock was, I think, rather astonished to find Miss Marple with us. He
+looked tired and haggard.
+
+"It's been a near thing," he said. "A very near thing. But he's going
+to pull through. It's a doctor's business to save his patient, and I've
+saved him, but I'd have been just as glad if I hadn't pulled it off."
+
+"You may think differently," said Melchett, "when you have heard what
+we have to tell you."
+
+And briefly and succinctly, he put Miss Marple's theory of the crime
+before the doctor, ending up with her final suggestion.
+
+We were then privileged to see exactly what Miss Marple meant by the
+difference between theory and practice.
+
+Haydock's views appeared to have undergone complete transformation. He
+would, I think, have liked Lawrence Redding's head on a charger. It was
+not, I imagine, the murder of Colonel Protheroe that so stirred his
+rancour. It was the assault on the unlucky Hawes.
+
+"The damned scoundrel," said Haydock. "The damned scoundrel! That poor
+devil Hawes. He's got a mother and a sister too. The stigma of being
+the mother and sister of a murderer would have rested on them for
+life, and think of their mental anguish. Of all the cowardly dastardly
+tricks!"
+
+For sheer primitive rage, commend me to a thoroughgoing humanitarian
+when you get him well roused.
+
+"If this thing's true," he said, "you can count on me. The fellow's not
+fit to live. A defenceless chap like Hawes."
+
+A lame dog of any kind can always count on Haydock's sympathy.
+
+He was eagerly arranging details with Melchett when Miss Marple rose
+and I insisted on seeing her home.
+
+"It is most kind of you, Mr. Clement," said Miss Marple as we walked
+down the deserted street. "Dear me, past twelve o'clock. I hope Raymond
+has gone to bed and not waited up."
+
+"He should have accompanied you," I said.
+
+"I didn't let him know I was going," said Miss Marple.
+
+I smiled suddenly as I remembered Raymond West's subtle psychological
+analysis of the crime.
+
+"If your theory turns out to be the truth--which I for one do not doubt
+for a minute," I said, "you will have a very good score over your
+nephew."
+
+Miss Marple smiled also--an indulgent smile.
+
+"I remember a saying of my Great Aunt Fanny's. I was sixteen at the
+time and thought it particularly foolish."
+
+"Yes?" I inquired.
+
+"She used to say, 'The young people think the old people are fools--but
+the old people _know_ the young people are fools!'"
+
+
+
+
+                              Chapter 32
+
+
+There is little more to be told. Miss Marple's plan succeeded. Lawrence
+Redding was not an innocent man, and the hint of a witness of the
+change of capsule did indeed cause him to do "something foolish." Such
+is the power of an evil conscience.
+
+He was, of course, peculiarly placed. His first impulse, I imagine,
+must have been to cut and run. But there was his accomplice to
+consider. He could not leave without getting word to her, and he dared
+not wait till morning. So he went up to Old Hall that night--and two
+of Colonel Melchett's most efficient officers followed him. He threw
+gravel at Anne Protheroe's window, aroused her, and an urgent whisper
+brought her down to speak with him. Doubtless they felt safer outside
+than in--with the possibility of Lettice waking. But as it happened,
+the two police officers were able to overhear their conversation in
+full. It left the matter in no doubt. Miss Marple had been right on
+every count.
+
+The trial of Lawrence Redding and Anne Protheroe is a matter of
+public knowledge. I do not propose to go into it. I will only mention
+that great credit was reflected upon Inspector Slack, whose zeal and
+intelligence had resulted in the criminals being brought to justice.
+Naturally, nothing was said of Miss Marple's share in the business. She
+herself would have been horrified at the thought of such a thing.
+
+Lettice came to see me just before the trial took place. She drifted
+through my study window, wraith-like as ever. She told me then that she
+had all along been convinced of her stepmother's complicity. The loss
+of the yellow beret had been a mere excuse for searching the study.
+She hoped against hope that she might find something the police had
+overlooked.
+
+"You see," she said in her dreamy voice, "they didn't hate her like I
+did. And hate makes things easier for you."
+
+Disappointed in the result of her search, she had deliberately dropped
+Anne's earring by the desk.
+
+"Since I _knew_ she had done it, what did it matter? One was as good as
+another. She _had_ killed him."
+
+I sighed a little. There are always some things that Lettice will never
+see. In some respects she is morally colour blind.
+
+"What are you going to do, Lettice?" I asked.
+
+"When--when it's all over, I am going abroad." She hesitated and then
+went on. "I am going abroad with my mother."
+
+I looked up, startled.
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Didn't you ever guess? Mrs. Lestrange is my mother. She is--is
+dying, you know. She wanted to see me, and so she came down here
+under an assumed name. Dr. Haydock helped her. He's a very old friend
+of hers--he was keen about her once--you can see that! In a way, he
+still is. Men always went batty about Mother, I believe. She's awfully
+attractive, even now. Anyway, Dr. Haydock did everything he could to
+help her. She didn't come down here under her own name, because of
+the disgusting way people talk and gossip. She went to see Father
+that night, and told him she was dying and had a great longing to see
+something of me. Father was a beast. He said she'd forfeited all claim,
+and that I thought she was dead--as though I had ever swallowed that
+story! Men like Father never see an inch before their noses!
+
+"But Mother is not the sort to give in. She thought it only decent to
+go to Father first, but when he turned her down so brutally she sent
+a note to me, and I arranged to leave the tennis party early and meet
+her at the end of the footpath at a quarter past six. We just had a
+hurried meeting and arranged when to meet again. We left each other
+before half past six. Afterwards, I was terrified that she would be
+suspected of having killed Father. After all, she _had_ got a grudge
+against him. That's why I got hold of that old picture of her up in the
+attic and slashed it about. I was afraid the police might go nosing
+about and get hold of it and recognize it. Dr. Haydock was frightened
+too. Sometimes, I believe, he really thought she had done it! Mother is
+rather a--desperate kind of person. She doesn't count consequences."
+
+She paused.
+
+"It's queer. She and I belong to each other. Father and I didn't. But
+Mother--well, anyway, I'm going abroad with her. I shall be with her
+till--till the end."
+
+She got up and I took her hand.
+
+"God bless you both," I said. "Some day, I hope, there is a lot of
+happiness coming to you, Lettice."
+
+"There should be," she said, with an attempt at a laugh. "There hasn't
+been much so far--has there? Oh, well, I don't suppose it matters.
+Good-bye, Mr. Clement. You've been frightfully decent to me always--you
+and Griselda."
+
+Griselda!
+
+I had to own to her how terribly the anonymous letter had upset me, and
+first she laughed, and then solemnly read me a lecture.
+
+"However," she added, "I'm going to be very sober and god-fearing in
+future--quite like the Pilgrim Fathers."
+
+I did not see Griselda in the rôle of a Pilgrim Father.
+
+She went on:
+
+"You see, Len, I have a steadying influence coming into my life. It's
+coming into your life, too, but in your case it will be a kind of--of
+rejuvenating one--at least, I hope so! You can't call me a dear child
+half so much when we have a real child of our own. And, Len, I've
+decided that, now I'm going to be a real 'wife and mother' (as they
+say in books), I must be a housekeeper too. I've bought two books on
+Household Management and one on Mother Love and if that doesn't turn me
+out a pattern I don't know what will! They are all simply screamingly
+funny--not intentionally, you know. Especially the one about bringing
+up children."
+
+"You haven't bought a book on How To Treat a Husband, have you?" I
+asked with sudden apprehension as I drew her to me.
+
+"I don't need to," said Griselda. "I'm a very good wife. I love you
+dearly. What more do you want?"
+
+"Nothing," I said.
+
+"Could you say, just for once, that you love me madly?"
+
+"Griselda," I said, "I adore you! I worship you! I am wildly,
+hopelessly, and quite unclerically crazy about you!"
+
+My wife gave a deep and contented sigh.
+
+Then she drew away suddenly.
+
+"Bother! Here's Miss Marple coming. Don't let her suspect, will you? I
+don't want everyone offering me cushions and urging me to put my feet
+up. Tell her I've gone down to the golf links. That will put her off
+the scent--and it's quite true because I left my yellow pullover there,
+and I want it."
+
+Miss Marple came to the window, halted apologetically and asked for
+Griselda.
+
+"Griselda," I said, "has gone to the golf links."
+
+An expression of concern leaped into Miss Marple's eyes.
+
+"Oh! but surely," she said, "that is most unwise--just now."
+
+And then in a nice, old-fashioned, ladylike, maiden-lady way, she
+blushed.
+
+And to cover the moment's confusion, we talked hurriedly of the
+Protheroe case, and of "Dr. Stone," who had turned out to be a
+well-known cracksman with several different aliases. Miss Cram, by
+the way, had been cleared of all complicity. She had at last admitted
+taking the suitcase to the wood, but had done so in all good faith, Dr.
+Stone having told her that he feared the rivalry of other archæologists
+who would not stick at burglary to gain their object of discrediting
+his theories. The girl apparently swallowed this not very plausible
+story. She is now, according to the village, looking out for a more
+genuine article in the line of an elderly bachelor requiring a
+secretary.
+
+As we talked, I wondered very much how Miss Marple had discovered
+our latest secret. But presently, in a discreet fashion, Miss Marple
+herself supplied me with a clue.
+
+"I hope dear Griselda is not overdoing it," she murmured, and added
+after a discreet pause, "I was in the bookshop in Much Benham
+yesterday--"
+
+Poor Griselda--that book on Mother Love has been her undoing!
+
+"I wonder, Miss Marple," I said suddenly, "if you were to commit a
+murder whether you would ever be found out."
+
+"What a terrible idea," said Miss Marple, shocked. "I hope I could
+never do such a wicked thing."
+
+"But human nature being what it is," I murmured.
+
+Miss Marple acknowledged the hit with a pretty old-ladyish laugh.
+
+"How naughty of you, Mr. Clement." She rose. "But naturally you are in
+good spirits."
+
+She paused by the window.
+
+"My love to dear Griselda--and tell her--that any little secret is
+quite safe with me."
+
+Really Miss Marple is rather a dear....
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78220 ***
diff --git a/78220-h/78220-h.htm b/78220-h/78220-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abf8783
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-h/78220-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,10881 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Murder at the Vicarage | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
+    <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+    <style>
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+    h1,h2,h3 {
+    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+p {
+    margin-top: .51em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: .49em;
+}
+
+hr {
+    width: 33%;
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    margin-left: 33.5%;
+    margin-right: 33.5%;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+hr.tb   {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
+hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}
+@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} }
+hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;}
+div.chapter {page-break-before: always;}
+h2.nobreak  {page-break-before: avoid;}
+
+x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;}
+
+.center   {text-align: center;}
+
+.right    {text-align: right;}
+
+.smcap   { font-variant:small-caps; }
+
+/* Images */
+.figcenter {
+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: center;
+    page-break-inside: avoid;
+    max-width: 100%;
+}
+
+div.titlepage {
+  text-align: center;
+  page-break-before: always;
+  page-break-after: always;
+}
+
+div.titlepage p {
+  text-align: center;
+  text-indent: 0em;
+  font-weight: bold;
+  line-height: 1.5;
+  margin-top: 3em;
+}
+
+.blockquot {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+table {
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+}
+
+table.autotable    { border-collapse: collapse; }
+table.autotable td,
+table.autotable th { padding: 4px; }
+
+.tdl      {text-align: left;}
+.tdr      {text-align: right;}
+.tdc      {text-align: center;}
+
+.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; }
+.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; }
+
+.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; }
+.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; }
+
+.ph3 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; }
+.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; }
+
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78220 ***</div>
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>Murder at the Vicarage</h1>
+
+<p class="ph1">By Agatha Christie</p>
+
+<p><i>Murder at the Vicarage</i> by Agatha Christie<br>
+© 1930 Agatha Christie Limited,<br>
+a Chorion company. All rights reserved.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+
+<p><i>To Rosalind</i></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_1">Chapter 1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_2">Chapter 2</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_3">Chapter 3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_4">Chapter 4</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_5">Chapter 5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_6">Chapter 6</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_7">Chapter 7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_8">Chapter 8</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_9">Chapter 9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_10">Chapter 10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_11">Chapter 11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_12">Chapter 12</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_13">Chapter 13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_14">Chapter 14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_15">Chapter 15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_16">Chapter 16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_17">Chapter 17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_18">Chapter 18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_19">Chapter 19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_20">Chapter 20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_21">Chapter 21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_22">Chapter 22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_23">Chapter 23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_24">Chapter 24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_25">Chapter 25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_26">Chapter 26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_27">Chapter 27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_28">Chapter 28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_29">Chapter 29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_30">Chapter 30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_31">Chapter 31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Chapter_32">Chapter 32</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_1">Chapter 1</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have
+fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage.
+The conversation, though in the main irrelevant to the matter in hand,
+yet contained one or two suggestive incidents which influenced later
+developments.</p>
+
+<p>I had just finished carving some boiled beef (remarkably tough by the
+way), and on resuming my seat I remarked, in a spirit most unbecoming
+to my cloth, that anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing
+the world at large a service.</p>
+
+<p>My young nephew, Dennis, said instantly:</p>
+
+<p>"That'll be remembered against you when the old boy is found bathed in
+blood. Mary will give evidence, won't you, Mary? And describe how you
+brandished the carving knife in a vindictive manner."</p>
+
+<p>Mary, who is in service at the Vicarage as a stepping stone to better
+things and higher wages, merely said, in a loud businesslike voice,
+"Greens," and thrust a cracked dish at him in a truculent manner.</p>
+
+<p>My wife said in a sympathetic voice, "Has he been <i>very</i> trying?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not reply at once, for Mary, setting the greens on the table with
+a bang, proceeded to thrust a dish of singularly moist and unpleasant
+dumplings under my nose. I said, "No, thank you," and she deposited the
+dish with a clatter on the table and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a pity that I am such a shocking housekeeper," said my wife with
+a tinge of genuine regret in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>I was inclined to agree with her. My wife's name is Griselda—a highly
+suitable name for a parson's wife. But there the suitability ends. She
+is not in the least meek.</p>
+
+<p>I have always been of the opinion that a clergyman should be unmarried.
+Why I should have urged Griselda to marry me at the end of twenty-four
+hours' acquaintance is a mystery to me. Marriage, I have always held,
+is a serious affair, to be entered into only after long deliberation
+and forethought, and suitability of tastes and inclinations is the most
+important consideration.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda is nearly twenty years younger than myself. She is most
+distractingly pretty and quite incapable of taking anything seriously.
+She is incompetent in every way and extremely trying to live with. She
+treats the Parish as a kind of huge joke arranged for her amusement.
+I have endeavoured to form her mind and failed. I am more than ever
+convinced that celibacy is desirable for the clergy. I have frequently
+hinted as much to Griselda, but she has only laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," I said. "If you would only exercise a little care—"</p>
+
+<p>"I do sometimes," said Griselda. "But on the whole I think things go
+worse when I'm trying. I'm evidently <i>not</i> a housekeeper by nature. I
+find it better to leave things to Mary and just make up my mind to be
+uncomfortable and have nasty things to eat."</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your husband, my dear?" I said reproachfully and,
+proceeding to follow the example of the devil in quoting Scripture for
+his own ends, I added, "'She looketh to the ways of her household.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Think how lucky you are not to be torn to pieces by lions," said
+Griselda quickly interrupting. "Or burnt at the stake. Bad food and
+lots of dust and dead wasps is really nothing to make a fuss about.
+Tell me more about Colonel Protheroe. At any rate the early Christians
+were lucky enough not to have churchwardens."</p>
+
+<p>"Pompous old brute," said Dennis. "No wonder his first wife ran away
+from him."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see what else she could do," said my wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," I said sharply. "I will not have you speaking in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Darling," said my wife affectionately. "Tell me about him. What was
+the trouble? Was it Mr. Hawes' becking and nodding and crossing himself
+every other minute?"</p>
+
+<p>Hawes is our new curate. He has been with us just over three weeks.
+He has High Church views and fasts on Fridays. Colonel Protheroe is a
+great opposer of ritual in any form.</p>
+
+<p>"Not this time. He did touch on it in passing. No, the whole trouble
+arose out of Mrs. Price Ridley's wretched pound note."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley is a devout member of my congregation. Attending
+early service on the anniversary of her son's death, she put a
+pound note into the offertory bag. Later, reading the amount of the
+collection posted up, she was pained to observe that one ten-shilling
+note was the highest item mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>She complained to me about it, and I pointed out, very reasonably, that
+she must have made a mistake.</p>
+
+<p>"We're none of us so young as we were," I said, trying to turn it off
+tactfully. "And we must pay the penalty of advancing years."</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough my words only seemed to incense her further. She said
+that things had a very odd look and that she was surprised I didn't
+think so also. And she flounced away and, I gather, took her troubles
+to Colonel Protheroe. Protheroe is the kind of man who enjoys making
+a fuss on every conceivable occasion. He made a fuss. It is a pity he
+made it on a Wednesday. I teach in the Church Day School on Wednesday
+mornings, a proceeding that causes me acute nervousness and leaves me
+unsettled for the rest of the day.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose he must have some fun," said my wife, with the air of
+trying to sum up the position impartially. "Nobody flutters round him
+and calls him the dear Vicar, and embroiders awful slippers for him,
+and gives him bedsocks for Christmas. Both his wife and his daughter
+are fed to the teeth with him. I suppose it makes him happy to feel
+important somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"He needn't be offensive about it," I said with some heat. "I don't
+think he quite realized the implications of what he was saying. He
+wants to go over all the Church accounts—in case of defalcations—that
+was the word he used. Defalcations! Does he suspect me of embezzling
+the Church funds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody would suspect you of anything, darling," said Griselda.
+"You're so transparently above suspicion that really it would be a
+marvellous opportunity. I wish you'd embezzle the S.P.G. funds. I hate
+missionaries—I always have."</p>
+
+<p>I would have reproved her for that sentiment, but Mary entered at that
+moment with a partially cooked rice pudding. I made a mild protest, but
+Griselda said that the Japanese always ate half cooked rice and had
+marvellous brains in consequence.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay," she said, "that if you had a rice pudding like this every
+day till Sunday, you'd preach the most marvellous sermon."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven forbid," I said with a shudder.</p>
+
+<p>"Protheroe's coming over tomorrow evening and we're going over the
+accounts together," I went on. "I must finish preparing my talk for the
+C.E.M.S. today. Looking up a reference I became so engrossed in Canon
+Shirley's 'Reality' that I haven't got on as well as I should. What are
+you doing this afternoon, Griselda?"</p>
+
+<p>"My duty," said Griselda. "My duty as the Vicaress. Tea and scandal at
+four-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is coming?"</p>
+
+<p>Griselda ticked them off on her fingers with a glow of virtue on her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Wetherby, Miss Hartnell and that terrible Miss
+Marple."</p>
+
+<p>"I rather like Miss Marple," I said. "She has, at least, a sense of
+humour."</p>
+
+<p>"She's the worst cat in the village," said Griselda. "And she always
+knows every single thing that happens—and draws the worst inferences
+from it."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda, as I have said, is much younger than I am. At my time of
+life, one knows that the worst is usually true.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't expect <i>me</i> in for tea, Griselda," said Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>"Beast!" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but look here, the Protheroes really <i>did</i> ask me for tennis
+today."</p>
+
+<p>"Beast!" said Griselda again.</p>
+
+<p>Dennis beat a prudent retreat, and Griselda and I went together into my
+study.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what we shall have for tea," said Griselda seating herself
+on my writing table. "Dr. Stone and Miss Cram, I suppose, and perhaps
+Mrs. Lestrange. By the way, I called on her yesterday, but she was out.
+Yes, I'm sure we shall have Mrs. Lestrange for tea. It's so mysterious,
+isn't it, her arriving like this and taking a house down here, and
+hardly ever going outside it? Makes one think of detective stories. You
+know—'<i>Who was she, the mysterious woman with the pale beautiful face?
+What was her past history? Nobody knew. There was something faintly
+sinister about her.</i>' I believe Dr. Haydock knows something about her."</p>
+
+<p>"You read too many detective stories, Griselda," I observed mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"What about you?" she retorted. "I was looking everywhere for 'The
+Stain on the Stairs' the other day when you were in here writing a
+sermon. And at last I came in to ask you if you'd seen it anywhere, and
+what did I find?"</p>
+
+<p>I had the grace to blush.</p>
+
+<p>"I picked it up at random. A chance sentence caught my eye and—"</p>
+
+<p>"I know those chance sentences," said Griselda. She quoted
+impressively, "'<i>And then a very curious thing happened—Griselda rose,
+crossed the room and kissed her elderly husband affectionately.</i>'"</p>
+
+<p>She suited the action to the word.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that a very curious thing?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is," said Griselda. "Do you realize, Len, that I might
+have married a Cabinet Minister, a Baronet, a rich Company Promoter,
+three subalterns and a ne'er-do-well with attractive manners, and that
+instead I chose you? Didn't it astonish you very much?"</p>
+
+<p>"At the time it did," I replied. "I have often wondered why you did
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"It made me feel so powerful," she murmured. "The others thought me
+simply wonderful, and of course it would have been very nice for <i>them</i>
+to have <i>me</i>. But I'm everything you most dislike and disapprove of,
+and yet you couldn't withstand me! My vanity couldn't hold out against
+that. It's so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody
+than to be a feather in his cap. I make you frightfully uncomfortable
+and stir you up the wrong way the whole time, and yet you adore me
+madly. You do adore me madly, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, I am very fond of you, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Len, you adore me. Do you remember that day when I stayed up in
+town and sent you a wire you never got because the postmistress's
+sister was having twins and she forgot to send it round? The state you
+got into, and you telephoned Scotland Yard and made the most frightful
+fuss."</p>
+
+<p>There are things one hates being reminded of. I had really been
+strangely foolish on the occasion in question. I said:</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind, dear, I want to get on with the C.E.M.S."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda gave a sigh of intense irritation, ruffled my hair up on end,
+smoothed it down again, said:</p>
+
+<p>"You don't deserve me. You really don't. I'll have an affair with the
+artist. I will—really and truly. And then think of the scandal in the
+parish."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a good deal already," I said mildly.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda laughed, blew me a kiss, and departed through the window.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_2">Chapter 2</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Griselda is a very irritating woman. On leaving the luncheon table, I
+had felt myself to be in a good mood for preparing a really forceful
+address for the Church of England Men's Society. Now I felt restless
+and disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Just when I was really settling down to it, Lettice Protheroe drifted
+in.</p>
+
+<p>I use the word "drifted" advisedly. I have read novels in which young
+people are described as bursting with energy—<i>joie de vivre</i>, the
+magnificent vitality of youth. Personally, all the young people I come
+across have the air of amiable wraiths.</p>
+
+<p>Lettice was particularly wraith-like this afternoon. She is a pretty
+girl, very tall and fair and completely vague. She drifted through the
+French window, absently pulled off the yellow beret she was wearing,
+and murmured vaguely with a kind of far-away surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! It's you."</p>
+
+<p>There is a path from Old Hall through the woods which comes out by our
+garden gate, so that most people coming from there come in at that
+gate and up to the study window instead of going a long way round by
+the road and coming to the front door. I was not surprised at Lettice
+coming in this way, but I did a little resent her attitude.</p>
+
+<p>If you come to a Vicarage, you ought to be prepared to find a Vicar.</p>
+
+<p>She came in and collapsed in a crumpled heap in one of my big arm
+chairs. She plucked aimlessly at her hair, staring at the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Dennis anywhere about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't seen him since lunch. I understood he was going to play
+tennis at your place."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Lettice. "I hope he isn't. He won't find anybody there."</p>
+
+<p>"He said you'd asked him."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I did. Only that was Friday. And today's Tuesday."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Wednesday," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! how dreadful," said Lettice. "That means that I've forgotten to go
+to lunch with some people for the third time."</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately it didn't seem to worry her much.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Griselda anywhere about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you'll find her in the studio in the garden—sitting to
+Lawrence Redding."</p>
+
+<p>"There's been quite a shemozzle about him," said Lettice. "With Father,
+you know. Father's dreadful."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the she—whatever it was, about?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"About his painting me. Father found out about it. Why shouldn't I be
+painted in my bathing dress? If I go on a beach in it, why shouldn't I
+be painted in it?"</p>
+
+<p>Lettice paused and then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"It's really absurd—Father forbidding a young man the house. Of
+course, Lawrence and I simply shriek about it. I shall come and be done
+here in your studio."</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear," I said. "Not if your father forbids it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! dear," said Lettice sighing. "How tiresome everyone is. I feel
+shattered. Definitely. If only I had some money I'd go away, but
+without it I can't. If only Father would be decent and die, I should be
+all right."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not say things like that, Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if he doesn't want me to want him to die, he shouldn't be so
+horrible over money. I don't wonder Mother left him. Do you know for
+years I believed she was dead. What sort of a young man did she run
+away with? Was he nice?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was before your father came to live here."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what's become of her. I expect Anne will have an affair with
+someone soon. Anne hates me—she's quite decent to me, but she hates
+me. She's getting old and she doesn't like it. That's the age you break
+out, you know."</p>
+
+<p>I wondered if Lettice was going to spend the entire afternoon in my
+study.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't seen my gramophone records, have you?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"How tiresome. I know I've left them somewhere. And I've lost the dog.
+And my wristwatch is somewhere, only it doesn't much matter because it
+won't go. Oh! dear, I am so sleepy. I can't think why, because I didn't
+get up till eleven. But life's very shattering, don't you think? Oh!
+dear, I must go. I'm going to see Dr. Stone's barrow at three o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>I glanced at the clock and remarked that it was now five and twenty to
+four.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! is it? How dreadful if they've waited or if they've gone without
+me. I suppose I'd better go down and do something about it."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and drifted out again murmuring over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll tell Dennis, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>I said "Yes" mechanically, only realizing too late that I had no
+idea what it was I was to tell Dennis. But I reflected that in all
+probability it did not matter. I fell to cogitating on the subject of
+Dr. Stone, a well known archæologist who had recently come to stay
+at the Blue Boar, while he superintended the excavation of a barrow
+situated on Colonel Protheroe's property. There had already been
+several disputes between him and the Colonel. I was amused at his
+appointment to take Lettice to see the operations.</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to me that Lettice Protheroe was something of a minx.
+I wondered how she would get on with the archæologist's secretary,
+Miss Cram. Miss Cram is a healthy young woman of twenty-five, noisy
+in manner, with a high colour, fine animal spirits and a mouth that
+always seems to have more than its full share of teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Village opinion is divided as to whether she is no better than she
+should be, or else a young woman of iron virtue who purposes to become
+Mrs. Stone at an early opportunity. She is in every way a great
+contrast to Lettice.</p>
+
+<p>I could imagine that the state of things at Old Hall might not be too
+happy. Colonel Protheroe had married again some five years previously.
+The second Mrs. Protheroe was a remarkably handsome woman in a rather
+unusual style. I had always guessed that the relations between her and
+her stepdaughter were not too happy.</p>
+
+<p>I had one more interruption. This time, it was my curate, Hawes. He
+wanted to know the details of my interview with Protheroe. I told him
+that the Colonel had deplored his "Romish tendencies," but that the
+real purpose of his visit had been on quite another matter. At the same
+time, I entered a protest of my own, and told him plainly that he must
+conform to my ruling. On the whole, he took my remarks very well.</p>
+
+<p>I felt rather remorseful, when he had gone, for not liking him better.
+These irrational likes and dislikes that one takes to people are, I am
+sure, very unchristian.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh, I realized that the hands of the clock on my writing table
+pointed to a quarter to five, a sign that it was really half past four,
+and I made my way to the drawing room.</p>
+
+<p>Four of my parishioners were assembled there with teacups. Griselda sat
+behind the tea table trying to look natural in her environment, but
+only succeeding in looking more out of place than usual.</p>
+
+<p>I shook hands all round and sat down between Miss Marple and Miss
+Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple is a white-haired old lady with a gentle appealing
+manner—Miss Wetherby is a mixture of vinegar and gush. Of the two Miss
+Marple is much the more dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>"We were just talking," said Griselda in a honey-sweet voice, "about
+Dr. Stone and Miss Cram."</p>
+
+<p>A ribald rhyme concocted by Dennis shot through my head.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cram doesn't give a damn."</p>
+
+<p>I had a sudden yearning to say it out loud and observe the effect, but
+fortunately I refrained.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wetherby said tersely:</p>
+
+<p>"No nice girl would do it," and shut her thin lips disapprovingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do what?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Be a secretary to an unmarried man," said Miss Wetherby in a horrified
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! my dear," said Miss Marple. "<i>I</i> think married ones are the worst.
+Remember poor Mollie Carter."</p>
+
+<p>"Married men living apart from their wives are, of course, notorious,"
+said Miss Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>"And even some of the ones living with their wives," murmured Miss
+Marple. "I remember—"</p>
+
+<p>I interrupted these unsavoury reminiscences.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely," I said, "in these days a girl can take a post in just the
+same way as a man does."</p>
+
+<p>"To come away to the country? And stay at the same hotel?" said Mrs.
+Price Ridley in a severe voice.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wetherby murmured to Miss Marple in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"And all the bedrooms on the same floor...."</p>
+
+<p>They exchanged glances.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hartnell, who is weather-beaten and jolly and much dreaded by the
+poor, observed in a loud, hearty voice:</p>
+
+<p>"The poor man will be caught before he knows where he is. He's as
+innocent as a babe unborn, you can see that."</p>
+
+<p>Curious what turns of phrase we employ. None of the ladies present
+would have dreamed of alluding to an actual baby till it was safely in
+the cradle, visible to all.</p>
+
+<p>"Disgusting, I call it," continued Miss Hartnell with her usual
+tactlessness. "The man must be at least twenty-five years older than
+she is."</p>
+
+<p>Three female voices rose at once making disconnected remarks about the
+Choir Boys' Outing, the regrettable incident at the last Mothers'
+Meeting, and the draughts in the Church. Miss Marple twinkled at
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think," said my wife, "that Miss Cram may just like having
+an interesting job, and that she considers Dr. Stone just as an
+employer?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. Evidently none of the four ladies agreed. Miss
+Marple broke the silence by patting Griselda on the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," she said, "you are very young. The young have such innocent
+minds."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda said indignantly that she hadn't got at all an innocent mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," said Miss Marple, unheeding of the protest, "you think the
+best of everyone."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think she wants to marry that bald-headed, dull man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand he is quite well off," said Miss Marple. "Rather a
+violent temper, I'm afraid. He had quite a serious quarrel with Colonel
+Protheroe the other day."</p>
+
+<p>Everyone leaned forward interestedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Protheroe accused him of being an ignoramus."</p>
+
+<p>"How like Colonel Protheroe, and how absurd," said Mrs. Price Ridley.</p>
+
+<p>"Very like Colonel Protheroe, but I don't know about it being absurd,"
+said Miss Marple. "You remember the woman who came down here and
+said she represented Welfare, and after taking subscriptions she was
+never heard of again, and proved to have nothing whatever to do with
+Welfare. One is so inclined to be trusting and take people at their own
+valuation."</p>
+
+<p>I should never have dreamed of describing Miss Marple as trusting.</p>
+
+<p>"There's been some fuss about that young artist, Mr. Redding, hasn't
+there?" asked Miss Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Protheroe turned him out of the house. It appears he was
+painting Lettice in her bathing dress."</p>
+
+<p>Suitable sensation!</p>
+
+<p>"I always <i>thought</i> there was something between them," said Mrs. Price
+Ridley. "That young fellow is always mouching off up there. Pity the
+girl hasn't got a mother. A stepmother is never the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay Mrs. Protheroe does her best," said Miss Hartnell.</p>
+
+<p>"Girls are so sly," deplored Mrs. Price Ridley.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a romance, isn't it?" said the softer hearted Miss Wetherby.
+"He's a very good-looking young fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"But loose," said Miss Hartnell. "Bound to be. An artist! Paris!
+Models! The Altogether!"</p>
+
+<p>"Painting her in her bathing dress," said Mrs. Price Ridley.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite nice."</p>
+
+<p>"He's painting me too," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"But not in your bathing dress, dear," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"It might be worse," said Griselda solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Naughty girl," said Miss Hartnell, taking the joke broadmindedly.
+Everybody else looked slightly shocked.</p>
+
+<p>"Did dear Lettice tell you of the trouble?" asked Miss Marple of me.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I saw her pass through the garden and go round to the study
+window."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple always sees everything. Gardening is as good as a smoke
+screen, and the habit of observing birds through powerful glasses can
+always be turned to account.</p>
+
+<p>"She mentioned it, yes," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hawes looked worried," said Miss Marple. "I hope he hasn't been
+working too hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried Miss Wetherby excitedly. "I quite forgot. I knew I had some
+news for you. I saw Dr. Haydock coming out of Mrs. Lestrange's cottage."</p>
+
+<p>Everyone looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she's ill," suggested Mrs. Price Ridley.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been very sudden, if so," said Miss Hartnell. "For I saw
+her walking round her garden at three o'clock this afternoon, and she
+seemed in perfect health."</p>
+
+<p>"She and Dr. Haydock must be old acquaintances," said Mrs. Price
+Ridley, "He's been very quiet about it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's curious," said Miss Wetherby, "that he's never <i>mentioned</i> it."</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact—" said Griselda in a low, mysterious voice, and
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone leaned forward excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I happen to <i>know</i>," said Griselda impressively. "Her husband was a
+missionary. Terrible story. <i>He was eaten</i>, you know. Actually eaten.
+And she was forced to become the Chief's head wife. Dr. Haydock was
+with an expedition and rescued her."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment excitement was rife, then Miss Marple said reproachfully,
+but with a smile:</p>
+
+<p>"Naughty girl!"</p>
+
+<p>She tapped Griselda reprovingly on the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Very unwise thing to do, my dear. If you make up these things,
+people are quite likely to believe them. And sometimes that leads to
+complications."</p>
+
+<p>A distinct frost had come over the assembly. Two of the ladies rose to
+take their departure.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if there <i>is</i> anything between young Lawrence Redding and
+Lettice Protheroe," said Miss Wetherby. "It certainly looks like it.
+What do you think, Miss Marple?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple seemed thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't have said so myself. Not <i>Lettice</i>. <i>Quite</i> another
+person, I should have said."</p>
+
+<p>"But Colonel Protheroe must have thought—"</p>
+
+<p>"He has always struck me as rather a stupid man," said Miss Marple.
+"The kind of man who gets the wrong idea into his head and is obstinate
+about it. Do you remember Joe Bucknell who used to keep the Blue Boar?
+Such a to-do about his daughter carrying on with young Bailey. And all
+the time it was that minx of a wife of his."</p>
+
+<p>She was looking full at Griselda as she spoke, and I suddenly felt a
+wild surge of anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think, Miss Marple," I said, "that we're all inclined to let
+our tongues run away with us too much? Charity thinketh no evil, you
+know. Inestimable harm may be done by the foolish wagging of tongues in
+ill-natured gossip."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Vicar," said Miss Marple, "you are so unworldly. I'm afraid that,
+observing human nature for as long as I have done, one gets not to
+expect very much from it. I daresay idle tittle-tattle is very wrong
+and unkind, but it is so often true, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>That last Parthian shot went home.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_3">Chapter 3</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>"Nasty old cat," said Griselda as soon as the door was closed. She made
+a face in the direction of the departing visitors and then looked at me
+and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Len, do you really suspect me of having an affair with Lawrence
+Redding?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"But you thought Miss Marple was hinting at it. And you rose to my
+defence simply beautifully. Like—like an angry tiger."</p>
+
+<p>A momentary uneasiness assailed me. A clergyman of the Church of
+England ought never to put himself in the position of being described
+as an angry tiger. However, I trusted that Griselda exaggerated.</p>
+
+<p>"I felt the occasion could not pass without a protest," I said. "But
+Griselda, I wish you would be a little more careful in what you say."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the cannibal story?" she asked. "Or the suggestion that
+Lawrence was painting me in the nude? If they only knew that he was
+painting me in a thick cloak with a very high fur collar—the sort of
+thing that you could go quite purely to see the Pope in—not a bit of
+sinful flesh showing anywhere! In fact, it's all marvellously pure.
+Lawrence never even attempts to make love to me—I can't think why."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, knowing that you're a married woman—"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't pretend to come out of the Ark, Len. You know very well that an
+attractive woman with an elderly husband is a kind of gift from heaven
+to a young man. There must be some other reason—It's not that I'm
+unattractive—I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you don't want him to make love to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-n-o," said Griselda with more hesitation than I thought becoming.</p>
+
+<p>"If he's in love with Lettice Protheroe—"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marple didn't seem to think he was."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marple may be mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"She never is. That kind of old cat is always right." She paused a
+minute and then said, with a quick, sidelong glance at me, "You do
+believe me, don't you? I mean, that there's nothing between Lawrence
+and me."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Griselda," I said surprised. "Of course."</p>
+
+<p>My wife came across and kissed me.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you weren't so terribly easy to deceive, Len. You'd believe me
+whatever I said."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope so. But, my dear, I do beg of you to guard your tongue
+and be careful what you say. These women are singularly deficient in
+humour, remember, and take everything seriously."</p>
+
+<p>"What they need," said Griselda, "is a little immorality in their
+lives. Then they wouldn't be so busy looking for it in other people's."</p>
+
+<p>On this she left the room, and, glancing at my watch, I hurried out to
+pay some visits that ought to have been made earlier in the day.</p>
+
+<p>The Wednesday evening service was sparsely attended as usual, but when
+I came out through the Church, after disrobing in the Vestry, it was
+empty save for a woman who stood staring up at one of our windows. We
+have some rather fine old stained glass, and indeed the Church itself
+is well worth looking at. She turned at my footsteps, and I saw that it
+was Mrs. Lestrange.</p>
+
+<p>We both hesitated a moment and then I said:</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you like our little church."</p>
+
+<p>"I've been admiring the screen," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was pleasant, low yet very distinct with a clearcut
+enunciation. She added:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry to have missed your wife yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>We talked a few minutes longer about the church. She was evidently a
+cultured woman who knew something of church history and architecture.
+We left the building together and walked down the road, since one way
+to the Vicarage led past her house. As we arrived at the gate, she said
+pleasantly:</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, won't you? And tell me what you think of what I have done."</p>
+
+<p>I accepted the invitation. Little Gates had formerly belonged to
+an Anglo-Indian Colonel, and I could not help feeling relieved by
+the disappearance of the brass tables and the Burmese idols. It was
+furnished now very simply but in exquisite taste. There was a sense of
+harmony and rest about it.</p>
+
+<p>Yet I wondered more and more what had brought such a woman as Mrs.
+Lestrange to St. Mary Mead. She was so very clearly a woman of the
+world that it seemed a strange taste to bury herself in a country
+village.</p>
+
+<p>In the clear light of her drawing room I had an opportunity of
+observing her closely for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>She was a very tall woman. Her hair was gold with a tinge of red in it.
+Her eyebrows and eyelashes were dark, whether by art or by nature I
+could not decide. If she was, as I thought, made up, it was done very
+artistically. There was something Sphinxlike about her face when it was
+in repose, and she had the most curious eyes I have ever seen—they
+were almost golden in shade.</p>
+
+<p>Her clothes were perfect, and she had all the ease of manner of a
+well-bred woman, and yet there was something about her that was
+incongruous and baffling. You felt that she was a mystery. The word
+Griselda had used occurred to me—<i>sinister</i>. Absurd, of course, and
+yet—was it so absurd? The thought sprang unbidden into my mind:</p>
+
+<p>"This woman would stick at nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Our talk was on most normal lines—pictures, books, old churches. Yet
+somehow I got very strongly the impression that there was something
+else—something of quite a different nature that Mrs. Lestrange wanted
+to say to me.</p>
+
+<p>I caught her eyes on me once or twice, looking at me with a curious
+hesitancy, as though she were unable to make up her mind. She kept the
+talk, I noticed, strictly to impersonal subjects. She made no mention
+of a husband, or of friends or relations.</p>
+
+<p>But all the time there was that strange, urgent appeal in her glance.
+It seemed to say, "Shall I tell you? I want to. Can't you help me?"</p>
+
+<p>Yet in the end it died away—or perhaps it had all been my fancy. I had
+the feeling that I was being dismissed. I rose and took my leave. As I
+went out of the room, I glanced back and saw her staring after me with
+a puzzled, doubtful expression. On an impulse I came back.</p>
+
+<p>"If there is anything I can do—"</p>
+
+<p>She said doubtfully, "It's very kind of you—"</p>
+
+<p>We were both silent. Then she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I knew. It's difficult. No, I don't think anyone can help me.
+But thank you for offering to do so."</p>
+
+<p>That seemed final, so I went. But as I did so, I wondered. We are not
+used to mysteries in St. Mary Mead.</p>
+
+<p>So much is this the case that as I emerged from the gate I was pounced
+upon. Miss Hartnell is very good at pouncing in a heavy and cumbrous
+way.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> saw you!" she exclaimed with ponderous humour. "And I <i>was</i> so
+excited. Now you can tell us all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"About what?"</p>
+
+<p>"The mysterious lady! Is she a widow or has she a husband somewhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"I really couldn't say. She didn't tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"How very peculiar. One would think she would be certain to mention
+something casually. It almost looks, doesn't it, as though she had a
+reason for not speaking?"</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't see that."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but as dear Miss Marple says, you are so unworldly, dear Vicar.
+Tell me, has she known Dr. Haydock long?"</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't mention him, so I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? But what did you talk about then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pictures, music, books," I said truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hartnell, whose only topics of conversation are the purely
+personal, looked suspicious and unbelieving. Taking advantage of a
+momentary hesitation on her part as to how to proceed next, I bade her
+good night and walked rapidly away.</p>
+
+<p>I called in at a house farther down the village and returned to the
+Vicarage by the garden gate, passing, as I did so, the danger point
+of Miss Marple's garden. However, I did not see how it was humanly
+possible for the news of my visit to Mrs. Lestrange to have yet reached
+her ears, so I felt reasonably safe.</p>
+
+<p>As I latched the gate, it occurred to me that I would just step down
+to the shed in the garden which young Lawrence Redding was using as a
+studio, and see for myself how Griselda's portrait was progressing.</p>
+
+<p>I append a rough sketch here which will be useful in the light of after
+happenings, only sketching in such details as are necessary.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt="">
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>I had no idea there was anyone in the studio. There had been no voices
+from within to warn me, and I suppose that my own footsteps made no
+noise upon the grass.</p>
+
+<p>I opened the door and then stopped awkwardly on the threshold. For
+there were two people in the studio, and the man's arms were round the
+woman and he was kissing her passionately.</p>
+
+<p>The two people were the artist, Lawrence Redding, and Mrs. Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>I backed out precipitately and beat a retreat to my study. There
+I sat down in a chair, took out my pipe, and thought things over.
+The discovery had come as a great shock to me. Especially since my
+conversation with Lettice that afternoon, I had felt fairly certain
+that there was some kind of understanding growing up between her and
+the young man. Moreover, I was convinced that she herself thought so.
+I felt positive that she had no idea of the artist's feelings for her
+stepmother.</p>
+
+<p>A nasty tangle. I paid a grudging tribute to Miss Marple. She had not
+been deceived, but had evidently suspected the true state of things
+with a fair amount of accuracy. I had entirely misread her meaning
+glance at Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>I had never dreamed of considering Mrs. Protheroe in the matter.
+There has always been rather a suggestion of Cæsar's wife about Mrs.
+Protheroe—a quiet, self-contained woman whom one would not suspect of
+any great depths of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>I had got to this point in my meditations when a tap on my study
+window roused me. I got up and went to it. Mrs. Protheroe was standing
+outside. I opened the window and she came in, not waiting for an
+invitation on my part. She crossed the room in a breathless sort of way
+and dropped down on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>I had the feeling that I had never really seen her before. The quiet,
+self-contained woman that I knew had vanished. In her place was a
+quick-breathing, desperate creature. For the first time I realized that
+Anne Protheroe was beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>She was a brown-haired woman with a pale face and very deep-set
+grey eyes. She was flushed now and her breast heaved. It was as
+though a statue had suddenly come to life. I blinked my eyes at the
+transformation.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it best to come," she said. "You—you saw just now?"</p>
+
+<p>I bowed my head.</p>
+
+<p>She said very quietly, "We love each other."</p>
+
+<p>And even in the middle of her evident distress and agitation she could
+not keep a little smile from her lips. The smile of a woman who sees
+something very beautiful and wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>I still said nothing, and she added presently:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose to you that seems very wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can you expect me to say anything else, Mrs. Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"No—no; I suppose not."</p>
+
+<p>I went on, trying to make my voice as gentle as possible:</p>
+
+<p>"You are a married woman—"</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted me.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I know—I know. Do you think I haven't gone over all that
+again and again? I'm not a bad woman really—I'm not. And things
+aren't—aren't—as you might think they are."</p>
+
+<p>I said gravely, "I'm glad of that."</p>
+
+<p>She asked rather timorously:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to tell my husband?"</p>
+
+<p>I said rather drily:</p>
+
+<p>"There seems to be a general idea that a clergyman is incapable of
+behaving like a gentleman. That is not true."</p>
+
+<p>She threw me a grateful glance.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so unhappy. Oh! I'm so dreadfully unhappy. I can't go on. I simply
+can't go on. And I don't know what to do." Her voice rose with a
+slightly hysterical note in it. "You don't know what my life is like.
+I've been miserable with Lucius from the beginning. No woman could
+be happy with him. I wish he were dead. It's awful, but I do. I'm
+desperate. I tell you, I'm desperate."</p>
+
+<p>She started and looked over at the window.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that? I thought I heard someone? Perhaps it's Lawrence."</p>
+
+<p>I went over to the window, which I had not closed, as I had thought. I
+stepped out and looked down the garden, but there was no one in sight.
+Yet I was almost convinced that I, too, had heard someone. Or perhaps
+it was her certainty that had convinced me.</p>
+
+<p>When I re-entered the room she was leaning forward, drooping her head
+down. She looked the picture of despair. She said again:</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."</p>
+
+<p>I came and sat down beside her. I said the things I thought it was
+my duty to say, and tried to say them with the necessary conviction,
+uneasily conscious all the time that that same morning I had given
+voice to the sentiment that a world without Colonel Protheroe in it
+would be improved for the better.</p>
+
+<p>Above all, I begged her to do nothing rash. To leave her home and her
+husband was a very serious step.</p>
+
+<p>I don't suppose I convinced her. I have lived long enough in the world
+to know that arguing with anyone in love is next door to useless, but I
+do think my words brought to her some measure of comfort.</p>
+
+<p>When she rose to go, she thanked me, and promised to think over what I
+had said.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, when she had gone, I felt very uneasy. I felt that
+hitherto I had misjudged Anne Protheroe's character. She impressed
+me now as a very desperate woman, the kind of woman who would stick
+at nothing, once her emotions were aroused. And she was desperately,
+wildly, madly in love with Lawrence Redding, a man several years
+younger than herself.</p>
+
+<p>I didn't like it.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_4">Chapter 4</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I had entirely forgotten that we had asked Lawrence Redding to dinner
+that night. When Griselda burst in and scolded me, pointing out that it
+lacked two minutes to dinner time, I was quite taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope everything will be all right," Griselda called up the stairs
+after me. "I've thought over what you said at lunch, and I've really
+thought of some quite good things to eat."</p>
+
+<p>I may say, in passing, that our evening meal amply bore out Griselda's
+assertion that things went much worse when she tried than when she
+didn't. The menu was ambitious in conception, and Mary seemed to have
+taken a perverse pleasure in seeing how best she could alternate
+undercooking and overcooking. Some oysters which Griselda had ordered,
+and which would seem to be beyond the reach of incompetence, we were
+unfortunately not able to sample, as we had nothing in the house to
+open them with—an omission which was discovered only when the moment
+for eating them arrived.</p>
+
+<p>I had rather doubted whether Lawrence Redding would put in an
+appearance. He might very easily have sent an excuse. However, he
+arrived punctually enough, and the four of us went in to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence Redding has an undeniably attractive personality. He is, I
+suppose, about thirty years of age. He has dark hair, but his eyes are
+of a brilliant, almost startling blue. He is the kind of young man who
+does everything well. He is good at games, an excellent shot, a good
+amateur, and can tell a first-rate story. He is capable of making any
+party go. He has, I think, Irish blood in his veins. He is not, at all,
+one's idea of the typical artist. Yet I believe he is a clever painter
+in the modern style. I know very little of painting myself.</p>
+
+<p>It was only natural that on this particular evening he should appear
+a shade <i>distrait</i>. On the whole, he carried off things very well.
+I don't think Griselda or Dennis noticed anything wrong. Probably I
+should not have noticed anything myself if I had not known beforehand.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda and Dennis were particularly gay—full of jokes about Dr.
+Stone and Miss Cram—the Local Scandal! It suddenly came home to me
+with something of a pang that Dennis is nearer Griselda's age than I
+am. He calls me Uncle Len but her Griselda. It gave me, somehow, a
+lonely feeling.</p>
+
+<p>I must, I think, have been upset by Mrs. Protheroe. I'm not usually
+given to such unprofitable reflections.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda and Dennis went rather far now and then, but I hadn't the
+heart to check them. I have always thought it a pity that the mere
+presence of a clergyman should have a damping effect.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence took a gay part in the conversation. Nevertheless I was
+aware of his eyes continually straying to where I sat, and I was not
+surprised when after dinner he manœuvred to get me into the study.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as we were alone, his manner changed. His face became grave and
+anxious. He looked almost haggard.</p>
+
+<p>"You've surprised our secret, sir," he said. "What are you going to do
+about it?"</p>
+
+<p>I could speak far more plainly to Redding than I could to Mrs.
+Protheroe, and I did so. He took it very well.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he said when I had finished. "You're bound to say all
+this. You're a parson. I don't mean that in any way offensively. As a
+matter of fact, I think you're probably right. But this isn't the usual
+sort of thing between Anne and me."</p>
+
+<p>I told him that people had been saying that particular phrase since the
+dawn of time, and a queer little smile creased his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean everyone thinks their case is unique? Perhaps so. But one
+thing you must believe."</p>
+
+<p>He assured me that so far—"there was nothing wrong in it." Anne, he
+said, was one of the truest and most loyal women that ever lived. What
+was going to happen he didn't know.</p>
+
+<p>"If this were only a book," he said gloomily, "the old man would
+die—and a good riddance to everybody."</p>
+
+<p>I reproved him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I didn't mean I was going to stick him in the back with a knife,
+though I'd offer my best thanks to anyone else who did so. There's not
+a soul in the world who's got a good word to say for him. I rather
+wonder the first Mrs. Protheroe didn't do him in. I met her once, years
+ago, and she looked quite capable of it. One of those calm, dangerous
+women. He goes blustering along, stirring up trouble everywhere, mean
+as the devil, and with a particularly nasty temper. You don't know what
+Anne has had to stand from him. If I had a penny in the world I'd take
+her away without any more ado."</p>
+
+<p>Then I spoke to him very earnestly. I begged him to leave St. Mary
+Mead. By remaining there, he could only bring greater unhappiness
+on Anne Protheroe than was already her lot. People would talk; the
+matter would get to Colonel Protheroe's ears—and things would be made
+infinitely worse for her.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody knows a thing about it except you, padre."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear young man, you underestimate the detective instinct of village
+life. In St. Mary Mead everyone knows your most intimate affairs. There
+is no detective in England equal to a spinster lady of uncertain age
+with plenty of time on her hands."</p>
+
+<p>He said easily that that was all right. Everyone thought it was Lettice.</p>
+
+<p>"Has it occurred to you," I asked, "that possibly Lettice might think
+so herself?"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed quite surprised by the idea. Lettice, he said, didn't care a
+hang about him. He was sure of that.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a queer sort of girl," he said. "Always seems in a kind of
+dream, and yet underneath I believe she's really rather practical. I
+believe all that vague stuff is a pose. Lettice knows jolly well what
+she's doing. And there's a funny vindictive streak in her. The queer
+thing is that she hates Anne. Simply loathes her. And yet Anne's been a
+perfect angel to her always."</p>
+
+<p>I did not, of course, take his word for this last. To infatuated young
+men, their inamorata always behaves like an angel. Still, to the best
+of my observation, Anne had always behaved to her stepdaughter with
+kindness and fairness. I had been surprised myself that afternoon at
+the bitterness of Lettice's tone.</p>
+
+<p>We had to leave the conversation there, because Griselda and Dennis
+burst in upon us and said I was not to make Lawrence behave like an old
+fogy.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! dear," said Griselda, throwing herself into an arm chair. "How I
+would like a thrill of some kind. A murder—or even a burglary."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose there's anyone much worth burgling," said Lawrence,
+trying to enter into her mood. "Unless we stole Miss Hartnell's false
+teeth."</p>
+
+<p>"They do click horribly," said Griselda. "But you're wrong about there
+being no one worth while. There's some marvellous old silver at Old
+Hall. Trencher salts and a Charles II tazza—all kinds of things like
+that. Worth thousands of pounds, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"The old man would probably shoot you with an army revolver," said
+Dennis. "Just the sort of thing he'd enjoy doing."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! we'd get in first and hold him up," said Griselda. "Who's got a
+revolver?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a Mauser pistol," said Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you? How exciting! Why do you have it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Souvenir of the War," said Lawrence briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Protheroe was showing the silver to Stone today," volunteered
+Dennis. "Old Stone was pretending to be no end interested in it."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought they'd quarrelled about the barrow," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! they've made that up," said Dennis. "I can't think what people
+want to grub about in barrows for, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"That man Stone puzzles me," said Lawrence. "I think he must be very
+absent-minded. You'd swear sometimes he knew nothing about his own
+subject."</p>
+
+<p>"That's love," said Dennis. "Sweet Gladys Cram, you are no sham. Your
+teeth are white and fill me with delight. Come, fly with me, my bride
+to be. And at the Blue Boar, on the bedroom floor—"</p>
+
+<p>"That's enough, Dennis," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Lawrence Redding, "I must be off. Thank you very much,
+Mrs. Clement, for a very pleasant evening."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda and Dennis saw him off. Dennis returned to the study alone.
+Something had happened to ruffle the boy. He wandered about the room
+aimlessly, frowning and kicking the furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Our furniture is so shabby already that it can hardly be damaged
+further, but I felt impelled to utter a mild protest.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry," said Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a moment and then burst out:</p>
+
+<p>"What an absolutely rotten thing gossip is!"</p>
+
+<p>I was a little surprised. Dennis does not usually take that attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I ought to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>I was more and more surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"It's such an absolutely rotten thing," Dennis said again. "Going
+round and saying things. Not even saying them. Hinting them. No, I'm
+damned—sorry—if I'll tell you! It's absolutely rotten."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him curiously but I did not press him further. I wondered
+very much, though. It is very unlike Dennis to take anything to heart.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda came in at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Wetherby's just rung up," she said. "Mrs. Lestrange went out at
+a quarter past eight and hasn't come in yet. Nobody knows where she's
+gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should they know?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it isn't to Dr. Haydock's. Miss Wetherby does know that, because
+she telephoned to Miss Hartnell who lives next door to him and who
+would have been sure to see her."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a mystery to me," I said, "how anyone ever gets any nourishment
+in this place. They must eat their meals standing up by the window so
+as to be sure of not missing anything."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's not all," said Griselda bubbling with pleasure. "They've
+found out about the Blue Boar. Dr. Stone and Miss Cram have got rooms
+next door to each other BUT—" she waved an impressive forefinger—"<i>no
+communicating door</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"That," I said, "must be very disappointing to everybody."</p>
+
+<p>At which Griselda laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Thursday started badly. Two of the ladies of my parish elected to
+quarrel about the church decorations. I was called in to adjudicate
+between two middle-aged ladies, each of whom was literally trembling
+with rage. If it had not been so painful, it would have been quite an
+interesting physical phenomenon.</p>
+
+<p>Then I had to reprove two of our choir boys for persistent sweet
+sucking during the hours of divine service, and I had an uneasy feeling
+that I was not doing the job as whole-heartedly as I should have done.</p>
+
+<p>Then our organist, who is distinctly "touchy," had taken offence and
+had to be smoothed down.</p>
+
+<p>And four of my poorer parishioners declared open rebellion against Miss
+Hartnell who came to me bursting with rage about it.</p>
+
+<p>I was just going home when I met Colonel Protheroe. He was in high good
+humour, having sentenced three poachers in his capacity as magistrate.</p>
+
+<p>"Firmness," he shouted in his stentorian voice. He is slightly deaf and
+raises his voice accordingly as deaf people often do. "That's what's
+needed nowadays—firmness! Make an example. That rogue Archer came
+out yesterday and is vowing vengeance against me, I hear. Impudent
+scoundrel. Threatened men live long, as the saying goes. I'll show him
+what his vengeance is worth, next time I catch him taking my pheasants.
+Lax! We're too lax nowadays! I believe in showing a man up for what he
+is. You're always being asked to consider a man's wife and children.
+Damned nonsense. Fiddlesticks. Why should a man escape the consequences
+of his acts just because he whines about his wife and children? It's
+all the same to me—no matter what a man is—doctor, lawyer, clergyman,
+poacher, drunken wastrel—if you catch him on the wrong side of the
+law, let the law punish him. You agree with me, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget," I said. "My calling obliges me to respect one quality
+above all others—the quality of mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm a just man. No one can deny that."</p>
+
+<p>I did not speak and he said sharply:</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you answer? A penny for your thoughts, man."</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated, then I decided to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking," I said, "that, when my times comes, I should be sorry
+if the only plea I had to offer was that of justice. Because it might
+mean that only justice would be meted out to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pah! What we need is a little militant Christianity. I've always done
+my duty, I hope. Well, no more of that. I'll be along this evening as
+I said. We'll make it a quarter past six instead of six, if you don't
+mind. I've got to see a man in the village."</p>
+
+<p>"That will suit me quite well."</p>
+
+<p>He flourished his stick and strode away. Turning, I ran into Hawes. I
+thought he looked distinctly ill this morning. I had meant to upbraid
+him mildly for various matters, in his province, which had been muddled
+or shelved, but seeing his white, strained face, I felt that the man
+was ill.</p>
+
+<p>I said as much and he denied it, but not very vehemently. Finally he
+confessed that he was not feeling too fit, and appeared ready to accept
+my advice of going home to bed.</p>
+
+<p>I had a hurried lunch and went out to do some visits. Griselda had gone
+to London by the cheap Thursday train.</p>
+
+<p>I came in about a quarter to four with the intention of sketching the
+outline of my Sunday sermon, but Mary told me that Mr. Redding was
+waiting for me in the study.</p>
+
+<p>I found him pacing up and down with a worried face. He looked white and
+haggard.</p>
+
+<p>He turned abruptly at my entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, sir. I've been thinking over what you said yesterday. I've
+had a sleepless night thinking about it. You're right. I've got to cut
+and run."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You were right in what you said about Anne. I'll only bring trouble
+on her by staying here. She's—she's too good for anything else. I see
+I've got to go. I've made things hard enough for her as it is, Heaven
+help me."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you have made the only decision possible," I said. "I know
+that it is a hard one, but believe me, it will be for the best in the
+end."</p>
+
+<p>I could see that he thought that that was the kind of thing easily said
+by someone who didn't know what he was talking about.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll look after Anne? She needs a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"You can rest assured that I will do everything in my power."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir." He wrung my hand. "You're a good sort, padre. I shall
+see her to say good-bye this evening, and I shall probably pack up and
+go tomorrow. No good prolonging the agony. Thanks for letting me have
+the shed to paint in. I'm sorry not to have finished Mrs. Clement's
+portrait."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry about that, my dear boy. Good-bye, and God bless you."</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone I tried to settle down to my sermon, but with very
+poor success. I kept thinking of Lawrence and Anne Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>I had rather an unpalatable cup of tea, cold and black, and at half
+past five the telephone rang. I was informed that Mr. Abbott of Lower
+Farm was dying and would I please come at once.</p>
+
+<p>I rang up Old Hall immediately, for Lower Farm was nearly two miles
+away and I could not possibly get back by six-fifteen. I have never
+succeeded in learning to ride a bicycle.</p>
+
+<p>I was told, however, that Colonel Protheroe had just started out in the
+car, so I departed, leaving word with Mary that I had been called away
+but would try to be back by six-thirty or soon after.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_5">Chapter 5</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was nearer seven than half past six when I approached the Vicarage
+gate on my return. Before I reached it, it swung open and Lawrence
+Redding came out. He stopped dead on seeing me and I was immediately
+struck by his appearance. He looked like a man who was on the point of
+going mad. His eyes stared in a peculiar manner; he was deathly white,
+and he was shaking and twitching all over.</p>
+
+<p>I wondered for a moment whether he could have been drinking, but
+repudiated the idea immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo," I said, "have you been to see me again? Sorry I was out. Come
+back now. I've got to see Protheroe about some accounts—but I daresay
+we shan't be long."</p>
+
+<p>"Protheroe," he said. He began to laugh. "Protheroe? You're going to
+see Protheroe? Oh! you'll see Protheroe all right. Oh! my God—yes."</p>
+
+<p>I stared. Instinctively I stretched out a hand towards him. He drew
+sharply aside.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he almost cried out. "I've got to get away—to think. I've got to
+think. I must think."</p>
+
+<p>He broke into a run and vanished rapidly down the road towards the
+village, leaving me staring after him, my first idea of drunkenness
+recurring.</p>
+
+<p>Finally I shook my head, and went on to the Vicarage. The front door is
+always left open, but nevertheless I rang the bell. Mary came wiping
+her hands on her apron.</p>
+
+<p>"So you're back at last," she observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Colonel Protheroe here?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In the study. Been here since a quarter past six."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Redding's been here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come a few minutes ago. Asked for you. I told him you'd be back any
+minute and that Colonel Protheroe was waiting in the study, and he said
+he'd wait too and went there. He's there now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he isn't," I said. "I've just met him going down the road."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I didn't hear him leave. He can't have stayed more than a couple
+of minutes. The mistress isn't back from town yet."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded absent-mindedly. Mary beat a retreat to the kitchen quarters
+and I went down the passage and opened the study door.</p>
+
+<p>After the dusk of the passage, the evening sunshine that was pouring
+into the room made my eyes blink. I took a step or two across the floor
+and then stopped dead.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment I could hardly take in the meaning of the scene before me.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Protheroe was lying sprawled across my writing table in a
+horrible, unnatural position. There was a pool of some dark fluid on
+the desk by his head, and it was slowly dripping onto the floor with a
+horrible drip, drip, drip.</p>
+
+<p>I pulled myself together and went across to him. His skin was cold
+to the touch. The hand that I raised fell back lifeless. The man was
+dead—shot through the head.</p>
+
+<p>I went to the door and called Mary. When she came I ordered her to
+run as fast as she could and fetch Dr. Haydock, who lives just at the
+corner of the road. I told her there had been an accident.</p>
+
+<p>Then I went back and closed the door to await the doctor's coming.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, Mary found him at home. Haydock is a good fellow, a big,
+fine, strapping fellow, with an honest, rugged face.</p>
+
+<p>His eyebrows went up when I pointed silently across the room. But like
+a true doctor he showed no signs of emotion. He bent over the dead
+man, examining him rapidly. Then he straightened himself and looked
+across at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead right enough—been dead half an hour, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>"Suicide?"</p>
+
+<p>"Out of the question, man. Look at the position of the wound. Besides,
+if he shot himself, where's the weapon?"</p>
+
+<p>True enough, there was no sign of any such thing.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better not mess around with anything," said Haydock. "I'd better
+ring up the police."</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the receiver and spoke into it. He gave the facts as
+curtly as possible and then replaced the telephone and came across to
+where I was sitting.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a rotten business. How did you come to find him?"</p>
+
+<p>I explained.</p>
+
+<p>"A rotten business," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Is—is it murder?" I asked rather faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks like it. Mean to say, what else can it be? Extraordinary
+business. Wonder who had a down on the poor old fellow. Of course
+I know he wasn't popular, but one isn't often murdered for that
+reason—worse luck."</p>
+
+<p>"There's one rather curious thing," I said. "I was telephoned for this
+afternoon to go to a dying parishioner. When I got there everyone was
+very surprised to see me. The sick man was very much better than he had
+been for some days, and his wife flatly denied telephoning for me at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock drew his brows together.</p>
+
+<p>"That's suggestive—very. You were being got out of the way. Where's
+your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone up to London for the day."</p>
+
+<p>"And the maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the kitchen—right at the other side of the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Where she wouldn't be likely to hear anything that went on in here.
+It's a nasty business. Who knew that Protheroe was coming here this
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"He referred to the fact this morning in the village street, at the top
+of his voice as usual."</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning that the whole village knew it! Which they always do in any
+case. Know of anyone who had a grudge against him?"</p>
+
+<p>The thought of Lawrence Redding's white face and staring eyes came to
+my mind. I was spared answering by a noise of shuffling feet in the
+passage outside.</p>
+
+<p>"The police," said my friend, and rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Our police force was represented by Constable Hurst, looking very
+important but slightly worried.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted us. "The Inspector will be
+here any minute. In the meantime I'll follow out his instructions. I
+understand Colonel Protheroe's been found shot—in the Vicarage."</p>
+
+<p>He paused and directed a look of cold suspicion at me which I tried to
+meet with a suitable bearing of conscious innocence.</p>
+
+<p>He moved over to the writing table and announced:</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to be touched till the Inspector comes."</p>
+
+<p>For the convenience of my readers, I append a sketch plan of the room.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt="">
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>He got out his notebook, moistened his pencil and looked expectantly at
+both of us.</p>
+
+<p>I repeated my story of discovering the body. When he had got it all
+down, which took some time, he turned to the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"In your opinion, Dr. Haydock, what was the cause of death?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shot through the head at close quarters."</p>
+
+<p>"And the weapon?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say with certainty until we get the bullet out. But I should
+say in all probability the bullet was fired from a pistol of small
+calibre—say a Mauser .25."</p>
+
+<p>I started, remembering our conversation of the night before, and
+Lawrence Redding's admission. The police constable brought his cold
+fishlike eye round on me.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head. Whatever suspicions I might have, they were no more
+than suspicions, and as such to be kept to myself.</p>
+
+<p>"When, in your opinion, did the tragedy occur?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor hesitated for a minute before he answered. Then he said:</p>
+
+<p>"The man has been dead just over half an hour, I should say. Certainly
+not longer."</p>
+
+<p>Hurst turned to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the girl hear anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I know she heard nothing," I said. "But you had better ask
+her."</p>
+
+<p>But at this moment Inspector Slack arrived, having come by car from
+Much Benham, two miles away.</p>
+
+<p>All that I can say of Inspector Slack is that never did a man more
+determinedly strive to contradict his name. He was a dark man, restless
+and energetic in manner, with black eyes that snapped ceaselessly. His
+manner was rude and overbearing in the extreme.</p>
+
+<p>He acknowledged our greetings with a curt nod, seized his
+subordinate's notebook, perused it, exchanged a few curt words with him
+in an undertone, then strode over to the body.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything's been messed up and pulled about, I suppose," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I've touched nothing," said Haydock.</p>
+
+<p>"No more have I," I said.</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector busied himself for some time peering at the things on the
+table and examining the pool of blood.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he said in a tone of triumph. "Here's what we want. Clock
+overturned when he fell forward. That'll give us the time of the crime.
+Twenty-two minutes past six. What time did you say death occurred,
+doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I said about half an hour, but—"</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector consulted his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Five minutes past seven. I got word about ten minutes ago, at five
+minutes to seven. Discovery of the body was at about a quarter to
+seven. I understand you were fetched immediately. Say you examined it
+at ten minutes to—Why, that brings it to the identical second almost!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't guarantee the time absolutely," said Haydock. "That is an
+approximate estimate."</p>
+
+<p>"Good enough, sir, good enough."</p>
+
+<p>I had been trying to get a word in.</p>
+
+<p>"About that clock—"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll ask you any questions I want to know.
+Time's short. What I want is absolute silence."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I'd like to tell you—"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolute silence," said the Inspector, glaring at me ferociously.</p>
+
+<p>I gave him what he asked for.</p>
+
+<p>He was still peering about the writing table.</p>
+
+<p>"What was he sitting here for," he grunted. "Did he want to write a
+note? Hullo—what's this?"</p>
+
+<p>He held up a piece of note paper triumphantly. So pleased was he with
+his find that he permitted us to come to his side and examine it with
+him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a piece of Vicarage note paper, and it was headed at the top
+6.20.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Clement</span> (it began)</p>
+
+<p><i>Sorry I cannot wait any longer, but I must</i>.... Here the writing
+tailed off in a scrawl.</p>
+
+<p>"Plain as a pike staff," said Inspector Slack triumphantly. "He sits
+down here to write this; an enemy comes softly in through the window
+and shoots him as he writes. What more do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd just like to say—" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of the way, if you please, sir. I want to see if there are
+footprints."</p>
+
+<p>He went down on his hands and knees, moving towards the open window.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you ought to know—" I said obstinately.</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector rose. He spoke without heat, but firmly:</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go into all that later. I'd be obliged if you gentlemen will
+clear out of here. Right out, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>We permitted ourselves to be shooed out like children.</p>
+
+<p>Hours seemed to have passed—yet it was only a quarter past seven.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Haydock. "That's that. When that conceited ass wants me,
+you can send him over to the surgery. So long."</p>
+
+<p>"The mistress is back," said Mary, making a brief appearance from the
+kitchen. Her eyes were round and agog with excitement. "Come in about
+five minutes ago."</p>
+
+<p>I found Griselda in the drawing room. She looked frightened, but
+excited.</p>
+
+<p>I told her everything and she listened attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"The letter is headed 6.20," I ended. "And the clock fell over and has
+stopped at 6.22."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda. "But that clock, didn't you tell him that it was
+always kept a quarter of an hour fast?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "I didn't. He wouldn't let me. I tried my best."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda was frowning in a puzzled manner.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Len," she said. "That makes the whole thing perfectly
+extraordinary. Because when that clock said twenty past six it was
+really five minutes past, and at five minutes past I don't suppose
+Colonel Protheroe had even arrived at the house."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_6">Chapter 6</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>We puzzled over the business of the clock for some time, but we could
+make nothing of it. Griselda said I ought to make another effort and
+tell Inspector Slack about it, but on that point I was feeling what I
+can only describe as "mulish."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack had been abominably and most unnecessarily rude. I
+was looking forward to a moment when I could produce my valuable
+contribution and effect his discomfiture. I would then say in a tone of
+mild reproach:</p>
+
+<p>"If you had only listened to me, Inspector Slack—"</p>
+
+<p>I expected that he would at least speak to me before he left the house,
+but to our surprise we learned from Mary that he had departed, having
+locked up the study door and issued orders that no one was to attempt
+to enter the room.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda suggested going up to Old Hall.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be so awful for Anne Protheroe—with the police and
+everything," she said. "Perhaps I might be able to do something for
+her."</p>
+
+<p>I cordially approved of this plan, and Griselda set off with
+instructions that she was to telephone to me if she thought that I
+could be of any use or comfort to either of the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>I now proceeded to ring up the Sunday School teachers who were coming
+at 7.45 for their weekly preparation class. I thought that under the
+circumstances it would be better to put them off.</p>
+
+<p>Dennis was the next person to arrive on the scene, having just
+returned from a tennis party. The fact that murder had taken place at
+the Vicarage seemed to afford him acute satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy being right on the spot in a murder case," he exclaimed. "I've
+always wanted to be right in the midst of one. Why have the police
+locked up the study? Wouldn't one of the other door keys fit it?"</p>
+
+<p>I refused to allow anything of the sort to be attempted. Dennis gave
+in with a bad grace. After extracting every possible detail from me he
+went out into the garden to look for footprints, remarking cheerfully
+that it was lucky it was only old Protheroe, whom everyone disliked.</p>
+
+<p>His cheerful callousness rather grated on me, but I reflected that I
+was perhaps being hard on the boy. At Dennis' age a detective story is
+one of the best things in life, and to find a real detective story,
+complete with corpse, waiting on one's own front doorstep, so to speak,
+is bound to send a healthy minded boy into the seventh heaven of
+enjoyment. Death means very little to a boy of sixteen.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda came back in about an hour's time. She had seen Anne
+Protheroe, having arrived just after the Inspector had broken the news
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>On hearing that Mrs. Protheroe had last seen her husband in the village
+about a quarter to six, and that she had no light of any kind to throw
+upon the matter, he had taken his departure, explaining that he would
+return on the morrow for a fuller interview.</p>
+
+<p>"He was quite decent in his way," said Griselda grudgingly.</p>
+
+<p>"How did Mrs. Protheroe take it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well—she was very quiet—but then she always is."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "I can't imagine Anne Protheroe going into hysterics."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it was a great shock. You could see that. She thanked me for
+coming and said she was very grateful, but that there was nothing I
+could do."</p>
+
+<p>"What about Lettice?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was out playing tennis somewhere. She hadn't got home yet."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause and then Griselda said:</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Len, she was really very queer—very queer indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"The shock," I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—I suppose so. And yet—" Griselda furrowed her brows perplexedly.
+"It wasn't like that somehow. She didn't seem so much bowled over
+as—well—terrified."</p>
+
+<p>"Terrified?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—not showing it, you know. At least not meaning to show it. But a
+queer, watchful look in her eyes. I wonder if she has a sort of idea
+who did kill him. She asked again and again if anyone was suspected."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she?" I said thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Of course Anne's got marvellous self-control, but one could see
+that she was terribly upset. More so than I would have thought, for
+after all it wasn't as though she were so devoted to him. I should have
+said she rather disliked him, if anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Death alters one's feelings sometimes," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>Dennis came in and was full of excitement over a footprint he had found
+in one of the flower beds. He was sure that the police had overlooked
+it, and that it would turn out to be the turning point of the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>I spent a troubled night. Dennis was up and about and out of the house
+long before breakfast, to "study the latest developments," as he said.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless it was not he, but Mary, who brought us the morning's
+sensational bit of news.</p>
+
+<p>We had just sat down to breakfast when she burst into the room, her
+cheeks red and her eyes shining, and addressed us with her customary
+lack of ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you believe it? The baker's just told me. They've arrested young
+Mr. Redding."</p>
+
+<p>"Arrested Lawrence," cried Griselda incredulously. "Impossible. It must
+be some stupid mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"No mistake about it, Mum," said Mary with a kind of gloating
+exultation. "Mr. Redding, he went there himself and gave himself up.
+Last night last thing. Went right in, threw down the pistol on the
+table and, 'I did it,' he says. Just like that."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at us both, nodded her head vigorously, and withdrew,
+satisfied with the effect she had produced. Griselda and I stared at
+each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it isn't true," said Griselda. "It <i>can't</i> be true."</p>
+
+<p>She noticed my silence and said, "Len, <i>you</i> don't think it's true?"</p>
+
+<p>I found it hard to answer her. I sat silent, thoughts whirling through
+my head.</p>
+
+<p>"He must be mad," said Griselda. "Absolutely mad. Or do you think they
+were looking at the pistol together and it suddenly went off?"</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't sound at all a likely thing to happen."</p>
+
+<p>"But it must have been an accident of some kind. Because there's not a
+shadow of a motive. What earthly reason could Lawrence have for killing
+Colonel Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>I could have answered that question very decidedly, but I wished to
+spare Anne Protheroe as far as possible. There might still be a chance
+of keeping her name out of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, they had had a quarrel," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"About Lettice and her bathing dress. Yes, but that's absurd. And even
+if he and Lettice were engaged secretly, well, that's not a reason for
+killing her father."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't know what the true facts of the case may be, Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>do</i> believe it, Len! Oh! how can you! I tell you, I'm <i>sure</i>
+Lawrence never touched a hair of his head."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, I met him just outside the gate. He looked like a madman."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but—oh! it's impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"There's the clock, too," I said. "This explains the clock. Lawrence
+must have put it back to 6.22 with the idea of making an alibi for
+himself. Look how Inspector Slack fell into the trap."</p>
+
+<p>"You're wrong, Len. Lawrence knew about that clock being fast. 'Keeping
+the Vicar up to time!' he used to say. Lawrence would never have
+made the mistake of putting it back to 6.22. He'd have put the hands
+somewhere possible—like a quarter to seven."</p>
+
+<p>"He mayn't have known what time Protheroe got here. Or he may have
+simply forgotten about the clock being fast."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda disagreed.</p>
+
+<p>"No, if you were committing a murder, you'd be awfully careful about
+things like that."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, my dear," I said mildly. "You've never done one."</p>
+
+<p>Before Griselda could reply, a shadow fell across the breakfast table,
+and a very gentle voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I am not intruding. You must forgive me. But in the sad
+circumstances—the very sad circumstances—"</p>
+
+<p>It was our neighbour, Miss Marple. Accepting our polite disclaimers,
+she stepped in through the window and I drew up a chair for her. She
+looked faintly flushed and quite excited.</p>
+
+<p>"Very terrible, is it not? Poor Colonel Protheroe. Not a very pleasant
+man, perhaps, and not exactly popular, but it's none the less sad for
+that. And actually shot in the Vicarage study, I understand?"</p>
+
+<p>I said that that had indeed been the case.</p>
+
+<p>"But the dear Vicar was not here at the time?" Miss Marple questioned
+of Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>I explained where I had been.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dennis is not with you this morning?" said Miss Marple glancing
+round.</p>
+
+<p>"Dennis," said Griselda, "fancies himself as an amateur detective. He
+is very excited about a footprint he found in one of the flower beds
+and I fancy has gone off to tell the police about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear," said Miss Marple. "Such a to-do, is it not? And Mr.
+Dennis thinks he knows who committed the crime. Well, I suppose we all
+think we know."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean it is obvious?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, I didn't mean that at all. I daresay everyone thinks it is
+somebody different. That is why it is so important to have <i>proofs</i>.
+I, for instance, am quite <i>convinced</i> I know who did it. But I must
+admit I haven't one shadow of proof. One must, I know, be very careful
+of what one says at a time like this—criminal libel, don't they call
+it? I had made up my mind to be <i>most</i> careful with Inspector Slack. He
+sent word he would come and see me this morning, but now he has just
+'phoned up to say it won't be necessary after all."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose, since the arrest, it isn't necessary," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"The arrest?" Miss Marple leaned forward, her cheeks pink with
+excitement. "I didn't know there had been an arrest."</p>
+
+<p>It is so seldom that Miss Marple is worse informed than we are that I
+had taken it for granted that she would know the latest developments.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems we have been talking at cross purposes," I said. "Yes, there
+has been an arrest—Lawrence Redding."</p>
+
+<p>"Lawrence Redding?" Miss Marple seemed very surprised. "Now I should
+not have thought—"</p>
+
+<p>Griselda interrupted vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't believe it even now. No, not though he has actually confessed."</p>
+
+<p>"Confessed?" said Miss Marple. "You say he has confessed? Oh! dear, I
+see I have been sadly at sea—yes, sadly at sea."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help feeling it must have been some kind of an accident," said
+Griselda. "Don't you think so, Len? I mean his coming forward to give
+himself up looks like that."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple leant forward eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"He gave himself up, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Miss Marple, with a deep sigh. "I am so glad—so very glad."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at her in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"It shows a true state of remorse, I suppose," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Remorse?" Miss Marple looked very surprised. "Oh! but surely dear,
+dear Vicar, you don't think that he is guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>It was my turn to stare.</p>
+
+<p>"But since he has confessed—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but that just proves it, doesn't it? I mean that he had nothing
+to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "I may be dense, but I can't see that it does. If you
+have not committed a murder, I cannot see the object of pretending you
+have."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! of course, there's a reason," said Miss Marple. "Naturally.
+There's always a reason, isn't there? And young men are so hot-headed
+and often prone to believe the worst."</p>
+
+<p>She turned to Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you agree with me, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"I—I don't know," said Griselda. "It's difficult to know what to
+think. I can't see any reason for Lawrence behaving like a perfect
+idiot."</p>
+
+<p>"If you had seen his face last night—" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>I described my homecoming while she listened attentively.</p>
+
+<p>When I had finished she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I know that I am very often rather foolish and don't take in things
+as I should, but I really do not see your point. It seems to me that
+if a young man had made up his mind to the great wickedness of taking
+a fellow creature's life, he would not appear distraught about it
+afterwards. It would be a premeditated and cold-blooded action and,
+though the murderer might be a little flurried and possibly might make
+some small mistake, I do not think it likely he would fall into a state
+of agitation such as you describe. It is difficult to put oneself in
+such a position, but I cannot imagine getting into a state like that
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't know the circumstances," I argued. "If there was a quarrel,
+the shot may have been fired in a sudden gust of passion, and Lawrence
+might afterwards have been appalled at what he had done. Indeed, I
+prefer to think that that is what did actually occur."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, dear Mr. Clement, that there are many ways we prefer to look
+at things. But one must actually take facts as they are, must one not?
+And it does not seem to me that the facts bear the interpretation you
+put upon them. Your maid distinctly stated that Mr. Redding was only in
+the house a couple of minutes, not long enough, surely, for a quarrel
+such as you describe. And then again, I understand the Colonel was shot
+through the back of the head while he was writing a letter—at least
+that is what my maid told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true," said Griselda. "He seems to have been writing a note to
+say he couldn't wait any longer. The note was dated 6.20, and the clock
+on the table was overturned and had stopped at 6.22, and that's just
+what has been puzzling Len and myself so frightfully."</p>
+
+<p>She explained our custom of keeping the clock a quarter of an hour fast.</p>
+
+<p>"Very curious," said Miss Marple. "Very curious indeed. But the note
+seems to me even more curious still. I mean—"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped and looked round. Lettice Protheroe was standing outside
+the window. She came in, nodding to us and murmuring, "Morning."</p>
+
+<p>She dropped into a chair and said, with rather more animation than
+usual, "They've arrested Lawrence, I hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda. "It's been a great shock to us."</p>
+
+<p>"I never really thought anyone would murder Father," said Lettice. She
+was obviously taking a pride in letting no hint of distress or emotion
+escape her. "Lots of people wanted to, I'm sure. There are times when
+I'd have liked to do it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you have something to eat or drink, Lettice?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you. I just drifted round to see if you'd got my beret
+here—a queer little yellow one. I think I left it in the study the
+other day."</p>
+
+<p>"If you did, it's there still," said Griselda. "Mary never tidies
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and see," said Lettice rising. "Sorry to be such a bother, but
+I seem to have lost everything else in the hat line."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you can't get it now," I said. "Inspector Slack has locked
+the room up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! what a bore. Can't we get in through the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not. It is latched in the inside. Surely, Lettice, a yellow
+beret won't be much good to you at present?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean mourning and all that? I shan't bother about mourning.
+I think it's an awfully archaic idea. It's a nuisance about
+Lawrence—yes, it's a nuisance."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and stood frowning abstractedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it's all on account of me and my bathing dress. So silly,
+the whole thing."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda opened her mouth to say something, but for some unexplained
+reason shut it again.</p>
+
+<p>A curious smile came to Lettice's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," she said softly, "I'll go home and tell Anne about Lawrence
+being arrested."</p>
+
+<p>She went out of the window again. Griselda turned to Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you step on my foot?"</p>
+
+<p>The old lady was smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were going to say something, my dear. And it is often so
+much better to let things develop on their own lines. I don't think,
+you know, that that child is half so vague as she pretends to be. She's
+got a very definite idea in her head, and she's acting upon it."</p>
+
+<p>Mary gave a loud knock on the dining-room door and entered hard upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said Griselda. "And Mary, you must remember not to knock
+on doors. I've told you about it before."</p>
+
+<p>"Thought you might be busy," said Mary. "Colonel Melchett's here. Wants
+to see the master."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett is Chief Constable of the County. I rose at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you wouldn't like my leaving him in the hall, so I put him
+in the drawing room," went on Mary. "Shall I clear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," said Griselda. "I'll ring."</p>
+
+<p>She turned to Miss Marple and I left the room.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_7">Chapter 7</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett is a dapper little man with a habit of snorting
+suddenly and unexpectedly. He has red hair and rather keen, bright-blue
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Vicar," he said. "Nasty business, eh? Poor old
+Protheroe. Not that I liked him. I didn't. Nobody did for that matter.
+Nasty bit of work for you, too. Hope it hasn't upset your Missus?"</p>
+
+<p>I said Griselda had taken it very well.</p>
+
+<p>"That's lucky. Rotten thing to happen in one's house. I must say
+I'm surprised at young Redding—doing it the way he did. No sort of
+consideration for anyone's feelings."</p>
+
+<p>A wild desire to laugh came over me, but Colonel Melchett evidently saw
+nothing odd in the idea of a murderer being considerate, so I held my
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>"I must say I was rather taken aback when I heard the fellow had
+marched in and given himself up," continued Colonel Melchett, dropping
+on to a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"How did it happen, exactly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Last night. About ten o'clock. Fellow rolls in, throws down a pistol
+and says, 'Here I am. I did it.' Just like that."</p>
+
+<p>"What account does he give of the business?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precious little. He was warned, of course, about making a statement.
+But he merely laughed. Said he came here to see you—found Protheroe
+here. They had words and he shot him. Won't say what the quarrel was
+about. Look here, Clement—just between you and me—do you know
+anything about it? I've heard rumours—about his being forbidden the
+house and all that. What was it—did he seduce the daughter, or what?
+We don't want to bring the girl into it more than we can help, for
+everybody's sake. Was that the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "You can take it from me that it was something quite
+different, but I can't say more at the present juncture."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded and rose.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to know. There's a lot of talk. Too many women in this part
+of the world. Well, I must get along. I've got to see Haydock. He was
+called out to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I
+don't mind telling you I'm sorry about Redding. He always struck me as
+a decent young chap. Perhaps they'll think out some kind of defence for
+him. Aftereffects of War, shell shock, or something. Especially if no
+very adequate motive turns up. I must be off. Like to come along?"</p>
+
+<p>I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock's house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor had
+just come in, and showed us into the dining room, where Haydock was
+sitting down to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon.</p>
+
+<p>He greeted us with an amiable nod.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry I had to go out. Confinement case. I've been up most of the
+night, over your business. I've got the bullet for you."</p>
+
+<p>He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.</p>
+
+<p>".25?"</p>
+
+<p>Haydock nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll keep the technical details for the inquest," he said. "All you
+want to know is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young
+fool, what did he want to do it for? Amazing, by the way, that nobody
+heard the shot."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Melchett; "that surprises me."</p>
+
+<p>"The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house," I said.
+"With the study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I
+doubt if you would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in
+the house."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," said Melchett. "It's odd, all the same. I wonder the old
+lady—what's her name—Marple didn't hear it. The study window was
+open."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she did," said Haydock.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think she did," said I. "She was over at the Vicarage just
+now and she didn't mention anything of the kind, which I'm certain she
+would have done if there had been anything to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"May have heard it and paid no attention to it—thought it was a car
+backfiring."</p>
+
+<p>It struck me that Haydock was looking much more jovial and
+good-humoured this morning. He seemed like a man who was decorously
+trying to subdue unusually good spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"Or what about a silencer?" he added. "That's quite likely. Nobody
+would hear anything then."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Slack didn't find anything of the kind, and he asked Redding, and
+Redding didn't seem to know what he was talking about at first, and
+then denied point-blank using anything of the kind. And I suppose one
+can take his word for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, poor devil."</p>
+
+<p>"Damned young fool," said Colonel Melchett. "Sorry, Clement. But he
+really is! Somehow one can't get used to thinking of him as a murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"Any motive?" asked Haydock, taking a final draught of coffee and
+pushing back his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"He says they quarrelled, and he lost his temper and shot him."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoping for manslaughter, eh?" The doctor shook his head. "That story
+doesn't hold water. He stole up behind him as he was writing and shot
+him through the head. Precious little 'quarrel' about that."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway, there wouldn't have been time for a quarrel," I said,
+remembering Miss Marple's words. "To creep up, shoot him, alter the
+clock hands back to 6.22, and leave again would have taken him all his
+time. I shall never forget his face when I met him outside the gate, or
+the way he said, 'You want to see Protheroe—Oh! you'll see him all
+right!' That in itself ought to have made me suspicious of what had
+just taken place a few minutes before."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock stared at me.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean—what had just taken place? When do you think Redding
+shot him?"</p>
+
+<p>"A few minutes before I got to the house."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible. Plumb impossible. He'd been dead much longer than that."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear man," cried Colonel Melchett. "You said yourself that
+half an hour was only an approximate estimate."</p>
+
+<p>"Half an hour, thirty-five minutes, twenty-five minutes, twenty
+minutes—possibly, but less, no. Why, the body would have been warm
+when I got to it."</p>
+
+<p>We stared at each other. Haydock's face had changed. It had gone
+suddenly gray and old. I wondered at the change in him.</p>
+
+<p>"But look here, Haydock." The Colonel found his voice. "If Redding
+admits shooting him at a quarter to seven—"</p>
+
+<p>Haydock sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you it's impossible," he roared. "If Redding says he killed
+Protheroe at a quarter to seven, then Redding lies. Hang it all, I tell
+you I'm a doctor, and I know. The blood had begun to congeal."</p>
+
+<p>"If Redding is lying—" began Melchett. He stopped, shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better go down to the police station and see him," he said.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_8">Chapter 8</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>We were rather silent on our way down to the police station. Haydock
+drew behind a little and murmured to me.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I don't like the look of this. I don't like it. There's
+something here we don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>He looked thoroughly worried and upset.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack was at the police station, and presently we found
+ourselves face to face with Lawrence Redding.</p>
+
+<p>He looked pale and strained but quite composed—marvellously so, I
+thought, considering the circumstances. Melchett snorted and hummed,
+obviously nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Redding," he said. "I understand you made a statement
+to Inspector Slack here. You state you went to the Vicarage at
+approximately a quarter to seven, found Protheroe there, quarrelled
+with him, shot him and came away. I'm not reading it over to you, but
+that's the gist of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to ask you a few questions. You've already been told that
+you needn't answer them unless you choose. Your solicitor—"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"I've nothing to hide. I killed Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! well—" Melchett snorted. "How did you happen to have a pistol
+with you?"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in my pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"You took it with you to the Vicarage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I always take it."</p>
+
+<p>He had hesitated again before answering, and I was absolutely sure that
+he was not speaking the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you put the clock back?"</p>
+
+<p>"The clock?"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the hands pointed to 6.22."</p>
+
+<p>A look of fear sprang up in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that—yes. I—I altered it."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock spoke suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you shoot Colonel Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the study at the Vicarage."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean in what part of the body?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!—I—through the head I think. Yes, through the head."</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Since you know, I can't see why it is necessary to ask me."</p>
+
+<p>It was a feeble kind of bluster. There was some commotion outside. A
+constable without a helmet brought in a note.</p>
+
+<p>"For the Vicar. It says 'very urgent' on it."</p>
+
+<p>I tore it open and read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"<i>Please—please—come to me. I don't know what to do. It is all too
+awful. I want to tell someone. Please come immediately, and bring
+anyone you like with you.</i> <span class="smcap">Anne Protheroe.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I gave Melchett a meaning glance. He took the hint. We all went out
+together. Glancing over my shoulder I had a glimpse of Lawrence
+Redding's face. His eyes were rivetted on the paper in my hand, and I
+have hardly ever seen such a terrible look of anguish and despair in
+any human being's face.</p>
+
+<p>I remembered Anne Protheroe sitting on my sofa and saying, "I'm a
+desperate woman"; and my heart grew heavy within me. I saw now the
+possible reason for Lawrence Redding's heroic self-accusation.</p>
+
+<p>Melchett was speaking to Slack.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got any line on Redding's movements earlier in the day?
+There's some reason to think he shot Protheroe earlier than he says.
+Get on to it, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned to me and, without a word, I handed him Anne Protheroe's
+letter. He read it and pursed up his lips in astonishment. Then he
+looked at me inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this what you were hinting at this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I was not sure then if it was my duty to speak. I am quite sure
+now." And I told him of what I had seen that night in the studio.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel had a few words with the Inspector, and then we set off for
+Old Hall. Dr. Haydock came with us.</p>
+
+<p>A very correct butler opened the door, with just the right amount of
+gloom in his bearing.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," said Melchett. "Will you ask Mrs. Protheroe's maid to
+tell her we are here and would like to see her; and then return here
+and answer a few questions."</p>
+
+<p>The butler hurried away, and presently returned with the news that he
+had dispatched the message.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, let's hear something about yesterday," said Colonel Melchett.
+"Your master was in to lunch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And in his usual spirits?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I could see; yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What happened after that?"</p>
+
+<p>"After luncheon Mrs. Protheroe went to lie down, and the Colonel
+went to his study. Miss Lettice went out to a tennis party in the
+two-seater. Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe had tea at four-thirty, in the
+drawing room. The car was ordered for five-thirty to take them to the
+village. Immediately after they had left, Mr. Clement rang up"—he
+bowed to me. "I told him they had started."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," said Colonel Melchett. "When was Mr. Redding last here?"</p>
+
+<p>"On Tuesday afternoon, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand that there was a disagreement between them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so, sir. The Colonel gave me orders that Mr. Redding was not
+to be admitted in future."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you overhear the quarrel at all?" asked Colonel Melchett bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Protheroe, sir, had a very loud voice, especially when it was
+raised in anger. I was unable to help overhearing a few words here and
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"Enough to tell you the cause of the dispute?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understood, sir, that it had to do with a portrait Mr. Redding had
+been painting—a portrait of Miss Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett grunted.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see Mr. Redding when he left?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; I let him out."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he seem angry?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; if I may say so, he seemed rather amused."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! He didn't come to the house yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyone else come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yesterday, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the day before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dennis Clement came in the afternoon. And Dr. Stone was here for
+some time. And there was a lady in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady?" Melchett was surprised. "Who was she?"</p>
+
+<p>The butler couldn't remember her name. It was a lady he had not seen
+before. Yes, she had given her name, and when he told her that the
+family were at dinner, she had said that she would wait. So he had
+shown her into the little morning room.</p>
+
+<p>She had asked for Colonel Protheroe, not Mrs. Protheroe. He had told
+the Colonel, and the Colonel had gone to the morning room directly
+dinner was over.</p>
+
+<p>How long had the lady stayed? He thought about half an hour. The
+Colonel himself had let her out. Ah! yes, he remembered her name now.
+The lady had been a Mrs. Lestrange.</p>
+
+<p>This was a surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Curious," said Melchett. "Really very curious."</p>
+
+<p>But we pursued the matter no further, for at that moment a message came
+that Mrs. Protheroe would see us.</p>
+
+<p>Anne was in bed. Her face was pale and her eyes very bright. There was
+a look on her face that puzzled me—a kind of grim determination.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you for coming so promptly," she said. "I see you've understood
+what I meant by bringing anyone you liked with you."</p>
+
+<p>She paused.</p>
+
+<p>"It's best to get it over quickly, isn't it?" she said. She gave a
+queer, half-pathetic little smile. "I suppose you're the person I
+ought to say it to, Colonel Melchett. You see, it was I who killed my
+husband."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett said gently:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Protheroe—"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it's quite true. I suppose I've said it rather bluntly, but I
+never can go into hysterics over anything. I've hated him for a long
+time, and yesterday I shot him."</p>
+
+<p>She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all. I suppose you'll arrest me and take me away. I'll get up
+and dress as soon as I can. At the moment I am feeling rather sick."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you aware, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Lawrence Redding has already
+accused himself of committing the crime?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne opened her eyes and nodded brightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know. Silly boy. He's very much in love with me, you know. It was
+frightfully noble of him—but very silly."</p>
+
+<p>"He knew that it was you who had committed the crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"How did he know?"</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>Still she hesitated. Then at last she seemed to make up her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—I told him."</p>
+
+<p>She twitched her shoulders with a movement of irritation.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you go away now? I've told you. I don't want to talk about it
+anymore."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get the pistol, Mrs. Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"The pistol? Oh! it was my husband's. I got it out of the drawer of his
+dressing table."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. And you took it with you to the Vicarage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I knew he would be there—"</p>
+
+<p>"What time was this?"</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been after six—quarter—twenty past—something like
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"You took the pistol meaning to shoot your husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"No—I—I meant it for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. But you went to the Vicarage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I went along to the window. There were no voices. I looked in. I
+saw my husband. Something came over me—and I fired."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then? Oh! then I went away."</p>
+
+<p>"And told Mr. Redding what you had done?"</p>
+
+<p>Again I noticed the hesitation in her voice before she said, "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Did anybody see you entering or leaving the Vicarage?"</p>
+
+<p>"No—at least, yes. Old Miss Marple. I talked to her a few minutes. She
+was in her garden."</p>
+
+<p>She moved restlessly on the pillows.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that enough? I've told you. Why do you want to go on bothering
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Haydock moved to her side and felt her pulse.</p>
+
+<p>He beckoned to Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll stay with her," he said in a whisper, "while you make the
+necessary arrangements. She oughtn't to be left. Might do herself a
+mischief."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett nodded.</p>
+
+<p>We left the room and descended the stairs. I saw a thin, cadaverous
+looking man come out of the adjoining room and, on impulse, I remounted
+the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you Colonel Protheroe's valet?"</p>
+
+<p>The man looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know whether your late master kept a pistol anywhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I know of, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Not in one of the drawers of his dressing table? Think, man."</p>
+
+<p>The valet shook his head decisively.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm quite sure he didn't, sir. I'd have seen it if so. Bound to."</p>
+
+<p>I hurried down the stairs after the others.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Protheroe had lied about the pistol.</p>
+
+<p>Why?</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_9">Chapter 9</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>After leaving a message at the police station, the Chief Constable
+announced his intention of paying a visit to Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better come with me, Vicar," he said. "I don't want to give a
+member of your flock hysterics. So lend the weight of your soothing
+presence."</p>
+
+<p>I smiled. For all her fragile appearance, Miss Marple is capable of
+holding her own with any policeman or chief constable in existence.</p>
+
+<p>"What's she like?" asked the Colonel as we rang the bell. "Anything she
+says to be depended upon or otherwise?"</p>
+
+<p>I considered the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I think she is quite dependable," I said cautiously. "That is, in
+so far as she is talking of what she has actually seen. Beyond that,
+of course, when you get on to what she thinks—well, that is another
+matter. She has a powerful imagination, and systematically thinks the
+worst of everyone."</p>
+
+<p>"The typical elderly spinster, in fact," said Melchett with a laugh.
+"Well, I ought to know the breed by now. Gad, the tea parties down
+here!"</p>
+
+<p>We were admitted by a very diminutive maid and shown into a small
+drawing room.</p>
+
+<p>"A bit crowded," said Colonel Melchett, looking round. "But plenty of
+good stuff. A lady's room, eh, Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>I agreed, and at that moment the door opened and Miss Marple made her
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Very sorry to bother you, Miss Marple," said the Colonel when I had
+introduced him, putting on his bluff, military manner, which he had an
+idea was attractive to elderly ladies. "Got to do my duty, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, of course," said Miss Marple. "I quite understand. Won't
+you sit down? And might I offer you a little glass of cherry brandy? My
+own making. A recipe of my grandmother's."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much, Miss Marple. Very kind of you. But I think I
+won't. Nothing till lunch time, that's my motto. Now, I want to talk to
+you about this sad business—very sad business indeed. Upset us all,
+I'm sure. Well, it seems possible that, owing to the position of your
+house and garden, you may have been able to tell us something we want
+to know about yesterday evening."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt="">
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact, I was in my little garden from five o'clock
+onwards yesterday, and of course from there—well, one simply cannot
+help seeing anything that is going on next door."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, Miss Marple, that Mrs. Protheroe passed this way
+yesterday evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she did. I called out to her, and she admired my roses."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you tell us about what time that was?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say it was just a minute or two after a quarter past six.
+Yes, that's right. The church clock had just chimed the quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. What happened next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mrs. Protheroe said she was calling for her husband at the
+Vicarage, so that they could go home together. She had come along the
+lane, you understand, and she went into the Vicarage by the back gate
+and across the garden."</p>
+
+<p>"She came from the lane?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'll show you."</p>
+
+<p>Full of eagerness, Miss Marple led us out into the garden, and pointed
+out the lane that ran along by the bottom of her garden.</p>
+
+<p>"The path opposite with the stile leads to the Hall," she explained.
+"That was the way they were going home together. Mrs. Protheroe came
+from the village."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly, perfectly," said Colonel Melchett. "And she went across to
+the Vicarage, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I saw her turn the corner of the house. I suppose the Colonel
+wasn't there yet, because she came back almost immediately, and went
+down the lawn to the studio—that building there. The one the Vicar
+lets Mr. Redding use as a studio."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. And—you didn't happen to hear a shot, Miss Marple?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't hear a shot then," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"But you did hear one some time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think there was a shot somewhere in the woods. But quite five
+or ten minutes afterwards—and, as I say, out in the woods. At least, I
+think so. It couldn't have been—surely it couldn't have been—"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped, pale with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, we'll come to all that presently," said Colonel Melchett.
+"Please go on with your story. Mrs. Protheroe went down to the studio?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she went inside and waited. Presently Mr. Redding came along the
+lane from the village. He came to the Vicarage gate, looked all round—"</p>
+
+<p>"And saw you, Miss Marple."</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact, he didn't see me," said Miss Marple flushing
+slightly. "Because, you see, just at that minute I was bending right
+over—trying to get up one of those nasty dandelions, you know. So
+difficult. And then he went through the gate and down to the studio."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't go near the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no, he went straight to the studio. Mrs. Protheroe came to the
+door to meet him, and then they both went inside."</p>
+
+<p>Here Miss Marple contributed a singularly eloquent pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she was sitting to him?" I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"And they came out—when?"</p>
+
+<p>"About ten minutes later."</p>
+
+<p>"That was roughly?"</p>
+
+<p>"The church clock had chimed the half hour. They strolled
+out through the garden gate and along the lane, and, just at that
+minute, Dr. Stone came down the path leading to the Hall, and climbed
+over the stile and joined them. They all walked towards the village
+together. At the end of the lane, I think, but I can't be quite sure,
+they were joined by Miss Cram. I think it must have been Miss Cram,
+because her skirts were so short."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have very good eyesight, Miss Marple, if you can observe as
+far as that."</p>
+
+<p>"I was observing a bird," said Miss Marple. "A golden-crested wren, I
+think he was. A sweet little fellow. I had my glasses out, and that's
+how I happened to see Miss Cram (if it was Miss Cram, and I think so)
+join them."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! well, that may be so," said Colonel Melchett. "Now, since you seem
+very good at observing, did you happen to notice, Miss Marple, what
+sort of expression Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding had as they passed
+along the lane?"</p>
+
+<p>"They were smiling and talking," said Miss Marple. "They seemed very
+happy to be together, if you know what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't seem upset or disturbed in any way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no. Just the opposite."</p>
+
+<p>"Deuced odd," said the Colonel. "There's something deuced odd about the
+whole thing."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple suddenly took our breath away by remarking in a placid
+voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Has Mrs. Protheroe been saying that she committed the crime now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my soul," said the Colonel. "How did you come to guess that, Miss
+Marple?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I rather thought it might happen," said Miss Marple. "I think
+dear Lettice thought so too. She's really a very sharp girl. Not always
+very scrupulous, I'm afraid. So Anne Protheroe says she killed her
+husband. Well, well. I don't think it's true. No, I'm almost sure it
+isn't true. Not with a woman like Anne Protheroe. Although one never
+can be quite sure about anyone, can one? At least that's what I've
+found. When does she say she shot him?"</p>
+
+<p>"At twenty minutes past six. Just after speaking to you."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple shook her head slowly and pityingly. The pity was, I think,
+for two full grown men being so foolish as to believe such a story. At
+least that is what we felt like.</p>
+
+<p>"What did she shoot him with?"</p>
+
+<p>"A pistol."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did she find it?"</p>
+
+<p>"She brought it with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that she didn't do," said Miss Marple with unexpected decision.
+"I can swear to that. She'd no such thing with her."</p>
+
+<p>"You mightn't have seen it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I should have seen it."</p>
+
+<p>"If it had been in her handbag."</p>
+
+<p>"She wasn't carrying a handbag."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it might have been concealed—er—upon her person."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple directed a glance of sorrow and scorn upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Colonel Melchett. You know what young women are nowadays. Not
+ashamed to show exactly how the creator made them. She hadn't so much
+as a handkerchief in the top of her stocking."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett was obstinate.</p>
+
+<p>"You must admit that it all fits in," he said. "The time, the
+overturned clock pointing to 6.22—"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple turned on me.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean you haven't told him about that clock yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"What about the clock, Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>I told him. He showed a good deal of annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"Why on earth didn't you tell Slack this last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," I said, "he wouldn't let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, you ought to have insisted."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably," I said, "Inspector Slack behaves quite differently to you
+than he does to me. I had no earthly chance of insisting."</p>
+
+<p>"It's an extraordinary business altogether," said Melchett. "If a third
+person comes along and claims to have done this murder, I shall go into
+a lunatic asylum."</p>
+
+<p>"If I might be allowed to suggest—" murmured Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you were to tell Mr. Redding what Mrs. Protheroe has done, and then
+explain that you don't really believe it is her; and then if you were
+to go to Mrs. Protheroe and tell her that Mr. Redding is all right—why
+then, they might each of them tell you the truth. And the truth <i>is</i>
+helpful, though I daresay they don't know very much themselves, poor
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well, but they are the only two people who had a motive
+for making away with Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I wouldn't say that, Colonel Melchett," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, can you think of anyone else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, indeed. Why," she counted on her fingers, "one, two, three,
+four, five, six—yes, and a possible seven. I can think of at least
+seven people who might be very glad to have Colonel Protheroe out of
+the way."</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel looked at her feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Seven people? In St. Mary Mead?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple nodded brightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mind you, I name no names," she said. "That wouldn't be right. But I'm
+afraid there's a lot of wickedness in the world. A nice, honourable,
+upright soldier like you doesn't know about these things, Colonel
+Melchett."</p>
+
+<p>I thought the Chief Constable was going to have apoplexy.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_10">Chapter 10</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>His remarks on the subject of Miss Marple as we left the house were far
+from complimentary.</p>
+
+<p>"I really believe that wizened-up old maid thinks she knows everything
+there is to know. And hardly been out of this village all her life.
+Preposterous. What can she know of life?"</p>
+
+<p>I said mildly that, though doubtless Miss Marple knew next to nothing
+of life with a capital L, she knew practically everything that went on
+in St. Mary Mead.</p>
+
+<p>Melchett admitted that grudgingly. She was a valuable
+witness—particularly valuable from Mrs. Protheroe's point of view.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose there's no doubt about what she says, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"If Miss Marple says she had no pistol with her, you can take it for
+granted that it is so," I said. "If there was the least possibility of
+such a thing, Miss Marple would have been on to it like a knife."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true enough. We'd better go and have a look at the studio."</p>
+
+<p>The so-called studio was a mere rough shed with a skylight. There were
+no windows, and the door was the only means of entrance or egress.
+Satisfied on this score, Melchett announced his intention of visiting
+the Vicarage with the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to the police station now."</p>
+
+<p>As I entered through the front door, a murmur of voices caught my ear.
+I opened the drawing-room door.</p>
+
+<p>On the sofa beside Griselda, conversing animatedly, sat Miss Gladys
+Cram. Her legs, which were encased in particularly shiny pink
+stockings, were crossed, and I had every opportunity of observing that
+she wore pink striped silk knickers.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Len," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Mr. Clement," said Miss Cram. "Isn't the news about the
+Colonel reely too awful? Poor old gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cram," said my wife, "very kindly came in to offer to help us
+with the Guides. We asked for helpers last Sunday, you remember."</p>
+
+<p>I did remember, and I was convinced, and so, I knew from her tone, was
+Griselda, that the idea of enrolling herself among them would never
+have occurred to Miss Cram but for the exciting incident which had
+taken place at the Vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>"I was only just saying to Mrs. Clement," went on Miss Cram, "you could
+have struck me all of a heap when I heard the news. A murder? I said.
+In this quiet, one-horse village—for quiet it is, you must admit—not
+so much as a picture house, and as for Talkies! And then when I heard
+it was Colonel Protheroe—why, I simply couldn't believe it. He didn't
+seem the kind, somehow, to get murdered."</p>
+
+<p>I don't know what Miss Cram considers are the necessary qualifications
+for being murdered. It has never struck me that the murdered belong to
+a special class, but doubtless she had some idea in her golden shingled
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," said Griselda, "Miss Cram came round to find out all about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>I feared this plain speaking might offend the lady, but she merely
+flung her head back and laughed uproariously, showing every tooth she
+possessed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's too bad. You're a sharp one, aren't you, Mrs. Clement? But it's
+only natural, isn't it, to want to hear the ins and outs of a case like
+this? And I'm sure I'm willing enough to help with the Guides in any
+way you like. Exciting, that's what it is. I've been stagnating for a
+bit of fun. I have; reely I have. Not that my job isn't a very good
+one, well paid, and Dr. Stone quite the gentleman in every way. But
+a girl wants a bit of life out of office hours, and, except for you,
+Mrs. Clement, who is there in the place to talk to, except a lot of old
+cats?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's Lettice Protheroe," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys Cram tossed her head.</p>
+
+<p>"She's too high and mighty for the likes of me. Fancies herself the
+County, and wouldn't demean herself by noticing a girl who had to
+work for her living. Not but what I <i>did</i> hear her talking of earning
+her living herself. And who'd employ her, I should like to know? Why,
+she'd be fired in less than a week. Unless she went as one of those
+mannequins, all dressed up and sidling about. She could do that, I
+expect."</p>
+
+<p>"She'd make a very good mannequin," said Griselda. "She's got such a
+lovely figure." There's nothing of the cat about Griselda. "When was
+she talking of earning her own living?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram seemed momentarily discomfited, but recovered herself with
+her usual archness.</p>
+
+<p>"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" she said. "But she did say so.
+Things not very happy at home, I fancy. Catch me living at home with a
+stepmother. I wouldn't sit down under it for a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but you're so high spirited and independent," said Griselda
+gravely, and I looked at her with suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram was clearly pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right. That's me all over. Can be led, not driven. A palmist
+told me that not so very long ago. No, I'm not one to sit down and be
+bullied. And I've made it clear all along to Dr. Stone that I must have
+my regular times off. These scientific gentlemen, they think a girl's a
+kind of machine—half the time they just don't notice her or remember
+she's there."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you find Dr. Stone pleasant to work with? It must be an interesting
+job if you are interested in archæology."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I don't know much about it," confessed the girl. "It still
+seems to me that digging up people that are dead and have been dead
+for hundreds of years isn't—well, it seems a bit nosey, doesn't it?
+And there's Dr. Stone so wrapped up in it all that half the time he'd
+forget his meals if it wasn't for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he at the barrow this morning?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"A bit under the weather this morning," she explained. "Not up to doing
+any work. That means a holiday for little Gladys."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it's nothing much. There's not going to be a second death. But
+do tell me, Mr. Clement, I hear you've been with the police all the
+morning. What do they think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said slowly. "There is still a little—uncertainty."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" cried Miss Cram. "Then they don't think it is Mr. Lawrence
+Redding after all. So handsome, isn't he? Just like a movie star. And
+such a nice smile when he says good morning to you. I really couldn't
+believe my ears when I heard the police had arrested him. Still one
+always hears they're very stupid—the country police."</p>
+
+<p>"You can hardly blame them in this instance," I said. "Mr. Redding came
+in and gave himself up."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" the girl was clearly dumbfounded. "Well—of all the poor fish!
+If I'd committed the murder, I wouldn't go straight off and give myself
+up. I should have thought Lawrence Redding would have had more sense.
+To give in like that! What did he kill Protheroe for? Did he say? Was
+it just a quarrel?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's not absolutely certain that he did kill him," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely—if he says he has—why really, Mr. Clement, he ought to
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"He ought to, certainly," I agreed. "But the police are not satisfied
+with his story."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should he say he'd done it if he hasn't?"</p>
+
+<p>That was a point on which I had no intention of enlightening Miss Cram.
+Instead I said rather vaguely:</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that in all prominent murder cases, the police receive
+numerous letters from people accusing themselves of the crime."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram's reception of this piece of information was:</p>
+
+<p>"They must be chumps!" in a tone of wonder and scorn.</p>
+
+<p>She added, "I'd never do a thing like that."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you wouldn't," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said with a sigh. "I suppose I must be trotting along." She
+rose. "Mr. Redding accusing himself of the murder will be a bit of news
+for Dr. Stone."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he interested?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram furrowed her brows perplexedly.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a queer one. You never can tell with him. All wrapped up in the
+past. He'd a hundred times rather look at a nasty old bronze knife out
+of one of those humps of ground than he would see the knife Crippen cut
+up his wife with, supposing he had a chance to."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said. "I must confess I agree with him."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cram's eyes expressed incomprehension and slight contempt. Then,
+with reiterated good-byes, she took her departure.</p>
+
+<p>"Not such a bad sort, really," said Griselda as the door closed behind
+her. "Terribly common, of course, but one of those big, bouncing,
+good-humoured girls that you can't dislike. I wonder what really
+brought her here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Curiosity."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so. Now, Len, tell me all about it. I'm simply dying to
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>I sat down and recited faithfully all the happenings of the morning,
+Griselda interpolating the narrative with little exclamations of
+surprise and interest.</p>
+
+<p>"So it was Anne Lawrence was after all along! Not Lettice. How blind
+we've all been. That must have been what old Miss Marple was hinting at
+yesterday. Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, averting my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mary entered.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a couple of men here—come from a newspaper, so they say. Do
+you want to see them?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "Certainly not. Refer them to Inspector Slack at the
+police station."</p>
+
+<p>Mary nodded and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"And when you've got rid of them," I said, "come back here. There's
+something I want to ask you."</p>
+
+<p>Mary nodded again.</p>
+
+<p>It was some few minutes before she returned.</p>
+
+<p>"Had a job getting rid of them," she said. "Persistent. You never saw
+anything like it. Wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect we shall be a good deal troubled with them," I said. "Now,
+Mary, what I want to ask you is this: Are you quite certain you didn't
+hear the shot yesterday evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"The shot that killed him? No, of course I didn't. If I had of done, I
+should have gone in to see what had happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but—" I was remembering Miss Marple's statement that she had
+heard a shot "in the wood." I changed the form of my question. "Did you
+hear any other shot—one down in the wood, for instance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that." The girl paused. "Yes, now I come to think of it, I believe
+I did. Not a lot of shots, just one. Queer sort of bang it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," I said. "Now what time was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, time."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't say, I'm sure. Well after tea time. I do know that."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you get a little nearer than that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't. I've got my work to do, haven't I? I can't go on looking
+at clocks the whole time—and it wouldn't be much good anyway—the
+alarm loses a good three quarters every day, and what with putting it
+on, and one thing and another, I'm never exactly sure what time it is."</p>
+
+<p>This perhaps explains why our meals are never punctual. They are
+sometimes too late and sometimes bewilderingly early.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it long before Mr. Redding came?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it wasn't long. Ten minutes—a quarter of an hour—not longer than
+that."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded my head, satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?" said Mary. "Because what I mean to say is, I've got the
+joint in the oven and the pudding boiling over as likely as not."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right. You can go."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room and I turned to Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it quite out of the question to induce Mary to say 'sir' or 'm'am'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have told her. She doesn't remember. She's just a raw girl,
+remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I am perfectly aware of that," I said. "But raw things do not
+necessarily remain raw forever. I feel a tinge of cooking might be
+induced in Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't agree with you," said Griselda. "You know how little we
+can afford to pay a servant. If once we got her smartened up at all,
+she'd leave. Naturally. And get higher wages. But as long as Mary can't
+cook and has these awful manners—well, we're safe; nobody else would
+have her."</p>
+
+<p>I perceived that my wife's methods of housekeeping were not so entirely
+haphazard as I had imagined. A certain amount of reasoning underlay
+them. Whether it was worth while having a maid at the price of her not
+being able to cook, and having a habit of throwing dishes and remarks
+at one with the same disconcerting abruptness was a debatable matter.</p>
+
+<p>"And anyway," continued Griselda, "you must make allowances for her
+manners being worse than usual just now. You can't expect her to feel
+exactly sympathetic about Colonel Protheroe's death when he jailed her
+young man."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he jail her young man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for poaching. You know, that man Archer. Mary has been walking
+out with him for two years."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know that."</p>
+
+<p>"Darling Len, you never know anything."</p>
+
+<p>"It's queer," I said, "that everyone says the shot came from the woods."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it's queer at all," said Griselda. "You see, one so
+often does hear shots in the wood. So, naturally, when you do hear a
+shot, you just assume as a matter of course that it <i>is</i> in the wood.
+It probably just sounds a bit louder than usual. Of course, if you were
+in the next room, you'd realize that it was in the house, but from
+Mary's kitchen, with the window right the other side of the house, I
+don't believe you'd ever think of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened again.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Melchett's back," said Mary. "And that police Inspector with
+him, and they say they'd be glad if you'd join them. They're in the
+study."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_11">Chapter 11</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I saw at a glance that Colonel Melchett and Inspector Slack had not
+been seeing eye to eye about the case. Melchett looked flushed and
+annoyed, and the Inspector looked sulky.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry to say," said Melchett, "that Inspector Slack doesn't agree
+with me in considering young Redding innocent."</p>
+
+<p>"If he didn't do it, what does he go and say he did it for?" asked
+Slack sceptically.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Protheroe acted in an exactly similar fashion, remember, Slack."</p>
+
+<p>"That's different. She's a woman, and women act in that silly way. I'm
+not saying she did it, for a moment. She heard he was accused, and she
+trumped up a story. I'm used to that sort of game. You wouldn't believe
+the fool things I've known women do. But Redding's different. He's got
+his head screwed on all right. And if he admits he did it, well, I
+say he did do it. It's his pistol—you can't get away from that. And,
+thanks to this business of Mrs. Protheroe, we know the motive. That was
+the weak point before, but now we know it—why, the whole thing's plain
+sailing."</p>
+
+<p>"You think he can have shot him earlier? At six-thirty, say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He can't have done that."</p>
+
+<p>"You've checked up his movements?"</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"He was in the village near the Blue Boar at ten past six. From there
+he came along the back lane where you say the old lady next door saw
+him—she doesn't miss much, I should say,—and kept his appointment
+with Mrs. Protheroe in the studio in the garden. They left there
+together just after six-thirty and went along the lane to the village,
+being joined by Dr. Stone. He corroborates that all right—I've seen
+him. They all stood talking just by the post office for a few minutes;
+then Mrs. Protheroe went into Miss Hartnell's to borrow a gardening
+magazine. That's all right, too. I've seen Miss Hartnell. Mrs.
+Protheroe remained there talking to her till just on seven o'clock,
+when she exclaimed at the lateness of the hour and said she must get
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"What was her manner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very easy and pleasant, Miss Hartnell said. She seemed in good
+spirits—Miss Hartnell is quite sure there was nothing on her mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on."</p>
+
+<p>"Redding, he went with Dr. Stone to the Blue Boar, and they had a drink
+together. He left there at twenty minutes to seven, went rapidly along
+the village street and down the road to the Vicarage. Lots of people
+saw him."</p>
+
+<p>"Not down the back lane this time?" commented the Colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"No—he came to the front, asked for the Vicar, heard Colonel Protheroe
+was there, went in—and shot him—just as he said he did! That's the
+truth of it and we needn't look further."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the doctor's evidence. You can't get away from that. Protheroe
+was shot not later than six-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! doctors!" Inspector Slack looked contemptuous. "If you're going
+to believe doctors. Take out all your teeth—that's what they do
+nowadays—and then say they're very sorry, but all the time it was
+appendicitis. Doctors!"</p>
+
+<p>"This isn't a question of diagnosis. Dr. Haydock was absolutely
+positive on the point. You can't go against the medical evidence,
+Slack."</p>
+
+<p>"And there's my evidence for what it is worth," I said, suddenly
+recalling a forgotten incident. "I touched the body and it was cold.
+That I can swear to."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Slack?" said Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack gave in with a good grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course, if that's so. But there it was—a beautiful case. Mr.
+Redding only too anxious to be hanged, so to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"That, in itself, strikes me as a little unnatural," observed Colonel
+Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's no accounting for tastes," said the Inspector. "There's
+a lot of gentlemen went a bit balmy after the War. Now, I suppose, it
+means starting again at the beginning." He turned on me. "Why you went
+out of your way to mislead me about the clock, sir, I can't think.
+Obstructing the ends of justice, that's what that was."</p>
+
+<p>I was stung.</p>
+
+<p>"I tried to tell you on three separate occasions," I said. "And each
+time you shut me up and refused to listen."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just a way of speaking, sir. You could have told me perfectly
+well if you had had a mind to. The clock and the note seemed to tally
+perfectly. Now, according to you, the clock was all wrong. I never knew
+such a case. What's the sense of keeping a clock a quarter of an hour
+fast anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is supposed," I said, "to induce punctuality."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector snorted.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think we need go farther into that now, Inspector," said
+Colonel Melchett tactfully. "What we want now is the true story from
+both Mrs. Protheroe and young Redding. I telephoned to Haydock and
+asked him to bring Mrs. Protheroe over here with him. They ought to be
+here in about a quarter of an hour. I think it would be as well to have
+Redding here first."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get on to the station," said Inspector Slack, and took up the
+telephone.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke down it.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," he said replacing the receiver, "we'll get to work on this
+room."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me in a meaning fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," I said, "you'd like me out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector immediately opened the door for me. Melchett called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Come back when young Redding arrives, will you, Vicar? You're a friend
+of his, and you may have sufficient influence to persuade him to speak
+the truth."</p>
+
+<p>I found my wife and Miss Marple with their heads together.</p>
+
+<p>"We've been discussing all sorts of possibilities," said Griselda.
+"I wish you'd solve the case, Miss Marple, like you did the way Miss
+Wetherby's gill of pickled shrimps disappeared. And all because it
+reminded you of something quite different about a sack of coals."</p>
+
+<p>"You're laughing, my dear," said Miss Marple. "But after all, that is a
+very sound way of arriving at the truth. It's really what people call
+intuition and make such a fuss about. Intuition is like reading a word
+without having to spell it out. A child can't do that, because it has
+had so little experience. But a grown-up person knows the word because
+he's seen it often before. You catch my meaning, Vicar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said slowly. "I think I do. You mean that if a thing reminds
+you of something else—well, it's probably the same kind of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"And what precisely does the murder of Colonel Protheroe remind you of?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just the difficulty. So many parallels come to the mind. For
+instance, there was Major Hargraves, a churchwarden and a man highly
+respected in every way. And all the time he was keeping a separate
+second establishment—a former housemaid, just think of it! And five
+children—actually five children—a terrible shock to his wife and
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>I tried hard to visualize Colonel Protheroe in the rôle of secret
+sinner, and failed.</p>
+
+<p>"And then there was that laundry business," went on Miss Marple. "Miss
+Hartnell's opal pin—left most imprudently in a frilled blouse and sent
+to the laundry. And the woman who took it didn't want it in the least,
+and wasn't by any means a thief. She simply hid it in another woman's
+house and told the police she'd seen this other woman take it. Spite,
+you know, sheer spite. It's an astonishing motive—spite. A man in it,
+of course. There always is."</p>
+
+<p>This time I failed to see any parallel, however remote. Miss Marple
+went on in a dreamy voice,</p>
+
+<p>"And then there was poor Elwell's daughter—such a pretty, ethereal
+girl—tried to stifle her little brother. And there was the money for
+the Choir Boys' Outing (before your time, Vicar) actually taken by the
+organist. His wife was sadly in debt. Yes, this case makes one think of
+so many things—too many. It's very hard to arrive at the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would tell me," I said. "Who were the seven suspects?"</p>
+
+<p>"The seven suspects?"</p>
+
+<p>"You said you could think of seven people who would—well, be glad of
+Colonel Protheroe's death."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I? Yes, I remember I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it true?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! certainly it was true. But I mustn't mention names. You can think
+of them quite easily yourself, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I can't. There is Lettice Protheroe, I suppose, since she
+probably comes into money on her father's death. But it is absurd to
+think of her in such a connection, and outside her I can think of
+nobody."</p>
+
+<p>"And you, my dear?" said Miss Marple, turning to Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>Rather to my surprise Griselda coloured up. Something very like tears
+started into her eyes. She clenched both her small hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she cried indignantly. "People are hateful—hateful. The things
+they say! The beastly things they say!"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at her curiously. It is very unlike Griselda to be so upset.
+She noticed my glance and tried to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't look at me as though I were an interesting specimen you didn't
+understand, Len. Don't let's get heated and wander from the point. I
+don't believe that it was Lawrence or Anne, and Lettice is out of the
+question. There must be some clue or other that would help us."</p>
+
+<p>"There is the note, of course," said Miss Marple. "You will remember my
+saying this morning that that struck me as exceedingly peculiar."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to fix the time of his death with remarkable accuracy," I
+said. "And yet, is that possible? Mrs. Protheroe would only have just
+left the study. She would hardly have had time to reach the studio.
+The only way in which I can account for it is that he consulted his
+own watch and that his watch was slow. That seems to me a feasible
+solution."</p>
+
+<p>"I have another idea," said Griselda. "Suppose, Len, that the clock had
+already been put back—no, that comes to the same thing—how stupid of
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"It hadn't been altered when I left," I said. "I remember comparing it
+with my watch. Still, as you say, that has no bearing on the present
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think, Miss Marple?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, I confess I wasn't thinking about it from that point of view
+at all. What strikes me as so curious, and has done from the first, is
+the subject matter of that letter."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that," I said. "Colonel Protheroe merely wrote that he
+couldn't wait any longer—"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>At twenty minutes past six?</i>" said Miss Marple. "Your maid, Mary,
+had already told him that you wouldn't be in till half past six at the
+earliest, and he had appeared to be quite willing to wait until then.
+And yet, at twenty past six, he sits down and says he 'can't wait any
+longer.'"</p>
+
+<p>I stared at the old lady, feeling an increased respect for her mental
+powers. Her keen wits had seen what we had failed to perceive. It <i>was</i>
+an odd thing—a very odd thing.</p>
+
+<p>"If only," I said, "the letter hadn't been dated—"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple nodded her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," she said. "If it <i>hadn't</i> been dated!"</p>
+
+<p>I cast my mind back, trying to recall that sheet of notepaper and the
+blurred scrawl, and at the top that neatly printed 6.20. Surely these
+figures were on a different scale to the rest of the letter.</p>
+
+<p>I gave a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Supposing," I said, "it wasn't dated. Supposing that round about
+6.30 Colonel Protheroe got impatient and sat down to say he couldn't
+wait any longer. And as he was sitting there writing, someone came in
+through the window—"</p>
+
+<p>"Or through the door," suggested Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"He'd hear the door and look up."</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Protheroe was rather deaf, you remember," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's true. He wouldn't hear it. Whichever way the murderer
+came, he stole up behind the Colonel and shot him. Then he saw the note
+and the clock and the idea came to him. He put 6.20 at the top of the
+letter and he altered the clock to 6.22. It was a clever idea. It gave
+him, or so he would think, a perfect alibi."</p>
+
+<p>"And what we want to find," said Griselda, "is someone who has a cast
+iron alibi for 6.20, but no alibi at all for—well, that isn't so easy.
+One can't fix the time."</p>
+
+<p>"We can fix it within very narrow limits," I said. "Haydock places 6.30
+as the outside limit of time. I suppose one could perhaps shift it to
+6.35, from the reasoning we have just been following out; it seems
+clear that Protheroe would not have got impatient before 6.30. I think
+we can say we do know pretty well."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that shot I heard—yes, I suppose it is quite possible. And I
+thought nothing about it—nothing at all. Most vexing. And yet, now I
+try to recollect, it does seem to me that it was different from the
+usual sort of shot one hears. Yes, there was a difference."</p>
+
+<p>"Louder?" I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>No, Miss Marple didn't think it had been louder. In fact, she found it
+hard to say in what way it had been different, but she still insisted
+that it was.</p>
+
+<p>I thought she was probably persuading herself of the fact rather than
+actually remembering it, but she had just contributed such a valuable
+new outlook to the problem that I felt highly respectful towards her.</p>
+
+<p>She rose, murmuring that she must really get back—it had been so
+tempting just to run over and discuss the case with dear Griselda. I
+escorted her to the boundary wall and the back gate, and returned to
+find Griselda wrapped in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Still puzzling over that note?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>She gave a sudden shiver and shook her shoulders impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Len, I've been thinking. How badly someone must have hated Anne
+Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Hated her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Don't you see? There's no real evidence against Lawrence—all the
+evidence against him is what you might call accidental. He just happens
+to take it into his head to come here. If he hadn't—well, no one would
+have thought of connecting him with the crime. But Anne is different.
+Suppose someone knew that she was here at exactly 6.20—the clock and
+the time on the letter—everything pointing to her. I don't think it
+was only because of an alibi it was moved to that exact time—I think
+there was more in it than that—a direct attempt to fasten the business
+on her. If it hadn't been for Miss Marple saying she hadn't got the
+pistol with her, and noticing that she was only a moment before going
+down to the studio—Yes, if it hadn't been for that...." She shivered
+again. "Len—I feel that someone hated Anne Protheroe very much. I—I
+don't like it."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_12">Chapter 12</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I was summoned to the study when Lawrence Redding arrived. He looked
+haggard, and, I thought, suspicious. Colonel Melchett greeted him with
+something approaching cordiality.</p>
+
+<p>"We want to ask you a few questions—here, on the spot," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence sneered slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that a French idea? Reconstruction of the crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy," said Colonel Melchett. "Don't take that tone with us.
+Are you aware that someone else has also confessed to committing the
+crime which you pretend to have committed?"</p>
+
+<p>The effect of these words on Lawrence was painful and immediate.</p>
+
+<p>"S-s-omeone else?" he stammered. "Who—who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Protheroe," said Colonel Melchett, watching him.</p>
+
+<p>"Absurd. She never did it. She couldn't have. It's impossible."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Strangely enough, we did not believe her story. Neither, I may say, do
+we believe yours. Dr. Haydock says positively that the murder could not
+have been committed at the time you say it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Haydock says that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; so, you see, you are cleared whether you like it or not. And now
+we want you to help us, to tell us exactly what occurred."</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence still hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not deceiving me about—about Mrs. Protheroe? You really don't
+suspect her?"</p>
+
+<p>"On my word of honour," said Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence drew a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been a fool," he said. "An absolute fool. How I could have
+thought for one minute that she did it—"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you tell us all about it?" suggested the Chief Constable.</p>
+
+<p>"There's not much to tell. I—I met Mrs. Protheroe that afternoon—"</p>
+
+<p>He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"We know all about that," said Melchett. "You may think that your
+feeling for Mrs. Protheroe and hers for you was a dead secret, but in
+reality it was known and commented upon. In any case everything is
+bound to come out now."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well then. I expect you are right. I had promised the Vicar here"
+(he glanced at me) "to—to go right away. I met Mrs. Protheroe that
+evening in the studio at a quarter past six. I told her of what I had
+decided. She, too, agreed, that it was the only thing to do. We—we
+said good-bye to each other.</p>
+
+<p>"We left the studio, and almost at once Dr. Stone joined us. Anne
+managed to seem marvellously natural. I couldn't do it. I went off
+with Stone to the Blue Boar and had a drink. Then I thought I'd go
+home, but, when I got to the corner of this road, I changed my mind and
+decided to come along and see the Vicar. I felt I wanted someone to
+talk to about the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"At the door, the maid told me the Vicar was out but would be in
+shortly, but that Colonel Protheroe was in the study waiting for him.
+Well, I didn't like to go away again—looked as though I were shirking
+meeting him. So I said I'd wait too, and I went into the study."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"Protheroe was sitting at the writing table—just as you found him. I
+went up to him. I saw that he was dead. Then I looked down and saw the
+pistol lying on the floor beside him. I picked it up—<i>and at once saw
+that it was my pistol!</i></p>
+
+<p>"That gave me a turn. My pistol! And then, straightway I leaped to one
+conclusion. Anne must have bagged my pistol some time or other—meaning
+it for herself if she couldn't bear things any longer. Perhaps she
+had had it with her today. After we parted in the village she must
+have come back here and—and—Oh! I suppose I was mad to think of
+it. But that's what I thought. I slipped the pistol in my pocket and
+came away. Just outside the Vicarage gate, I met the Vicar. He said
+something nice and normal about seeing Protheroe—suddenly I had a
+wild desire to laugh. His manner was so ordinary and everyday, and
+there was I all strung up. I remember shouting out something absurd and
+seeing his face change. I was nearly off my head, I believe. I went
+walking—walking—at last I couldn't bear it any longer. If Anne had
+done this ghastly thing, I was, at least, morally responsible. I went
+and gave myself up."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence when he had finished. Then the Colonel said in a
+businesslike voice:</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to ask just one or two questions. First, did you touch or
+move the body in any way?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't touch it at all. One could see he was dead without
+touching him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you notice a note lying on the blotter half concealed by his body?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you interfere in any way with the clock?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never touched the clock. I seem to remember a clock lying overturned
+on the table, but I never touched it."</p>
+
+<p>"Now as to this pistol of yours, when did you last see it?"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence Redding reflected.</p>
+
+<p>"It's hard to say exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you keep it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! in a litter of odds and ends in the sitting room in my cottage. On
+one of the shelves of the bookcase."</p>
+
+<p>"You left it lying about carelessly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I really didn't think about it. It was just there."</p>
+
+<p>"So that anyone who came to your cottage could have seen it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And you don't remember when you last saw it?"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence drew his brows together in a frown of recollection.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm almost sure it was there the day before yesterday. I remember
+pushing it aside to get an old pipe. I think it was the day before
+yesterday—but it may have been the day before that."</p>
+
+<p>"Who has been to your cottage lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! crowds of people. Someone is always drifting in and out. I had a
+sort of tea party the day before yesterday. Lettice Protheroe, Dennis,
+and all their crowd. And then one or other of the old Pussies comes in
+now and again."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you lock the cottage up when you go out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, why on earth should I? I've nothing to steal. And no one does lock
+his house up round here."</p>
+
+<p>"Who looks after your wants there?"</p>
+
+<p>"An old Mrs. Archer comes in every morning to 'do for me,' as it's
+called."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she would remember when the pistol was there last?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. She might. But I don't fancy conscientious dusting is
+her strong point."</p>
+
+<p>"It comes to this—that almost anyone might have taken that pistol?"</p>
+
+<p>"It seems so—yes."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and Dr. Haydock came in with Anne Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>She started at seeing Lawrence. He, on his part, made a tentative step
+towards her.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, Anne," he said. "It was abominable of me to think what I
+did."</p>
+
+<p>"I—" she faltered, then looked appealingly at Colonel Melchett. "It is
+true, what Dr. Haydock told me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That Mr. Redding is cleared of suspicion? Yes. And now what about this
+story of yours, Mrs. Protheroe? Eh, what about it?"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled rather shamefacedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you think it dreadful of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, shall we say—very foolish? But that's all over. What I want
+now, Mrs. Protheroe, is the truth—the absolute truth."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. I suppose you know about—about everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I was to meet Lawrence—Mr. Redding—that evening at the studio. At
+a quarter past six. My husband and I drove into the village together.
+I had some shopping to do. As we parted he mentioned casually that he
+was going to see the Vicar. I couldn't get word to Lawrence, and I was
+rather uneasy. I—well, it was awkward meeting him in the Vicarage
+garden while my husband was at the Vicarage."</p>
+
+<p>Her cheeks burned as she said this. It was not a pleasant moment for
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I reflected that perhaps my husband would not stay very long. To find
+this out, I came along the back lane and into the garden. I hoped
+no one would see me, but of course old Miss Marple had to be in her
+garden! She stopped me and we said a few words, and I explained I was
+going to call for my husband. I felt I had to say something. I don't
+know whether she believed me or not. She looked rather—funny.</p>
+
+<p>"When I left her, I went straight across to the Vicarage and round the
+corner of the house to the study window. I crept up to it very softly
+expecting to hear the sound of voices. But to my surprise there were
+none. I just glanced in, saw the room was empty, and hurried across the
+lawn and down to the studio where Lawrence joined me almost at once."</p>
+
+<p>"You say the room was empty, Mrs. Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; my husband was not there."</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean, M'am, that you didn't see him?" said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't see him."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack whispered to the Chief Constable, who nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind, Mrs. Protheroe, just showing us exactly what you did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all."</p>
+
+<p>She rose; Inspector Slack pushed open the window for her, and she
+stepped out on the terrace and round the house to the left.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack beckoned me imperiously to go and sit at the writing
+table.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow I didn't much like doing it. It gave me an uncomfortable
+feeling. But of course I complied.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I heard footsteps outside; they paused for a minute, then
+retreated. Inspector Slack indicated to me that I could return to the
+other side of the room. Mrs. Protheroe re-entered through the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that exactly how it was?" asked Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"I think exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then can you tell us, Mrs. Protheroe, just exactly where the Vicar was
+in the room when you looked in?" asked Inspector Slack.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicar? I—no, I'm afraid I can't. I didn't see him."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"That's how you didn't see your husband. He was round the corner of the
+writing desk."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she paused. Suddenly her eyes grew round with horror. "It wasn't
+there that—that—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mrs. Protheroe. It was while he was sitting there."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she shivered.</p>
+
+<p>He went on with his questions.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Redding had a pistol?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He told me so once."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever have that pistol in your possession?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know where he kept it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure. I think—yes, I think I've seen it on a shelf in his
+cottage. Didn't you keep it there, Lawrence?"</p>
+
+<p>"When was the last time you were at the cottage, Mrs. Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! about three weeks ago. My husband and I had tea there with him."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have not been there since?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I never went there. You see, it would probably cause a lot of talk
+in the village."</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless," said Colonel Melchett drily. "Where were you in the habit
+of seeing Mr. Redding, if I may ask?"</p>
+
+<p>She blushed.</p>
+
+<p>"He used to come up to the Hall. He was painting Lettice. We—we often
+met in the woods afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that enough?" Her voice was suddenly broken. "It's so
+awful—having to tell you all these things. And—and there wasn't
+anything wrong about it. There wasn't—indeed, there wasn't. We were
+just friends. We—we couldn't help caring for each other."</p>
+
+<p>She looked pleadingly at Dr. Haydock, and that soft-hearted man stepped
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>"I really think, Melchett," he said, "that Mrs. Protheroe has had
+enough. She's had a great shock—in more ways than one."</p>
+
+<p>The Chief Constable nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"There is really nothing more I want to ask you, Mrs. Protheroe," he
+said. "Thank you for answering my questions so frankly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then—then I may go?"</p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head in assent, but I noticed him make an almost
+imperceptible sign to Slack, which that worthy answered with a nod
+of understanding. Anne Protheroe was not yet completely cleared of
+suspicion. The evidence of the note was too strong.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your wife in?" asked Haydock. "I think Mrs. Protheroe would like to
+see her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "Griselda is in. You'll find her in the drawing room."</p>
+
+<p>She and Haydock left the room together, and Lawrence Redding with them.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett had pursed up his lips and was playing with a paper
+knife. Slack was looking at the note. It was then that I mentioned Miss
+Marple's theory.</p>
+
+<p>Slack looked closely at it.</p>
+
+<p>"My word," he said. "I believe the old lady's right. Look here, sir,
+don't you see?—these figures are written in different ink. That date
+was written with a fountain pen or I'll eat my boots!"</p>
+
+<p>We were all rather excited.</p>
+
+<p>"You've examined the note for fingerprints, of course," said the Chief
+Constable.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think, Colonel? No fingerprints on the note at all.
+Fingerprints on the pistol those of Mr. Lawrence Redding. May have been
+some others once, before he went fooling round with it and carrying it
+around in his pocket, but there's nothing clear enough to get hold of
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"At first the case looked very black against Mrs. Protheroe," said the
+Colonel thoughtfully. "Much blacker than against young Redding. There
+was that old woman Marple's evidence that she didn't have the pistol
+with her, but these elderly ladies are often mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent, but I did not agree with him. I was quite sure that Anne
+Protheroe had had no pistol with her, since Miss Marple had said so.
+Miss Marple is not the type of elderly lady who makes mistakes. She has
+got an uncanny knack of being always right.</p>
+
+<p>"What did get me was that nobody heard the shot. If it was fired
+then—somebody <i>must</i> have heard it—wherever they thought it came
+from. Slack, you'd better have a word with the maid."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack moved with alacrity towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't ask her if she heard a shot in the house," I said.
+"Because if you do, she'll deny it. Call it a shot in the wood. That's
+the only kind of shot she'll admit to hearing."</p>
+
+<p>"I know how to manage them," said Inspector Slack, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marple says she heard a shot later," said Colonel Melchett
+thoughtfully. "We must see if she can fix the time at all precisely. Of
+course it may be a stray shot that had nothing to do with the case."</p>
+
+<p>"It may be, of course," I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel took a turn or two up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Clement," he said suddenly, "I've a feeling that this is
+going to turn out a much more intricate and difficult business than any
+of us think. Dash it all, there's something behind it." He snorted.
+"Something we don't know about. We're only beginning, Clement. Mark my
+words, we're only beginning. All these things, the clock, the note, the
+pistol—they don't make sense as they stand."</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head. They certainly didn't.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm going to get to the bottom of it. No calling in of Scotland
+Yard. Slack's a smart man. He's a very smart man. He's a kind of
+ferret. He'll nose his way through to the truth. He's done several very
+good things already and this case will be his <i>chef d'oeuvre</i>. Some men
+would call in Scotland Yard. I shan't. We'll get to the bottom of this
+here in Downshire."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so, I'm sure," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to make my voice enthusiastic, but I had already taken such a
+dislike to Inspector Slack that the prospect of his success failed to
+appeal to me. A successful Slack would, I thought, be even more odious
+than a baffled one.</p>
+
+<p>"Who has the house next door?" asked the Colonel suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean at the end of the road? Mrs. Price Ridley."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go along to her after Slack has finished with your maid. She
+might just possibly have heard something. She isn't deaf or anything,
+is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say her hearing was remarkably keen. I'm going by the
+amount of scandal she has started by 'just happening to overhear
+accidentally.'"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the kind of woman we want. Oh! here's Slack."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector had the air of one emerging from a severe tussle. He
+looked hot.</p>
+
+<p>"Phew!" he said. "That's a tartar you've got, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Mary is essentially a girl of strong character," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't like the police," he said. "I cautioned her—did what I could
+to put the fear of the Law into her, but no good. She stood right up to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Spirited," I said, feeling more kindly towards Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"But I pinned her down all right. She heard one shot—and one shot
+only. And it was a good long time after Colonel Protheroe came. I
+couldn't get her to name a time, but we fixed it at last by means of
+the fish. The fish was late, and she blew the boy up when he came, and
+he said it was barely half past six anyway, and it was just after that
+she heard the shot. Of course, that's not accurate, so to speak, but it
+gives us an idea."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," said Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think Mrs. Protheroe's in this after all," said Slack, with
+a note of regret in his voice. "She wouldn't have had time, to begin
+with, and then women never like fiddling about with firearms. Arsenic's
+more in their line. No, I don't think she did it. It's a pity!"</p>
+
+<p>He sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Melchett explained that he was going round to Mrs. Price Ridley's, and
+Slack approved.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come with you?" I asked. "I'm getting interested."</p>
+
+<p>I was given permission and we set forth. A loud "Hi" greeted us as we
+emerged from the Vicarage gate, and my nephew, Dennis, came running up
+the road from the village to join us.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he said to the Inspector. "What about that footprint I
+told you about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gardener's," said Inspector Slack laconically.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think it might be someone else wearing the gardener's boots?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," said Inspector Slack in a discouraging way.</p>
+
+<p>It would take more than that to discourage Dennis, however.</p>
+
+<p>He held out a couple of burnt matches.</p>
+
+<p>"I found these by the Vicarage gate."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Slack and put them in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Matters appeared now to have reached a deadlock.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not arresting Uncle Len, are you?" inquired Dennis facetiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I?" inquired Slack.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a lot of evidence against him," declared Dennis. "You ask
+Mary. Only the day before the murder he was wishing Colonel Protheroe
+out of the world. Weren't you, Uncle Len?"</p>
+
+<p>"Er—" I began.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack turned a slow, suspicious stare upon me, and I felt hot
+all over. Dennis is exceedingly tiresome. He ought to realize that a
+policeman seldom has a sense of humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be absurd, Dennis," I said irritably.</p>
+
+<p>The innocent child opened his eyes in a stare of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, it's only a joke," he said. "Uncle Len just said that anyone
+who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing the world a service."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Inspector Slack, "that explains something the maid said."</p>
+
+<p>Servants very seldom have any sense of humour either. I cursed Dennis
+heartily in my mind for bringing the matter up. That and the clock
+together will make the Inspector suspicious of me for life.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, Clement," said Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going? Can I come too?" asked Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you can't," I snapped.</p>
+
+<p>We left him looking after us with a hurt expression. We went up to the
+neat front door of Mrs. Price Ridley's house, and the Inspector knocked
+and rang in what I can only describe as an official manner.</p>
+
+<p>A pretty parlour maid answered the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Price Ridley in?" inquired Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir." The maid paused and added, "She's just gone down to the
+police station."</p>
+
+<p>This was a totally unexpected development. As we retraced our steps,
+Melchett caught me by the arm and murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"If she's gone to confess to the crime too, I really shall go off my
+head."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_13">Chapter 13</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I hardly thought it likely that Mrs. Price Ridley had anything so
+dramatic in view, but I did wonder what had taken her to the police
+station. Had she really got evidence of importance, or that she thought
+of importance, to offer? At any rate we should soon know.</p>
+
+<p>We found Mrs. Price Ridley talking at a high rate of speed to a
+somewhat bewildered looking police constable. That she was extremely
+indignant I knew from the way the bow in her hat was trembling.
+Mrs. Price Ridley wears what, I believe, are known as "Hats for
+Matrons"—they make a specialty of them in our adjacent town of Much
+Benham. They perch easily on a superstructure of hair and are somewhat
+overweighted with large bows of ribbon. Griselda is always threatening
+to get a Matron's hat.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley paused in her flow of words upon our entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Price Ridley?" inquired Colonel Melchett, lifting his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me introduce Colonel Melchett to you, Mrs. Price Ridley," I said.
+"Colonel Melchett is our Chief Constable."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me coldly, but produced the semblance of a
+gracious smile for the Colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"We've just been round to your house, Mrs. Price Ridley," explained the
+Colonel, "and heard you had come down here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley thawed altogether.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she said. "I'm glad <i>some</i> notice is being taken of the
+occurrence. Disgraceful, I call it. Simply disgraceful."</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt that murder is disgraceful, but it is not the word I
+should use to describe it myself. It surprised Melchett too, I could
+see.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any light to throw upon the matter?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That's your business. It's the business of the police. What do we pay
+rates and taxes for, I should like to know?"</p>
+
+<p>One wonders how many times that query is uttered in a year!</p>
+
+<p>"We're doing our best, Mrs. Price Ridley," said the Chief Constable.</p>
+
+<p>"But the man here hadn't even heard of it till I told him about it!"
+cried the lady.</p>
+
+<p>We all looked at the constable.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady been rung up on the telephone," he said. "Annoyed. Matter of
+obscene language, I understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I see." The Colonel's brow cleared. "We've been talking at cross
+purposes. You came down here to make a complaint, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>Melchett is a wise man. He knows that, when it is a question of an
+irate middle-aged lady, there is only one thing to be done—to listen
+to her. When she has said all that she wants to say, there is a chance
+that she will listen to you.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley surged into speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Such disgraceful occurrences ought to be prevented. They ought not to
+occur. To be rung up in one's own house and insulted—yes, insulted.
+I'm not accustomed to such things happening. Ever since the War there
+has been a loosening of moral fibre. Nobody minds what they say, and as
+to the clothes they wear—"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said Colonel Melchett hastily. "What happened exactly?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley took breath and started again.</p>
+
+<p>"I was rung up—"</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday afternoon—evening to be exact. About half past six. I
+went to the telephone, suspecting nothing. Immediately I was foully
+attacked, threatened—"</p>
+
+<p>"What actually was said?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley got slightly pink.</p>
+
+<p>"That I decline to state."</p>
+
+<p>"Obscene language," murmured the Constable in a ruminative bass.</p>
+
+<p>"Was bad language used?" asked Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"It depends on what you call bad language."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you understand it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I could understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it couldn't have been bad language," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"A refined lady," I explained, "is naturally unacquainted with bad
+language."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't that kind of thing," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "At first, I
+must admit, I was quite taken in. I thought it was a genuine message.
+Then the—er—person became abusive."</p>
+
+<p>"Abusive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most abusive. I was quite alarmed."</p>
+
+<p>"Used threatening language, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I am not accustomed to being threatened."</p>
+
+<p>"What did they threaten you with? Bodily damage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid, Mrs. Price Ridley, you must be more explicit. In what way
+were you threatened?"</p>
+
+<p>This Mrs. Price Ridley seemed singularly reluctant to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't remember exactly. It was all so upsetting. But right at the
+end—when I was really <i>very</i> upset, this—this—<i>wretch</i> laughed."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it a man's voice or a woman's?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a degenerate voice," said Mrs. Price Ridley with dignity. "I
+can only describe it as a kind of perverted voice. Now gruff, now
+squeaking. Really a very <i>peculiar</i> voice."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably a practical joke," said the Colonel soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"A most wicked thing to do, if so. I might have had a heart attack."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll look into it," said the Colonel. "Eh, Inspector? Trace the
+telephone call. You can't tell me more definitely exactly what was
+said, Mrs. Price Ridley?"</p>
+
+<p>A struggle began in Mrs. Price Ridley's ample black bosom. The desire
+for reticence fought against a desire for vengeance. Vengeance
+triumphed.</p>
+
+<p>"This, of course, will go no farther," she began.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"This creature began by saying—I can hardly bring myself to repeat
+it—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Melchett encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"'<i>You are a wicked, scandal-mongering old woman!</i>' Me, Colonel
+Melchett—a scandal-mongering old woman. '<i>But this time you've gone
+too far. Scotland Yard are after you for libel.</i>'"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, you were alarmed," said Melchett, biting his moustache to
+conceal a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"'<i>Unless you hold your tongue in future, it will be the worse for
+you—in more ways than one.</i>' I can't describe to you the menacing way
+that was said. I gasped 'Who are you?' faintly—like that, and the
+voice answered, '<i>The Avenger</i>.' I gave a little shriek; it sounded so
+awful, and then—the person laughed. Laughed! Distinctly. And that was
+all. I heard him hang up the receiver. Of course I asked the exchange
+what number had been ringing me up, but they said they didn't know. You
+know what exchanges are. Thoroughly rude and unsympathetic."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I felt quite faint," continued Mrs. Price Ridley. "All on edge and so
+nervous that when I heard a shot in the woods I do declare I jumped
+almost out of my skin. That will show you."</p>
+
+<p>"A shot in the woods," said Inspector Slack alertly.</p>
+
+<p>"In my excited state, it simply sounded to me like a cannon going off.
+'Oh!' I said, and sank down on the sofa in a state of prostration.
+Clara had to bring me a glass of damson gin."</p>
+
+<p>"Shocking," said Melchett. "Shocking. All very trying for you. And the
+shot sounded very loud, you say? As though it were near at hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"That was simply the state of my nerves."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Of course. And what time was all this? To help us in
+tracing the telephone call, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"About half past six."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't give it us more exactly than that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, the little clock on my mantelpiece had just chimed the
+half hour, and I said 'Surely that clock is fast.' (It does gain, that
+clock.) And I compared it with the watch I was wearing and that only
+said ten minutes past, but then I put it to my ear and found it had
+stopped. So I thought, 'Well, if that clock is fast, I shall hear the
+church tower in a moment or two.' And then, of course, the telephone
+bell rang, and I forgot all about it."</p>
+
+<p>She paused, breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's near enough," said Colonel Melchett. "We'll have it
+looked into for you, Mrs. Price Ridley."</p>
+
+<p>"Just think of it as a silly joke, and don't worry, Mrs. Price Ridley,"
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me coldly. Evidently the incident of the pound note still
+rankled.</p>
+
+<p>"Very strange things have been happening in this village lately," she
+said, addressing herself to Melchett. "Very strange things indeed.
+Colonel Protheroe was going to look into them, and what happened to
+him, poor man? Perhaps I shall be the next."</p>
+
+<p>And on that she took her departure, shaking her head with a kind of
+ominous melancholy. Melchett muttered under his breath, "No such luck."
+Then his face grew grave, and he looked inquiringly at Inspector Slack.</p>
+
+<p>That worthy nodded his head slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"This about settles it, sir. That's three people who heard the shot.
+We've got to find out now who fired it. This business of Mr. Redding's
+has delayed us. But we've got several starting points. Thinking Mr.
+Redding was guilty, I didn't bother to look into them. But that's all
+changed now. And now one of the first things to do is to look up that
+telephone call."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Price Ridley's?"</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"No—though I suppose we'd better make a note of that or else we shall
+have the old girl bothering in here again. No, I meant that fake call
+that got the Vicar out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Melchett. "That's important."</p>
+
+<p>"And the next thing is to find out what everyone was doing that evening
+between six and seven. Everyone at Old Hall, I mean, and pretty well
+everyone in the village as well."</p>
+
+<p>I gave a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"What wonderful energy you have, Inspector Slack."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe in hard work. We'll begin by just noting down your own
+movements, Mr. Clement."</p>
+
+<p>"Willingly. The telephone call came through about half past five."</p>
+
+<p>"A man's voice, or a woman's?"</p>
+
+<p>"A woman's. At least it sounded like a woman's. But of course I took it
+for granted it was Mrs. Abbott speaking."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't recognize it as being Mrs. Abbott's?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't say I did. I didn't notice the voice particularly, or
+think about it."</p>
+
+<p>"And you started right away? Walked? Haven't you got a bicycle?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. So it took you—how long?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's very nearly two miles, whichever way you go."</p>
+
+<p>"Through Old Hall woods is the shortest way, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Actually, yes. But it's not particularly good going. I went and came
+back by the footpath across the fields."</p>
+
+<p>"The one that comes out opposite the Vicarage gate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mrs. Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife was in London. She arrived back by the 6.50 train."</p>
+
+<p>"Right. The maid I've seen. That finishes with the Vicarage. I'll be
+off to Old Hall next. And then I want an interview with Mrs. Lestrange.
+Queer her going to see Protheroe the night before he was killed. A lot
+of queer things about this case."</p>
+
+<p>I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was nearly lunch time. I
+invited Melchett to partake of pot luck with us, but he excused himself
+on the plea of having to go to the Blue Boar. The Blue Boar gives you
+a first-rate meal of the joint and two vegetable type. I thought his
+choice was a wise one. After her interview with the police, Mary would
+probably be feeling more temperamental than usual.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_14">Chapter 14</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On my way home, I ran into Miss Hartnell, and she detained me at least
+ten minutes, declaiming in her deep bass voice against the improvidence
+and ungratefulness of the lower classes. The crux of the matter seemed
+to be that The Poor did not want Miss Hartnell in their houses. My
+sympathies were entirely on their side. I am debarred by my social
+standing from expressing my prejudices in the forceful manner they do.
+I soothed her as best I could and made my escape.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock overtook me in his car at the corner of the Vicarage road.</p>
+
+<p>"I've just taken Mrs. Protheroe home," he called.</p>
+
+<p>He waited for me at the gate of his house.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in a minute," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I complied.</p>
+
+<p>"This is an extraordinary business," he said as he threw his hat on a
+chair and opened the door into his surgery.</p>
+
+<p>He sank down on a shabby leather chair, and stared across the room. He
+looked harried and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>I told him that we had succeeded in fixing the time of the shot. He
+listened with an almost abstracted air.</p>
+
+<p>"That lets Anne Protheroe out," he said. "Well, well, I'm glad it's
+neither of those two. I like 'em both."</p>
+
+<p>I believed him, and yet it occurred to me to wonder why, since, as he
+said, he liked them both, their freedom from complicity seemed to have
+had the result of plunging him in gloom. This morning he had looked
+like a man with a weight lifted from his mind; now he looked thoroughly
+rattled and upset.</p>
+
+<p>And yet I was convinced that he meant what he said. He was fond of both
+Anne Protheroe and Lawrence Redding. Why, then, this gloomy absorption?</p>
+
+<p>He roused himself with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant to tell you about Hawes. All this business has driven him out
+of my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he really ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing radically wrong with him. You know, of course, that
+he's had <i>Encephalitis Lethargica</i>—sleeping sickness, as it's commonly
+called?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, very much surprised. "I didn't know anything of the kind.
+He never told me anything about it. When did he have it?"</p>
+
+<p>"About a year ago. He recovered all right—as far as one ever recovers.
+It's a strange disease—has a queer moral effect. The whole character
+may change after it."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a moment or two and then said:</p>
+
+<p>"We think with horror now of the days when we burnt witches. I believe
+the day will come when we will shudder to think that we ever hanged
+criminals."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't believe in capital punishment?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's not so much that." He paused. "You know," he said slowly, "I'd
+rather have my job than yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because your job deals very largely with what we call right and
+wrong—and I'm not at all sure that there's any such thing. Suppose
+it's all a question of glandular secretion. Too much of one gland, too
+little of another—and you get your murderer, your thief, your habitual
+criminal. Clement, I believe the time will come when we'll be horrified
+to think of the long centuries in which we've indulged in what you
+may call moral reprobation, to think how we've punished people for
+disease—which they can't help, poor devils. You don't hang a man for
+having tuberculosis."</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't dangerous to the community."</p>
+
+<p>"In a sense he is. He infects other people. Or take a man who fancies
+he's the Emperor of China. You don't say 'how wicked of him.' I take
+your point about the community. The community must be protected.
+Shut up these people where they can't do any harm—even put them
+peacefully out of the way—yes, I'd go as far as that. But don't call
+it punishment. Don't bring shame on them and their innocent families."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I've never heard you speak like this before."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't usually air my theories abroad. Today I'm riding my hobby.
+You're an intelligent man, Clement, which is more than some parsons
+are. You won't admit, I daresay, that there's no such thing as what is
+technically termed 'Sin,' but you're broad-minded enough to consider
+the possibility of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"It strikes at the root of all our accepted ideas," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we're a narrow-minded, self-righteous lot, only too keen to judge
+matters we know nothing about. I honestly believe crime is a case
+for the doctor, not the policeman and not the parson. In the future,
+perhaps, there won't be any such thing."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have cured it?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have cured it. Rather a wonderful thought. Have you ever studied
+the statistics of crime? No—very few people have. I have, though.
+You'd be amazed at the amount there is of adolescent crime—glands
+again, you see. Young Neil, the Oxfordshire murderer, killed five
+little girls before he was suspected. Nice lad—never given any trouble
+of any kind. Lily Rose, the little Cornish girl, killed her uncle
+because he docked her of sweets. Hit him when he was asleep with a coal
+hammer. Went home and a fortnight later killed her elder sister who
+had annoyed her about some trifling matter. Neither of them hanged, of
+course. Sent to a home. May be all right later—may not. Doubt if the
+girl will. The only thing she cares about is seeing the pigs killed. Do
+you know when suicide is commonest? Fifteen to sixteen years of age.
+From self-murder to murder of someone else isn't a very long step. But
+it's not a moral lack—it's a physical one."</p>
+
+<p>"What you say is terrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"No—it's only new to you. New truths have to be faced. One's ideas
+adjusted. But sometimes—it makes life difficult."</p>
+
+<p>He sat there frowning, yet with a strange look of weariness.</p>
+
+<p>"Haydock," I said, "if you suspected—if you knew—that a certain
+person was a murderer, would you give that person up to the law, or
+would you be tempted to shield him?"</p>
+
+<p>I was quite unprepared for the effect of my question. He turned on me
+angrily and suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you say that, Clement? What's in your mind? Out with it,
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, nothing particular," I said rather taken aback. "Only—well,
+murder is in our minds just now. If by any chance you happened to
+discover the truth—I wondered how you would feel about it, that was
+all."</p>
+
+<p>His anger died down. He stared once more straight ahead of him, like a
+man trying to read the answer to a riddle that perplexes him, yet which
+exists only in his own brain.</p>
+
+<p>"If I suspected—if I knew—I should do my duty, Clement. At least, I
+hope so."</p>
+
+<p>"The question is—which way would you consider your duty lay?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me with inscrutable eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"That question comes to every man some time in his life, I suppose,
+Clement. And every man has to decide it in his own way."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't know...."</p>
+
+<p>I felt the best thing was to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"That nephew of mine is enjoying this case thoroughly," I said. "Spends
+his entire time looking for footprints and cigarette ash."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"What age is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just sixteen. You don't take tragedies seriously at that age. It's all
+Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin to you."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock said thoughtfully:</p>
+
+<p>"He's a fine looking boy. What are you going to do with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't afford a University education, I'm afraid. The boy himself
+wants to go into the Merchant Service. He failed for the Navy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—it's a hard life—but he might do worse. Yes, he might do worse."</p>
+
+<p>"I must be going," I exclaimed, catching sight of the clock. "I'm
+nearly half an hour late for lunch."</p>
+
+<p>My family were just sitting down when I arrived. They demanded a full
+account of the morning's activities, which I gave them, feeling, as I
+did so, that most of it was in the nature of an anticlimax.</p>
+
+<p>Dennis, however, was highly entertained by the history of Mrs. Price
+Ridley's telephone call, and went into fits of laughter as I enlarged
+upon the nervous shock her system had sustained and the necessity for
+reviving her with damson gin.</p>
+
+<p>"Serve the old cat right," he exclaimed. "She's got the worst tongue
+in the place. I wish I'd thought of ringing her up and giving her a
+fright. I say, Uncle Len, what about giving her a second dose?"</p>
+
+<p>I hastily begged him to do nothing of the sort. Nothing is more
+dangerous than the well-meant efforts of the younger generation to
+assist you and show their sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>Dennis' mood changed suddenly. He frowned and put on his
+man-of-the-world air.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been with Lettice most of the morning," he said. "You know,
+Griselda, she's really <i>very</i> worried. She doesn't want to show it, but
+she is. Very worried indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope so," said Griselda with a toss of her head.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda is not too fond of Lettice Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you're ever quite fair to Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of people don't wear mourning."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda was silent and so was I. Dennis continued:</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't talk to most people, but she <i>does</i> talk to me. She's
+awfully worried about the whole thing, and she thinks something ought
+to be done about it."</p>
+
+<p>"She will find," I said, "that Inspector Slack shares her opinion. He
+is going up to Old Hall this afternoon, and will probably make the life
+of everybody there quite unbearable to them in his efforts to get at
+the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think <i>is</i> the truth, Len?" asked my wife suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's hard to say, my dear. I can't say that at the moment I've any
+idea at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say that Inspector Slack was going to trace that telephone
+call—the one that took you to the Abbotts?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But can he do it? Isn't it a very difficult thing to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should not imagine so. The exchange will have a record of the calls."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" My wife relapsed into thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Len," said my nephew. "Why were you so ratty with me this
+morning for joking about your wishing Colonel Protheroe to be murdered?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," I said, "there is a time for everything. Inspector Slack has
+no sense of humour. He took your words quite seriously, will probably
+cross-examine Mary, and will get out a warrant for my arrest."</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't he know when a fellow's ragging?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "He does not. He has attained to his present position
+through hard work and zealous attention to duty. That has left him no
+time for the minor recreations of life."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like him, Uncle Len?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "I do not. From the first moment I saw him I disliked him
+intensely. But I have no doubt that he is a highly successful man in
+his profession."</p>
+
+<p>"You think he'll find out who shot old Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he doesn't," I said, "it will not be for the want of trying."</p>
+
+<p>Mary appeared and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hawes wants to see you. I've put him in the drawing room, and
+here's a note. Waiting for an answer. Verbal will do."</p>
+
+<p>I tore open the note and read it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Clement</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>I should be so very grateful if you could come and see me this
+afternoon as early as possible. I am in great trouble and would like
+your advice.</i></p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><i>Sincerely yours</i>,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Estelle Lestrange</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Say I will come round in about half an hour," I said to Mary. Then I
+went into the drawing room to see Hawes.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_15">Chapter 15</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Hawes' appearance distressed me very much. His hands were shaking and
+his face kept twitching nervously. In my opinion he should have been in
+bed, and I told him so. He insisted that he was perfectly well.</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you, sir, I never felt better. Never in my life."</p>
+
+<p>This was so obviously wide of the truth that I hardly knew how to
+answer. I have a certain admiration for a man who will not give in to
+illness, but Hawes was carrying the thing rather too far.</p>
+
+<p>"I called to tell you how sorry I was—that such a thing should happen
+in the Vicarage."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "It's not very pleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"It's terrible—quite terrible. It seems they haven't arrested Mr.
+Redding after all?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. That was a mistake. He made—er—rather a foolish statement."</p>
+
+<p>"And the police are now quite convinced that he is innocent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"Why is that, may I ask? Is it—I mean, do they suspect anyone else?"</p>
+
+<p>I should never have suspected that Hawes would take such a keen
+interest in the details of a murder case. Perhaps it is because it
+happened in the Vicarage. He appeared as eager as a reporter.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I am completely in Inspector Slack's confidence.
+So far as I know he does not suspect anyone in particular. He is at
+present engaged in making inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes—of course. But who can one imagine doing such a dreadful
+thing?"</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Protheroe was not a popular man, I know that. But murder! For
+murder—one would need a very strong motive."</p>
+
+<p>"So I should imagine," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Who could have such a motive? Have the police any idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't say."</p>
+
+<p>"He might have made enemies, you know. The more I think about it, the
+more I am convinced that he was the kind of man to have enemies. He had
+a reputation on the Bench for being very severe."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he had."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, don't you remember, sir? He was telling you yesterday morning
+about having been threatened by that man, Archer."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I come to think of it, so he did," I said. "Of course, I remember.
+You were quite near us at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I overheard what he was saying. Almost impossible to help it with
+Colonel Protheroe. He had such a very loud voice, hadn't he? I remember
+being impressed by your own words, that when his time came, he might
+have justice meted out to him instead of mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I say that?" I asked frowning. My remembrance of my own words was
+slightly different.</p>
+
+<p>"You said it very impressively, sir. I was struck by your words.
+Justice is a terrible thing. And to think the poor man was struck down
+shortly afterwards. It's almost as though you had a premonition."</p>
+
+<p>"I had nothing of the sort," I said shortly. I rather dislike Hawes'
+tendency to mysticism. There is a touch of the visionary about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you told the police about this man Archer, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about him."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, have you repeated to them what Colonel Protheroe said—about
+Archer having threatened him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said slowly. "I have not."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are going to do so?"</p>
+
+<p>I was silent. I dislike hounding a man down who has already got the
+forces of law and order against him. I held no brief for Archer. He is
+an inveterate poacher—one of those cheerful ne'er-do-wells that are to
+be found in any parish. Whatever he may have said in the heat of anger
+when he was sentenced I had no definite knowledge that he felt the same
+when he came out of prison.</p>
+
+<p>"You heard the conversation," I said at last. "If you feel it your duty
+to go to the police with it, you must do so."</p>
+
+<p>"It would come better from you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps—but to tell the truth—well, I've no fancy for doing it. I
+might be helping to put the rope round the neck of an innocent man."</p>
+
+<p>"But if he shot Colonel Protheroe—"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if! There's no evidence of any kind that he did."</p>
+
+<p>"His threats."</p>
+
+<p>"Strictly speaking, the threats were not his but Colonel Protheroe's.
+Colonel Protheroe was threatening to show Archer what vengeance was
+worth next time he caught him."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand your attitude, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?" I said wearily. "You're a young man. You're zealous in the
+cause of right. When you get to my age, you'll find that you like to
+give people the benefit of the doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not—I mean—"</p>
+
+<p>He paused and I looked at him in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't any—any ideas of your own—as to the identity of the
+murderer, I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, no."</p>
+
+<p>Hawes persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Or as to the—the motive?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? No, indeed. I just wondered. If Colonel Protheroe had—had confided
+in you in any way—mentioned anything...."</p>
+
+<p>"His confidences, such as they were, were heard by the whole village
+street yesterday morning," I said drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Yes—of course. And you don't think—about Archer?"</p>
+
+<p>"The police will know all about Archer soon enough," I said. "If I'd
+heard him threaten Colonel Protheroe myself, that would be a different
+matter. But you may be sure that if he actually has threatened him,
+half the people in the village will have heard him, and the news will
+get to the police all right. You, of course, must do as you like about
+the matter."</p>
+
+<p>But Hawes seemed curiously unwilling to do anything himself.</p>
+
+<p>The man's whole attitude was nervous and queer. I recalled what Haydock
+had said about his illness. There, I supposed, lay the explanation.</p>
+
+<p>He took his leave unwillingly, as though he had more to say, and didn't
+know how to say it.</p>
+
+<p>Before he left, I arranged with him to take the Service for the
+Mothers' Union followed by the Meeting of District Visitors. I had
+several projects of my own for the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Dismissing Hawes and his troubles from my mind, I started off for Mrs.
+Lestrange.</p>
+
+<p>On the table in the hall lay the "Guardian" and the "Church Times"
+unopened.</p>
+
+<p>As I walked I remembered that Mrs. Lestrange had had an interview with
+Colonel Protheroe the night before his death. It was possible that
+something had transpired in that interview which would throw light upon
+the problem of his murder.</p>
+
+<p>I was shown straight into the little drawing room, and Mrs. Lestrange
+rose to meet me. I was struck anew by the marvellous atmosphere that
+this woman could create. She wore a dress of some dead black material
+that showed off the extraordinary fairness of her skin. There was
+something curiously dead about her face. Only the eyes were burningly
+alive. There was a watchful look in them today. Otherwise she showed no
+signs of animation.</p>
+
+<p>"It was very good of you to come, Mr. Clement," she said as she shook
+hands. "I wanted to speak to you the other day. Then I decided not to
+do so. I was wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"As I told you then, I shall be glad to do anything that can help you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you said that. And you said it as though you meant it. Very few
+people, Mr. Clement, in this world have ever sincerely wished to help
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly believe that, Mrs. Lestrange."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true. Most people—most men, at any rate, are out for their own
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>There was a bitterness in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer and she went on:</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>I obeyed, and she took a chair facing me. She hesitated a moment and
+then began to speak very slowly and thoughtfully, seeming to weigh each
+word as she uttered it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in a very peculiar position, Mr. Clement, and I want to ask your
+advice. That is, I want to ask your advice as to what I should do next.
+What is past is past and cannot be undone. You understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Before I could reply, the maid who had admitted me opened the door and
+said, with a scared face:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! please, m'am, there's a police inspector here, and he says he must
+speak to you, please."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Mrs. Lestrange's face did not change. Only her eyes
+very slowly closed and opened again. She seemed to swallow once or
+twice, then she said in exactly the same clear, calm voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Show him in, Hilda."</p>
+
+<p>I was about to rise, but she motioned me back again with an imperious
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"If you do not mind—I should be much obliged if you would stay."</p>
+
+<p>I resumed my seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if you wish it," I murmured, as Slack entered with a brisk
+regulation tread.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, Madam," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, Inspector."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment he caught sight of me and scowled. There is no doubt
+about it; Slack does not like me.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no objection to the Vicar's presence, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>I suppose that Slack could not very well say he had.</p>
+
+<p>"No-o," he said grudgingly. "Though, perhaps, it might be better—"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange paid no attention to the hint.</p>
+
+<p>"What can I do for you, Inspector?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It's this way, Madam. Murder of Colonel Protheroe. I'm in charge of
+the case and making inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Just as a matter of form, I'm asking everyone just where they were
+yesterday evening between the hours of six and seven. Just as a matter
+of form, you understand."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange did not seem in the least discomposed.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to know where I was yesterday evening between six and seven?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Madam."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see." She reflected a moment. "I was here. In this house."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" I saw the Inspector's eyes flash. "And your maid—you have only
+one maid, I think, can confirm that statement?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was Hilda's afternoon out."</p>
+
+<p>"I see."</p>
+
+<p>"So unfortunately you will have to take my word for it," said Mrs.
+Lestrange pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You seriously declare that you were at home all the afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"You said between six and seven, Inspector. I was out for a walk
+earlier in the afternoon. I returned some time before five o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Then if a lady—Miss Hartnell, for instance—were to declare that she
+came here about six o'clock, rang the bell, but could make no one hear
+and was compelled to go away again, you'd say she was mistaken, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no," Mrs. Lestrange shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"But—"</p>
+
+<p>"If your maid is in, she can say not at home. If one is alone and does
+not happen to want to see callers—well, the only thing to do is to let
+them ring."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack looked slightly baffled.</p>
+
+<p>"Elderly women bore me dreadfully," said Mrs. Lestrange. "And Miss
+Hartnell is particularly boring. She must have rung at least half a
+dozen times before she went away."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled sweetly at Inspector Slack.</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector shifted his ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Then if anyone were to say they'd seen you out and about then—"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but they didn't, did they?" She was quick to sense his weak point.
+"No one saw me out, because I was in, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, Madam."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector hitched his chair a little nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I understand, Mrs. Lestrange, that you paid a visit to Colonel
+Protheroe at Old Hall the night before his death."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange said calmly:</p>
+
+<p>"That is so."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you indicate to me the nature of that interview?"</p>
+
+<p>"It concerned a private matter, Inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I must ask you to tell me the nature of that private
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not tell you anything of the kind. I will only assure you
+that nothing which was said at that interview could possibly have any
+bearing upon the crime."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you are the best judge of that."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, you will have to take my word for it, Inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"In fact, I have to take your word about everything."</p>
+
+<p>"It does seem rather like it," she agreed, still with the same smiling
+calm.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack grew very red.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a serious matter, Mrs. Lestrange. I want the truth—" He
+banged his fist down on a table, "and I mean to get it."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange said nothing at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you see, Madam, that you're putting yourself in a very fishy
+position?"</p>
+
+<p>Still Mrs. Lestrange said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be required to give evidence at the inquest."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Just the monosyllable. Unemphatic, uninterested. The Inspector altered
+his tactics.</p>
+
+<p>"You were acquainted with Colonel Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was acquainted with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well acquainted?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause before she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I had not seen him for several years."</p>
+
+<p>"You were acquainted with Mrs. Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll excuse me, but it was a very unusual time to make a call."</p>
+
+<p>"Not from my point of view."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p>
+
+<p>She said clearly and distinctly:</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to see Colonel Protheroe alone. I did not want to see
+Mrs. Protheroe or Miss Protheroe. I considered this the best way of
+accomplishing my objective."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you want to see Mrs. or Miss Protheroe?"</p>
+
+<p>"That, Inspector, is my business."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you refuse to say more?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack rose.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be putting yourself in a nasty position, Madam, if you're not
+careful. All this looks bad—it looks very bad."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. I could have told Inspector Slack that this was not the
+kind of woman who is easily frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, extricating himself with dignity, "don't say I
+haven't warned you, that's all. Good afternoon, Madam, and mind you,
+we're going to get at the truth."</p>
+
+<p>He departed. Mrs. Lestrange rose and held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to send you away—yes, it is better so. You see, it is too
+late for advice now. I have chosen my part."</p>
+
+<p>She repeated, in a rather forlorn voice:</p>
+
+<p>"I have chosen my part."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_16">Chapter 16</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>As I went out, I ran into Haydock on the doorstep. He glanced sharply
+after Slack, who was just passing through the gate, and demanded:</p>
+
+<p>"Has he been questioning her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"He's been civil, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>Civility, to my mind, is an art which Inspector Slack has never learnt,
+but I presumed that according to his own lights, civil he had been,
+and anyway I didn't want to upset Haydock any further. He was looking
+worried and upset as it was. So I said he had been quite civil.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock nodded and passed on into the house, and I went on down the
+village street where I soon caught up with the Inspector. I fancy that
+he was walking slowly on purpose. Much as he dislikes me, he is not the
+man to let dislike stand in the way of acquiring any useful information.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know anything about the lady?" he asked me point-blank.</p>
+
+<p>I said I knew nothing whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"She's never said anything about why she came here to live?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you go and see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is one of my duties to call on my parishioners," I replied, evading
+to remark that I had been sent for.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm, I suppose it is." He was silent for a minute or two and then,
+unable to resist discussing his recent failure, he went on, "Fishy
+business, it looks to me."</p>
+
+<p>"You think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you ask me, I say 'blackmail.' Seems funny, when you think of what
+Colonel Protheroe was always supposed to be. But there, you never can
+tell. He wouldn't be the first churchwarden who'd led a double life."</p>
+
+<p>Faint remembrances of Miss Marple's remarks on the same subject floated
+through my mind.</p>
+
+<p>"You really think that's likely?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it fits the facts, sir. Why did a smart, well dressed lady come
+down to this quiet little hole? Why did she go and see him at that
+funny time of day? Why did she avoid seeing Mrs. and Miss Protheroe?
+Yes, it all hangs together. Awkward for her to admit—blackmail's a
+punishable offence. But we'll get the truth out of her. For all we know
+it may have a very important bearing on the case. If Colonel Protheroe
+had some guilty secret in his life—something disgraceful—well, you
+can see for yourself what a field it opens up."</p>
+
+<p>I suppose it did.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been trying to get the butler to talk. He might have overheard
+some of the conversation between Colonel Protheroe and Lestrange.
+Butlers do sometimes. But he swears he hadn't the least idea of what
+the conversation was about. By the way, he got the sack through it. The
+Colonel went for him, being angry at his having let her in. The butler
+retorted by giving notice. Says he didn't like the place anyway, and
+had been thinking of leaving for some time."</p>
+
+<p>"Really."</p>
+
+<p>"So that gives us another person who had a grudge against the Colonel."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't seriously suspect the man—what's his name by the way?"</p>
+
+<p>"His name's Reeves, and I don't say I do suspect him. What I say is,
+you never know. I don't like that soapy, oily manner of his."</p>
+
+<p>I wonder what Reeves would say of Inspector Slack's manner.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to question the chauffeur now."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps, then," I said, "you'll give me a lift in your car. I want a
+short interview with Mrs. Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"What about?"</p>
+
+<p>"The funeral arrangements."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Inspector Slack was slightly taken aback. "The inquest's
+tomorrow, Saturday."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. The funeral will probably be arranged for Tuesday."</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack seemed to be a little ashamed of himself for his
+brusqueness. He held out an olive branch in the shape of an invitation
+to be present at the interview with the chauffeur, Manning.</p>
+
+<p>Manning was a nice lad, not more than twenty-five or -six years of age.
+He was inclined to be awed by the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then, my lad," said Slack, "I want a little information from you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," stammered the chauffeur. "Certainly, sir."</p>
+
+<p>If he had committed the murder himself he could not have been more
+alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"You took your master to the village yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Five-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Protheroe went too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You went straight to the village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't stop anywhere on the way?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do when you got there?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Colonel got out and told me he wouldn't want the car again. He'd
+walk home. Mrs. Protheroe had some shopping to do. The parcels were put
+in the car. Then she said that was all and I drove home."</p>
+
+<p>"Leaving her in the village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A quarter past six, sir. A quarter past exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you leave her?"</p>
+
+<p>"By the church, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Had the Colonel mentioned at all where he was going?"</p>
+
+<p>"He said something about having to see the vet—something to do with
+one of the horses."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. And you drove straight back here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"There are two entrances to Old Hall, by the South Lodge and by the
+North Lodge. I take it that going to the village you would go by the
+South Lodge?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, always."</p>
+
+<p>"And you came back the same way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm. I think that's all. Ah! here's Miss Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>Lettice drifted towards us.</p>
+
+<p>"I want the Fiat, Manning," she said. "Start her for me, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Miss."</p>
+
+<p>He went towards a two-seater and lifted the bonnet.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a minute, Miss Protheroe," said Slack. "It's necessary that I
+should have a record of everybody's movements yesterday afternoon. No
+offence meant."</p>
+
+<p>Lettice stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"I never know the time of anything," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand you went out soon after lunch yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to, please?"</p>
+
+<p>"To play tennis."</p>
+
+<p>"Who with?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Hartley Napiers."</p>
+
+<p>"At Much Benham?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And you returned?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I tell you I never know these things."</p>
+
+<p>"You returned," I said, "about seven-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Lettice. "In the middle of the shemozzle. Anne
+having fits and Griselda supporting her."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Miss," said the Inspector. "That's all I want to know."</p>
+
+<p>"How queer," said Lettice. "It seems so uninteresting."</p>
+
+<p>She moved towards the Fiat.</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector touched his forehead in a surreptitious manner.</p>
+
+<p>"A bit wanting?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the least," I said. "But she likes to be thought so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm off to question the maids now."</p>
+
+<p>One cannot really like Slack, but one can admire his energy.</p>
+
+<p>We parted company and I inquired of Reeves if I could see Mrs.
+Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>"She is lying down, sir, at the moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'd better not disturb her."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps if you would wait, sir, I know that Mrs. Protheroe is anxious
+to see you. She was saying as much at luncheon."</p>
+
+<p>He showed me into the drawing room, switching on the electric lights,
+since the blinds were down.</p>
+
+<p>"A very sad business all this," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was cold and respectful.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him. What feelings were at work under that impassive
+demeanour. Were there things that he knew and could have told us? There
+is nothing so inhuman as the mask of the good servant.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything more, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Was there just a hint of anxiety to be gone behind that correct
+expression?</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing more," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I had a very short time to wait before Anne Protheroe came to me. We
+discussed and settled a few arrangements and then:</p>
+
+<p>"What a wonderfully kind man Dr. Haydock is," she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Haydock is the best fellow I know."</p>
+
+<p>"He has been amazingly kind to me. But he looks very sad, doesn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>It had never occurred to me to think of Haydock as sad. I turned the
+idea over in my mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I've ever noticed it," I said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I never have, until today."</p>
+
+<p>"One's own troubles sharpen one's eyes sometimes," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"That's very true."</p>
+
+<p>She paused and then said:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Clement, there's one thing I absolutely <i>cannot</i> make out. If my
+husband was shot immediately after I left him, how was it that I didn't
+hear the shot?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have reason to believe that the shot was fired later."</p>
+
+<p>"But the 6.20 on the note."</p>
+
+<p>"Was possibly added by a different hand—the murderer's."</p>
+
+<p>Her cheek paled.</p>
+
+<p>"How horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"It didn't strike you that the date was not in his handwriting?"</p>
+
+<p>"None of it looked like his handwriting."</p>
+
+<p>There was some truth in this observation. It was a somewhat illegible
+scrawl, not so precise as Protheroe's writing usually was.</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure they don't still suspect Lawrence?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think he is definitely cleared."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Clement, who can it be? Lucius was not popular, I know, but I
+don't think he had any real enemies. Not—not that kind of enemy."</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a mystery."</p>
+
+<p>I thought wonderingly of Miss Marple's seven suspects. Who could they
+be?</p>
+
+<p>After I took leave of Anne, I proceeded to put a certain plan of mine
+into action.</p>
+
+<p>I returned from Old Hall by way of a private path. When I reached the
+stile, I retraced my steps, and choosing a place where I fancied the
+undergrowth showed signs of being disturbed, I turned aside from the
+path and forced my way through the bushes. The wood was a thick one,
+with a good deal of tangled undergrowth. My progress was not very fast,
+and I suddenly became aware that someone else was moving among the
+bushes not very far from me. As I paused irresolutely, Lawrence Redding
+came into sight. He was carrying a large stone.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose I must have looked surprised, for he suddenly burst out
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "it's not a clue; it's a peace offering."</p>
+
+<p>"A peace offering?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, a basis for negotiations, shall we say? I want an excuse for
+calling on your neighbour, Miss Marple, and I have been told that there
+is nothing she likes so much as a nice bit of rock or stone for the
+Japanese gardens she makes."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true," I said. "But what do you want with the old lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just this. If there was anything to be seen yesterday evening Miss
+Marple saw it. I don't mean anything necessarily connected with
+the crime—that she would think connected with the crime. I mean
+some <i>outré</i> or bizarre incident, some simple little happening that
+might give us a clue to the truth. Something that she wouldn't think
+worthwhile mentioning to the police."</p>
+
+<p>"It's possible, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"It's worth trying anyhow. Clement, I'm going to get to the bottom of
+this business. For Anne's sake, if nobody else's. And I haven't any too
+much confidence in Slack—he's a zealous fellow, but zeal can't really
+take the place of brains."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," I said, "that you are that favourite character of fiction, the
+amateur detective. I don't know that they really hold their own with
+the professional in real life."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me shrewdly and suddenly laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing in the wood, padre?"</p>
+
+<p>I had the grace to blush.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same as I am doing, I dare swear. We've got the same idea,
+haven't we? <i>How did the murderer come to the study?</i> First way, along
+the lane and through the gate; second way, by the front door; third
+way—is there a third way? My idea was to see if there were any sign
+of the bushes being disturbed or broken anywhere near the wall of the
+Vicarage garden."</p>
+
+<p>"That was just my idea," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't really got down to the job, though," continued Lawrence,
+"because it occurred to me that I'd like to see Miss Marple first, to
+make quite sure that no one did pass along the lane yesterday evening
+while we were in the studio."</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+
+<p>"She was quite positive that nobody did."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, nobody whom she would call anybody—sounds mad, but you see what
+I mean. But there might have been someone like a postman or a milkman
+or a butcher's boy—someone whose presence would be so natural that you
+wouldn't think of mentioning it."</p>
+
+<p>"You've been reading G. K. Chesterton," I said, and Lawrence did not
+deny it.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you think there's just possibly something in the idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose there might be," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>Without further ado we made our way to Miss Marple's. She was working
+in the garden, and called out to us as we climbed over the stile.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," murmured Lawrence, "she sees everybody."</p>
+
+<p>She received us very graciously, and was much pleased with Lawrence's
+immense rock, which he presented with all due solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very thoughtful of you, Mr. Redding. Very thoughtful indeed."</p>
+
+<p>Emboldened by this, Lawrence embarked on his questions. Miss Marple
+listened attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see what you mean, and I quite agree; it is the sort of thing
+no one mentions or bothers to mention. But I can assure you that there
+was nothing of the kind. Nothing whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure, Miss Marple?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see anyone go by the path into the wood that afternoon?" I
+asked. "Or come from it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, quite a number of people. Dr. Stone and Miss Cram went that
+way—it's the nearest way to the barrow for them. That was a little
+after two o'clock. And Dr. Stone returned that way—as you know, Mr.
+Redding, since he joined you and Mrs. Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," I said, "that shot—the one you heard, Miss Marple. Mr.
+Redding and Mrs. Protheroe must have heard it too."</p>
+
+<p>I looked inquiringly at Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said frowning. "I believe I did hear some shots. Weren't
+there one or two shots?"</p>
+
+<p>"I only heard one," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"It's only the vaguest impression in my mind," said Lawrence. "Curse
+it all, I wish I could remember. If only I'd known. You see I was so
+completely taken up with—with—"</p>
+
+<p>He paused, embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>I gave a tactful cough. Miss Marple, with a touch of prudishness,
+changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Inspector Slack has been trying to get me to say whether I heard
+the shot after Mr. Redding and Mrs. Protheroe had left the studio or
+before. I've had to confess that I really could not say definitely, but
+I have the impression—which is growing stronger the more I think about
+it—that it was after."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that lets the celebrated Dr. Stone out anyway," said Lawrence
+with a laugh. "Not that there has ever been the slightest reason why he
+should be suspected of shooting poor old Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Miss Marple. "But I always find it prudent to suspect
+everybody just a little. What I say is, you really never <i>know</i>, do
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>This was typical of Miss Marple. I asked Lawrence if he agreed with her
+about the shot.</p>
+
+<p>"I really can't say. You see, it was such an ordinary sound. I should
+be inclined to think it had been fired when we were in the studio. The
+sound would have been deadened and—and one would have noticed it less
+there."</p>
+
+<p>For other reasons than the sound being deadened, I thought to myself!</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask Anne," said Lawrence. "She may remember. By the way,
+there seems to me to be one curious fact that needs explanation. Mrs.
+Lestrange, the Mystery Lady of St. Mary Mead, paid a visit to old
+Protheroe after dinner on Wednesday night. And nobody seems to have any
+idea what it was all about. Old Protheroe said nothing to either his
+wife or Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the Vicar knows," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>Now how did the woman know that I had been to visit Mrs. Lestrange that
+afternoon? The way she always knows things is uncanny.</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head and said I could throw no light upon the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"What does Inspector Slack think?" asked Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"He's done his best to bully the butler—but apparently the butler
+wasn't curious enough to listen at the door. So there it is—no one
+knows."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect someone overheard something, though, don't you?" said Miss
+Marple. "I mean, somebody always <i>does</i>. I think that is where Mr.
+Redding might find out something."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mrs. Protheroe knows nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean Anne Protheroe," said Miss Marple. "I meant the women
+servants. They do so hate telling anything to the police. But a
+nice-looking young man—you'll excuse me, Mr. Redding—and one who has
+been unjustly suspected—Oh! I'm sure they'd tell him at once."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and have a try this evening," said Lawrence with vigour.
+"Thanks for the hint, Miss Marple. I'll go after—well, after a little
+job the Vicar and I are going to do."</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to me that we had better be getting on with it. I said
+good-bye to Miss Marple and we entered the woods once more.</p>
+
+<p>First we went up the path till we came to a new spot, where it
+certainly looked as though someone had left the path on the right-hand
+side. Lawrence explained that he had already followed this particular
+trail and found it led nowhere, but he added that we might as well try
+again. He might have been wrong.</p>
+
+<p>It was, however, as he had said. After about ten or twelve yards, any
+sign of broken and trampled leaves petered out. It was from this spot
+that Lawrence had broken back towards the path to meet me earlier in
+the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>We emerged on the path again and walked a little farther along it.
+Again we came to a place where the bushes seemed disturbed. The signs
+were very slight but, I thought, unmistakable. This time the trail was
+more promising. By a devious course, it wound steadily nearer to the
+Vicarage. Presently we arrived at where the bushes grew thickly up
+to the wall. The wall is a high one and ornamented with fragments of
+broken bottles on the top. If anyone had placed a ladder against it, we
+ought to find traces of their passage.</p>
+
+<p>We were working our way slowly along the wall when a sound came to our
+ears of a breaking twig. I pressed forward, forcing my way through a
+thick tangle of shrubs—and came face to face with Inspector Slack.</p>
+
+<p>"So it's you," he said. "And Mr. Redding. Now what do you think you two
+gentlemen are doing?"</p>
+
+<p>Slightly crestfallen, we explained.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," said the Inspector. "Not being the fools we're usually
+thought to be, I had the same idea myself. I've been here over an hour.
+Would you like to know something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"Whoever murdered Colonel Protheroe didn't come this way to do it!
+There's not a sign either on this side of the wall, nor the other.
+Whoever murdered Colonel Protheroe came through the front door. There's
+no other way he could have come."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible," I cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Why impossible? Your door stands open. Anyone's only got to walk in.
+They can't be seen from the kitchen. They know you're safely out of
+the way; they know Mrs. Protheroe's in London; they know Mr. Dennis
+is at a tennis party. Simple as A.B.C. And they don't need to go or
+come through the village. Just opposite the Vicarage gate is a public
+footpath and, from it, you can turn into these same woods and come out
+whichever way you choose. Unless Mrs. Price Ridley were to come out of
+her front gate at that particular minute, it's all clear sailing. A
+great deal more so than climbing over walls. The side windows of the
+upper story of Mrs. Price Ridley's house do overlook most of that wall.
+No, depend upon it, that's the way he came."</p>
+
+<p>It really seemed as though he must be right.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_17">Chapter 17</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Inspector Slack came round to see me the following morning. He is, I
+think, thawing towards me. In time, he may forget the incident of the
+clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," he greeted me. "I've traced that telephone call that you
+received."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?" I said eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather odd. It was put through from the North Lodge of Old
+Hall. Now that Lodge is empty; the lodgekeepers have been pensioned
+off, and the new lodgekeepers aren't in yet. The place was empty and
+convenient—a window at the back was open. No finger prints on the
+instrument itself—it had been wiped clean. That's suggestive."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that it shows that call was put through deliberately to get you
+out of the way. Therefore the murder was carefully planned in advance.
+If it had been just a harmless practical joke, the fingerprints
+wouldn't have been wiped off so carefully."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I see that."</p>
+
+<p>"It also shows that the murderer was well acquainted with Old Hall and
+its surroundings. It wasn't Mrs. Protheroe who put that call through.
+I've accounted for every moment of her time that afternoon. There
+are half a dozen servants who can swear that she was at home up till
+five-thirty. Then the car came round and drove Colonel Protheroe and
+her to the village. The Colonel went to see Quinton, the vet, about one
+of the horses. Mrs. Protheroe did some ordering at the grocer's and at
+the fish shop, and from there came straight down the back lane where
+Miss Marple saw her. All the shops agree she carried no handbag with
+her. The old lady was right."</p>
+
+<p>"She usually is," I said mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"And Miss Protheroe was over at Much Benham at 5.30."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," I said. "My nephew was there too."</p>
+
+<p>"That disposes of her. The maids seem all right—a bit hysterical and
+upset, but what can you expect? Of course, I've got my eye on the
+butler—what with giving notice and all. But I don't think he knows
+anything about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Your inquiries seem to have had rather a negative result, Inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"They do and they do not, sir. There's one very queer thing has turned
+up—quite unexpectedly, I may say."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"You remember the fuss that Mrs. Price Ridley, who lives next door
+to you, was kicking up yesterday morning? About being rung up on the
+telephone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well we traced the call just to calm her—and where on this earth do
+you think it was put through from?"</p>
+
+<p>"A call office?" I hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mr. Clement. That call was put through from Mr. Lawrence Redding's
+cottage."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" I exclaimed, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. A bit odd, isn't it? Mr. Redding had nothing to do with it. At
+that time, 6.35, he was on his way to the Blue Boar with Dr. Stone,
+in full view of the village. But there it is. Suggestive, eh? Someone
+walked into that empty cottage and used the telephone. Who was it?
+That's two queer telephone calls in one day. Makes you think there's
+some connection between them. I'll eat my hat if they weren't both put
+through by the same person."</p>
+
+<p>"But with what object?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's what we've got to find out. There seems no particular
+point in the second one, but there must be a point somewhere. And you
+see the significance? Mr. Redding's house used to telephone from. Mr.
+Redding's pistol. All throwing suspicion on Mr. Redding."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be more to the point to have put through the <i>first</i> call
+from his house," I objected.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! But I've been thinking that out. What did Mr. Redding do most
+afternoons? He went up to Old Hall and painted Miss Protheroe. And from
+his cottage, he'd go on his motor bicycle, passing through the North
+Gate. Now you see the point of the call being put through from there.
+<i>The murderer is someone who didn't know about the quarrel, and that
+Mr. Redding wasn't going up to Old Hall anymore.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>I reflected a moment to let the Inspector's points sink into my brain.
+They seemed to me logical and unavoidable.</p>
+
+<p>"Were there any fingerprints on the receiver in Mr. Redding's cottage?"
+I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There were not," said the Inspector bitterly. "That dratted old woman
+who goes and does for him had been and dusted them off yesterday
+morning." He reflected wrathfully for a few minutes. "She's a stupid
+old fool anyway. Can't remember when she saw the pistol last. It might
+have been there on the morning of the crime or it might not. 'She
+couldn't say, she's sure.' They're all alike!</p>
+
+<p>"Just as a matter of form, I went round and saw Dr. Stone," he went on.
+"I must say he was pleasant as could be about it. He and Miss Cram went
+up to that mound—or barrow—or whatever you call it, about half past
+two yesterday, and stayed there all the afternoon. Dr. Stone came back
+alone, and she came later. He says he didn't hear any shot, but admits
+he's absent-minded. But it all bears out what we think."</p>
+
+<p>"Only," I said, "you haven't caught the murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," said the Inspector. "It was a woman's voice you heard through
+the telephone. It was, in all probability, a woman's voice Mrs. Price
+Ridley heard. If only that shot hadn't come hard on the close of the
+telephone call—well, I'd know where to look."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that's just what it's best not to say, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Unblushingly, I suggested a glass of old port. I have some very fine
+old vintage port. Eleven o'clock in the morning is not the usual time
+for drinking port, but I did not think that mattered with Inspector
+Slack. It was, of course, cruel abuse of the vintage port, but one must
+not be squeamish about such things.</p>
+
+<p>When Inspector Slack had polished off the second glass, he began to
+unbend and become genial. Such is the effect of that particular port.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose it matters with you, sir," he said. "You'll keep it to
+yourself? No letting it get round the parish."</p>
+
+<p>I reassured him.</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing as the whole thing happened in your house, it almost seems as
+though you had a right to know."</p>
+
+<p>"Just what I feel myself," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, sir, what about the lady who called on Colonel Protheroe
+the night before the murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lestrange?" I cried, speaking rather loud in my astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector threw me a reproachful glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so loud, sir. Mrs. Lestrange is the lady I've got my eye on. You
+remember what I told you—blackmail."</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly a reason for murder. Wouldn't it be a case of killing the goose
+that laid the golden eggs? That is, assuming that your hypothesis is
+true, which I don't for a minute admit."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector winked at me in a common manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! she's the kind the gentlemen will always stand up for. Now look
+here, sir. Suppose she's successfully blackmailed the old gentleman
+in the past. After a lapse of years, she gets wind of him, comes down
+here and tries it on again. <i>But</i> in the meantime, things have changed.
+The law has taken up a very different stand. Every facility is given
+nowadays to people prosecuting for blackmail—names are not allowed to
+be reported in the press. Suppose Colonel Protheroe turns round and
+says he'll have the law on her. She's in a nasty position. They give a
+very severe sentence for blackmail. The boot's on the other leg. The
+only thing to do to save herself is to put him out good and quick."</p>
+
+<p>I was silent. I had to admit that the case the Inspector had built up
+was plausible. Only one thing to my mind made it inadmissible—the
+personality of Mrs. Lestrange.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't agree with you, Inspector," I said. "Mrs. Lestrange doesn't
+seem to me to be a potential blackmailer. She's—well, it's an
+old-fashioned word, but she's a—lady."</p>
+
+<p>He threw me a pitying glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! well, sir," he said tolerantly. "You're a clergyman. You don't
+know half of what goes on. Lady indeed! You'd be surprised if you knew
+some of the things I know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not referring to mere social position. Anyway I should imagine Mrs.
+Lestrange to be a <i>déclassée</i>. What I mean is a question of—personal
+refinement."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't see her with the same eyes as I do, sir. I may be a man—but
+I'm a police officer too. They can't get over me with their personal
+refinement. Why, that woman is the kind who could stick a knife into
+you without turning a hair."</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough, I could believe Mrs. Lestrange guilty of murder more
+easily than I could believe her capable of blackmail.</p>
+
+<p>"But of course she can't have been telephoning to the old lady next
+door and shooting Colonel Protheroe at one and the same time,"
+continued the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth when he slapped his leg
+ferociously.</p>
+
+<p>"Got it," he exclaimed. "That's the point of the telephone call. Kind
+of <i>alibi</i>. Knew we'd connect it with the first one. I'm going to look
+into this. She may have bribed some village lad to do the phoning for
+her. <i>He'd</i> never think of connecting it with the murder."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector hurried off.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marple wants to see you," said Griselda putting her head in.
+"She sent over a very incoherent note—all spidery and underlined.
+I couldn't read most of it. Apparently she can't leave home herself.
+Hurry up and go across and see her and find out what it is. I've got
+my old women coming in two minutes or I'd come myself. I do hate old
+women—they tell you about their bad legs, and sometimes insist on
+showing them to you. What luck that the inquest is this afternoon! You
+won't have to go and watch the Boys' Club Cricket Match."</p>
+
+<p>I hurried off considerably exercised in my own mind as to the reason
+for this summons.</p>
+
+<p>I found Miss Marple in what, I believe, is described as a fluster. She
+was very pink and slightly incoherent.</p>
+
+<p>"My nephew," she explained. "My nephew, Raymond West, the author. He is
+coming down today. Such a to-do. I have to see to everything myself.
+You cannot trust a maid to air a bed properly, and we must, of course,
+have a meat meal tonight. Gentlemen require such a lot of meat, do they
+not? And drink. There certainly should be some drink in the house—and
+a siphon."</p>
+
+<p>"If I can do anything—" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! how very kind. But I did not mean that. There is plenty of time
+really. He brings his own pipe tobacco, I am glad to say. Glad because
+it saves me from knowing which kind of cigarettes are right to buy.
+But rather sorry, too, because it takes so long for the smell to get
+out of the curtains. Of course, I open the window and shake them well
+very early every morning. Raymond gets up very late—I think writers
+often do. He writes very clever books, I believe, though people are not
+really nearly so unpleasant as he makes out. Clever young men know so
+little of life, don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to bring him to dinner at the Vicarage?" I asked, still
+unable to gather why I had been summoned.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no, thank you," said Miss Marple. "It's very kind of you," she
+added.</p>
+
+<p>"There was—er—something you wanted to see me about, I think," I
+suggested, desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Of course. In all the excitement it had gone right out of my
+head." She broke off and called to her maid: "Emily—Emily. Not those
+sheets. The frilled ones with the monogram, and don't put them too near
+the fire."</p>
+
+<p>She closed the door and returned to me on tiptoe.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just rather a curious thing that happened last night," she
+explained. "I thought you would like to hear about it, though at
+the moment it doesn't seem to make sense. I felt very wakeful last
+night—wondering about all this sad business. And I got up and looked
+out of my window. And what do you think I saw?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked inquiring.</p>
+
+<p>"Gladys Cram," said Miss Marple, with great emphasis. "As I live, going
+into the wood with a suitcase."</p>
+
+<p>"A suitcase?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it extraordinary? What should she want with a suitcase in the
+wood at twelve o'clock at night?"</p>
+
+<p>We both stared at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Miss Marple. "I daresay it has nothing to do with the
+murder. But it is a Peculiar Thing. And just at present we all feel we
+must take notice of Peculiar Things."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly amazing," I said. "Was she going to—er—sleep in the barrow
+by any chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't, at any rate," said Miss Marple. "Because quite a short
+time afterwards she came back, and she hadn't got the suitcase with
+her."</p>
+
+<p>We stared at each other again.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_18">Chapter 18</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The inquest was held that afternoon (Saturday) at two o'clock at the
+Blue Boar. The local excitement was, I need hardly say, tremendous.
+There had been no murder in St. Mary Mead for at least fifteen years.
+And to have someone like Colonel Protheroe murdered actually in the
+Vicarage study is such a feast of sensation as rarely falls to the lot
+of a village population.</p>
+
+<p>Various comments floated to my ears which I was probably not meant to
+hear.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Vicar. Look pale, don't he? I wonder if he had a hand in it.
+'Twas done at Vicarage, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you, Mary Adams? And him visiting Henry Abbott at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but they do say him and the Colonel had words. There's Mary Hill.
+Giving herself airs, she is, on account of being in service there.
+Hush, here's coroner."</p>
+
+<p>The coroner was Dr. Roberts of our adjoining town of Much Benham. He
+cleared his throat, adjusted his eyeglasses, and looked important.</p>
+
+<p>To recapitulate all the evidence would be merely tiresome. Lawrence
+Redding gave evidence of finding the body, and identified the pistol
+as belonging to him. To the best of his belief he had seen it on the
+Tuesday, two days previously. It was kept on a shelf in his cottage,
+and the door of the cottage was habitually unlocked.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Protheroe gave evidence that she had last seen her husband about a
+quarter to six, when they separated in the village street. She agreed
+to call for him at the Vicarage later. She had gone to the Vicarage
+about a quarter past six, by way of the back lane and the garden gate.
+She had heard no voices in the study, and had imagined that the room
+was empty, but her husband might have been sitting at the writing
+table, in which case she would not have seen him. As far as she knew,
+he had been in his usual health and spirits. She knew of no enemy who
+might have had a grudge against him.</p>
+
+<p>I gave evidence next, told of my appointment with Protheroe and my
+summons to the Abbotts'. I described how I had found the body and my
+summoning of Dr. Haydock.</p>
+
+<p>"How many people, Mr. Clement, were aware that Colonel Protheroe was
+coming to see you that evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good many, I should imagine. My wife knew and my nephew, and Colonel
+Protheroe himself alluded to the fact that morning when I met him in
+the village. I should think several people might have overheard him,
+as, being slightly deaf, he spoke in a loud voice."</p>
+
+<p>"It was then a matter of common knowledge? Anyone might know?"</p>
+
+<p>I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock followed. He was an important witness. He described carefully
+and technically the appearance of the body and the exact injuries.
+It was his opinion that deceased had been shot while actually in the
+act of writing. He placed the time of death at approximately 6.20 to
+6.30—certainly not later than 6.35. That was the outside limit. He was
+positive and emphatic on that point. There was no question of suicide;
+the wound could not have been self-inflicted.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector Slack's evidence was discreet and abridged. He described his
+summons, and the circumstances under which he had found the body. The
+unfinished letter was produced and the time on it—6.20—noted. Also
+the clock. It was tacitly assumed that the time of death was 6.22. The
+police were giving nothing away. Anne Protheroe told me afterwards that
+she had been told to suggest a slightly earlier period of time than
+6.20 for her visit.</p>
+
+<p>Our maid, Mary, was the next witness and proved a somewhat truculent
+one. She hadn't heard anything and didn't want to hear anything. It
+wasn't as though gentlemen who came to see the Vicar usually got shot.
+They didn't. She'd got her own jobs to look after. Colonel Protheroe
+had arrived at a quarter past six exactly. No, she didn't look at the
+clock. She heard the church chime after she had shown him into the
+study. She didn't hear any shot. If there had been a shot she'd have
+heard it. Well, of course she knew there must have been a shot, since
+the gentleman was found shot—but there it was. She hadn't heard it.</p>
+
+<p>The Coroner did not press the point. I realized that he and Colonel
+Melchett were working in agreement.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Lestrange had been subpoenaed to give evidence, but a medical
+certificate, signed by Dr. Haydock, was produced saying she was too ill
+to attend.</p>
+
+<p>There was only one other witness, a somewhat doddering old woman, the
+one who, in Slack's phrase, "did for" Lawrence Redding.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Archer was shown the pistol and recognized it as the one she had
+seen in Mr. Redding's sitting room—"Over against the bookcase, he
+kept it, lying about." She had last seen it on the day of the murder.
+Yes—in answer to a further question—she was quite sure it was there
+at lunchtime on Thursday—quarter to one when she left.</p>
+
+<p>I remembered what the Inspector had told me, and I was mildly
+surprised. However vague she might have been when he questioned her,
+she was quite positive about it now.</p>
+
+<p>The Coroner summed up in a negative manner but with a good deal of
+firmness. The verdict was given almost immediately.</p>
+
+<p>Murder by person or persons unknown.</p>
+
+<p>As I left the room I was aware of a small army of young men with
+bright, alert faces, and a kind of superficial resemblance to each
+other. Several of them were already known to me by sight, as having
+haunted the Vicarage the last few days. Seeking to escape, I plunged
+back into the Blue Boar, and was lucky enough to run straight into the
+archæologist, Dr. Stone. I clutched at him without ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"Journalists," I said briefly and expressively. "If you could
+deliver me from their clutches?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly, Mr. Clement. Come upstairs with me."</p>
+
+<p>He led the way up the narrow staircase and into his sitting room,
+where Miss Cram was sitting rattling the keys of a typewriter with
+a practised touch. She greeted me with a broad smile of welcome and
+seized the opportunity to stop work.</p>
+
+<p>"Awful, isn't it?" she said. "Not knowing who did it, I mean. Not but
+that I'm disappointed in an inquest. Tame, that's what I call it.
+Nothing what you might call spicy from beginning to end."</p>
+
+<p>"You were there, then, Miss Cram?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was there all right. Fancy your not seeing me. Didn't you see me?
+I feel a bit hurt about that. Yes, I do. A gentleman, even if he is a
+clergyman, ought to have eyes in his head."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you present also?" I asked Dr. Stone, in an effort to escape from
+this playful badinage. Young women like Miss Cram always make me feel
+awkward.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm afraid I feel very little interest in such things. I am a man
+very wrapped up in his own hobby."</p>
+
+<p>"It must be a very interesting hobby," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You know something of it, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>I was obliged to confess that I knew next to nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Stone was not the kind of man whom a confession of ignorance
+daunts. The result was exactly the same as though I had said that the
+excavation of barrows was my only relaxation. He surged and eddied
+into speech. Long barrows, round barrows, stone age, bronze age,
+paleolithic, neolithic, kistvaens and cromlechs, it burst forth in a
+torrent. I had little to do save nod my head and look intelligent—and
+that last is perhaps over optimistic. Dr. Stone boomed on. He is a
+little man. His head is round and bald; his face is round and rosy,
+and he beams at you through very strong glasses. I have never known a
+man so enthusiastic on so little encouragement. He went into every
+argument for and against his own pet theory—which by the way, I quite
+failed to grasp!</p>
+
+<p>He detailed at great length his difference of opinion with Colonel
+Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>"An opinionated boor," he said with heat. "Yes, yes, I know he is dead,
+and one should speak no ill of the dead. But death does not alter
+facts. An opinionated boor describes him exactly. Because he had read
+a few books, he set himself up as an authority—against a man who has
+made a lifelong study of the subject. My whole life, Mr. Clement, has
+been given up to this work. My whole life—"</p>
+
+<p>He was spluttering with excitement. Gladys Cram brought him back to
+earth with a terse sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll miss your train if you don't look out," she observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" The little man stopped in mid speech and dragged a watch from his
+pocket. "Bless my soul. Quarter to? Impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"Once you start talking you never remember the time. What you'd do
+without me to look after you, I really don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right, my dear, quite right." He patted her affectionately on
+the shoulder. "This is a wonderful girl, Mr. Clement. Never forgets
+anything. I consider myself extremely lucky to have found her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! go on, Dr. Stone," said the lady. "You spoil me, you do."</p>
+
+<p>I could not help feeling that I should be in a material position to add
+my support to the second school of thought—that which foresees lawful
+matrimony as the future of Dr. Stone and Miss Cram. I imagined that in
+her own way Miss Cram was rather a clever young woman.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better be getting along," said Miss Cram.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, so I must."</p>
+
+<p>He vanished into the room next door and returned carrying a suitcase.</p>
+
+<p>"You are leaving?" I asked in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Just running up to town for a couple of days," he explained. "My old
+mother to see tomorrow, some business with my lawyers on Monday. On
+Tuesday I shall return. By the way, I suppose that Colonel Protheroe's
+death will make no difference to our arrangements. As regards the
+barrow, I mean. Mrs. Protheroe will have no objection to our continuing
+the work?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should not think so."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, I wondered who actually would be in authority at Old Hall.
+It was just possible that Protheroe might have left it to Lettice. I
+felt that it would be interesting to know the contents of Protheroe's
+will.</p>
+
+<p>"Causes a lot of trouble in a family, a death does," remarked Miss Cram
+with a kind of gloomy relish. "You wouldn't believe what a nasty spirit
+there sometimes is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must really be going." Dr. Stone made ineffectual attempts to
+control the suitcase, a large rug and an unwieldy umbrella. I came to
+his rescue. He protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't trouble—don't trouble. I can manage perfectly. Doubtless there
+will be somebody downstairs."</p>
+
+<p>But down below there was no trace of a boots or anyone else. I suspect
+that they were being regaled at the expense of the Press. Time was
+getting on, so we set out together to the station, Dr. Stone carrying
+the suitcase, and I holding the rug and umbrella.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Stone ejaculated remarks in between panting breaths as we hurried
+along.</p>
+
+<p>"Really too good of you—didn't mean—to trouble you. Hope we shan't
+miss—the train—Gladys is a good girl—really a wonderful girl—a very
+sweet nature—not too happy at home, I'm afraid—absolutely—the heart
+of a child—heart of a child, I do assure you—in spite of—difference
+in our ages—find a lot in common...."</p>
+
+<p>I felt that several well-known parallels would have occurred to Miss
+Marple, had she been there.</p>
+
+<p>We saw Lawrence Redding's cottage just as we turned off to the station.
+It stands in an isolated position with no other house near it. I
+observed two young men of smart appearance standing on the doorstep,
+and a couple more peering in at the windows. It was a busy day for the
+Press.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice fellow, young Redding," I remarked to see what my companion would
+say.</p>
+
+<p>He was so out of breath by this time that he found it difficult to say
+anything, but he puffed out a word which I did not at first quite catch.</p>
+
+<p>"Dangerous," he gasped when I asked him to repeat his remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Dangerous?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most dangerous. Innocent girls—know no better—taken in by a fellow
+like that—always hanging round women. No good."</p>
+
+<p>From which I deduced that the only young man in the village had not
+passed unnoticed by the fair Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness," ejaculated Dr. Stone. "The train!"</p>
+
+<p>We were close to the station by this time and we broke into a fast
+sprint. A down train was standing in the station and the up London
+train was just coming in.</p>
+
+<p>At the door of the booking office we collided with a rather exquisite
+young man, and I recognized Miss Marple's nephew just arriving. He
+is, I think, a young man who does not like to be collided with. He
+prides himself on his poise and general air of detachment, and there
+is no doubt that vulgar contact is detrimental to poise of any kind.
+He staggered back. I apologized hastily and we passed in. Dr. Stone
+climbed on the train and I handed up his baggage just as the train gave
+an unwilling jerk and started.</p>
+
+<p>I waved to him and then turned away. Raymond West had departed, but our
+local chemist, who rejoices in the name of Cherubim, was just setting
+out for the village. I walked beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Close shave that," he observed. "Well, how did the inquest go, Mr.
+Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>I gave him the verdict.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! so that's what happened. I rather thought they'd adjourn the
+inquest. Where's Dr. Stone off to?"</p>
+
+<p>I repeated what he had told me.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucky not to miss the train. Not that you ever know on this line.
+I tell you, Mr. Clement, it's a crying shame. Disgraceful, that's
+what I call it. Train I came down by was ten minutes late. And that
+on a Saturday, with no traffic to speak of. And on Wednesday—no,
+Thursday—yes, Thursday it was—I remember it was the day of the
+murder because I meant to write a strongly worded complaint to the
+company—and the murder put it out of my head—yes, last Thursday. I
+had been to a meeting of the pharmaceutical society. How late do you
+think the 6.50 was? <i>Half an hour.</i> Half an hour exactly! What do you
+think of that? Ten minutes I don't mind. But if the train doesn't get
+in till twenty past seven, well, you can't get home before half past.
+What I say is, why call it the 6.50?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," I said, and, wishing to escape from the monologue, I broke
+away with the excuse that I had something to say to Lawrence Redding
+whom I saw approaching us on the other side of the road.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_19">Chapter 19</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>"Very glad to have met you," said Lawrence. "Come to my place."</p>
+
+<p>We turned in at the little rustic gate, went up the path, and he drew a
+key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock.</p>
+
+<p>"You keep the door locked now," I observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." He laughed rather bitterly. "Case of stable door when the
+steed is gone, eh? It is rather like that. You know, padre," he held
+the door open and I passed inside, "there's something about all
+this business that I don't like. It's too much of—how shall I put
+it?—an inside job. Someone knew about that pistol of mine. That means
+that the murderer, whoever he was, must have actually been in this
+house—perhaps even had a drink with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Not necessarily," I objected. "The whole village of St. Mary Mead
+probably knows exactly where you keep your tooth brush and what kind of
+tooth powder you use."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should it interest them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," I said, "but it does. If you change your shaving cream
+it will be a topic of conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"They must be very hard up for news."</p>
+
+<p>"They are. Nothing exciting ever happens here."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it has now—with a vengeance."</p>
+
+<p>I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"And who tells them all these things, anyway? Shaving cream and things
+like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Probably old Mrs. Archer."</p>
+
+<p>"That old crone? She's practically a half wit, as far as I can make
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"That's merely the camouflage of the poor," I explained. "They take
+refuge behind a mask of stupidity. You'll probably find that the old
+lady has all her wits about her. By the way, she seems very certain now
+that the pistol was in its proper place mid-day Thursday. What's made
+her so positive all of a sudden?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the least idea."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she's right?"</p>
+
+<p>"There again I haven't the least idea. I don't go round taking an
+inventory of my possessions every day."</p>
+
+<p>I looked round the small living room. Every shelf and table was
+littered with miscellaneous articles. Lawrence lived in the midst of an
+artistic disarray that would have driven me quite mad.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a bit of a job finding things sometimes," he said, observing my
+glance. "On the other hand, everything is handy—not tucked away."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is tucked away, certainly," I agreed. "It might perhaps have
+been better if the pistol had been."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, I rather expected the Coroner to say something of the
+sort. Coroners are such asses. I expected to be censured, or whatever
+they call it."</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," I asked. "Was it loaded?"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not quite so careless as that. It was unloaded, but there was a
+box of cartridges beside it."</p>
+
+<p>"It was apparently loaded in all six chambers, and one shot had been
+fired."</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"And whose hand fired it? It's all very well, sir, but unless the real
+murderer is discovered I shall be suspected of the crime to the day of
+my death."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do say it."</p>
+
+<p>He became silent, frowning to himself. He roused himself at last and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"But let me tell you how I got on last night. You know, old Miss Marple
+knows a thing or two."</p>
+
+<p>"She is, I believe, rather unpopular on that account."</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence proceeded to recount his story.</p>
+
+<p>He had, following Miss Marple's advice, gone up to Old Hall. There,
+with Anne's assistance, he had had an interview with the parlour maid.</p>
+
+<p>Anne had said simply:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Redding wants to ask you a few questions, Rose."</p>
+
+<p>Then she had left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence had felt somewhat nervous. Rose, a pretty girl of twenty-five,
+gazed at him with a limpid gaze which he found rather disconcerting.</p>
+
+<p>"It's—it's about Colonel Protheroe's death."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very anxious, you see, to get at the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that there may be—that someone might—that—that—there might
+be some incident—"</p>
+
+<p>At this point Lawrence felt that he was not covering himself with
+glory, and heartily cursed Miss Marple and her suggestions.</p>
+
+<p>"I wondered if you could help me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Rose's demeanour was still that of the perfect servant, polite, anxious
+to assist, and completely uninterested.</p>
+
+<p>"Dash it all," said Lawrence. "Haven't you talked the thing over in the
+servants' hall?"</p>
+
+<p>This method of attack flustered Rose slightly. Her perfect poise was
+shaken.</p>
+
+<p>"In the servants' hall, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Or the housekeeper's room, or the bootboy's dugout, or wherever you do
+talk? There must be <i>some</i> place."</p>
+
+<p>Rose displayed a very faint disposition to giggle, and Lawrence felt
+encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Rose, you're an awfully nice girl. I'm sure you must
+understand what I'm feeling like. I don't want to be hanged. I didn't
+murder your master, but a lot of people think I did. Can't you help me
+in any way?"</p>
+
+<p>I can imagine at this point that Lawrence must have looked extremely
+appealing. His handsome head thrown back, his Irish blue eyes
+appealing. Rose softened and capitulated.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! sir, I'm sure—if any of us could help in any way. None of us
+think you did it, sir. Indeed we don't."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, my dear girl, but that's not going to help me with the police."</p>
+
+<p>"The police!" Rose tossed her head. "I can tell you, sir, we don't
+think much of that Inspector. Slack, he calls himself. The police
+indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, the police are very powerful. Now, Rose, you say you'll
+do your best to help me. I can't help feeling that there's a lot we
+haven't got at yet. The lady, for instance, who called to see Colonel
+Protheroe the night before he died."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lestrange?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mrs. Lestrange. I can't help feeling there's something rather odd
+about that visit of hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, sir; that's what we all said."</p>
+
+<p>"You did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Coming the way she did. And asking for the Colonel. And of course
+there's been a lot of talk—nobody knowing anything about her down
+here. And Mrs. Simmons, she's the housekeeper, sir, she gave it as her
+opinion that she was a regular bad lot. But after hearing what Gladdie
+said, well, I didn't know what to think."</p>
+
+<p>"What did Gladdie say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! nothing, sir. It was just—we were talking, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence looked at her. He had the feeling of something kept back.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder very much what her interview with Colonel Protheroe was
+about."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you know, Rose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Oh! no, sir. Indeed I don't. How could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Rose. You said you'd help me. If you overheard anything,
+anything at all—it mightn't seem important, but anything ... I'd be so
+awfully grateful to you. After all, anyone might—might chance—just
+<i>chance</i> to overhear something."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't, sir, really I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Then somebody else did," said Lawrence acutely.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir—"</p>
+
+<p>"Do tell me, Rose."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what Gladdie would say, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"She'd want you to tell me. Who <i>is</i> Gladdie, by the way?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's the kitchen maid, sir. And you see, she'd just stepped out
+to speak to a friend, and she was passing the window—the study
+window—and the master was there with the lady. And of course he did
+speak very loud, the master did, always. And naturally, feeling a
+little curious—I mean—"</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully natural," said Lawrence. "I mean one would simply have to
+listen."</p>
+
+<p>"But of course she didn't tell anyone—except me. And we both thought
+it very odd. But Gladdie couldn't say anything, you see, because if it
+was known she'd gone out to meet a—a friend—well, it would have meant
+a lot of unpleasantness with Mrs. Pratt; that's the cook, sir. But I'm
+sure she'd tell you anything, sir, willing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, can I go to the kitchen and speak to her?"</p>
+
+<p>Rose was horrified by the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no, sir, that would never do. And Gladdie's a very nervous girl
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>At last the matter was settled, after a lot of discussion over
+difficult points. A clandestine meeting was arranged in the shrubbery.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in due course, Lawrence was confronted by the nervous Gladdie,
+whom he described as more like a shivering rabbit than anything human.
+Ten minutes were spent in trying to put the girl at her ease, the
+shivering Gladys explaining that she couldn't ever—that she didn't
+ought, that she didn't think Rose would have given her away, that
+anyway she hadn't meant no harm, indeed she hadn't, and that she'd
+catch it badly if Mrs. Pratt ever came to hear of it.</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence reassured, cajoled, persuaded—at last Gladys consented to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll be sure it'll go no further, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it won't."</p>
+
+<p>"And it won't be brought up against me in a court of law?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"And you won't tell the mistress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not on any account."</p>
+
+<p>"If it were to get to Mrs. Pratt's ears—"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't. Now tell me, Gladys."</p>
+
+<p>"If you're sure it's all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is. You'll be glad some day you've saved me from being
+hanged."</p>
+
+<p>Gladys gave a little shriek.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! indeed, I wouldn't like that, sir. Well, it's very little I
+heard—and that entirely by accident, as you might say—"</p>
+
+<p>"I quite understand."</p>
+
+<p>"But the master, he was evidently very angry. 'After all these years—'
+that's what he was saying—'you dare to come here. It's an outrage—' I
+couldn't hear what the lady said—but after a bit he said, 'I utterly
+refuse—utterly.' I can't remember everything—seemed as though they
+were at it hammer and tongs, she wanting him to do something and he
+refusing. 'It's a disgrace that you should have come down here,' that's
+one thing he said. And 'You shall not see her—I forbid it.' And that
+made me prick up my ears. Looked as though the lady wanted to tell Mrs.
+Protheroe a thing or two, and he was afraid about it. And I thought to
+myself 'Well, now, fancy the master. Him so particular. And maybe no
+beauty himself when all's said and done. Fancy!' I said. And 'Men are
+all alike,' I said to my friend later. Not that he'd agree. Argued, he
+did. But he did admit he was surprised at Colonel Protheroe—him, being
+a churchwarden and handing round the plate and reading the lessons
+on Sundays. 'But there,' I said, 'that's very often the worst.' For
+that's what I've heard my mother say, many a time."</p>
+
+<p>Gladdie paused, out of breath, and Lawrence tried tactfully to get back
+to where the conversation had started.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's difficult to remember exactly, sir. It was all much the
+same. He said once or twice 'I don't believe it.' Just like that.
+'Whatever Haydock says, I don't believe it.'"</p>
+
+<p>"He said that, did he? 'Whatever Haydock says?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And he said it was all a plot."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't hear the lady speak at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only just at the end. She must have got up to go and come nearer the
+window. And I heard what she said. Made my blood run cold, it did. I'll
+never forget it. '<i>By this time tomorrow night, you may be dead</i>,' she
+said. Wicked the way she said it. As soon as I heard the news: 'There,'
+I said to Rose. 'There!'"</p>
+
+<p>Lawrence wondered. Principally he wondered how much of Gladys's story
+was to be depended upon. True, in the main, he suspected that it had
+been embellished and polished since the murder. In especial he doubted
+the accuracy of the last remark. He thought it highly possible that it
+owed its being to the fact of the murder.</p>
+
+<p>He thanked Gladys, rewarded her suitably, reassured her as to her
+misdoings being made known to Mrs. Pratt, and left Old Hall with a good
+deal to think over.</p>
+
+<p>One thing was clear; Mrs. Lestrange's interview with Colonel Protheroe
+had certainly not been a peaceful one, and it was one which he was
+anxious to keep from the knowledge of his wife.</p>
+
+<p>I thought of Miss Marple's churchwarden with his separate
+establishment. Was this a case resembling that?</p>
+
+<p>I wondered more than ever where Haydock came in. He had saved Mrs.
+Lestrange from having to give evidence at the inquest. He had done his
+best to protect her from the police.</p>
+
+<p>How far would he carry that protection?</p>
+
+<p>Supposing he suspected her of crime—would he still try and shield her?</p>
+
+<p>She was a curious woman—a woman of very strong magnetic charm. I
+myself hated the thought of connecting her with the crime in any way.</p>
+
+<p>Something in me said, "It can't be her!"</p>
+
+<p>Why?</p>
+
+<p>And an imp in my brain replied, "Because she's a very beautiful and
+attractive woman. That's why."</p>
+
+<p>There is, as Miss Marple would say, a lot of human nature in all of us.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_20">Chapter 20</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When I got back to the Vicarage I found that we were in the middle of a
+domestic crisis.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda met me in the hall and, with tears in her eyes, dragged me
+into the drawing room.</p>
+
+<p>"She's going."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mary. She's given notice."</p>
+
+<p>I really could not take the announcement in a tragic spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said, "we'll have to get another servant."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me a perfectly reasonable thing to say. When one servant
+goes, you get another. I was at a loss to understand Griselda's look of
+reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"Len—you are absolutely heartless. You don't <i>care</i>."</p>
+
+<p>I didn't. In fact, I felt almost lighthearted at the prospect of no
+more burnt puddings and undercooked vegetables.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to look about for a girl, and find one, and train her,"
+continued Griselda in a voice of acute self-pity.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mary trained?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she is."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," I said, "that somebody has heard her address us as 'sir'
+or 'ma'am,' and has immediately wrested her from us as a paragon. All I
+can say is, they'll be disappointed."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that," said Griselda. "Nobody else wants her. I don't see how
+they could. It's her feelings. They're upset because Lettice Protheroe
+said she didn't dust properly."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda often comes out with surprising statements, but this seemed
+to me so surprising that I questioned it. It seemed to me the most
+unlikely thing in the world that Lettice Protheroe should go out of
+her way to interfere in our domestic affairs and reprove our maid for
+slovenly housework. It was completely un-Lettice like, and I said so.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see," I said, "what our dust has to do with Lettice Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing at all," said my wife. "That's why it's so unreasonable. I
+wish you'd go and talk to Mary yourself. She's in the kitchen."</p>
+
+<p>I had no wish to talk to Mary on the subject, but Griselda, who is very
+energetic and quick, fairly pushed me through the baize door into the
+kitchen before I had time to rebel.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was peeling potatoes at the sink.</p>
+
+<p>"Er—good afternoon," I said nervously.</p>
+
+<p>Mary looked up and snorted, but made no other response.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Clement tells me that you wish to leave us," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Mary condescended to reply to this.</p>
+
+<p>"There's some things," she said darkly, "as no girl can be asked to put
+up with."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be more explicit, please?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me exactly what it is that has upset you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell you that in two words, I can" (Here, I may say, she vastly
+underestimated). "People coming snooping round here when my back's
+turned. Poking round. And what business of hers, is it, how often the
+study is dusted or turned out? If you and the missus don't complain,
+it's nobody else's business. If I give satisfaction to you that's all
+that matters, I say."</p>
+
+<p>Mary has never given satisfaction to me. I confess that I have a
+hankering after a room thoroughly dusted and tidied every morning.
+Mary's practice of flicking off the more obvious deposit on the surface
+of low tables is to my thinking grossly inadequate. However, I realized
+that at the moment it was no good to go into side issues.</p>
+
+<p>"Had to go to that inquest, didn't I? Standing up before twelve men,
+a respectable girl like me! And who knows what questions you may be
+asked. I'll tell you this. I've never before been in a place where they
+had a murder in the house, and I never want to be again."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you won't," I said. "On the law of averages I should say it was
+very unlikely."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't hold with the law. <i>He</i> was a magistrate. Many a poor fellow
+sent to jail for potting at a rabbit—and him with his pheasants and
+what not. And then, before he's so much as decently buried, that
+daughter of his comes round and says I don't do my work properly."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that Miss Protheroe has been here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Found her here when I came back from the Blue Boar. In the study she
+was. And 'Oh' she says, 'I'm looking for my little yellow berry—a
+little yellow hat. I left it here the other day.' 'Well,' I says, 'I
+haven't seen no hat. It wasn't here when I done the room on Thursday
+morning,' I says. And 'Oh!' she says, 'but I daresay you wouldn't see
+it. You don't spend much time doing a room, do you?' And with that she
+draws her finger along the mantelshelf and looks at it. As though I had
+time on a morning like this to take off all them ornaments and put them
+back, with the police only unlocking the room the night before. 'If
+the Vicar and his lady are satisfied that's all that matters, I think,
+Miss,' I said. And she laughs and goes out of the window and says 'Oh!
+but are you sure they are?'"</p>
+
+<p>"I see," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And there it is! A girl has her feelings! I'm sure I'd work my fingers
+to the bone for you and the Missus. And if she wants a new-fangled dish
+tried I'm always ready to try it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you are," I said soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"But she must have heard something or she wouldn't have said what she
+did. And if I don't give satisfaction I'd rather go. Not that I take
+any notice of what Miss Protheroe says. She's not loved up at the Hall,
+I can tell you. Never a 'please' or a 'thank you,' and everything
+scattered right and left. I wouldn't set any store by Miss Lettice
+Protheroe myself, for all that Mr. Dennis is so set upon her. But
+she's the kind that can always twist a young gentleman round her little
+finger."</p>
+
+<p>During all this, Mary had been extracting eyes from potatoes with such
+energy that they had been flying round the kitchen like hailstones. At
+this moment one hit me in the eye and caused a momentary pause in the
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think," I said, as I dabbed my eye with my handkerchief,
+"that you have been rather too inclined to take offence where none is
+meant? You know, Mary, your mistress will be very sorry to lose you."</p>
+
+<p>"I've nothing against the mistress—or against you, sir, for that
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, don't you think you're being rather silly?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a bit upset like—after the inquest and all. And a girl has her
+feelings. But I wouldn't like to cause the mistress inconvenience."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that's all right," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I left the kitchen to find Griselda and Dennis waiting for me in the
+hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" exclaimed Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"She's staying," I said, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Len," said my wife. "You <i>have</i> been clever."</p>
+
+<p>I felt rather inclined to disagree with her. I do not think I had been
+clever. It is my firm opinion that no servant could be a worse one than
+Mary. Any change, I consider, would have been a change for the better.
+But I like to please Griselda. I detailed the heads of Mary's grievance.</p>
+
+<p>"How like Lettice," said Dennis. "She couldn't have left that yellow
+beret of hers here on Wednesday. She was wearing it for tennis on
+Thursday."</p>
+
+<p>"That seems to me highly probable," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"She never knows where she's left anything," said Dennis, with a kind
+of affectionate pride and admiration that I felt was entirely uncalled
+for. "She loses about a dozen things every day."</p>
+
+<p>"A remarkably attractive trait," I observed.</p>
+
+<p>Any sarcasm missed Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>is</i> attractive," he said, with a deep sigh. "People are always
+proposing to her—she told me so."</p>
+
+<p>"They must be illicit proposals if they're made to her down here," I
+remarked. "We haven't got a bachelor in the place."</p>
+
+<p>"There's Dr. Stone," said Griselda, her eyes dancing.</p>
+
+<p>"He asked her to come and see the barrow the other day," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he did," said Griselda. "She <i>is</i> attractive, Len. Even
+bald-headed archæologists feel it."</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of S.A.," said Dennis sapiently.</p>
+
+<p>And yet Lawrence Redding is completely untouched by Lettice's charm.
+Griselda, however, explained that with the air of one who knew she was
+right.</p>
+
+<p>"Lawrence has got lots of S.A., himself. That kind always likes
+the—how shall I put it—the Quaker type. Very restrained and
+diffident. The kind of women whom everybody calls cold. I think Anne
+is the only woman who could ever hold Lawrence. I don't think they'll
+ever tire of each other. All the same, I think he's been rather stupid
+in one way. He's rather made use of Lettice, you know. I don't think he
+ever dreamed she cared—he's awfully modest in some ways—but I have a
+feeling she does."</p>
+
+<p>"She can't bear him," said Dennis positively. "She told me so."</p>
+
+<p>I have never seen anything like the pitying silence with which Griselda
+received this remark.</p>
+
+<p>I went into my study. There was, to my fancy, still a rather eerie
+feeling in the room. I knew that I must get over this. Once give in
+to that feeling, and I should probably never use the study again. I
+walked thoughtfully over to the writing table. Here Protheroe had sat,
+red-faced, hearty, self-righteous, and here, in a moment of time, he
+had been struck down. Here, where I was standing, an enemy had stood....</p>
+
+<p>And so—no more Protheroe....</p>
+
+<p>Here was the pen his fingers had held.</p>
+
+<p>On the floor was a faint dark stain—the rug had been sent to the
+cleaner's, but the blood had soaked through.</p>
+
+<p>I shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't use this room," I said aloud. "I can't use it."</p>
+
+<p>Then my eye was caught by something—a mere speck of bright blue. I
+bent down. Between the floor and the desk I saw a small object. I
+picked it up.</p>
+
+<p>I was standing staring at it in the palm of my hand when Griselda came
+in.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot to tell you, Len, Miss Marple wants us to go over tonight
+after dinner. To amuse the nephew. She's afraid of his being dull. I
+said we'd go."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you looking at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>I closed my hand, and looking at my wife, observed:</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't amuse Master Raymond West, my dear, he must be very hard
+to please."</p>
+
+<p>My wife said, "Don't be ridiculous, Len," and turned pink.</p>
+
+<p>She went out again, and I unclosed my hand.</p>
+
+<p>In the palm of my hand was a blue lapis lazuli earring, set in seed
+pearls.</p>
+
+<p>It was rather an unusual jewel, and I knew very well where I had seen
+it last.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_21">Chapter 21</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I cannot say that I have at any time a great admiration for Mr. Raymond
+West. He is, I know, supposed to be a brilliant novelist, and has made
+quite a name as a poet. His poems have no capital letters in them,
+which is, I believe, the essence of modernity. His books are about
+unpleasant people leading lives of surpassing dullness.</p>
+
+<p>He has a tolerant affection for "Aunt Jane," whom he alludes to in her
+presence as a "survival." She listens to his talk with a flattering
+interest, and if there is sometimes an amused twinkle in her eye I am
+sure he never notices it.</p>
+
+<p>He fastened on Griselda at once with flattering abruptness. They
+discussed modern plays, and from there went on to modern schemes of
+decoration. Griselda affects to laugh at Raymond West, but she is, I
+think, susceptible to his conversation.</p>
+
+<p>During my (dull) conversation with Miss Marple, I heard at intervals
+the reiteration "buried as you are down here."</p>
+
+<p>It began at last to irritate me. I said suddenly:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you consider us very much out of things down here?"</p>
+
+<p>Raymond West waved his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"I regard St. Mary Mead," he said authoritatively, "as a stagnant pool."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at us, prepared for resentment at his statement; but
+somewhat, I think, to his chagrin, no one displayed annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"That is really not a very good simile, dear Raymond," said Miss
+Marple briskly. "Nothing, I believe, is so full of life under the
+microscope as a drop of water from a stagnant pool."</p>
+
+<p>"Life—of a kind," admitted the novelist.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all much the same kind, really, isn't it?" said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"You compare yourself to a denizen of a stagnant pond, Aunt Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, you said something of the sort in your last book, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>No clever young man likes having his works quoted against himself.
+Raymond West was no exception.</p>
+
+<p>"That was entirely different," he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"Life is, after all, very much the same everywhere," said Miss Marple
+in her placid voice. "Getting born, you know, and growing up—and
+coming into contact with other people—getting jostled—and then
+marriage and more babies—"</p>
+
+<p>"And finally death," said Raymond West. "And not death with a death
+certificate always. Death in life."</p>
+
+<p>"Talking of death," said Griselda. "You know we've had a murder here?"</p>
+
+<p>Raymond West waved murder away with his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder is so crude," he said. "I take no interest in it."</p>
+
+<p>That statement did not take me in for a moment. They say all the world
+loves a lover—apply that saying to murder and you have an even more
+infallible truth. No one can fail to be interested in a murder. Simple
+people like Griselda and myself can admit the fact, but anyone like
+Raymond West has to pretend to be bored—at any rate for the first five
+minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple, however, gave her nephew away by remarking:</p>
+
+<p>"Raymond and I have been discussing nothing else all through dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"I take a great interest in all the local news," said Raymond hastily.
+He smiled benignly and tolerantly at Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a theory, Mr. West?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Logically," said Raymond West, again flourishing his cigarette, "only
+one person could have killed Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>We hung upon his words with flattering attention.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicar," said Raymond, and pointed his accusing finger at me.</p>
+
+<p>I gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he reassured me, "I know you didn't do it. Life is never
+what it should be. But think of the drama—the fitness—Churchwarden
+murdered in the Vicar's study by the Vicar. Delicious!"</p>
+
+<p>"And the motive?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! That's interesting." He sat up—allowed his cigarette to go out.
+"Inferiority complex, I think. Possibly too many inhibitions. I should
+like to write the story of the affair. Amazingly complex. Week after
+week, year after year, he's seen the man—at vestry meetings—at
+choir boys' outings—handing round the bag in church—bringing it
+to the altar. Always he dislikes the man—always he chokes down his
+dislike. It's unchristianlike, he won't encourage it. And so it festers
+underneath, and one day—"</p>
+
+<p>He made a graphic gesture.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda turned to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever felt like that, Len?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never," I said truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I hear you were wishing him out of the world not so long ago,"
+remarked Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>(That miserable Dennis! But my fault, of course, for ever making the
+remark.)</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I was," I said. "It was a stupid remark to make, but really
+I'd had a very trying morning with him."</p>
+
+<p>"That's disappointing," said Raymond West. "Because, of course, if your
+subconscious were really planning to do him in, it would never have
+allowed you to make that remark."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"My theory falls to the ground. This is probably a very ordinary
+murder—a revengeful poacher or something of that sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cram came to see me this afternoon," said Miss Marple. "I met her
+in the village and I asked her if she would like to see my garden."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she fond of gardens?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so," said Miss Marple with a faint twinkle. "But it
+makes a very useful excuse for talk, don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did you make of her?" asked Griselda. "I don't believe she's
+really so bad."</p>
+
+<p>"She volunteered a lot of information—really a lot of information,"
+said Miss Marple. "About herself, you know, and her people. They all
+seem to be dead or in India. Very sad. By the way, she has gone to Old
+Hall for the weekend."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it seems Mrs. Protheroe asked her—or she suggested it to Mrs.
+Protheroe—I don't quite know which way about it was. To do some
+secretarial work for her—there are so many letters to cope with. It
+turned out rather fortunately. Dr. Stone being away, she has nothing to
+do. What an excitement this barrow has been."</p>
+
+<p>"Stone?" said Raymond. "Is that the archæologist fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is excavating a barrow. On the Protheroe property."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a good man," said Raymond. "Wonderfully keen on his job. I met
+him at a dinner not long ago, and we had a most interesting talk. I
+must look him up."</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately," I said, "he's just gone to London for the weekend.
+Why, you actually ran into him at the station this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I ran into you. You had a little fat man with you—with glasses on."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—Dr. Stone."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear fellow—that wasn't Stone."</p>
+
+<p>"Not Stone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the archæologist. I know him quite well. The man wasn't Stone—not
+the faintest resemblance."</p>
+
+<p>We stared at each other. In particular I stared at Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"The suitcase," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"It reminds me of the time the man went round pretending to be the gas
+inspector," murmured Miss Marple. "Quite a little haul he got."</p>
+
+<p>"An impostor," said Raymond West. "Now this is really interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"The question is, has it anything to do with murder?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Not necessarily," I said. "But—" I looked at Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"It is," she said, "a Peculiar Thing. Another Peculiar Thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said rising. "I rather feel the Inspector ought to be told
+about this at once."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_22">Chapter 22</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Inspector Slack's orders, once I had got him on the telephone, were
+brief and emphatic. Nothing was to "get about." In particular, Miss
+Cram was not to be alarmed. In the meantime, a search was to be
+instituted for the suitcase in the neighbourhood of the barrow.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda and I returned home very excited over this new development. We
+could not say much with Dennis present, as we had faithfully promised
+Inspector Slack to breathe no word to anybody.</p>
+
+<p>In any case, Dennis was full of his own troubles. He came into my
+study and began fingering things and shuffling his feet and looking
+thoroughly embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Dennis?" I said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Len. I don't want to go to sea."</p>
+
+<p>I was astonished. The boy had been so very decided about his career up
+to now.</p>
+
+<p>"But you were so keen on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I've changed my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go into finance."</p>
+
+<p>I was even more surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean—finance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that. I want to go into the City."</p>
+
+<p>"But my dear boy, I am sure you would not like the life. Even if I
+obtained a post for you in a bank—"</p>
+
+<p>Dennis said that wasn't what he meant. He didn't want to go into
+a bank. I asked him what exactly he did mean, and of course, as I
+suspected, the boy didn't really know.</p>
+
+<p>By "going into finance" he simply meant getting rich quickly, which,
+with the optimism of youth, he imagined was a certainty if one "went
+into the City." I disabused him of this notion as gently as I could.</p>
+
+<p>"What's put it into your head?" I asked. "You were so satisfied with
+the idea of going to sea."</p>
+
+<p>"I know, Uncle Len, but I've been thinking. I shall want to marry some
+day—and, I mean, you've got to be rich to marry a girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Facts disprove your theory," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I know—but a real girl. I mean, a girl who's used to things."</p>
+
+<p>It was very vague but I thought I knew what he meant.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," I said gently, "all girls aren't like Lettice Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>He fired up at once.</p>
+
+<p>"You're awfully unfair to her. You don't like her. Griselda doesn't
+either. She says she's tiresome."</p>
+
+<p>From the feminine point of view, Griselda is quite right. Lettice <i>is</i>
+tiresome. I could quite realize, however, that a boy would resent the
+adjective.</p>
+
+<p>"If only people made a few allowances. Why even the Hartley Napiers are
+going about grousing about her at a time like this! Just because she
+left their old tennis party a bit early. Why should she stay if she was
+bored? Jolly decent of her to go at all, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a favour," I said, but Dennis suspected no malice. He was full
+of his own grievance on Lettice's behalf.</p>
+
+<p>"She's awfully unselfish really. Just to show you, she made me stay.
+Naturally I wanted to go too. But she wouldn't hear of it. Said it was
+too bad on the Napiers. So, just to please her, I stopped on a quarter
+of an hour."</p>
+
+<p>The young have very curious views on unselfishness.</p>
+
+<p>"And now I hear Susan Hartley Napier is going about everywhere saying
+Lettice has rotten manners."</p>
+
+<p>"If I were you," I said, "I shouldn't worry."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well, but—"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd—I'd do anything for Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"Very few of us can do anything for anyone else," I said. "However much
+we wish it, we are powerless."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I were dead," said Dennis.</p>
+
+<p>Poor lad. Calf love is a virulent disease. I forebore to say any of the
+obvious and probably irritating things which come so easily to one's
+lips. Instead I said good night, and went up to bed.</p>
+
+<p>I took the eight o'clock service the following morning, and when I
+returned found Griselda sitting at the breakfast table with an open
+note in her hand. It was from Anne Protheroe.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Griselda</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>If you and the Vicar could come up and lunch here quietly today, I
+should be so very grateful. Something very strange has occurred and I
+should like Mr. Clement's advice.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Please don't mention this when you come, as I have said nothing to
+anyone.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>With love</i>,</p>
+<p class="ph3"><i>Yours affectionately</i>,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Anne Protheroe</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"We must go, of course," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what can have happened?"</p>
+
+<p>I wondered too.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," I said to Griselda, "I don't feel we are really at the end
+of this case yet."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean not till someone has really been arrested?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "I didn't mean that. I mean that there are ramifications,
+undercurrents, that we know nothing about. There are a whole lot of
+things to clear up before we get at the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean things that don't really matter, but that get in the way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think that expresses my meaning very well."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we're all making a great fuss," said Dennis, helping himself
+to marmalade. "It's a jolly good thing old Protheroe is dead. Nobody
+liked him. Oh! I know the police have got to worry—it's their job. But
+I rather hope myself they'll never find out. I should hate to see Slack
+promoted, going about swelling with importance over his cleverness."</p>
+
+<p>I am human enough to feel that I agreed over the matter of Slack's
+promotion. A man who goes about systematically rubbing people up the
+wrong way cannot hope to be popular.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Haydock thinks rather like I do," went on Dennis. "He'd never give
+a murderer up to justice. He said so."</p>
+
+<p>I think that that is the danger of Haydock's views. They may be sound
+in themselves—it is not for me to say—but they produce an impression
+on the young, careless mind which I am sure Haydock himself never meant
+to convey.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda looked out of the window and remarked that there were
+reporters in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they're photographing the study windows again," she said
+with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>We had suffered a good deal in this way. There was first the idle
+curiosity of the village—everyone had come to gape and stare. There
+were next the reporters armed with cameras, and the village again to
+watch the reporters. In the end we had to have a constable from Much
+Benham on duty outside the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I said, "the funeral is tomorrow morning. After that, surely,
+the excitement will die down."</p>
+
+<p>I noticed a few reporters hanging about Old Hall when we arrived there.
+They accosted me with various queries, to which I gave the invariable
+answer (we had found it the best) that I had nothing to say.</p>
+
+<p>We were shown by the butler into the drawing room, the sole occupant
+of which turned out to be Miss Cram—apparently in a state of high
+enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a surprise, isn't it?" she said as she shook hands. "I never
+should have thought of such a thing, but Mrs. Protheroe is kind, isn't
+she? And, of course, it isn't what you might call nice for a young girl
+to be staying alone at a place like the Blue Boar, reporters about and
+all. And, of course, it's not as though I haven't been able to make
+myself useful—you really need a secretary at a time like this, and
+Miss Protheroe doesn't do anything to help, does she?"</p>
+
+<p>I was amused to notice that the old animosity against Lettice
+persisted, but that the girl had apparently become a warm partisan of
+Anne's. At the same time I wondered if the story of her coming here was
+strictly accurate. In her account, the initiative had come from Anne,
+but I wondered if that were really so. The first mention of disliking
+to be at the Blue Boar alone might have easily come from the girl
+herself. While keeping an open mind on the subject, I did not fancy
+that Miss Cram was strictly truthful.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Anne Protheroe entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed very quietly in black. She carried in her hand a Sunday
+paper, which she held out to me with a rueful glance.</p>
+
+<p>"I've never had any experience of this sort of thing. It's pretty
+ghastly, isn't it? I saw a reporter at the inquest. I just said that I
+was terribly upset and had nothing to say, and then he asked me if I
+wasn't very anxious to find my husband's murderer, and I said 'Yes.'
+And then whether I had any suspicions and I said 'No.' And whether I
+didn't think the crime showed local knowledge, and I said it seemed to,
+certainly. And that was all. And now look at this!"</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the page was a photograph, evidently taken at least
+ten years ago—Heaven knows where they had dug it out. There were large
+headlines.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="ph2">WIDOW DECLARES SHE WILL NEVER REST TILL SHE HAS HUNTED DOWN HUSBAND'S
+MURDERER.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Protheroe, the widow of the murdered man, is certain that
+the murderer must be looked for locally. She has suspicions but no
+certainty. She declared herself prostrated with grief, but reiterated
+her determination to hunt down the murderer.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"It doesn't sound like me, does it?" said Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay it might have been worse," I said handing back the paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Impudent, aren't they?" said Miss Cram. "I'd like to see one of those
+fellows trying to get something out of me."</p>
+
+<p>By the twinkle in Griselda's eye, I was convinced that she regarded
+this statement as being more literally true than Miss Cram intended it
+to appear.</p>
+
+<p>Luncheon was announced and we went in. Lettice did not come in till
+half way through the meal, when she drifted into the empty place with a
+smile for Griselda and a nod for me. I watched her with some attention,
+for reasons of my own, but she seemed much the same vague creature as
+usual. Extremely pretty—that in fairness I had to admit. She was still
+not wearing mourning, but was dressed in a shade of pale green that
+brought out all the delicacy of her fair colouring.</p>
+
+<p>After we had had coffee, Anne said quietly:</p>
+
+<p>"I want to have a little talk with the Vicar. I will take him up to my
+sitting room."</p>
+
+<p>At last I was to learn the reason of our summons. I rose and followed
+her up the stairs. She paused at the door of the room. As I was about
+to speak, she stretched out a hand to stop me. She remained listening,
+looking down towards the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. They are going out into the garden. No—don't go in there. We
+can go straight up."</p>
+
+<p>Much to my surprise she led the way along the corridor to the extremity
+of the wing. Here a narrow, ladder-like staircase rose to the floor
+above and she mounted it, I following. We found ourselves in a dusty
+boarded passage. Anne opened a door and led me into a large, dim attic
+which was evidently used as a lumber room. There were trunks there, old
+broken furniture, a few stacked pictures, and the many countless odds
+and ends which a lumber room collects.</p>
+
+<p>My surprise was so evident that she smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, I must explain. I am sleeping very lightly just now.
+Last night—or rather this morning about three o'clock—I was convinced
+that I heard someone moving about the house. I listened for some time,
+and at last got up and came out to see. Out on the landing I realized
+that the sounds came, not from down below, but from up above. I came
+along to the foot of these stairs. Again I thought I heard a sound.
+I called up 'Is anybody there?' But there was no answer, and I heard
+nothing more, so I assumed that my nerves had been playing tricks on me
+and went back to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"However, early this morning, I came up here—simply out of curiosity.
+And I found <i>this</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>She stooped down and turned round a picture that was leaning against
+the wall with the back of the canvas towards us.</p>
+
+<p>I gave a gasp of surprise. The picture was evidently a portrait in
+oils, but the face had been hacked and cut in such a savage way as to
+render it unrecognizable. Moreover the cuts were clearly quite fresh.</p>
+
+<p>"What an extraordinary thing," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it? Tell me, can you think of any explanation?"</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a kind of savagery about it," I said, "that I don't like. It
+looks as though it had been done in a fit of maniacal rage."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's what I thought."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the portrait?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the least idea. I have never seen it before. All these
+things were in the attic when I married Lucius and came here to live. I
+have never been through them or bothered about them."</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary," I commented.</p>
+
+<p>I stooped down and examined the other pictures. They were very much
+what you would expect to find—some very mediocre landscapes, some
+oleographs, and a few cheaply framed reproductions.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing else helpful. A large, old-fashioned trunk, of the
+kind that used to be called an "ark," had the initials E.P. upon it. I
+raised the lid. It was empty. Nothing else in the attic was the least
+suggestive.</p>
+
+<p>"It really is a most amazing occurrence," I said. "It's so—senseless."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Anne. "That frightens me a little."</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing more to see. I accompanied her down to her sitting
+room where she closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I ought to do anything about it? Tell the police?"</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"It's hard to say on the face of it whether—"</p>
+
+<p>"It has anything to do with the murder or not," finished Anne. "I
+know. That's what is so difficult. On the face of it, there seems no
+connection whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "but it is another Peculiar Thing."</p>
+
+<p>We both sat silent with puzzled brows.</p>
+
+<p>"What are your plans, if I may ask?" I said presently.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to live here for at least another six months!" She said it
+defiantly. "I don't want to. I hate the idea of living here. But I
+think it's the only thing to be done. Otherwise people will say that I
+ran away—that I had a guilty conscience."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely not."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, they will. Especially when—" She paused and then said: "When
+the six months are up—I am going to marry Lawrence." Her eyes met
+mine. "We're neither of us going to wait any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"I supposed," I said, "that that would happen."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she broke down, burying her head in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know how grateful I am to you—you don't know. We'd said
+good-bye to each other—he was going away. I feel—I feel not so awful
+about Lucius' death. If we'd been planning to go away together, and
+he'd died then—it wouldn't be so awful now. But you made us both see how
+wrong it would be. That's why I'm grateful."</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, am thankful," I said gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, you know," she sat up. "Unless the real murderer is
+found, they'll always think it was Lawrence. Oh! yes, they will. And
+especially when he marries me."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, Dr. Haydock's evidence made it perfectly clear—"</p>
+
+<p>"What do people care about evidence? They don't even know about it.
+And medical evidence never means anything to outsiders anyway. That's
+another reason why I'm staying on here. Mr. Clement, <i>I'm going to find
+out the truth</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes flashed as she spoke. She added:</p>
+
+<p>"That's why I asked that girl here."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Cram?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You did ask her, then. I mean, it was your idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Entirely. Oh! as a matter of fact, she whined a bit. At the
+inquest—she was there when I arrived. No, I asked her here
+deliberately."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely," I cried, "you don't think that that silly young woman
+could have had anything to do with the crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully easy to appear silly, Mr. Clement. It's one of the
+easiest things in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you really think—?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I don't. Honestly I don't. What I do think is that that girl knows
+something—or might know something. I wanted to study her at close
+quarters."</p>
+
+<p>"And the very night she arrives, that picture is slashed," I said
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You think she did it? But why? It seems so utterly absurd and
+impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me utterly impossible and absurd that your husband should
+have been murdered in my study," I said bitterly. "But he was."</p>
+
+<p>"I know." She laid her hand on my arm. "It's dreadful for you. I do
+realize that, though I haven't said very much about it."</p>
+
+<p>I took the blue lapis lazuli earring from my pocket and held it out to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"This is yours, I think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes." She held out her hand for it with a pleased smile. "Where
+did you find it?"</p>
+
+<p>But I did not put the jewel into her outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind," I said, "if I kept it a little longer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly." She looked puzzled and a little inquiring. I did not
+satisfy her curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Instead I asked her how she was situated financially.</p>
+
+<p>"It is an impertinent question," I said. "But I really do not mean it
+as such."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it's impertinent at all. You and Griselda are the best
+friends I have here. And I like that funny old Miss Marple. Lucius was
+very well off, you know. He left things pretty equally divided between
+me and Lettice. Old Hall goes to me, but Lettice is to be allowed to
+choose enough furniture to furnish a small house, and she is left a
+separate sum for the purpose of buying one, so as to even things up."</p>
+
+<p>"What are her plans, do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne made a comical grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't tell them to me. I imagine she will leave here as soon as
+possible. She doesn't like me—she never has. I daresay it's my fault,
+though I've really always tried to be decent. But I suppose any girl
+resents a young stepmother."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you fond of her?" I asked bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>She did not reply at once, which convinced me that Anne Protheroe is a
+very honest woman.</p>
+
+<p>"I was at first," she said. "She was such a pretty little girl. I don't
+think I am now. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because she doesn't like
+me. I like being liked, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"We all do," I said, and Anne Protheroe smiled.</p>
+
+<p>I had one more task to perform. That was to get a word alone with
+Lettice Protheroe. I managed that easily enough, catching sight of her
+in the deserted drawing room. Griselda and Gladys Cram were out in the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>I went in and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Lettice," I said, "I want to speak to you about something."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>I had thought beforehand what to say. I held out the lapis earring and
+said quietly,</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you drop that in my study?"</p>
+
+<p>I saw her stiffen for a moment—it was almost instantaneous. Her
+recovery was so quick that I myself could hardly have sworn to the
+movement. Then she said carelessly:</p>
+
+<p>"I never dropped anything in your study. That's not mine. That's
+Anne's."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why ask me then? Anne must have dropped it."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Protheroe has only been in my study once since the murder, and
+then she was wearing black and so would not have been likely to have
+had on a blue earring."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," said Lettice, "I suppose she must have dropped it
+before." She added, "That's only logical."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very logical," I said. "I suppose you don't happen to remember
+when your stepmother was wearing these earrings last?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" She looked at me with a puzzled, trustful gaze. "Is it very
+important?"</p>
+
+<p>"It might be," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try and think." She sat there knitting her brows. I have never
+seen Lettice Protheroe look more charming than she did at that moment.
+"Oh! yes," she said suddenly. "She had them on on Thursday. I remember
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Thursday," I said slowly, "was the day of the murder. Mrs. Protheroe
+came to the studio in the garden that day, but, if you remember, in
+her evidence, she only came as far as the study window, not inside the
+room."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you find this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rolled underneath the desk."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it looks, doesn't it," said Lettice coolly, "as though she hadn't
+spoken the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that she came right in and stood by the desk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it looks like it, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes met mine calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"If you want to know," she said calmly, "I never have thought she was
+speaking the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"And I <i>know you</i> are not, Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>She was startled.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," I said, "that the last time I saw this earring was on Friday
+morning when I came up here with Colonel Melchett. It was lying with
+its fellow on your stepmother's dressing table. I actually handled them
+both."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!—" She wavered, then suddenly flung herself sideways over the
+arm of her chair and burst into tears. Her long, fair hair hung down
+almost touching the floor. It was a strange attitude—beautiful and
+unrestrained.</p>
+
+<p>I let her sob for some moments in silence and then I said very gently:</p>
+
+<p>"Lettice, why did you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up, flinging her hair wildly back. She looked wild—almost
+terrified.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"What made you do it? Was it jealousy? Dislike of Anne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!—Oh! yes." She pushed the hair back from her face and seemed
+suddenly to regain complete self-possession. "Yes, you can call it
+jealousy. I've always disliked Anne—ever since she came queening
+it here. I put the damned thing under the desk. I hoped it would
+get her into trouble. It would have done if you hadn't been such a
+Nosey Parker, fingering things on dressing tables. Anyway, it isn't a
+clergyman's business to go about helping the police."</p>
+
+<p>It was a spiteful childish outburst. I took no notice of it. Indeed at
+that moment, she seemed a very pathetic child.</p>
+
+<p>Her childish attempt at vengeance against Anne seemed hardly to be
+taken seriously. I told her so, and added that I should return the
+earring to her and say nothing of the circumstances in which I had
+found it. She seemed rather touched by that.</p>
+
+<p>"That's nice of you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She paused a minute and then said, keeping her face averted and
+evidently choosing her words with care:</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Mr. Clement, I should—I should get Dennis away from here
+soon, if I were you. I—I think it would be better."</p>
+
+<p>"Dennis?" I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise but with a trace of
+amusement too.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be better," she added, still in the same awkward
+manner. "I'm sorry about Dennis. I didn't think he—anyway, I'm sorry."</p>
+
+<p>We left it at that.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_23">Chapter 23</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On the way back, I proposed to Griselda that we should make a detour
+and go round by the barrow. I was anxious to see if the police were at
+work and, if so, what they had found. Griselda, however, had things to
+do at home, so I was left to make the expedition on my own.</p>
+
+<p>I found Constable Hurst in charge of operations.</p>
+
+<p>"No sign so far, sir," he reported, "and yet it stands to reason that
+this is the only place for a <i>cache</i>."</p>
+
+<p>His use of the word <i>cache</i> puzzled me for the moment, as he pronounced
+it catch, but his real meaning occurred to me almost at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatimeantersay is, sir, where else could the young woman be going,
+starting into the wood by that path? It leads to Old Hall, and it leads
+here, and that's about all."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," I said, "that Inspector Slack would disdain such a simple
+course as asking the young lady straight out."</p>
+
+<p>"Anxious not to put the wind up her," said Hurst. "Anything she writes
+to Stone or he writes to her may throw light on things—once she knows
+we're on to her, she'd shut up like <i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Like <i>what</i> exactly was left in doubt, but I personally doubted Miss
+Gladys Cram ever being shut up in the way described. It was impossible
+to imagine her as other than overflowing with conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"When a man's an h'impostor, you want to know <i>why</i> he's an
+h'impostor," said Constable Hurst didactically.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And the answer is to be found in this here barrow—or else why was he
+forever messing about with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>raison d'être</i> for prowling about," I suggested, but this bit of
+French was too much for the constable. He revenged himself for not
+understanding it by saying coldly:</p>
+
+<p>"That's the h'amateur's point of view."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway, you haven't found the suitcase," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall do, sir. Not a doubt of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure," I said. "I've been thinking. Miss Marple said it was
+quite a short time before the girl reappeared empty-handed. In that
+case, she wouldn't have had time to get up here and back."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't take any notice of what old ladies say. When they've seen
+something curious, and are waiting all eager like, why time simply
+flies for them. And anyway, no lady knows anything about time."</p>
+
+<p>I often wonder why the whole world is so prone to generalize.
+Generalizations are seldom or ever true, and are usually utterly
+inaccurate. I have a poor sense of time myself (hence the keeping of my
+clock fast), and Miss Marple, I should say, has a very acute one. Her
+clocks keep time to the minute, and she herself is rigidly punctual on
+every occasion.</p>
+
+<p>However I had no intention of arguing with Constable Hurst on the
+point. I wished him good afternoon and good luck, and went on my way.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as I was nearing home that the idea came to me. There was
+nothing to lead up to it. It just flashed into my brain as a possible
+solution.</p>
+
+<p>You will remember that on my first search of the path, the day after
+the murder, I had found the bushes disturbed in a certain place.
+They proved, or so I thought at the time, to have been disturbed by
+Lawrence, bent on the same errand as myself.</p>
+
+<p>But I remembered that afterwards he and I together had come upon
+another faintly marked trail which proved to be that of the Inspector.
+On thinking it over, I distinctly remembered that the first trail
+(Lawrence's) had been much more noticeable than the second, as though
+more than one person had been passing that way. And I reflected that
+that was probably what had drawn Lawrence's attention to it in the
+first instance. Supposing that it had originally been made by either
+Dr. Stone or else Miss Cram?</p>
+
+<p>I remembered, or else I imagined remembering, that there had been
+several withered leaves on broken twigs. If so, the trail could not
+have been made the afternoon of our search.</p>
+
+<p>I was just approaching the spot in question. I recognized it easily
+enough, and once more forced my way through the bushes. This time
+I noticed fresh twigs broken. Someone <i>had</i> passed this way since
+Lawrence and myself.</p>
+
+<p>I soon came to the place where I had encountered Lawrence. The faint
+trail, however, persisted farther, and I continued to follow it.
+Suddenly it widened out into a little clearing, which showed signs
+of recent upheaval. I say a clearing, because the denseness of the
+undergrowth was thinned out there, but the branches of the trees met
+overhead and the whole place was not more than a few feet across.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side, the undergrowth grew densely again and it seemed
+quite clear that no one had forced a way through it recently.
+Nevertheless, it seemed to have been disturbed in one place.</p>
+
+<p>I went across and kneeled down, thrusting the bushes aside with both
+hands. A glint of a shiny brown surface rewarded me. Full of excitement
+I thrust my arm in and with a good deal of difficulty I extracted a
+small brown suitcase.</p>
+
+<p>I uttered an ejaculation of triumph. I had been successful. Coldly
+snubbed by Constable Hurst, I had yet proved right in my reasoning.
+Here without doubt was the suitcase carried by Miss Cram. I tried the
+hasp, but it was locked.</p>
+
+<p>As I rose to my feet, I noticed a small brownish crystal lying on the
+ground. Almost automatically, I picked it up and slipped it into my
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Then, grasping my find by the handle, I retraced my steps to the path.</p>
+
+<p>As I climbed over the stile into the lane, an agitated voice near at
+hand called out.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Mr. Clement. You've found it! How clever of you!"</p>
+
+<p>Mentally registering the fact that, in the art of seeing without being
+seen, Miss Marple had no rival, I balanced my find on the palings
+between us.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the one," said Miss Marple. "I'd know it anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>This, I thought, was a slight exaggeration. There are thousands of
+cheap shiny suitcases all exactly alike. No one could recognize one,
+particularly one seen from such a distance away by moonlight, but I
+realized that the whole business of the suitcase was Miss Marple's
+particular triumph and, as such, she was entitled to a little
+pardonable exaggeration.</p>
+
+<p>"It's locked, I suppose, Mr. Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'm just going to take it down to the police station."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think it would be better to telephone?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course unquestionably it would be better to telephone. To stride
+through the village, suitcase in hand, would be to court a probably
+undesirable publicity.</p>
+
+<p>So I unlatched Miss Marple's garden gate and entered the house by the
+French window, and from the sanctity of the drawing room, with the door
+shut, I telephoned my news.</p>
+
+<p>The result was that Inspector Slack announced he would be up himself in
+a couple of jiffies.</p>
+
+<p>When he arrived it was in his most cantankerous mood.</p>
+
+<p>"So we've got it, have we?" he said. "You know, sir, you shouldn't keep
+things to yourself. If you've any reason to believe you know where the
+article in question was hidden, you ought to have reported it to the
+proper authorities."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a pure accident," I said. "The idea just happened to occur to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's a likely tale. Nearly three quarters of a mile of woodland,
+and you go right to the proper spot and lay your hand upon it."</p>
+
+<p>I would have given Inspector Slack the steps in reasoning which led
+me to this particular spot, but he had achieved his usual result of
+putting my back up. I said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Inspector Slack, eyeing the suitcase with dislike and
+would-be indifference. "I suppose we might as well have a look at
+what's inside."</p>
+
+<p>He had brought an assortment of keys and wire with him. The lock was a
+cheap affair. In a couple of seconds the case was open.</p>
+
+<p>I don't know what we had expected to find—something sternly
+sensational, I imagine. But the first thing that met our eyes was a
+greasy plaid scarf. The Inspector lifted it out. Next came a faded dark
+blue overcoat, very much the worse for wear. A checked cap followed.</p>
+
+<p>"A shoddy lot," said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>A pair of boots, very down at heel and battered, came next. At the
+bottom of the suitcase was a parcel done up in newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy shirt, I suppose," said the Inspector bitterly, as he tore it
+open.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later he had caught his breath in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>For inside the parcel were some demure little silver objects and a
+round platter of the same metal.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple gave a shrill exclamation of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>"The trencher salts," she exclaimed. "Colonel Protheroe's trencher
+salts, and the Charles II tazza. Did you ever hear of such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector had got very red.</p>
+
+<p>"So that was the game," he muttered. "Robbery. But I can't make it out.
+There's been no mention of these things being missing."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they haven't discovered the loss," I suggested. "I presume
+these valuable things would not have been kept out in common use.
+Colonel Protheroe probably kept them locked away in a safe."</p>
+
+<p>"I must investigate this," said the Inspector. "I'll go right up to
+Old Hall now. So that's why our Dr. Stone made himself scarce. What
+with the murder and one thing and another, he was afraid we'd get wind
+of his activities. As likely as not his belongings might have been
+searched. He got the girl to hide them in the wood with a suitable
+change of clothing. He meant to come back by a roundabout route and
+go off with them one night while she stayed here to disarm suspicion.
+Well, there's one thing to the good. This lets him out over the murder.
+He'd nothing to do with that. Quite a different game."</p>
+
+<p>He repacked the suitcase and took his departure, refusing Miss Marple's
+offer of a glass of sherry.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's one mystery cleared up," I said with a sigh. "What Slack
+says is quite true; there are no grounds for suspecting him of the
+murder. Everything's accounted for quite satisfactorily."</p>
+
+<p>"It really would seem so," said Miss Marple. "Although one never can be
+quite certain, can one?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's a complete lack of motive," I pointed out. "He'd got what he
+came for and was clearing out."</p>
+
+<p>"Y—es."</p>
+
+<p>She was clearly not quite satisfied, and I looked at her in some
+curiosity. She hastened to answer my inquiring gaze with a kind of
+apologetic eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"I've no doubt I am <i>quite</i> wrong. I'm so stupid about these things.
+But I just wondered—I mean this silver is very valuable, is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>"A tazza sold the other day for over a thousand pounds, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean—it's not the value of the metal."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it's what one might call a connoisseur's value."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I mean. The sale of such things would take a little time
+to arrange, or, even if it was arranged, it couldn't be carried through
+without secrecy. I mean—if the robbery were reported and a hue and cry
+were raised, well, the things couldn't be marketed at all."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite see what you mean?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I'm putting it badly." She became more flustered and
+apologetic. "But it seems to me that—that the things couldn't just
+have been abstracted, so to speak. The only satisfactory thing to
+do would be to replace these things with copies. Then, perhaps, the
+robbery wouldn't be discovered for some time."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a very ingenious idea," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be the only way to do it, wouldn't it? And if so, of course,
+as you say, once the substitution had been accomplished, there wouldn't
+have been any reason for murdering Colonel Protheroe—quite the
+reverse."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," I said. "That's what I said."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I just wondered—I don't know, of course—and Colonel
+Protheroe always talked a lot about doing things before he actually
+did do them, and of course sometimes never did them at all, but he did
+say—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he was going to have all his things valued—a man down from
+London. For probate—no, that's when you're dead—for insurance.
+Someone told him that was the thing to do. He talked about it a great
+deal, and the importance of having it done. Of course, I don't know if
+he had made any actual arrangement, but if he had...."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," I said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, the moment the expert saw the silver, he'd know, and
+then Colonel Protheroe would remember having shown the things to Dr.
+Stone—I wonder if it was done then—legerdemain, don't they call it?
+So clever—and then, well, the fat would be in the fire, to use an
+old-fashioned expression."</p>
+
+<p>"I see your idea," I said. "I think we ought to find out for certain."</p>
+
+<p>I went once more to the telephone. In a few minutes I was through to
+Old Hall and speaking to Anne Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it's nothing very important. Has the Inspector arrived yet? Oh!
+well, he's on his way. Mrs. Protheroe, can you tell me if the contents
+of Old Hall were ever valued? What's that you say?"</p>
+
+<p>Her answer came clear and prompt. I thanked her, replaced the receiver
+and turned to Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"That's very definite. Colonel Protheroe had made arrangements for
+a man to come down from London on Monday—tomorrow—to make a full
+valuation. Owing to the Colonel's death, the matter has been put off."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there <i>was</i> a motive," said Miss Marple softly.</p>
+
+<p>"A motive, yes. But that's all. You forget. When the shot was fired,
+Dr. Stone had just joined the others, or was climbing over the stile in
+order to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Marple thoughtfully. "So that rules him out."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_24">Chapter 24</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I returned to the Vicarage to find Hawes waiting for me in my study.
+He was pacing up and down nervously, and when I entered the room he
+started as though he had been shot.</p>
+
+<p>"You must excuse me," he said, wiping his forehead. "My nerves are all
+to pieces lately."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow," I said, "you positively must get away for a change.
+We shall have you breaking down altogether, and that will never do."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't desert my post. No, that is a thing I will never do."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not a case of desertion. You are ill. I'm sure Haydock would
+agree with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Haydock—Haydock. What kind of a doctor is he? An ignorant country
+practitioner."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're unfair to him. He has always been considered a very
+able man in his profession."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! perhaps. Yes, I daresay. But I don't like him. However, that's not
+what I came to say. I came to ask you if you would be kind enough to
+preach tonight instead of me. I—I really do not feel equal to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly. I will take the service for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. I wish to take the service. I am perfectly fit. It is only the
+idea of getting up in the pulpit, of all those eyes staring at me...."</p>
+
+<p>He shut his eyes and swallowed convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear to me that there was something very much indeed the
+matter with Hawes. He seemed aware of my thoughts, for he opened his
+eyes and said quickly,</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing really wrong with me. It is just these
+headaches—these awful racking headaches. I wonder if you could let me
+have a glass of water."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I went and fetched it myself from the tap. Ringing bells is a
+profitless form of exercise in our house.</p>
+
+<p>I brought the water to him and he thanked me. He took from his pocket
+a small cardboard box and, opening it, extracted a rice paper capsule,
+which he swallowed with the aid of the water.</p>
+
+<p>"A headache powder," he explained.</p>
+
+<p>I suddenly wondered whether Hawes might have become addicted to drugs.
+It would explain a great many of his peculiarities.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't take too many, I hope," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"No—oh, no. Dr. Haydock warned me against that. But it is really
+wonderful. They bring instant relief."</p>
+
+<p>Indeed he already seemed calmer and more composed.</p>
+
+<p>He stood up.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will preach tonight? It's very good of you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. And I insist on taking the service too. Get along home and
+rest. No, I won't have any argument. Not another word."</p>
+
+<p>He thanked me again. Then he said, his eyes sliding past me to the
+window:</p>
+
+<p>"You—you have been up at Old Hall today, haven't you, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me—but were you sent for?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him in surprise, and he flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, sir. I—I just thought some new development might have
+arisen, and that that was why Mrs. Protheroe had sent for you."</p>
+
+<p>I had not the faintest intention of satisfying Hawes' curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"She wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements and one or two other
+small matters with me," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! That was all. I see."</p>
+
+<p>I did not speak. He fidgeted from foot to foot, and finally said:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Redding came to see me last night. I—I can't imagine why."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't he tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He—he just said he thought he'd look me up. Said it was a bit lonely
+in the evenings. He's never done such a thing before."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's supposed to be pleasant company," I said smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he want to come and see me for? I don't like it." His voice
+rose shrilly. "He spoke of dropping in again. What does it all mean?
+What idea do you think he has got into his head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you suppose he has any ulterior motive?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like it," repeated Hawes obstinately. "I've never gone against
+<i>him</i> in any way. I never suggested that <i>he</i> was guilty—even when
+he accused himself, I said it seemed most incomprehensible. If I've
+had suspicions of anybody, it's been of Archer—never of him. Archer
+is a totally different proposition—a godless, irreligious ruffian. A
+drunken blackguard."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" I said. "After all, we
+really know very little about the man."</p>
+
+<p>"A poacher, in and out of prison, capable of anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think he shot Colonel Protheroe?" I asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Hawes has an inveterate dislike of answering "yes" or "no." I have
+noticed it several times lately.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think yourself, sir, that it's the only possible solution?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as we know," I said, "there's no evidence of any kind against
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"His threats," said Hawes eagerly. "You forget about his threats."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sick and tired of hearing about Archer's threats. As far as I can
+make out, there is no direct evidence that he ever made any."</p>
+
+<p>"He was determined to be revenged on Colonel Protheroe. He primed
+himself with drink, and then shot him."</p>
+
+<p>"That's pure supposition."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will admit that it's perfectly probable?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Possible, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Possible, yes."</p>
+
+<p>Hawes glanced at me sideways.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you think it's probable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," I said, "a man like Archer wouldn't think of shooting a man
+with a pistol. It's the wrong weapon."</p>
+
+<p>Hawes seemed taken aback by my argument. Evidently it wasn't the
+objection he had expected.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think the objection is feasible?" he asked doubtingly.</p>
+
+<p>"To my mind it is a complete stumbling block to Archer's having
+committed the crime," I said.</p>
+
+<p>In face of my positive assertion, Hawes said no more. He thanked me
+again and left.</p>
+
+<p>I had gone as far as the front door with him, and on the hall table
+I saw four notes. They had certain characteristics in common. The
+handwriting was almost unmistakably feminine; they all bore the words
+"By hand, Urgent," and the only difference I could see was that one was
+noticeably dirtier than the rest.</p>
+
+<p>Their similarity gave me a curious feeling of seeing—not double but
+quadruple.</p>
+
+<p>Mary came out of the kitchen and caught me staring at them.</p>
+
+<p>"Come by hand since lunch time," she volunteered. "All but one. I found
+that in the box."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded, gathered them up and took them into the study.</p>
+
+<p>The first one ran thus.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Clement</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>Something has come to my knowledge which I feel you ought to know.
+It concerns the death of poor Colonel Protheroe. I should much
+appreciate your advice on the matter—whether to go to the police
+or not. Since my dear husband's death, I have such a shrinking from
+every kind of publicity. Perhaps you could run in and see me for a few
+minutes this afternoon</i>,</p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><i>Yours sincerely</i>,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Martha Price Ridley</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I opened the second.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Clement</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>I am so troubled—so exercised in my mind—to know what I ought to
+do. Something has come to my ears that I feel may be important. I
+have such a horror of being mixed up with the police in any way. I
+am so disturbed and distressed. Would it be asking too much of you,
+dear Vicar, to drop in for a few minutes and solve my doubts and
+perplexities for me in the wonderful way you always do?</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Forgive my troubling you,</i></p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><i>Yours very sincerely</i>,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Caroline Wetherby</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The third, I felt, I could almost have recited beforehand.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Clement</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>Something most important has come to my ears. I feel you should be
+the first to know about it. Will you call in and see me this afternoon
+sometime? I will wait in for you.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>This militant epistle was signed</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Amanda Hartnell.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I opened the fourth missive. It has been my good fortune to be troubled
+with very few anonymous letters. An anonymous letter is, I think, the
+meanest and cruelest weapon there is. This one was no exception. It
+purported to be written by an illiterate person, but several things
+inclined me to disbelieve that assumption.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Vicar</span>,</p>
+
+<p>i think you ought to know what is Going On. Your lady has been seen
+coming out of Mr. Redding's cottage in a surreptitious manner. You
+know wot i mean. The two are Carrying On together. i think you ought
+to know.</p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><span class="smcap">A Friend.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I made a faint exclamation of disgust and, crumpling up the paper,
+tossed it into the open grate just as Griselda entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that you're throwing down so contemptuously?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Filth," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Taking a match from my pocket, I struck it and bent down. Griselda,
+however, was too quick for me. She had stooped down and caught up the
+crumpled ball of paper and smoothed it out before I could stop her.</p>
+
+<p>She read it, gave a little exclamation of disgust, and tossed it back
+to me, turning away as she did so. I lighted it and watched it burn.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda had moved away. She was standing by the window looking out
+into the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Len," she said without turning round.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to tell you something. Yes, don't stop me. I want to, please.
+When—when Lawrence Redding came here, I let you think that I had only
+known him slightly before. That wasn't true. I—I had known him rather
+well. In fact, before I met you, I had been rather in love with him.
+I think most people are with Lawrence. I was—well—absolutely silly
+about him at one time. I don't mean I wrote him compromising letters or
+anything idiotic like they do in books. But I was rather keen on him
+once."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Because! I don't know exactly except that—well, you're foolish
+in some ways. Just because you're so much older than I am, you think
+that I—well, that I'm likely to like other people. I thought you'd be
+tiresome, perhaps, about me and Lawrence being friends."</p>
+
+<p>"You're very clever at concealing things," I said, remembering what
+she had told me in that room less than a week ago, and the ingenuous
+natural way she had talked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've always been able to hide things. In a way, I like doing it."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice held a childlike ring of pleasure in it.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's quite true what I said. I didn't know about Anne, and I
+wondered why Lawrence was so different, not—well, really not noticing
+me. I'm not used to it."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"You do understand, Len?" said Griselda anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "I understand."</p>
+
+<p>But did I?</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_25">Chapter 25</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I found it hard to shake off the impression left by the anonymous
+letter. Pitch soils. However, I gathered up the other three letters,
+glanced at my watch and started out.</p>
+
+<p>I wondered very much what this might be that had "come to the
+knowledge" of three ladies simultaneously. I took it to be the same
+piece of news. In this, I was to realize that my psychology was at
+fault.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot pretend that my calls took me past the police station. My feet
+gravitated there of their own accord. I was anxious to know whether
+Inspector Slack had returned from Old Hall.</p>
+
+<p>I found that he had and, further, that Miss Cram had returned with him.
+The fair Gladys was seated in the police station carrying off matters
+with a high hand. She denied absolutely having taken the suitcase to
+the woods.</p>
+
+<p>"Just because one of these gossiping old cats has nothing better to do
+than look out of her window all night, you go and pitch upon me. She's
+been mistaken once, remember, when she said she saw me at the end of
+the lane on the afternoon of the murder, and if she was mistaken then,
+in daylight, how can she possibly have recognized me by moonlight?</p>
+
+<p>"Wicked, it is, the way these old ladies go on down here. Say anything,
+they will. And me asleep in my bed as innocent as can be. You ought to
+be ashamed of yourselves, the lot of you."</p>
+
+<p>"And supposing the landlady of the Blue Boar identifies the suitcase as
+yours, Miss Cram?"</p>
+
+<p>"If she says anything of the kind, she's wrong. There's no name on it.
+Nearly everybody's got a suitcase like that. As for poor Dr. Stone,
+accusing him of being a common burglar! And he with a lot of letters
+after his name."</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse to give us any explanation, then, Miss Cram?"</p>
+
+<p>"No refusing about it. You've made a mistake, that's all. You and your
+meddlesome Marples. I won't say a word more—not without my solicitor
+present. I'm going this minute—unless you're going to arrest me."</p>
+
+<p>For answer, the Inspector rose and opened the door for her, and, with a
+toss of the head, Miss Cram walked out.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the line she takes," said Slack, coming back to his chair.
+"Absolute denial. And of course the old lady <i>may</i> have been mistaken.
+No jury would believe you could recognize anyone from that distance on
+a moonlit night. And of course, as I say, the old lady may have made a
+mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"She may," I said, "but I don't think she did. Miss Marple is usually
+right. That's what makes her unpopular."</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!"</p>
+
+<p>"What about the silver, Inspector?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seemed to be perfectly in order. Of course that meant one lot or
+the other must be a fake. There's a very good man in Much Benham,
+an authority on old silver. I've phoned over to him and sent a car
+to fetch him. We'll soon know which is which. Either the burglary
+was an accomplished fact, or else it was only planned. Doesn't make
+a frightful lot of difference either way—I mean as far as we're
+concerned. Robbery's a small business compared with murder. These two
+aren't concerned with the murder. We'll maybe get a line on him through
+the girl—that's why I let her go without any more fuss."</p>
+
+<p>"I wondered," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"A pity about Mr. Redding. It's not often you find a man who goes out
+of his way to oblige you."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not," I said smiling slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Women cause a lot of trouble," moralized the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise, "Of course there's
+Archer."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" I said. "You've thought of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, naturally, sir, first thing. It didn't need any anonymous letters
+to put me on his track."</p>
+
+<p>"Anonymous letters," I said sharply. "Did you get one then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's nothing new, sir. We get a dozen a day, at least. Oh! yes, we
+were put wise to Archer. As though the police couldn't look out for
+themselves! Archer's been under suspicion from the first. The trouble
+of it is, he's got an alibi. Not that it amounts to anything, but it's
+awkward to get over."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by its not amounting to anything?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it appears he was with a couple of pals all the afternoon. Not,
+as I say, that that counts much. Men like Archer and his pals would
+swear to anything. There's no believing a word they say. <i>We</i> know
+that. But the public doesn't, and the jury's taken from the public,
+more's the pity. They know nothing, and ten to one believe everything
+that's said in the witness box, no matter who it is that says it. And
+of course Archer himself will swear till he's black in the face that he
+didn't do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so obliging as Mr. Redding," I said with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Not he," said the Inspector, making the remark as a plain statement of
+fact.</p>
+
+<p>"It is natural, I suppose, to cling to life," I mused.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd be surprised if you knew the murderers that have got off through
+the soft heartedness of the jury," said the Inspector gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"But do you really think that Archer did it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>It has struck me as curious all along that Inspector Slack never seems
+to have any personal views of his own on the murder. The easiness or
+difficulty of getting a conviction are the only points that seem to
+appeal to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to be a bit surer," he admitted. "A fingerprint now, or a
+footprint, or seen in the vicinity about the time of the crime. Can't
+risk arresting him without something of that kind. He's been seen
+round Mr. Redding's house once or twice, but he'd say that was to speak
+to his mother. A decent body, she is. No, on the whole, I'm for the
+lady. If I could only get definite proof of blackmail—but you can't
+get definite proof of anything in this crime! It's theory, theory,
+theory. It's a sad pity that there's not a single spinster lady living
+along your road, Mr. Clement. I bet she'd have seen something if there
+had been."</p>
+
+<p>His words reminded me of my calls, and I took leave of him. It was
+about the solitary instance when I had seen him in a genial mood.</p>
+
+<p>My first call was on Miss Hartnell. She must have been watching for me
+from the window, for, before I had time to ring, she had opened the
+front door, and clasping my hand firmly in hers had led me over the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"So good of you to come. In here. More private."</p>
+
+<p>We entered a microscopic room, about the size of a hencoop. Miss
+Hartnell shut the door and, with an air of deep secrecy, waved me to a
+seat (there were only three). I perceived that she was enjoying herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm never one to beat about the bush," she said in her jolly voice,
+the latter slightly toned down to meet the requirements of the
+situation. "You know how things go the round in a village like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately," I said, "I do."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you. Nobody dislikes gossip more than I do. But there it
+is. I thought it my duty to tell the police Inspector that I'd called
+on Mrs. Lestrange the afternoon of the murder and that she was out. I
+don't expect to be thanked for doing my duty; I just do it. Ingratitude
+is what you meet with first and last in this life. Why only yesterday
+that impudent Mrs. Baker—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," I said hoping to avert the usual tirade. "Very sad, very
+sad. But you were saying."</p>
+
+<p>"The lower classes don't know who are their best friends," said Miss
+Hartnell. "I always say a word in season when I'm visiting. Not that
+I'm ever thanked for it."</p>
+
+<p>"You were telling the Inspector about your call upon Mrs. Lestrange," I
+prompted.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly—and, by the way, he didn't thank me. Said he'd ask for
+information when he wanted it—not those words exactly, but that was
+the spirit. There's a different class of men in the police force
+nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>"Very probably," I said. "But you were going on to say something?"</p>
+
+<p>"I decided that this time I wouldn't go near any wretched Inspector.
+After all, a clergyman is a gentleman—at least some are," she added.</p>
+
+<p>I gathered that the qualification was not intended to include me.</p>
+
+<p>"If I can help you in any way," I began.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a matter of duty," said Miss Hartnell and closed her mouth with a
+snap. "I don't want to have to say these things. No one likes it less.
+But duty is duty."</p>
+
+<p>I waited.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been given to understand," went on Miss Hartnell, turning rather
+red, "that Mrs. Lestrange gives out that she was at home all the
+time—that she didn't answer the door because—well, because she didn't
+choose. Such airs and graces. I only called as a matter of duty, and to
+be treated like that!"</p>
+
+<p>"She has been ill," I said mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ill? Fiddlesticks. You're too unworldly, Mr. Clement. There's nothing
+the matter with that woman. Too ill to attend the inquest indeed!
+Medical certificate from Dr. Haydock! She can wind him round her little
+finger; everyone knows that. Well, where was I?"</p>
+
+<p>I didn't quite know. It is difficult with Miss Hartnell to know where
+narrative ends and vituperation begins.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! about calling on her that afternoon. Well, it's fiddlesticks to
+say she was in the house. She wasn't. I know."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you possibly know?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hartnell's face turned a little redder. In someone less truculent,
+her demeanour might have been called embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd knocked and rung," she explained. "Twice. If not three times. And
+it occurred to me suddenly that the bell might be out of order."</p>
+
+<p>She was, I was glad to note, unable to look me in the face when saying
+this. The same builder builds all our houses, and the bells he installs
+are always clearly audible when standing on the mat outside the front
+door. Both Miss Hartnell and I knew this perfectly well, but I suppose
+decencies have to be preserved.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't want to push my card through the letter box. That would seem
+so rude, and, whatever I am, I am never rude."</p>
+
+<p>She made this amazing statement without a tremor.</p>
+
+<p>"So I thought I would just go round the house and—and tap on the
+window pane," she continued unblushingly. "I went all round the house
+and looked in at all the windows, but there was no one in the house at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>I understood her perfectly. Taking advantage of the fact that the house
+was empty, Miss Hartnell had given unbridled rein to her curiosity and
+had gone round the house, examining the garden and peering in at all
+the windows to see as much as she could of the interior. She had chosen
+to tell her story to me, believing that I should be a more sympathetic
+and lenient audience than the police. The clergy are supposed to give
+the benefit of the doubt to their parishioners.</p>
+
+<p>I made no comment on the situation. I merely asked a question:</p>
+
+<p>"What time was this, Miss Hartnell?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I can remember," said Miss Hartnell, "it must have been
+close on six o'clock. I went straight home afterwards, and I got in
+about ten past six, and Mrs. Protheroe came in somewhere round about
+the half hour, leaving Dr. Stone and Mr. Redding outside, and we talked
+about bulbs. And all the time the poor Colonel lying murdered. It's a
+sad world."</p>
+
+<p>"It is sometimes a rather unpleasant one," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I rose.</p>
+
+<p>"And that is all you have to tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I just thought it might be important."</p>
+
+<p>"It might," I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>And refusing to be drawn further, much to Miss Hartnell's
+disappointment, I took my leave.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wetherby, whom I visited next, received me in a kind of flutter.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Vicar, how truly kind. You've had tea? Really, you won't? A
+cushion for your back? It is so kind of you to come round so promptly.
+Always willing to put yourself out for others."</p>
+
+<p>There was a good deal of this before we came to the point, and even
+then it was approached with a good deal of circumlocution.</p>
+
+<p>"You must understand that I heard this on the best authority."</p>
+
+<p>In St. Mary Mead, the best authority is always somebody else's servant.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't tell me who told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I promised, dear Mr. Clement. And I always think a promise should be a
+sacred thing."</p>
+
+<p>She looked very solemn.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we say a little bird told me? That is safe, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>I longed to say, "It's damned silly." I rather wish I had. I should
+have liked to observe the effect on Miss Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this little bird told that she saw a certain lady who shall be
+nameless."</p>
+
+<p>"Another kind of bird?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>To my great surprise Miss Wetherby went off into paroxysms of laughter
+and tapped me playfully on the arm saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Vicar, you must not be so naughty."</p>
+
+<p>When she had recovered, she went on.</p>
+
+<p>"A certain lady, and where do you think this certain lady was going?
+She turned into the Vicarage road, but before she did so, she looked
+up and down the road in a most peculiar way—to see if anyone she knew
+were noticing her, I imagine."</p>
+
+<p>"And the little bird?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Paying a visit to the fishmonger's—in the room over the shop."</p>
+
+<p>I now know where maids go on their days out. I know there is one place
+they never go if they can help—anywhere in the open air.</p>
+
+<p>"And the time," continued Miss Wetherby, leaning forward mysteriously,
+"was just before six o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"On which day?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Wetherby gave a little scream.</p>
+
+<p>"The day of the murder, of course, didn't I say so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I inferred it," I replied. "And the name of the lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Begins with an L," said Miss Wetherby nodding her head several times.</p>
+
+<p>Feeling that I had got to the end of the information Miss Wetherby had
+to impart, I rose to my feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't let the police cross-question me, will you?" said Miss
+Wetherby pathetically, as she clasped my hand in both of hers. "I do
+shrink from publicity. And to stand up in Court!"</p>
+
+<p>"In special cases," I said, "they let witnesses sit down."</p>
+
+<p>And I escaped.</p>
+
+<p>There was still Mrs. Price Ridley to see. That lady put me in my place
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not be mixed up in any police court business," she said firmly,
+after shaking my hand coldly. "You understand that. On the other hand,
+having come across a circumstance which needs explaining, I think it
+should be brought to the notice of the authorities."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it concern Mrs. Lestrange?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should it?" demanded Mrs. Price Ridley coldly.</p>
+
+<p>She had me at a disadvantage there.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a very simple matter," she continued. "My maid, Clara, was
+standing at the front gate; she went down there for a minute or
+two—<i>she</i> says to get a breath of fresh air. Most unlikely, I should
+say. Much more probable that she was looking out for the fishmonger's
+boy—if he calls himself a boy—impudent young jackanapes, thinks
+because he's seventeen he can joke with all the girls. Anyway, as I
+say, she was standing at the gate and she heard a sneeze."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said waiting for more.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all. I tell you she heard a sneeze. And don't start telling me
+I'm not so young as I once was and may have made a mistake, because it
+was Clara who heard it and she's only nineteen."</p>
+
+<p>"But," I said, "why shouldn't she have heard a sneeze?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me in obvious pity for my poorness of
+intellect.</p>
+
+<p>"She heard a sneeze on the day of the murder at a time when there was
+no one in your house. Doubtless the murderer was concealed in the
+bushes waiting his opportunity. What you have to look for is a man with
+a cold in his head."</p>
+
+<p>"Or a sufferer from hay fever," I suggested. "But as a matter of fact,
+Mrs. Price Ridley, I think that mystery has a very easy solution. Our
+maid, Mary, has been suffering from a severe cold in the head. In fact,
+her sniffing has tried us very much lately. It must have been her
+sneeze your maid heard."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a man's sneeze," said Mrs. Price Ridley firmly. "And you
+couldn't hear your maid sneeze in your kitchen from our gate."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't hear anyone sneezing in the study from your gate," I
+said. "Or at least I very much doubt it."</p>
+
+<p>"I said the man might have been concealed in the shrubbery," said
+Mrs. Price Ridley. "Doubtless when Clara had gone in, he effected an
+entrance by the front door."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course that's possible," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I tried not to make my voice consciously soothing, but I must have
+failed, for Mrs. Price Ridley glared at me suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am accustomed not to be listened to, but I might mention also that
+to leave a tennis racquet carelessly flung down on the grass without
+a press completely ruins it. And tennis racquets are very expensive
+nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>There did not seem to be rhyme or reason in this flank attack. It
+bewildered me utterly.</p>
+
+<p>"But perhaps you don't agree," said Mrs. Price Ridley.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I do—certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad. Well, that is all I have to say. I wash my hands of the
+whole affair."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back and closed her eyes like one weary of this world. I
+thanked her and said good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>On the doorstep, I ventured to ask Clara about her mistress's statement.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite true, sir, I heard a sneeze. And it wasn't an ordinary
+sneeze—not by any means."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing about a crime is ever ordinary. The shot was not an ordinary
+kind of shot. The sneeze was not a usual kind of sneeze. It was, I
+presume, a special murderer's sneeze. I asked the girl what time this
+had been, but she was very vague—some time between a quarter and half
+past six she thought. Anyway, "it was before the mistress had the
+telephone call and was took bad."</p>
+
+<p>I asked her if she had heard a shot of any kind. And she said the shots
+had been something awful. After that, I placed very little credence in
+her statements.</p>
+
+<p>I was just turning in at my own gate when I decided to pay a friend a
+visit.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had just time for it before taking
+Evensong. I went down the road to Haydock's house. He came out on the
+doorstep to meet me.</p>
+
+<p>I noticed afresh how worried and haggard he looked. This business
+seemed to have aged him out of all knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to see you," he said. "What's the news?"</p>
+
+<p>I told him the latest Stone development.</p>
+
+<p>"A high class thief," he commented. "Well, that explains a lot of
+things. He'd read up his subject, but he made slips from time to time
+to me. Protheroe must have caught him out once. You remember the row
+they had. What do they think about the girl? Is she in it too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Opinion as to that is undecided," I said. "For my own part, I think
+the girl is all right. She's such a prize idiot," I added.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I wouldn't say that. She's rather shrewd, is Miss Gladys Cram.
+A remarkably healthy specimen. Not likely to trouble members of my
+profession."</p>
+
+<p>I told him that I was worried about Hawes, and that I was anxious that
+he should get away for a real rest and change.</p>
+
+<p>Something evasive came into his manner when I said this. His answer did
+not ring quite true.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said slowly. "I suppose that would be the best thing. Poor
+chap. Poor chap."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you didn't like him."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't—not much. But I'm sorry for a lot of people I don't like."
+He added, after a minute or two, "I'm even sorry for Protheroe. Poor
+fellow—nobody ever liked him much. Too full of his own rectitude
+and too self-assertive. It's an unlovable mixture. He was always the
+same—even as a young man."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know you knew him then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes. When he lived in Westmoreland, I had a practice not far away.
+That's a long time ago now. Nearly twenty years."</p>
+
+<p>I sighed. Twenty years ago Griselda was five years old. Time is an odd
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all you came to say to me, Clement?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked up with a start. Haydock was watching me with keen eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"There's something else, isn't there?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>I had been uncertain whether to speak or not when I came in, but now
+I decided to do so. I like Haydock as well as any man I know. He is a
+splendid fellow in every way. I felt that what I had to tell might be
+useful to him.</p>
+
+<p>I recited my interviews with Miss Hartnell and Miss Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a long time after I'd spoken.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite true, Clement," he said at last. "I've been trying to
+shield Mrs. Lestrange from any inconvenience that I could. As a matter
+of fact, she's an old friend. But that's not my only reason. That
+medical certificate of mine isn't the put-up job you all think it was."</p>
+
+<p>He paused and then said gravely:</p>
+
+<p>"This is between you and me, Clement. Mrs. Lestrange is doomed."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's a dying woman. I give her a month at longest. Do you wonder
+that I want to keep her from being badgered and questioned?"</p>
+
+<p>He went on:</p>
+
+<p>"When she turned into this road that evening, it was here she came—to
+this house."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't said so before."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't want to create talk. Six to seven isn't my time for seeing
+patients, and everyone knows that. But you can take my word for it that
+she was here."</p>
+
+<p>"She wasn't here when I came for you, though. I mean when we discovered
+the body."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he seemed perturbed. "She'd left—to keep an appointment."</p>
+
+<p>"In what direction was the appointment? In her own house?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Clement. On my honour, I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>I believed him, but—</p>
+
+<p>"And supposing an innocent man is hanged?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said. "No one will be hanged for the murder of Colonel
+Protheroe. You can take my word for that."</p>
+
+<p>But that is just what I could not do. And yet the certainty in his
+voice was very great.</p>
+
+<p>"No one will be hanged," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"This man, Archer—"</p>
+
+<p>He made an impatient movement.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't got brains enough to wipe his finger prints off the pistol."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not," I said dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>Then I remembered something, and taking the little brownish crystal I
+had found in the wood from my pocket I held it out to him and asked him
+what it was.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm," he hesitated. "Looks like picric acid. Where did you find it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That," I replied, "is Sherlock Holmes' secret."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"What is picric acid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's an explosive."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know that, but it's got another use, hasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"It's used medically—in solution for burns. Wonderful stuff."</p>
+
+<p>I held out my hand and rather reluctantly he handed it back to me.</p>
+
+<p>"It's of no consequence probably," I said. "But I found it in rather an
+unusual place."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't tell me where?"</p>
+
+<p>Rather childishly, I wouldn't.</p>
+
+<p>He had his secrets. Well, I would have mine.</p>
+
+<p>I was a little hurt that he had not confided in me more fully.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_26">Chapter 26</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I was in a strange mood when I mounted the pulpit that night.</p>
+
+<p>The church was unusually full. I cannot believe that it was the
+prospect of Hawes preaching which had attracted so many. Hawes' sermons
+are dull and dogmatic. And if the news had got round that I was
+preaching instead, that would not have attracted them either. For my
+sermons are dull and scholarly. Neither, I am afraid, can I attribute
+it to devotion.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody had come, I concluded, to see who else was there, and
+possibly to exchange a little gossip in the church porch afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock was in church, which is unusual, and also Lawrence Redding.
+And, to my surprise, beside Lawrence I saw the white strained face
+of Hawes. Anne Protheroe was there, but she usually attends Evensong
+on Sundays, though I had hardly thought she would today. I was far
+more surprised to see Lettice. Church-going was compulsory on Sunday
+morning—Colonel Protheroe was adamant on that point—but I had never
+seen Lettice at evening service before.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys Cram was there, looking rather blatantly young and healthy
+against a background of wizened spinsters, and I fancied that a dim
+figure at the end of the church, who had slipped in late, was Mrs.
+Lestrange.</p>
+
+<p>I need hardly say that Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Hartnell, Miss Wetherby
+and Miss Marple were there in full force. All the village people were
+there, with hardly a single exception. I don't know when we have had
+such a crowded congregation.</p>
+
+<p>Crowds are queer things. There was a magnetic atmosphere that night,
+and the first person to feel its influence was myself.</p>
+
+<p>As a rule, I prepare my sermons beforehand. I am careful and
+conscientious over them, but no one is better aware than myself of
+their deficiencies.</p>
+
+<p>Tonight I was of necessity preaching <i>ex tempore</i>, and as I looked down
+on the sea of upturned faces, a sudden madness entered my brain. I
+ceased to be in any sense a minister of God. I became an actor. I had
+an audience before me and I wanted to move that audience—and more, I
+felt the power to move it.</p>
+
+<p>I am not proud of what I did that night. I am an utter disbeliever in
+the emotional revivalist spirit. Yet that night I acted the part of a
+raving, ranting evangelist.</p>
+
+<p>I gave out my text slowly.</p>
+
+<p><i>I am come to call not the righteous but the sinners to repentance.</i></p>
+
+<p>I repeated it twice, and I heard my own voice, a resonant, ringing
+voice unlike the voice of the everyday Leonard Clement.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Griselda from her front pew look up in surprise, and Dennis
+follow her example.</p>
+
+<p>I held my breath for a moment or two, and then I let myself rip.</p>
+
+<p>The congregation in that church were in a state of pent-up emotion,
+ripe to be played upon. I played upon them. I exhorted sinners to
+repentance. I lashed myself into a kind of emotional frenzy. Again and
+again I threw out a denouncing hand and reiterated the phrase:</p>
+
+<p>"I am speaking to <i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>And each time, from different parts of the church, a kind of sighing
+gasp went up.</p>
+
+<p>Mass emotion is a strange and terrible thing.</p>
+
+<p>I finished up with those beautiful and poignant words—perhaps the most
+poignant words in the whole Bible:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>This very night shall thy soul be required of thee....</i>"</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange brief possession. When I got back to the Vicarage I
+was my usual faded, indeterminate self. I found Griselda rather pale.
+She slipped her arm through mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Len," she said. "You were rather terrible tonight. I—I didn't like
+it. I've never heard you preach like that before."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose you ever will again," I said, sinking down wearily on
+the sofa. I was tired.</p>
+
+<p>"What made you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A sudden madness came over me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it—it wasn't something special?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean—something special?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wondered—that was all. You're very unexpected, Len. I never feel I
+really know you."</p>
+
+<p>We sat down to cold supper, Mary being out.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a note for you in the hall," said Griselda. "Get it, will you,
+Dennis?"</p>
+
+<p>Dennis, who had been very silent, obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>I took it and groaned. Across the top left-hand corner was written, <i>By
+hand—Urgent</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"This," I said, "must be from Miss Marple. There's no one else left."</p>
+
+<p>I had been perfectly correct in my assumption.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Clement</span>,</p>
+
+<p><i>I should so much like to have a little chat with you about one or two
+things that have occurred to me. I feel we should all try and help in
+elucidating this sad mystery. I will come over about half past nine,
+if I may, and tap on your study window. Perhaps dear Griselda would
+be so very kind as to run over here and cheer up my nephew. And Mr.
+Dennis too, of course, if he cares to come. If I do not hear, I will
+expect them and will come over myself at the time I have stated.</i></p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><i>Yours very sincerely</i>,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Jane Marple</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I handed the note to Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! we'll go," she said cheerfully. "A glass or two of homemade
+liqueur is just what one needs on Sunday evening. I think it's Mary's
+blanc mange that is so frightfully depressing. It's like something out
+of a mortuary."</p>
+
+<p>Dennis seemed less charmed at the prospect.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well for you," he grumbled. "You can talk all this high
+brow stuff about art and books. I always feel a perfect fool sitting
+and listening to you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good for you," said Griselda serenely. "It puts you in your
+place. Anyway I don't think Mr. Raymond West is so frightfully clever
+as he pretends to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Very few of us are," I said.</p>
+
+<p>I wondered very much what exactly it was that Miss Marple wished to
+talk over. Of all the ladies in my congregation, I consider her by far
+the shrewdest. Not only does she see and hear practically everything
+that goes on, but she draws amazingly neat and apposite deductions from
+the facts that come under her notice.</p>
+
+<p>If I were at any time to set out on a career of deceit, it would be of
+Miss Marple that I should be afraid.</p>
+
+<p>What Griselda called the Nephew Amusing Party started off at a little
+after nine, and while I was waiting for Miss Marple to arrive I amused
+myself by drawing up a kind of schedule of the facts connected with the
+crime. I arranged them so far as possible in chronological order. I am
+not a punctual person, but I am a neat one, and I like things jotted
+down in a methodical fashion.</p>
+
+<p>At half past nine punctually, there was a little tap on the window and
+I rose and admitted Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>She had a very fine Shetland shawl thrown over her head and shoulders,
+and was looking rather old and frail. She came in full of little
+fluttering remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"So good of you to let me come—and so good of dear Griselda—Raymond
+admires her so much—the perfect Greuze he always calls her. Shall I
+sit here? I am not taking your chair? Oh! thank you. No, I won't have a
+footstool."</p>
+
+<p>I deposited the Shetland shawl on a chair and returned to take a chair
+facing my guest. We looked at each other, and a little deprecating
+smile broke out on her face.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that you must be wondering why—why I am so interested in all
+this. You may possibly think it's very unwomanly. No—please—I should
+like to explain if I may."</p>
+
+<p>She paused a moment, a pink colour suffusing her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," she began at last, "living alone as I do, in a rather out
+of the way part of the world, one has to have a hobby. There is,
+of course, woolwork, and Guides, and Welfare, and sketching, but
+my hobby is—and always has been—Human Nature. So varied—and so
+very fascinating. And, of course, in a small village, with nothing
+to distract one, one has such ample opportunity for becoming what I
+might call proficient in one's study. One begins to class people,
+quite definitely, just as though they were birds or flowers, group
+so and so, genus this, species that. Sometimes, of course, one makes
+mistakes, but less and less as time goes on. And then, too, one tests
+oneself. One takes a little problem—for instance the gill of pickled
+shrimps that amused dear Griselda so much—a quite unimportant mystery,
+but absolutely incomprehensible unless one solves it right. And then
+there was that matter of the changed cough drops, and the butcher's
+wife's umbrella—the last absolutely meaningless, unless on the
+assumption that the greengrocer was not behaving at all nicely with
+the chemist's wife—which, of course, turned out to be the case. It is
+so fascinating, you know, to apply one's judgment and find that one is
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"You usually are, I believe," I said smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"That, I am afraid, is what has made me a little conceited," confessed
+Miss Marple. "But I have always wondered whether, if some day a really
+big mystery came along, I should be able to do the same thing. I
+mean—just solve it correctly. Logically, it ought to be exactly the
+same thing. After all, a tiny working model of a torpedo is just the
+same as a real torpedo."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean it's all a question of relativity," I said slowly. "It should
+be—logically, I admit. But I don't know whether it really is."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely it must be the same," said Miss Marple. "The—what one used
+to call the factors at school—are the same. There's money, and
+mutual attraction between people of an—er—opposite sex—and there's
+queerness, of course—so many people are a little queer, aren't
+they?—in fact, most people are when you know them well. And normal
+people do such astonishing things sometimes, and abnormal people are
+sometimes so very sane and ordinary. In fact, the only way is to
+compare people with other people you have known or come across. You'd
+be surprised if you knew how very few distinct types there are in all."</p>
+
+<p>"You frighten me," I said. "I feel I'm being put under the microscope."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I wouldn't dream of saying any of this to Colonel
+Melchett—such an autocratic man, isn't he?—and poor Inspector
+Slack—well, he's exactly like the young lady in the boot shop who
+wants to sell you patent leather because she's got it in your size, and
+doesn't take any notice of the fact that you want brown calf."</p>
+
+<p>That really is a very good description of Slack.</p>
+
+<p>"But you, Mr. Clement, know, I'm sure, quite as much about the crime as
+Inspector Slack. I thought, if we could work together—"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," I said. "I think each one of us in his secret heart fancies
+himself as Sherlock Holmes."</p>
+
+<p>Then I told her of the three summons I had received that afternoon.
+I told her of Anne's discovery of the picture with the slashed face.
+I also told her of Miss Cram's attitude at the police station, and I
+described Haydock's identification of the crystal I had picked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Having found that myself," I finished up, "I should like it to be
+important. But it's probably got nothing to do with the case."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been reading a lot of American detective stories from the
+library lately," said Miss Marple, "hoping to find them helpful."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there anything in them about picric acid?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not. I do remember reading a story once, though, in which a
+man was poisoned by picric acid and lanoline being rubbed on him as an
+ointment."</p>
+
+<p>"But as nobody has been poisoned here, that doesn't seem to enter into
+the question," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Then I took up my schedule and handed it to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I've tried," I said, "to recapitulate the facts of the case as clearly
+as possible."</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">MY SCHEDULE</p>
+
+<p class="ph2"><span class="smcap">Thursday 21st. inst.</span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>12.30 p.m. <i>Colonel Protheroe alters his appointment from six to six
+fifteen. Overheard by half village very probably.</i></p>
+
+<p>12.45. <i>Pistol last seen in its proper place. (But this is doubtful as
+Mrs. Archer had previously said she could not remember.)</i></p>
+
+<p>5.30. <i>(approx.) Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe leave Old Hall for village
+in car.</i></p>
+
+<p>5.30. <i>Fake call put through to me from the North Lodge, Old Hall.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.15. <i>(or a minute or two earlier) Colonel Protheroe arrives at
+Vicarage. Is shown into study by Mary.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.20. <i>Mrs. Protheroe comes along back lane and across garden to study
+window. Colonel Protheroe not visible.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.29. <i>Call from Lawrence Redding's cottage put through to Mrs. Price
+Ridley (according to exchange).</i></p>
+
+<p>6.30-6.35. <i>Shot heard (accepting telephone call time as correct).
+Lawrence Redding, Anne Protheroe, and Dr. Stone's evidence seem to
+point to its being earlier, but Mrs. P. R. probably right.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.45. <i>Lawrence Redding arrives Vicarage and finds the body.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.48. <i>I meet Lawrence Redding.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.49. <i>Body discovered by me.</i></p>
+
+<p>6.55. <i>Haydock examines body.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Note</i> The only two people who have no kind of alibi for 6.30-6.35 are
+Miss Cram and Mrs. Lestrange. Miss Cram says she was at the barrow, but
+no confirmation. It seems reasonable, however, to dismiss her from
+case, as there seems nothing to connect her with it. Mrs. Lestrange
+left Dr. Haydock's house some time after six to keep an appointment.
+Where was the appointment, and with whom? It could hardly have been
+with Colonel Protheroe, as he expected to be engaged with me. It is
+true that Mrs. Lestrange was near the spot at the time the crime was
+committed, but it seems doubtful what motive she could have had for
+murdering him. She did not gain by his death, and the Inspector's
+theory of blackmail I cannot accept. Mrs. Lestrange is not that kind
+of woman. Also, it seems unlikely that she should have got hold of
+Lawrence Redding's pistol.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Very clear," said Miss Marple nodding her head in approval. "Very
+clear, indeed. Gentlemen always make such excellent memoranda."</p>
+
+<p>"You agree with what I have written?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes—you have put it all beautifully."</p>
+
+<p>I asked her the question then that I had been meaning to put all along.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marple," I said. "Who do you suspect? You once said that there
+were seven people."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite that, I should think," said Miss Marple absently. "I expect
+every one of us suspects someone different. In fact, one can see they
+do."</p>
+
+<p>She didn't ask me whom I suspected.</p>
+
+<p>"The point is," she said, "that one must provide an explanation for
+everything. Each thing has got to be explained away satisfactorily. If
+you have a theory that fits every fact—well, then it must be the right
+one. But that's extremely difficult. If it wasn't for that note—"</p>
+
+<p>"The note?" I said surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you remember, I told you. That note has worried me all along.
+It's wrong, somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," I said, "that is explained now. It was written at 6.35, and
+another hand—the murderer's—put the misleading 6.20 at the top. I
+think that is clearly established."</p>
+
+<p>"But even then," said Miss Marple, "it's all wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen—" Miss Marple leant forward eagerly. "Mrs. Protheroe passed my
+garden, as I told you, and she went as far as the study window and she
+looked in and she didn't see Colonel Protheroe."</p>
+
+<p>"Because he was writing at the desk," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And that's what's all wrong. That was at twenty past six. We agreed
+that he wouldn't sit down to say he couldn't wait any longer until
+after half past six—so, why was he sitting at the writing table then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of that," I said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us, dear Mr. Clement, just go over it again. Mrs. Protheroe comes
+to the window and she thinks the room is empty—she must have thought
+so, because otherwise she would never have gone down to the studio to
+meet Mr. Redding. It wouldn't have been safe. The room must have been
+absolutely silent if she thought it was empty. And that leaves us three
+alternatives, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean—"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the first alternative would be that Colonel Protheroe was dead
+already—but I don't think that's the most likely one. To begin with,
+he'd only been there about five minutes, and she or I would have heard
+the shot; and, secondly, the same difficulty remains about his being at
+the writing table. The second alternative is, of course, that he was
+sitting at the writing table writing a note, but in that case it must
+have been a different note altogether. It can't have been to say he
+couldn't wait. And the third—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the third is, of course, that Mrs. Protheroe was right, and that
+the room was actually empty."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that, after he had been shown in, he went out again and came
+back later?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should he have done that?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple spread out her hands in a little gesture of bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"That would mean looking at the case from an entirely different angle,"
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>"One so often has to do that—about everything. Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not reply. I was going over carefully in my mind the three
+alternatives that Miss Marple had suggested.</p>
+
+<p>With a slight sigh, the old lady rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be getting back. I am very glad to have had this little
+chat—though we haven't got very far, have we?"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell you the truth," I said, as I fetched her shawl, "the whole
+thing seems to me a bewildering maze."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I wouldn't say that. I think, on the whole, one theory fits nearly
+everything. That is, if you admit one coincidence—and I think one
+coincidence is allowable. More than one, of course, is unlikely."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think that? About the theory, I mean?" I asked looking
+at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I admit that there is one flaw in my theory—one fact that I can't get
+over. Oh! if only that note had been something quite different—"</p>
+
+<p>She sighed and shook her head. She moved towards the window and
+absent-mindedly reached up her hand and felt the rather depressed
+looking plant that stood in a stand.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, dear Mr. Clement, this should be watered oftener. Poor
+thing, it needs it badly. Your maid should water it every day. I
+suppose it is she who attends to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"As much," I said, "as she attends to anything."</p>
+
+<p>"A little raw at present," suggested Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "And Griselda steadily refuses to attempt to cook her.
+Her idea is that only a thoroughly undesirable maid will remain with
+us. However, Mary herself gave us notice the other day."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed. I always imagined she was very fond of you both."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't noticed it," I said. "But as a matter of fact, it was
+Lettice Protheroe who upset her. Mary came back from the inquest in
+rather a temperamental state and found Lettice here and—well, they had
+words."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Miss Marple. She was just about to step through the window
+when she stopped suddenly, and a bewildering series of changes passed
+over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! dear," she muttered to herself. "I <i>have</i> been stupid. So that was
+it! Perfectly possible all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned a worried face upon me.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. An idea that has just occurred to me. I must go home and
+think things out thoroughly. Do you know, I believe I have been
+extremely stupid—almost incredibly so."</p>
+
+<p>"I find that hard to believe," I said gallantly.</p>
+
+<p>I escorted her through the window and across the lawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you tell me what it is that has occurred to you so suddenly?" I
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather not—just at present. You see, there is still a
+possibility that I may be mistaken. But I do not think so. Here we are
+at my garden gate. Thank you so much. Please do not come any farther."</p>
+
+<p>"Is the note still a stumbling block?" I asked as she passed through
+the gate and latched it behind her.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me abstractedly.</p>
+
+<p>"The note? Oh! of course that wasn't the real note. I never thought it
+was. Good night, Mr. Clement."</p>
+
+<p>She went rapidly up the path to the house, leaving me staring after her.</p>
+
+<p>I didn't know what to think.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_27">Chapter 27</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Griselda and Dennis had not yet returned. I realized that the most
+natural thing would have been for me to go up to the house with Miss
+Marple and fetch them home. Both she and I had been so entirely taken
+up with our preoccupation over the mystery that we had forgotten
+anybody existed in the world except ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>I was just standing in the hall, wondering whether I would not even now
+go over and join them, when the door bell rang.</p>
+
+<p>I crossed over to it. I saw there was a letter in the box and,
+presuming that this was the cause of the ring, I took it out.</p>
+
+<p>As I did so, however, the bell rang again, and I shoved the letter
+hastily into my pocket and opened the front door.</p>
+
+<p>It was Colonel Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Clement. I'm on my way home from town in the car. Thought I'd
+just look in and see if you could give me a drink."</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted," I said. "Come into the study."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled off the leather coat that he was wearing and followed me into
+the study. I fetched the whisky and soda and two glasses. Melchett
+was standing in front of the fireplace, legs wide apart, stroking his
+closely clipped moustache.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got one bit of news for you, Clement. Most astounding thing
+you've ever heard. But let that go for the minute. How are things going
+down here? Any more old ladies hot on the scent?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're not doing so badly," I said. "One of them, at all events,
+thinks she's got there."</p>
+
+<p>"Our friend, Miss Marple, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our friend Miss Marple."</p>
+
+<p>"Women like that always think they know everything," said Colonel
+Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>He sipped his whisky and soda appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>"It's probably unnecessary interference on my part asking," I said,
+"but I suppose somebody has questioned the fish boy. I mean, if the
+murderer left by the front door, there's a chance the boy may have seen
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Slack questioned him right enough," said Melchett, "but the boy says
+he didn't meet anybody. Hardly likely he would. The murderer wouldn't
+be exactly courting observation. Lots of cover by your front gate. He
+would have taken a look to see if the road was clear. The boy had to
+call at the Vicarage, at Haydock's and at Mrs. Price Ridley's. Easy
+enough to dodge him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "I suppose it would be."</p>
+
+<p>"On the other hand," went on Melchett, "if by any chance that rascal
+Archer did the job, and young Fred Jackson saw him about the place, I
+doubt very much whether he'd let on. Archer is a cousin of his."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you seriously suspect Archer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, old Protheroe had his knife into Archer pretty badly.
+Lots of bad blood between them. Leniency wasn't Protheroe's strong
+point."</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said. "He was a very ruthless man."</p>
+
+<p>"What I say is," said Melchett, "live and let live. Of course, the
+law's the law, but it never hurts to give a man the benefit of the
+doubt. That's what Protheroe never did."</p>
+
+<p>"He prided himself on it," I said.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause and then I asked:</p>
+
+<p>"What is this 'astounding bit of news' you promised me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it <i>is</i> astounding. You know that unfinished letter that
+Protheroe was writing when he was killed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"We got an expert on it—to say whether the 6.20 was added by
+a different hand. Naturally we sent up samples of Protheroe's
+handwriting. And do you know the verdict? <i>That letter was never
+written by Protheroe at all.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean a forgery?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a forgery. The 6.20 they think is written in a different hand
+again—but they're not sure about that. The heading is in a different
+ink, but the letter itself is a forgery. Protheroe never wrote it."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they certain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they're as certain as experts ever are. You know what an expert
+is! Oh! but they're sure enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Amazing," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Then a memory assailed me.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," I said, "I remember at the time Mrs. Protheroe said it wasn't
+like her husband's handwriting at all, and I took no notice."</p>
+
+<p>"Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it one of those silly remarks women will make. If there
+seemed one thing sure on earth it was that Protheroe had written that
+note."</p>
+
+<p>We looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"It's curious," I said slowly. "Miss Marple was saying this evening
+that that note was all wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound the woman, she couldn't know more about it if she had
+committed the murder herself."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the telephone bell rang. There is a queer kind of
+psychology about a telephone bell. It rang now persistently and with a
+kind of sinister significance.</p>
+
+<p>I went over and took up the receiver.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the Vicarage," I said. "Who's speaking?"</p>
+
+<p>A strange high-pitched hysterical voice came over the wire.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I want to confess</i>," it said. "<i>My God, I want to confess.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo," I said. "Hullo. Look here, you've cut me off. What number was
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>A languid voice said it didn't know. It added that it was sorry I had
+been troubled.</p>
+
+<p>I put down the receiver, and turned to Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"You once said," I remarked, "that you would go mad if anyone else
+accused themselves of the crime."</p>
+
+<p>"What about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That was someone who wanted to confess ... and the exchange has cut us
+off."</p>
+
+<p>Melchett dashed over and took up the receiver.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll speak to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do," I said. "You may have some effect. I'll leave you to it. I'm
+going out. I've a fancy I recognized that voice."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_28">Chapter 28</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I hurried down the village street. It was eleven o'clock, and at eleven
+o'clock on a Sunday night the whole village of St. Mary Mead might be
+dead. I saw, however, a light in a first floor window as I passed, and,
+realizing that Hawes was still up, I stopped and rang the door bell.</p>
+
+<p>After what seemed a long time, Hawes' landlady, Mrs. Sadler,
+laboriously unfastened two bolts, a chain, and turned a key, and peered
+out at me suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's Vicar!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening," I said. "I want to see Mr. Hawes. I see there's a light
+in the window, so he's up still."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be. I've not seen him since I took up his supper. He's had a
+quiet evening—no one to see him, and he's not been out."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded, and, passing her, went quickly up the stairs. Hawes has a
+bedroom and sitting room on the first floor.</p>
+
+<p>I passed into the latter. Hawes was lying back in a long chair asleep.
+My entrance did not wake him. An empty cachet box and a glass of water,
+half full, stood beside him.</p>
+
+<p>On the floor, by his left foot, was a crumpled sheet of paper with
+writing on it. I picked it up and straightened it out.</p>
+
+<p>It began: "<i>My dear Clement</i>—"</p>
+
+<p>I read it through, uttered an exclamation and shoved it into my pocket.
+Then I bent over Hawes and studied him attentively.</p>
+
+<p>Next, reaching for the telephone which stood by his elbow, I gave the
+number of the Vicarage. Melchett must have been still trying to trace
+the call, for I was told that the number was engaged. Asking them to
+call me, I put the instrument down again.</p>
+
+<p>I put my hand into my pocket to look at the paper I had picked up once
+more. With it, I drew out the note that I had found in the letter box,
+and which was still unopened.</p>
+
+<p>Its appearance was horribly familiar. It was the same handwriting as
+the anonymous letter that had come that afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>I tore it open.</p>
+
+<p>I read it once—twice—unable to realize its contents.</p>
+
+<p>I was beginning to read it a third time when the telephone rang. Like a
+man in a dream I picked up the receiver and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Melchett?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, where are you? I've traced that call. The number is—"</p>
+
+<p>"I know the number."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! good. Is that where you are speaking from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What about that confession?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got the confession all right."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you've got the murderer?"</p>
+
+<p>I had the strongest temptation of my life. I looked at Hawes. I looked
+at the crumpled letter. I looked at the anonymous scrawl. I looked at
+the empty cachet box with the name of Cherubim on it. I remembered a
+certain casual conversation.</p>
+
+<p>I made an immense effort.</p>
+
+<p>"I—don't know," I said. "You'd better come round."</p>
+
+<p>And I gave him the address.</p>
+
+<p>Then I sat down in the chair opposite Hawes to think.</p>
+
+<p>I had two clear minutes in which to do so.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes time, Melchett would have arrived.</p>
+
+<p>I took up the anonymous letter and read it through again for the third
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Then I closed my eyes and thought....</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_29">Chapter 29</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I don't know how long I sat there—only a few minutes in reality, I
+suppose. Yet it seemed as though an eternity had passed when I heard
+the door open and, turning my head, looked up to see Melchett entering
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>He stared at Hawes asleep in his chair, then turned to me.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this, Clement? What does it all mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Of the two letters in my hand I selected one and passed it to him. He
+read it aloud in a low voice.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Clement</span>:</p>
+
+<p><i>It is a peculiarly unpleasant thing that I have to say. After all,
+I think I prefer writing it. We can discuss it at a later date.
+It concerns the recent peculations. I am sorry to say that I have
+satisfied myself beyond any possible doubt as to the identity of the
+culprit. Painful as it is for me to have to accuse an ordained priest
+of the church, my duty is only too painfully clear. An example must be
+made and—</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He looked at me questioningly. At this point the writing tailed off in
+an undistinguishable scrawl where death had overtaken the writer's hand.</p>
+
+<p>Melchett drew a deep breath, then looked at Hawes.</p>
+
+<p>"So that's the solution! The one man we never even considered. And
+remorse drove him to confess!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's been very queer lately," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Melchett strode across to the sleeping man with a sharp
+exclamation. He seized him by the shoulder and shook him, at first
+gently, then with increasing violence.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not asleep! He's drugged! What's the meaning of this?"</p>
+
+<p>His eye went to the empty cachet box. He picked it up.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he—?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," I said. "He showed me these the other day. Told me he'd
+been warned against an overdose. It's his way out, poor chap. Perhaps
+the best way. It's not for us to judge him."</p>
+
+<p>But Melchett was Chief Constable of the County before anything else.
+The arguments that appealed to me had no weight with him. He had caught
+a murderer and he wanted his murderer hanged.</p>
+
+<p>In one second he was at the telephone, jerking the receiver up and
+down impatiently until he got a reply. He asked for Haydock's number.
+Then there was a further pause during which he stood, his ear to the
+telephone and his eyes on the limp figure in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo—Hullo—Hullo—is that Dr. Haydock's? Will the doctor come
+around at once to High St.? Mr. Hawes'. It's urgent—what's that? Well,
+what number is it, then? Oh! sorry."</p>
+
+<p>He rang off, fuming.</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong number, wrong number—always wrong numbers! And a man's life
+hanging on it. HULLO—you gave me the wrong number—yes—don't waste
+time—give me three nine—<i>nine</i>, not five."</p>
+
+<p>Another period of impatience—shorter this time.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo—is that you, Haydock? Melchett speaking. Come to 19 High Street
+at once, will you? Hawes has taken some kind of overdose. At once, man,
+it's vital."</p>
+
+<p>He rang off, strode impatiently up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Why on earth you didn't get hold of the doctor at once, Clement, I
+cannot think. Your wits must have all gone wool gathering."</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately it never occurs to Melchett that anyone can possibly have
+any different ideas on conduct from those he holds himself. I said
+nothing and he went on:</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you find this letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Crumpled on the floor—where it had fallen from his hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary business—that old maid was right about its being the
+wrong note we found. Wonder how she tumbled to that. But what an ass
+the fellow was not to destroy this one. Fancy keeping it—the most
+damaging evidence you can imagine!"</p>
+
+<p>"Human nature is full of inconsistencies."</p>
+
+<p>"If it weren't, I doubt if we should ever catch a murderer! Sooner or
+later they always do some fool things. You're looking very under the
+weather, Clement. I suppose this has been the most awful shock to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has. As I say, Hawes has been queer in his manner for some time,
+but I never dreamed—"</p>
+
+<p>"Who would? Hullo, that sounds like a car." He went across to the
+window, pushing up the sash and leaning out. "Yes, it's Haydock all
+right."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the doctor entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>In a few succinct words, Melchett explained the situation. Haydock is
+not a man who ever shows his feelings. He merely raised his eyebrows,
+nodded, and strode across to his patient. He felt his pulse, raised the
+eyelid and looked intently at the eye.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned to Melchett.</p>
+
+<p>"Want me to save him for the gallows?" he asked. "He's pretty far gone,
+you know. It will be touch and go anyway. I doubt if I can bring him
+round."</p>
+
+<p>"Do everything possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Right."</p>
+
+<p>He busied himself with the case he had brought with him, preparing a
+hypodermic injection which he injected into Hawes' arm. Then he stood
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"Best thing is to run him into Much Benham—to the hospital there. Give
+me a hand to get him down to the car."</p>
+
+<p>We both lent our assistance. As Haydock climbed into the driving seat,
+he threw a parting remark over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't be able to hang him, you know, Melchett."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean he won't recover?"</p>
+
+<p>"May or may not. I didn't mean that. I mean that even if he does
+recover—well, the poor devil wasn't responsible for his actions. I
+shall give evidence to that effect."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he mean by that?" asked Melchett as we went upstairs again.</p>
+
+<p>I explained that Hawes had been a victim of <i>encephalitis lethargica</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Sleeping sickness, eh? Always some good reason nowadays for every
+dirty action that's done. Don't you agree?"</p>
+
+<p>"Science is teaching us a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Science be damned—I beg your pardon, Clement—but all this namby
+pambyism annoys me. I'm a plain man. Well, I suppose we'd better have a
+look round here."</p>
+
+<p>But at this moment there was an interruption—and a most amazing one.
+The door opened and Miss Marple walked into the room.</p>
+
+<p>She was pink and somewhat flustered, and seemed to realize our
+condition of bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"So sorry—so very sorry—to intrude—good evening, Colonel Melchett.
+As I say, I am so sorry, but hearing that Mr. Hawes was taken ill, I
+felt I must come round and see if I couldn't do something."</p>
+
+<p>She paused. Colonel Melchett was regarding her in a somewhat disgusted
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Very kind of you, Miss Marple," he said drily. "But no need to
+trouble. How did you know, by the way?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the question I had been yearning to ask!</p>
+
+<p>"The telephone," explained Miss Marple. "So careless with their wrong
+numbers, aren't they? You spoke to me first, thinking I was Dr.
+Haydock. My number is three five."</p>
+
+<p>"So that was it!" I exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>There is always some perfectly good and reasonable explanation for Miss
+Marple's omniscience.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," she continued, "I just came round to see if I could be of any
+use."</p>
+
+<p>"Very kind of you," said Melchett again, even more drily this time.
+"But nothing to be done. Haydock's taken him off to hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"Actually to hospital? Oh, that's a great relief! I am so very glad to
+hear it. He'll be quite safe there. When you say 'nothing to be done,'
+you don't mean that there's nothing to be done for him, do you? You
+don't mean that he won't recover?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's very doubtful," I said.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple's eyes had gone to the cachet box.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he took an overdose?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Melchett, I think, was in favour of being reticent. Perhaps I might
+have been under other circumstances. But my discussion of the case with
+Miss Marple was too fresh in my mind for me to have the same view,
+though I must admit that her rapid appearance on the scene and eager
+curiosity repelled me slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better look at this," I said, and handed her Protheroe's
+unfinished letter.</p>
+
+<p>She took it and read it without any appearance of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You had already deduced something of the kind, had you not?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes, indeed. May I ask you, Mr. Clement, what made you come
+here this evening? That is a point which puzzles me. You and Colonel
+Melchett—not at all what I should have expected."</p>
+
+<p>I explained the telephone call, and that I believed I had recognized
+Hawes' voice. Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Very interesting. Very Providential—if I may use the term. Yes, it
+brought you here in the nick of time."</p>
+
+<p>"In the nick of time for what?" I said bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"To save Mr. Hawes' life, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think," I said, "that it might be better if Hawes didn't
+recover? Better for him—better for everyone. We know the truth now
+and—"</p>
+
+<p>I stopped—for Miss Marple was nodding her head with such a peculiar
+vehemence that it made me lose the thread of what I was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," she said. "Of course! That's what he wants you to think!
+That you know the truth—and that it's best for everyone as it is. Oh,
+yes, it all fits in—the letter, and the overdose, and poor Mr. Hawes'
+state of mind and his confession. It all fits in—<i>but it's wrong</i>."</p>
+
+<p>We stared at her.</p>
+
+<p>"That's why I am so glad Mr. Hawes is safe—in the hospital—where no
+one can get at him. If he recovers, he'll tell you the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"The truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—that he never touched a hair of Colonel Protheroe's head."</p>
+
+<p>"But the telephone call," I said. "The letter—the overdose. It's all
+so clear."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what he wants you to think. Oh, he's very clever! Keeping the
+letter and using it this way was very clever indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you mean," I said, "by 'he'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean the murderer," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>She added very quietly:</p>
+
+<p>"I mean Mr. Lawrence Redding."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_30">Chapter 30</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>We stared at her. I really think that for a moment or two we really
+believed she was out of her mind. The accusation seemed so utterly
+preposterous.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett was the first to speak. He spoke kindly and with a
+kind of pitying tolerance.</p>
+
+<p>"That is absurd, Miss Marple," he said. "Young Redding has been
+completely cleared."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," said Miss Marple. "He saw to that."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary," said Colonel Melchett drily, "he did his best to get
+himself accused of the murder."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Marple. "He took us all in that way—myself as much
+as anyone else. You will remember, dear Mr. Clement, that I was quite
+taken aback when I heard Mr. Redding had confessed to the crime. It
+upset all my ideas and made me think him innocent—when up to then I
+had felt convinced that he was guilty."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was Lawrence Redding you suspected?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that in books it is always the most unlikely person. But I
+never find that rule applies in real life. There it is so often the
+obvious that is true. Much as I have always liked Mrs. Protheroe, I
+could not avoid coming to the conclusion that she was completely under
+Mr. Redding's thumb and would do anything he told her, and of course
+he is not the kind of young man who would dream of running away with a
+penniless woman. From his point of view it was necessary that Colonel
+Protheroe should be removed—and so he removed him. One of those
+charming young men who have <i>no</i> moral sense."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett had been snorting impatiently for some time. Now he
+broke out:</p>
+
+<p>"Absolute nonsense—the whole thing! Redding's time is fully accounted
+for up to 6.45, and Haydock says positively Protheroe couldn't have
+been shot then. I suppose you think you know better than a doctor. Or
+do you suggest that Haydock is deliberately lying—the Lord knows why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think Dr. Haydock's evidence was absolutely truthful. He is a very
+upright man. And of course it was Mrs. Protheroe who actually shot
+Colonel Protheroe—not Mr. Redding."</p>
+
+<p>Again we stared at her. Miss Marple arranged her lace fichu, pushed
+back the fleecy shawl that draped her shoulders, and began to deliver a
+gentle, old maidish lecture comprising the most astounding statements
+in the most natural way in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not thought it right to speak until now. One's own belief—even
+so strong as to amount to knowledge—is not the same as proof. And
+unless one has an explanation that will fit all the facts (as I
+was saying to dear Mr. Clement this evening) one cannot advance
+it with any real conviction. And my own explanation was not quite
+complete—it lacked just one thing—but suddenly, just as I was
+leaving Mr. Clement's study, I noticed the palm in the pot by the
+window—and—well—there the whole thing was: Clear as daylight!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mad—quite mad," murmured Melchett to me.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Marple beamed on us serenely and went on in her gentle
+ladylike voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I was very sorry to believe what I did—very sorry. Because I liked
+them both. But you know what human nature is. And to begin with, when
+first he and then she both confessed in the most foolish way—well, I
+was more relieved than I could say. I had been wrong. And I began to
+think of other people who had a possible motive for wishing Colonel
+Protheroe out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>"The seven suspects!" I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. There was that man Archer—not likely, but primed with
+drink (so inflaming) you never know. And of course there was your
+Mary. She's been walking out with Archer a long time, and she's a
+queer tempered girl. Motive <i>and</i> opportunity—why, she was alone in
+the house! Old Mrs. Archer could easily have got the pistol from Mr.
+Redding's house for either of those two. And then, of course, there was
+Lettice—wanting freedom and money to do as she liked. I've known many
+cases where the most beautiful and ethereal girls have shown next to no
+moral scruple—though, of course, gentlemen never wish to believe it of
+them."</p>
+
+<p>I winced.</p>
+
+<p>"And then there was the tennis racquet," continued Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>"The tennis racquet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the one Mrs. Price Ridley's Clara saw lying on the grass by the
+Vicarage gate. That looked as though Mr. Dennis had got back earlier
+from his tennis party than he said. Boys of sixteen are so very
+susceptible and so very unbalanced. Whatever the motive—for Lettice's
+sake or for yours—it was a possibility. And then, of course, there was
+poor Mr. Hawes and you—not both of you naturally, but alternatively,
+as the lawyers say."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" I exclaimed in lively astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes. I do apologize—and indeed I never really thought—but
+there was the question of these disappearing sums of money. Either you
+or Mr. Hawes must be guilty, and Mrs. Price Ridley was going about
+everywhere hinting that you were the person at fault—principally
+because you objected so vigorously to any kind of inquiry into the
+matter. Of course, I myself was always convinced it was Mr. Hawes—he
+reminded me so much of that unfortunate organist I mentioned—but all
+the same one couldn't be absolutely <i>sure</i>—"</p>
+
+<p>"Human nature being what it is," I ended grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. And then of course there was dear Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mrs. Clement was completely out of it," interrupted Melchett. "She
+returned by the 6.50 train."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what she <i>said</i>," retorted Miss Marple. "One should never go
+by what people say. The 6.50 was half an hour late that night. But at
+a quarter past seven I saw her with my own eyes starting for Old Hall.
+So it followed that she must have come by the earlier train. Indeed she
+was seen—but perhaps you know that?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>Some magnetism in her glance impelled me to hold out the last anonymous
+letter, the one I had opened so short a time ago. It set out in detail
+that Griselda had been seen leaving Lawrence Redding's cottage by the
+back window at half past six on the fatal day.</p>
+
+<p>I said nothing then or at any time of the dreadful suspicion that had
+for one moment assailed my mind. I had seen it in nightmare terms—past
+intrigue between Lawrence and Griselda, the knowledge of it coming
+to Protheroe's ears, his decision to make me acquainted with the
+facts—and Griselda, desperate, stealing the pistol and silencing
+Protheroe. As I say—a nightmare only—but invested for a few long
+minutes with a dreadful appearance of reality.</p>
+
+<p>I don't know whether Miss Marple had any inkling of all this. Very
+probably she had. Few things are hidden from her.</p>
+
+<p>She handed me back the note with a little nod.</p>
+
+<p>"That's been all over the village," she said. "And it did look rather
+suspicious, didn't it? Especially with Mrs. Archer swearing at the
+inquest that the pistol was still in the cottage when she left at
+mid-day."</p>
+
+<p>She paused a minute and then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm wandering terribly from the point. What I want to say—and I
+believe it my duty—is to put my own explanation of the mystery before
+you. If you don't believe it—well, I shall have done my best. Even as
+it is, my wish to be quite sure before I spoke may have cost poor Mr.
+Hawes his life."</p>
+
+<p>Again she paused, and when she resumed, her voice held a different
+note. It was less apologetic, more decided.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my own explanation of the facts. By Thursday afternoon the
+crime had been fully planned down to the smallest detail. Lawrence
+Redding first called on the Vicar, knowing him to be out. He had
+with him the pistol which he concealed in that pot in the stand by
+the window. When the Vicar came in, Lawrence explained his visit by
+a statement that he had made up his mind to go away. At five-thirty,
+Lawrence Redding telephoned from the North Lodge to the Vicar, adopting
+a woman's voice (you remember what a good amateur actor he was).</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Protheroe and her husband had just started for the village.
+And—a very curious thing (though no one happened to think of it that
+way)—Mrs. Protheroe took no handbag with her. Really a <i>most</i> unusual
+thing for a woman to do. Just before twenty past six she passes my
+garden and stops and speaks, so as to give me every opportunity of
+noticing that she has no weapon with her, and also that she is quite
+her normal self. They realized, you see, that I am a noticing kind
+of person. She disappears round the corner of the house to the study
+window. The poor Colonel is sitting at the desk writing his letter to
+you. He is deaf, as we all know. She takes the pistol from the bowl,
+where it is waiting for her, comes up behind him and shoots him through
+the head, throws down the pistol and is out again like a flash, and
+going down the garden to the studio. Nearly anyone would swear that
+there couldn't have been time!"</p>
+
+<p>"But the shot?" objected the Colonel. "You didn't hear the shot?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is, I believe, an invention called a Maxim silencer. So I
+gather from detective stories. I wonder if, possibly, the sneeze
+that the maid Clara heard might have actually been the shot? But no
+matter. Mrs. Protheroe is met at the studio by Mr. Redding. They go in
+together—and—human nature being what it is—I'm afraid they realize
+that I shan't leave the garden till they come out again!"</p>
+
+<p>I had never liked Miss Marple better than at this moment, with her
+humorous perception of her own weakness.</p>
+
+<p>"When they do come out, their demeanour is gay and natural. And there,
+in reality, they make a mistake. Because if they had really said
+good-bye to each other, as they pretended, they would have looked
+very different. But you see, that was their weak point. They simply
+<i>dare</i> not appear upset in any way. For the next ten minutes they are
+careful to provide themselves with what is called an alibi, I believe.
+Finally Mr. Redding goes to the Vicarage, leaving it as late as he
+dares. He probably saw you on the footpath from far away and was able
+to time matters nicely. He picks up the pistol and the silencer, leaves
+the forged letter with the time on it written in a different ink and
+apparently in a different handwriting. When the forgery is discovered
+it will look like a clumsy attempt to incriminate Anne Protheroe.</p>
+
+<p>"But when he leaves the letter, he finds the one actually written
+by Colonel Protheroe—something quite unexpected. And, being a very
+intelligent young man, and seeing that this letter may come in very
+useful to him, he takes it away with him. He alters the hands of the
+clock to the same time as the letter—knowing that it is always kept
+a quarter of an hour fast. The same idea—attempt to throw suspicion
+on Mrs. Protheroe. Then he leaves, meeting you outside the gate, and
+acting the part of someone nearly distraught. As I say, he is really
+most intelligent. What would a murderer who had committed a crime
+try to do? Behave naturally, of course. So that is just what Mr.
+Redding does not do. He gets rid of the silencer, but marches into
+the police station with the pistol and makes a perfectly ridiculous
+self-accusation which takes everybody in."</p>
+
+<p>There was something fascinating in Miss Marple's <i>résumé</i> of the case.
+She spoke with such certainty that we both felt that in this way and in
+no other could the crime have been committed.</p>
+
+<p>"What about the shot heard in the wood?" I asked. "Was that the
+coincidence to which you were referring earlier this evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! dear, no." Miss Marple shook her head briskly. "<i>That</i> wasn't
+a coincidence—very far from it. It was absolutely necessary that a
+shot should be heard—otherwise suspicion of Mrs. Protheroe might
+have continued. How Mr. Redding arranged it, I don't quite know. But
+I understand that picric acid explodes if you drop a weight on it,
+and you will remember, dear Vicar, that you met Mr. Redding carrying
+a large stone just in the part of the wood where you picked up that
+crystal later. Gentlemen are so clever at arranging things—the stone
+suspended above the crystals and then a time fuse—or do I mean a
+slow match? Something that would take about twenty minutes to burn
+through—so that the explosion would come about 6.30 when he and Mrs.
+Protheroe had come out of the studio and were in full view. A very
+safe device because what would there be to find afterwards—only a big
+stone! But even that he tried to remove—when you came upon him."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you are right," I exclaimed, remembering the start of
+surprise Lawrence had given on seeing me that day. It had seemed
+natural enough at the time, but now—</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple seemed to read my thoughts, for she nodded her head
+shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "it must have been a very nasty shock for him to come
+across you just then. But he turned it off very well—pretending he
+was bringing it to me for my rock gardens. Only—" Miss Marple became
+suddenly very emphatic. "<i>It was the wrong sort of stone for my rock
+gardens!</i> And that put me on the right track!"</p>
+
+<p>All this time Colonel Melchett had sat like a man in a trance. Now he
+showed signs of coming to. He snorted once or twice, blew his nose in a
+bewildered fashion, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word! Well, upon my word!"</p>
+
+<p>Beyond that, he did not commit himself. I think that he, like myself,
+was impressed with the logical certainty of Miss Marple's conclusions.
+But for the moment he was not willing to admit it.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, he stretched out a hand, picked up the crumpled letter and
+barked out:</p>
+
+<p>"All very well. But how do you account for this fellow Hawes? Why, he
+actually rang up and confessed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—that was what was so Providential. The Vicar's sermon, doubtless.
+You know, dear Mr. Clement, you really preached a most remarkable
+sermon. It must have affected Mr. Hawes deeply. He could bear it no
+longer, and felt he must confess—about the misappropriations of the
+Church funds."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—and that, under Providence, is what has saved his life. (For I
+hope and trust it <i>is</i> saved. Dr. Haydock is so clever.) As I see the
+matter, Mr. Redding kept this letter (a risky thing to do, but I expect
+he hid it in some safe place) and waited till he found out for certain
+to whom it referred. He soon made quite sure that it was Mr. Hawes.
+I understand he came back here with Mr. Hawes last night and spent a
+long time with him. I suspect that he then substituted a cachet of his
+own for one of Mr. Hawes, and slipped this letter in the pocket of Mr.
+Hawes' dressing gown. The poor young man would swallow the fatal cachet
+in all innocence—after his death his things would be gone through and
+the letter found and everyone would jump to the conclusion that he had
+shot Colonel Protheroe and taken his own life out of remorse. I rather
+fancy Mr. Hawes must have found that letter tonight just after taking
+the fatal cachet. In his disordered state, it must have seemed like
+something supernatural, and, coming on top of the Vicar's sermon, it
+must have impelled him to confess the whole thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word," said Colonel Melchett. "Upon my word! <i>Most</i>
+extraordinary! I—I—don't believe a word of it."</p>
+
+<p>He had never made a statement that sounded more unconvincing. It must
+have sounded so in his own ears for he went on:</p>
+
+<p>"And can you explain the other telephone call—the one from Mr.
+Redding's cottage to Mrs. Price Ridley?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Miss Marple. "That is what I call the coincidence. Dear
+Griselda sent that call—she and Mr. Dennis between them, I fancy.
+They had heard the rumours Mrs. Price Ridley was circulating about
+the Vicar, and they thought of this (perhaps rather childish) way of
+silencing her. The coincidence lies in the fact that the call should
+have been put through at exactly the same time as the fake shot from
+the wood. It led one to believe that the two must be connected."</p>
+
+<p>I suddenly remembered how everyone who spoke of that shot had described
+it as "different" from the usual shot. They had been right. Yet how
+hard to explain just in what way the "difference" of the shot consisted.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Your solution is a very plausible one, Miss Marple," he said. "But you
+will allow me to point out that there is not a shadow of proof."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said Miss Marple. "But you believe it to be true, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause, then the Colonel said almost reluctantly:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do. Dash it all, it's the only way the thing could have
+happened. But there's no proof—not an atom."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple coughed.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why I thought perhaps—under the circumstances—"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little trap might be permissible."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_31">Chapter 31</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett and I both stared at her.</p>
+
+<p>"A trap? What kind of a trap?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple was a little diffident, but it was clear that she had a
+plan fully outlined.</p>
+
+<p>"Supposing Mr. Redding were to be rung up on the telephone and warned."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Melchett smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"'All is discovered. Fly!' That's an old wheeze, Miss Marple. Not that
+it isn't often successful! But I think in this case young Redding is
+too downy a bird to be caught that way."</p>
+
+<p>"It would have to be something specific. I quite realize that," said
+Miss Marple. "I would suggest—this is just a mere suggestion—that
+the warning should come from somebody who is known to have rather
+unusual views on these matters. Dr. Haydock's conversation would lead
+anyone to suppose that he might view such a thing as murder from an
+unusual angle. If he were to hint that somebody—Mrs. Sadler—or one
+of her children—had actually happened to see the transposing of the
+cachets—well—of course if Mr. Redding is an innocent man, that
+statement will mean nothing to him, but if he isn't—"</p>
+
+<p>"If he isn't?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well—he might just possibly do something foolish."</p>
+
+<p>"And deliver himself into our hands. It's possible. Very ingenious,
+Miss Marple. But will Haydock stand for it? As you say his views—"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple interrupted him brightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but that's theory! So very different from practice, isn't it. But
+anyway here he is, so we can ask him."</p>
+
+<p>Haydock was, I think, rather astonished to find Miss Marple with us. He
+looked tired and haggard.</p>
+
+<p>"It's been a near thing," he said. "A very near thing. But he's going
+to pull through. It's a doctor's business to save his patient, and I've
+saved him, but I'd have been just as glad if I hadn't pulled it off."</p>
+
+<p>"You may think differently," said Melchett, "when you have heard what
+we have to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>And briefly and succinctly, he put Miss Marple's theory of the crime
+before the doctor, ending up with her final suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>We were then privileged to see exactly what Miss Marple meant by the
+difference between theory and practice.</p>
+
+<p>Haydock's views appeared to have undergone complete transformation. He
+would, I think, have liked Lawrence Redding's head on a charger. It was
+not, I imagine, the murder of Colonel Protheroe that so stirred his
+rancour. It was the assault on the unlucky Hawes.</p>
+
+<p>"The damned scoundrel," said Haydock. "The damned scoundrel! That poor
+devil Hawes. He's got a mother and a sister too. The stigma of being
+the mother and sister of a murderer would have rested on them for
+life, and think of their mental anguish. Of all the cowardly dastardly
+tricks!"</p>
+
+<p>For sheer primitive rage, commend me to a thoroughgoing humanitarian
+when you get him well roused.</p>
+
+<p>"If this thing's true," he said, "you can count on me. The fellow's not
+fit to live. A defenceless chap like Hawes."</p>
+
+<p>A lame dog of any kind can always count on Haydock's sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>He was eagerly arranging details with Melchett when Miss Marple rose
+and I insisted on seeing her home.</p>
+
+<p>"It is most kind of you, Mr. Clement," said Miss Marple as we walked
+down the deserted street. "Dear me, past twelve o'clock. I hope Raymond
+has gone to bed and not waited up."</p>
+
+<p>"He should have accompanied you," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't let him know I was going," said Miss Marple.</p>
+
+<p>I smiled suddenly as I remembered Raymond West's subtle psychological
+analysis of the crime.</p>
+
+<p>"If your theory turns out to be the truth—which I for one do not doubt
+for a minute," I said, "you will have a very good score over your
+nephew."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple smiled also—an indulgent smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember a saying of my Great Aunt Fanny's. I was sixteen at the
+time and thought it particularly foolish."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"She used to say, 'The young people think the old people are fools—but
+the old people <i>know</i> the young people are fools!'"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_32">Chapter 32</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There is little more to be told. Miss Marple's plan succeeded. Lawrence
+Redding was not an innocent man, and the hint of a witness of the
+change of capsule did indeed cause him to do "something foolish." Such
+is the power of an evil conscience.</p>
+
+<p>He was, of course, peculiarly placed. His first impulse, I imagine,
+must have been to cut and run. But there was his accomplice to
+consider. He could not leave without getting word to her, and he dared
+not wait till morning. So he went up to Old Hall that night—and two
+of Colonel Melchett's most efficient officers followed him. He threw
+gravel at Anne Protheroe's window, aroused her, and an urgent whisper
+brought her down to speak with him. Doubtless they felt safer outside
+than in—with the possibility of Lettice waking. But as it happened,
+the two police officers were able to overhear their conversation in
+full. It left the matter in no doubt. Miss Marple had been right on
+every count.</p>
+
+<p>The trial of Lawrence Redding and Anne Protheroe is a matter of
+public knowledge. I do not propose to go into it. I will only mention
+that great credit was reflected upon Inspector Slack, whose zeal and
+intelligence had resulted in the criminals being brought to justice.
+Naturally, nothing was said of Miss Marple's share in the business. She
+herself would have been horrified at the thought of such a thing.</p>
+
+<p>Lettice came to see me just before the trial took place. She drifted
+through my study window, wraith-like as ever. She told me then that she
+had all along been convinced of her stepmother's complicity. The loss
+of the yellow beret had been a mere excuse for searching the study.
+She hoped against hope that she might find something the police had
+overlooked.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," she said in her dreamy voice, "they didn't hate her like I
+did. And hate makes things easier for you."</p>
+
+<p>Disappointed in the result of her search, she had deliberately dropped
+Anne's earring by the desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Since I <i>knew</i> she had done it, what did it matter? One was as good as
+another. She <i>had</i> killed him."</p>
+
+<p>I sighed a little. There are always some things that Lettice will never
+see. In some respects she is morally colour blind.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do, Lettice?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"When—when it's all over, I am going abroad." She hesitated and then
+went on. "I am going abroad with my mother."</p>
+
+<p>I looked up, startled.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you ever guess? Mrs. Lestrange is my mother. She is—is
+dying, you know. She wanted to see me, and so she came down here
+under an assumed name. Dr. Haydock helped her. He's a very old friend
+of hers—he was keen about her once—you can see that! In a way, he
+still is. Men always went batty about Mother, I believe. She's awfully
+attractive, even now. Anyway, Dr. Haydock did everything he could to
+help her. She didn't come down here under her own name, because of
+the disgusting way people talk and gossip. She went to see Father
+that night, and told him she was dying and had a great longing to see
+something of me. Father was a beast. He said she'd forfeited all claim,
+and that I thought she was dead—as though I had ever swallowed that
+story! Men like Father never see an inch before their noses!</p>
+
+<p>"But Mother is not the sort to give in. She thought it only decent to
+go to Father first, but when he turned her down so brutally she sent
+a note to me, and I arranged to leave the tennis party early and meet
+her at the end of the footpath at a quarter past six. We just had a
+hurried meeting and arranged when to meet again. We left each other
+before half past six. Afterwards, I was terrified that she would be
+suspected of having killed Father. After all, she <i>had</i> got a grudge
+against him. That's why I got hold of that old picture of her up in the
+attic and slashed it about. I was afraid the police might go nosing
+about and get hold of it and recognize it. Dr. Haydock was frightened
+too. Sometimes, I believe, he really thought she had done it! Mother is
+rather a—desperate kind of person. She doesn't count consequences."</p>
+
+<p>She paused.</p>
+
+<p>"It's queer. She and I belong to each other. Father and I didn't. But
+Mother—well, anyway, I'm going abroad with her. I shall be with her
+till—till the end."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and I took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you both," I said. "Some day, I hope, there is a lot of
+happiness coming to you, Lettice."</p>
+
+<p>"There should be," she said, with an attempt at a laugh. "There hasn't
+been much so far—has there? Oh, well, I don't suppose it matters.
+Good-bye, Mr. Clement. You've been frightfully decent to me always—you
+and Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda!</p>
+
+<p>I had to own to her how terribly the anonymous letter had upset me, and
+first she laughed, and then solemnly read me a lecture.</p>
+
+<p>"However," she added, "I'm going to be very sober and god-fearing in
+future—quite like the Pilgrim Fathers."</p>
+
+<p>I did not see Griselda in the rôle of a Pilgrim Father.</p>
+
+<p>She went on:</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Len, I have a steadying influence coming into my life. It's
+coming into your life, too, but in your case it will be a kind of—of
+rejuvenating one—at least, I hope so! You can't call me a dear child
+half so much when we have a real child of our own. And, Len, I've
+decided that, now I'm going to be a real 'wife and mother' (as they
+say in books), I must be a housekeeper too. I've bought two books on
+Household Management and one on Mother Love and if that doesn't turn me
+out a pattern I don't know what will! They are all simply screamingly
+funny—not intentionally, you know. Especially the one about bringing
+up children."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't bought a book on How To Treat a Husband, have you?" I
+asked with sudden apprehension as I drew her to me.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't need to," said Griselda. "I'm a very good wife. I love you
+dearly. What more do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Could you say, just for once, that you love me madly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," I said, "I adore you! I worship you! I am wildly,
+hopelessly, and quite unclerically crazy about you!"</p>
+
+<p>My wife gave a deep and contented sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Then she drew away suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Bother! Here's Miss Marple coming. Don't let her suspect, will you? I
+don't want everyone offering me cushions and urging me to put my feet
+up. Tell her I've gone down to the golf links. That will put her off
+the scent—and it's quite true because I left my yellow pullover there,
+and I want it."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple came to the window, halted apologetically and asked for
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," I said, "has gone to the golf links."</p>
+
+<p>An expression of concern leaped into Miss Marple's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but surely," she said, "that is most unwise—just now."</p>
+
+<p>And then in a nice, old-fashioned, ladylike, maiden-lady way, she
+blushed.</p>
+
+<p>And to cover the moment's confusion, we talked hurriedly of the
+Protheroe case, and of "Dr. Stone," who had turned out to be a
+well-known cracksman with several different aliases. Miss Cram, by
+the way, had been cleared of all complicity. She had at last admitted
+taking the suitcase to the wood, but had done so in all good faith, Dr.
+Stone having told her that he feared the rivalry of other archæologists
+who would not stick at burglary to gain their object of discrediting
+his theories. The girl apparently swallowed this not very plausible
+story. She is now, according to the village, looking out for a more
+genuine article in the line of an elderly bachelor requiring a
+secretary.</p>
+
+<p>As we talked, I wondered very much how Miss Marple had discovered
+our latest secret. But presently, in a discreet fashion, Miss Marple
+herself supplied me with a clue.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope dear Griselda is not overdoing it," she murmured, and added
+after a discreet pause, "I was in the bookshop in Much Benham
+yesterday—"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Griselda—that book on Mother Love has been her undoing!</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder, Miss Marple," I said suddenly, "if you were to commit a
+murder whether you would ever be found out."</p>
+
+<p>"What a terrible idea," said Miss Marple, shocked. "I hope I could
+never do such a wicked thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But human nature being what it is," I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marple acknowledged the hit with a pretty old-ladyish laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"How naughty of you, Mr. Clement." She rose. "But naturally you are in
+good spirits."</p>
+
+<p>She paused by the window.</p>
+
+<p>"My love to dear Griselda—and tell her—that any little secret is
+quite safe with me."</p>
+
+<p>Really Miss Marple is rather a dear....
+</p>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78220 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/78220-h/images/cover.jpg b/78220-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f9505f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/78220-h/images/illus1.jpg b/78220-h/images/illus1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3ce9ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-h/images/illus1.jpg
diff --git a/78220-h/images/illus2.jpg b/78220-h/images/illus2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b1069d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-h/images/illus2.jpg
diff --git a/78220-h/images/illus3.jpg b/78220-h/images/illus3.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e2ee3b9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78220-h/images/illus3.jpg
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c72794
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c65b1ea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #78220
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78220)